CHAPTER 7

Ares left Las Vegas right after ringing in the New Year with his family. He justified his early departure with the fact that he’d been gone from the San Diego headquarters of The Lowells Group, for over a month. He’d been in contact with his hundreds of traders, financial analysts, planners, and market analysts while he was gone, but there was still plenty for him to personally catch up on.

But it was more than work that had him flying out early on January first. All evening at Darius and Nathalie’s wedding reception, it had taken every ounce of willpower he’d had not to grab Kelsey’s hand and pull her away from the crowds to a quiet, secluded spot

where he could devour her mouth again.

Somewhere he could devour all of her this time.

She had been far too gorgeous in her dress, the silky fabric caressing each and every one of her curves. When she laughed, he’d not

only picked out the sound above everything else, he’d felt her laughter deep inside.

Had it not been for the family and friends who’d somehow managed to keep the two of them on opposite sides of the room the whole

night, he might have slipped. He’d wanted to hold Kelsey close, bury his face in her hair and drink in the scents that had driven him

nuts the night before. He’d wanted to bust past everything he knew to be wrong…and take the hot night of pleasure that Kelsey’s

kiss had promised.

But she was the opposite of her sister. She wasn’t hard or conniving. Kelsey was sweet and guileless. She was giving and selfless.

She cared for others above herself, thought of everyone’s well-being before her own. She gave too much of herself already, and he

simply could not take anything more from her. The best way he could look out for her now was by not dragging her into his mess of

a life.

Because he would never forgive himself if he hurt her.

Which meant it had to stop. All of it—especially the erotic dreams of her at night. They needed to get back to the place they’d been,

where they used to laugh and talk without tension, just like when they’d been friends in college and everything had seemed so much

easier.

In San Diego, Ares driver met him at the airport. “It’s good to have you back, sir,” said Mendez, holding open the door of the roomy

town car.

“It’s good to be back.”

Mendez had been with Ares for five years, and though Ares insisted there was no need for sir, Mendez preferred the formality, along

with a black suit, chauffeur’s cap, and shiny black boots.

For once, traffic was light, and the drive down the Peninsula to his home in Atherton seemed to flash by as he buried himself in more

of the work he’d been doing on his plane.

Mrs. Mendez opened the front door as soon as they arrived. The Mendez had come as a package deal—housekeeper/cook and

driver/property manager—and lived in a cottage on Ares property, with a tidy little garden. Mrs. Mendez was as tiny as Mendez was

tall, with white hair as thick as her husband was bald.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Mr. Lowells. I hope you had a good trip.”

“It was good, Mrs. M, and I’m happy to be home.”

“In your absence, Mrs. Lowells has been here several times. She—” Mrs. M pursed her lips, breathing out with a long sigh. “—took

things.”

He’d expected as much. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. M. I’ll take care of it.”

She frowned, but nodded without pressing any further. “Shall I make you a spot of lunch?”

“I ate on the plane. Just some coffee in the office, please.”

Her footsteps had barely faded down the hallway to the kitchen when Ares noticed the first missing item, a large porcelain jar, Ming

dynasty, that had stood on a pedestal in the corner of the entry hall. Directly across, the living room wall was empty where the

Salvador Dali had hung. He’d liked that painting, his choice rather than hers. Keira had allowed it in the house only because it was

worth a fortune. He would have to take inventory. Keira should know he had every valuable documented. At the same time, however,

he found he was numb to the loss of his possessions. The lawyers could hash it out.

Honestly, the more he looked around his home, the less he cared for any of it. It was way too large for him. This was Keira’s

showpiece, a twelve-bedroom monstrosity with Italian marble in the large foyer, a curving staircase like something out of Gone With

the Wind, and a tub in the master suite that rivaled the Roman baths. The house included a formal dining room and living room, an

actual ballroom, a somewhat cozier family room, a library, and the gym. There was a large home office, plus an enormous kitchen

and informal dining room used for private meals. The outdoor pool, Jacuzzi, and tennis courts were just beyond the formal garden,

which included every flowering bush imaginable and exquisite roses his gardener tended daily. Of course, Keira had spared no

expense in furnishings and artwork, which she now seemed to think she was entitled to take. At least he could be reasonably assured

she wouldn’t make a grab for the first editions in his collection, since she’d never entered the library.

Ares had always spent the bulk of his free time in the library. He’d enjoyed many evenings in that quiet, comfortable room

discussing books with Kelsey over an excellent bottle of wine. He’d enjoyed those nights far more, in fact, than the galas Kelsey had

insisted they attend—and throw.

Now that Kelsey was gone, he didn’t need twelve bedrooms or elaborate grounds. What he needed was a change. A new start. He

should sell the damn thing and buy a flat in San Diego where he wouldn’t have to commute to his headquarters.

But if he did that, he’d be too far away from Kelsey, who lived just a few miles away in Guison Park. There would be no late-night

discussions about books, no shared bottle of wine, no more spontaneous weekend visits.

And no more kisses.

Damn it, he needed to stop thinking like this. Needed to stop wanting like this.

When the doorbell rang, his immediate thought was that he’d conjured Kelsey, wishing it were true, even as wrong and crazy as that

was.

A beat later, a worse thought hit. One far more likely since Kelsey was probably still back in Chicago. It had to be Keira, here to

whisk away another priceless piece of art—and fan the flames of anger and betrayal.

Never seeing his soon-to-be ex-wife again would be too soon. They could hash out the divorce through their lawyers. But he didn’t

want Mrs. M to answer the door and end up in the middle of something ugly between him and Keira. That wouldn’t be fair to the woman who had gone out of her way to take care of Ares all these years.

He steeled himself against the fury of seeing Keira again, but when he opened the door, he instead found a young man and woman on his front porch.

Their hair was a matching shade of light brown—though the woman’s was streaked with blond. They looked to be somewhere in their mid-twenties, and judging by the similarities of their features, they were obviously related.

“Hi,” the man said. “We’re looking for Ares Lowells. And I’m pretty sure you’re him.”

A slight movement behind them made Ares realize they weren’t alone. An older woman stood in the background.

Despite the years and the lines on her skin, despite the gray in her brown hair, he knew that face, even though he hadn’t seen it in

twenty-five years.

His mother was back.