Sweet Talk. Susan Mallery

had Jesse done this? To make more trouble? or had she been trying to fix a desperate situation? The truth was Nicole would need help and she was just difficult enough not to ask. He would do what he could, but he had a business to run and Amy to look after. Nicole wouldn’t want Drew around, assuming his good-for-nothing brother hadn’t run off somewhere to hide. Jesse was a worse choice. Which left exactly no one else.

      Why did he have to be making this decision? He swore under his breath. “Where are you staying?”

      “At the house. Where else?”

      “Fine. Stay there. Nicole will be home in a couple of days. You can take this up with her then.”

      “I’m not waiting two more days to see her.”

      Selfish, spoiled, egotistic, narcissistic. Wyatt remembered Nicole’s familiar list of complaints about her sister. Right now, every one of them made sense to him.

      “Listen,” he said. “You can wait at the house or fly back to Paris or wherever it is you live.”

      “New York,” she said quietly. “I live in New York.”

      “Whatever. My point is you’re not going to see Nicole until she’s had a couple of days to recover, even if that means I have to stand guard on her hospital room myself. You got that? She’s in enough hurt right now from the surgery without having to deal with a pain in the ass like you.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      CLAIRE DEFLATED like a punctured balloon, leaving Wyatt feeling like the biggest asshole this side of the Rockies. He told himself it was just an act, that she was born to play people and had only gotten better at it as she’d gotten older. For someone who claimed to care so much for her sister, she’d never once shown up here in all the years he’d known Nicole. Not for birthdays or even her sister’s damn wedding. She’d missed Jesse’s high school graduation. She was good at playing the victim, that was all, and he wasn’t going to get sucked in to her game.

      Just when he thought she was going to turn around and go away, she straightened. Her shoulders went back, her chin came up and she looked him square in the eye. “My sister called me.”

      “So you said.”

      “You don’t believe me.”

      “I don’t care enough to think about it one way or the other.”

      She tilted her head so that her long, shimmering blond hair fell over one shoulder. “Nicole has a good friend in you. I hope she appreciates that.”

      So she’d moved on to sucking up. Probably an effective plan on anyone who wasn’t clued in to her style.

      “Jesse called me,” she continued. “She told me about the surgery. You have to know that much is true, otherwise how would I know? Jesse also told me that Nicole wants me to help out afterward and is happy I’m here. Under the circumstances, I’m more inclined to believe her than you.”

      “I can tell you that as of twenty minutes before the surgery, Nicole had no idea you were going to show up. Trust me. She would have mentioned it.”

      Claire frowned slightly. “Nothing about this makes sense. Why would Jesse lie? Why would you?”

      “I wouldn’t.”

      She looked genuinely confused and Wyatt almost believed her. This messed-up situation had Jesse written all over it. The question was, why had the kid done it? To make a bad situation worse or did she really want to help Nicole? With Jesse it wasn’t easy to tell.

      “I’m staying,” Claire told him. “Just so you’re clear. I’m staying. I’m going to the hospital and—”

      “No.”

      “But I—”

      “No.”

      She looked at him. “You’re very determined.”

      “I protect what’s mine.”

      Something flickered in her eyes. Something sad and small that he didn’t want to identify.

      “Fine. I’ll wait at the house until Nicole is ready to come home,” Claire said at last. “Then she and I can figure out what’s going on.”

      “It would be easier if you just went back to New York.”

      “I don’t do easy. Never have. Career hazard, I suppose.”

      He had no idea what she was talking about. Did she think anyone believed that playing the piano for a bunch of rich people in fancy European cities was hard?

      He shrugged. He couldn’t force Nicole’s sister to disappear. As long as she didn’t try to bug Nicole in the hospital, he would stay out of it.

      “So Nicole will come home in a couple of days?” Claire asked.

      “Something like that.”

      She smiled at him. “You’re very determined not to give up any information, Mr. Knight, but as I’m going to be living in the same house it will be difficult to conceal Nicole’s arrival from me.”

      “Wyatt. I’m not your boss and you’re not my banker.”

      “Your employees call you by your last name?”

      “No. I was making a point.”

      “My banker calls me Claire.”

      “My banker doesn’t.”

      Her smile faded. “You don’t like me very much.”

      He didn’t bother to answer that.

      “You don’t even know me,” she continued. “That hardly seems fair.”

      “I know enough.”

      She stiffened, as if he’d hit her. Egotistical and sensitive, he thought grimly. Hell of a combination.

      Claire turned and walked out of the bakery. Wyatt followed to make sure she really did get into her car and drive away.

      He glanced around the parking lot, half expecting to see a stretch limo or a Mercedes. But Claire’s rental was a midsize four-door with luggage piled in the backseat.

      “How much crap did you bring?” he asked before he could stop himself. “It wouldn’t even fit in the trunk?”

      She came to a stop and looked at him. “No. That’s all I brought.”

      “What have you got against the trunk? Afraid you’ll break a nail?”

      “I, as you put it so elegantly, play piano. I don’t have long nails.” She straightened again and seemed to brace herself. “As I said before, I live in New York, where I don’t keep a car. I don’t drive much anywhere. I couldn’t figure out how to open the trunk.”

      Now he knew why she’d braced herself. She was waiting for him to rip her a new one. It was a pretty sweet setup and he could think of a hundred cheap shots. Who didn’t know how to open the trunk? His eight-year-old could do it.

      What stopped him from saying that and more was the fact that she was expecting to be trashed and that, even knowing he didn’t like her, she’d still exposed a vulnerable spot. Wyatt didn’t mind being a mean bastard, but he wouldn’t be a bully.

      He moved next to her, took the keys from her hand and pointed to the attached fob. “Ever see one of these before? The little pictures tell you what the buttons do.” He pushed the one that opened the trunk. It popped open.

      Claire grinned at him. “Seriously? That’s it?” She walked over and stared down into the space. “It’s huge. I could have brought more luggage. Are there more buttons?”

      She was thrilled on a level the key fob didn’t deserve. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

      The smile widened.