Never Tell

She placed a bolt on the growing stack behind her, then fixed him with a direct look. “Jason, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not interested in dating? And don’t start with that your-life-is-incomplete-without-sex line. I’m very satisfied designing clothes and quilts. You know yourself I don’t have enough time left over to grocery shop, so when would I have the time to have a relationship with a man?”

“If you gave yourself a chance to fall in love again, you’d make the time. It’s normal. It’s natural. All human beings need the physical and spiritual connections that come from a sexual relationship.”

“Speaking of that,” she said, tearing into another package, “what happened when you went to see your dad?”

“Same as always. Two minutes after I got there, he started. If we hadn’t been at a restaurant, it would have been a huge scene. As it was, Susan stopped him, midtirade. She handles him better than my mother ever did, which makes me wonder how it came about that he married someone who doesn’t ask how high when he says jump. My mother always rolled right over under his overbearing ways. Anyway, Susan threatened to dump her coffee in his lap if he didn’t calm down. You can imagine how lovely the rest of the meal was. If it hadn’t been for her playing mediator, I would have left in the middle of the meal. The man can be a real jerk.”

“Maybe you should cut him some slack until he comes to terms with your lifestyle, Jace.”

Leaning against the door frame, Jason got a stubborn look on his face. “That is such bullshit, Erica. He’s known forever that I’m gay. Just because I never said it, he’s trying to pretend it’s not a fact. The only reason this came up is he happened to run into Stephen and me at that restaurant and he was with a couple of VIPs he does business with, like he was so afraid they’d guess my little secret. Like it has anything to do with him, damn it. Next time, maybe I’ll bring Derek Kingsley,” he threatened darkly. “See how he reacts to that.”

“Speaking of jerks,” Erica put in dryly. “It’s Derek Kingsley, not your father, who comes instantly to mind.”

“Which is exactly the point. And until Dad accepts me for who I am, I’m going to devote myself to pissing him off.”

“Very mature of you,” she told him. “And that should make the next family gathering just lovely. Here, make yourself useful.” She shoved two of the fabric bolts into his arms. “Help me haul this stuff upstairs. I’ve got several ideas for using it and you’ve got merchandise to sell.”

Hunter hoped to avoid seeing Morton when he took his mother’s gift to her on the evening of her birthday. He planned to stay long enough to have a drink and watch her open the gift, then cut out before Morton showed up. The older he got, the less Hunter was able to handle Morton with his gigantic ego and his callous attitude toward Lillian. Tonight, for example, she would be wined and dined royally, which was Morton’s style, after which she would be relegated to the background of his life until some other event required him to turn his attention to her again. At which time he’d do something else lavish and over the top, all in keeping with his public image, of course, then go back to ignoring her. Hunter had long since stopped trying to figure out why she hadn’t walked out years ago. There was apparently something that kept their relationship together, but what it could be was a mystery to him.

Could be his disgust with Morton was plain, old-fashioned jealousy, he admitted, not of the man’s success in his career, but of the place he occupied in Lillian’s life. There had been a time when Hunter and his mother had been as close as any parent and child could be. In spite of the fact that Lillian had remarried after the death of his dad, Hunter had known he was first in her life. Even after Jocelyn’s birth, he and his mom still had a special bond. When exactly that had all changed he wasn’t quite certain, he thought now, frowning. He simply knew that he’d realized one day that their special bond was gone. She’d somehow turned into a ghost of herself and he had yet to figure out why. What wasn’t hard to see was that Morton was suddenly front and center, placing Hunter—and Jocelyn, too—as distant also-rans.

But today was his mother’s birthday and he should have outgrown old resentments. Besides, giving her the jacket as a birthday gift offered him a chance at maybe finding out a little more about Erica. If his mother had any passion besides fulfilling her role as the perfect wife to Morton, it was her participation in the arts community in Houston. If, as Hank said, she was familiar with Erica’s work, she would probably know something about the artist herself.

He couldn’t remember when he’d been as intrigued by a woman as he was with Erica Stewart, a woman he’d barely met and about whom he knew nothing. When he’d left the shop after buying the jacket, all he knew was that he wanted to see her again. In fact, for a couple of days he’d tried to think of an excuse to go back to the shop, but she’d been anything but encouraging in the few minutes he’d spent with her, and he found himself oddly unwilling to chance an outright rejection. He wasn’t sure why he was so intrigued. She was beautiful, of course, but there was something else. Those big gray eyes looked as if they held deep secrets, and her jumble of dark curly hair invited a man’s hand. But it was her mouth that he liked best—wide and bow-shaped—entirely at odds with the seriousness of her eyes and attitude. Downright sexy, it was. Hell, thinking about how she’d taste, he’d been on the point of asking her out before he remembered Kelly.

Probably a good thing the feeling wasn’t mutual.

His mother’s face lit with pleasure when she opened the door. “Hunter, darling, it’s so good to see you.”

“Happy birthday, Mom.”

She made a face. “Don’t remind me.” Lifting her cheek for his kiss, she caught his arm and pulled him over the threshold. “I’ve got your favorite, Maker’s Mark. And I wish you’d join Morton and me for dinner. He’s taking me to Annie’s. You know you’d enjoy it.”

“Too much to do after I leave here,” he told her. “I’ve got a couple of hairy jobs going and the weather hasn’t cooperated.” It had rained hard the day before and the sites were still soaked. The construction boss had been forced to send the crews home on both jobs. More rain was forecast and construction on both projects was not far enough along to do any inside work. “I’ll take a rain check, so to speak, okay?”

“I should hold you to that, but I won’t even try because I know you don’t mean it.”

“Did you hear from Jocelyn?” he asked as they left the foyer. “Where is she, incidentally? Last I heard, she was in Key West trying her hand at journalism, but to be honest, the newspaper sounded more like an underground publication than a bona fide newspaper. Let’s hope the guy who claims to be the editor doesn’t turn out to be a jerk.”

“She called to wish me a happy birthday this morning, but she wasn’t very forthcoming as to how the job was going. The last time we talked, she couldn’t say enough about her editor, but today she barely mentioned him or the job. I know what you’re thinking, Hunter, and I agree. The last thing she needs is to get involved in another rocky relationship. Of course, I can’t discuss it with Morton.”

If there was anything of consequence his mother could discuss with Morton, it would surprise him, Hunter thought. He made a mental note to check on Jocelyn. His half sister did not need another aborted relationship to add to the mistakes she’d already chalked up.

Lillian led him down a hall to the darkly sumptuous den. He deliberately avoided looking in the eyes of the massive ram that was mounted over the mantel. Morton was an avid big-game hunter and it pleased him to show the world what he shot and killed. The den was the only room in the house whose decor didn’t reflect Lillian’s gracious, tasteful influence, but it looked exactly the way Morton wanted.

Stopping at the bar, she poured Maker’s Mark in a short glass and handed it over. “Actually, Morton’s upstairs now and should be down soon to join us for a drink. He was able to leave the office early today.”

Hunter kept his reaction to that off his face and lifted the glass. “Here’s to a beautiful lady.”

“Thank you, Hunter.” She took a sip of wine from a glass she poured for herself, then brightened as he produced the gift-wrapped box. “Oh, what a lovely package. Hmm, this is probably going to be something wonderful. Dare I ask where you got it?”

“At a shop in the Village,” he said, and relaxed against the bar as she set her wine aside to open it. “And before you brag about my good taste, I’ll tell you it was Hank’s recommendation. The artist was featured in Sunday’s Zest and he seemed to think you’d appreciate something done by her.”

“Really?” Some of her pleasure seemed to fade and a tiny line formed between her eyes. But before he could question her, Morton appeared.

“Hunter. Glad to see you.” Smiling and jovial, he held out his hand and they shook. “Your mother’s looking fantastic for an old lady of fifty-seven, don’t you think?”

“She is,” Hunter said, lifting his drink. Lillian was studying the signature wrapping paper on the package. “Go ahead, open it, Mom. I have it from the designer herself that it’ll suit you.”

“Who’s the designer?” Morton asked on his way to the bar.

“Erica Stewart,” Hunter said as Lillian pulled at the gauzy bow decorating the box.

He was looking at the gift, so he almost missed a wordless exchange between Lillian and Morton as he said Erica’s name. He thought Morton muttered an obscenity, but when he glanced at the older man, he was busy pouring himself a drink from the bottle of whiskey. “Do you know her? Hank said you’d mentioned her work. He seemed to think you’d like anything she did.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Lillian murmured, removing the lid from the box. The jacket, a creation of champagne silk lavishly trimmed with Austrian crystal, was nestled in a froth of creamy tissue. Light from the chandelier overhead reflected off the crystal as Lillian stared at it, then quickly reached for the lid and covered it. Hunter thought she seemed a little pale as she set the box on the bar, and it was with some effort that she smiled. “Thank you,” she managed to say in a shaky voice. “It’s very nice.”

“You can exchange it for something you like better,” Hunter said, frowning. “They were insistent about that.”

“They?” Lillian reached for her wine and quickly took a sip.

“She has a partner. He was in the shop when I bought the jacket.” Still trying to make sense of her reaction, he added, “Do you recognize the artist?”

Lillian perched on the edge of the sofa, her knees tight together and her wine clutched in both hands. “Yes. She’s…I think…local.”

“Mom, is something wrong? You’re pale as a ghost and you look upset.”

“No, I’m fine. Just a little light-headed.” She blinked a couple of times. “I skipped lunch and shouldn’t have.” She set the wine on the coffee table in front of her. “I shouldn’t—”

“Maybe you should have a piece of cheese or something before you head out for dinner.” He glanced at Morton. “There’s something in the kitchen that she could have, isn’t there?”

“I’ll get it,” Morton said.

Lillian waved a hand and looked distressed. “Really, it’s nothing. I—”

“Humor me, Mom. While he’s gone you can tell me what you know about Erica Stewart. She was…well, I guess I didn’t know what to expect. She was kind of reserved but really helpful in choosing your gift. You’re about the same size, so she tried this one on to give me an idea whether I thought it would fit.” Her image came instantly to mind and he smiled. “She was in this black T-shirt and black jeans and she’s got this curly hair—real dark—that she kept blowing to keep off her face. And big gray eyes. I was there just as she was opening a shipment of the stuff she works with and she kept grabbing up her sketch pad and scribbling in it.” His chuckle was soft as he gazed into his drink. “She was polite—I guess she has to be—but she made it plain she wanted me to get the hell out of there so she could go back to work.”

“Sounds like you got a pretty good fix on her,” Morton said, returning with a plate of small cheese squares, which he handed to Lillian. “I don’t know how your mother could add much to that character sketch, except to say we heard she’s going to be recognized in the next issue of Texas Today.” He reclaimed his drink. “She’s named as one of their Twenty Women to Watch in Texas, if you can believe that.”

“After seeing her shop, I can believe it.”

Morton was shaking his head at the inexplicability of it. “Proud of it, is she?”

“But modest,” Hunter said. “She went out of her way to credit her business partner. Seems he has a flair for marketing and promotion.”

“Credit should probably go to more than her business partner,” Morton said, taking a piece of Lillian’s cheese for himself. “There’s a sugar daddy somewhere, mark my words. She’s auctioning something at the symphony fund-raiser your mother’s friends have drummed up. You need to know somebody to get in there.”

“Someone like Mom, I assume,” Hunter said, wanting to knock the smirk off Morton’s face. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a fierce desire to defend Erica. He didn’t like the idea that Erica might compromise herself for a shot at publicizing her art.