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Disappointment running through her, Kate turned for the door.
“Wait,” said Christina.
Kate paused and turned back.
Christina took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to be suspicious. It’s just that most of Quentin’s friends are...”
“Untrustworthy?” Kate guessed.
“I try to keep Annabelle out of their paths. They think she’s a toy, and they’re not always...”
“Sober?”
Christina looked stricken. “I shouldn’t be saying these things.”
“I’m not like them.” Kate realized she was ready to come clean with Christina.
“Not like who?” Quentin appeared in Kate’s peripheral vision.
For a second, her heart lodged in her throat. How much had he overheard? She scrambled for a plausible response.
“Not like those uptight people who hate mess and noise.” She gave a brilliant smile.
Christina looked confused.
“You mean the Vernons?” asked Quentin.
“Who are the Vernons?”
“The people next door. Did they complain about the music again?”
“I loved the music,” said Kate. “But, I fell asleep on the sofa. Too many martinis. My bad.” She gave a giggle.
“There’s no such thing as too many martinis,” said Quentin.
Annabelle let out another cry, and Quentin winced at the sound.
“Now that kind of noise will make a man nuts.”
Christina moved quickly to shush the baby.
Kate bit back a reproach. He shouldn’t blame a baby for crying.
“Do you have parties every weekend?” she asked instead.
He gave a shrug. “People tend to drop by.”
She wanted to ask how that was going to work with Annabelle living in the main house, but she held back.
One of the bodyguards appeared beside Quentin, holding out a cell phone. “Mr. Kozak for you.”
Quentin clenched his jaw. Mr. Kozak was obviously not someone Quentin was pleased to hear from.
The bodyguard met Quentin’s annoyed expression with a level stare.
“Not now,” said Quentin.
The bodyguard stayed silent. He waited, obviously expecting Quentin to change his mind.
Kate could feel the tension in the air.
“Tell him I’ll call him back,” said Quentin.
After a long moment, the bodyguard turned abruptly, raising the phone to his ear. He spoke in Ukrainian as he walked away, but it was too fast. Kate couldn’t make out any of the words.
Christina had moved to the far side of the room, jiggling Annabelle in her arms and cooing softly in her ear.
Annoyance was radiating from Quentin.
Kate’s stomach clenched, and her instincts told her to leave, to get out of the room, even out of the house. She didn’t know what was going on here, but Quentin clearly had a temper. She had no desire to be in his line of fire. But she didn’t want to leave Annabelle and Christina alone with him.
“I, uh...” She scrambled to think what Francie would do.
After only a second, she came up with a plausible solution. Francie would have been completely oblivious to the undercurrents. She’d be thinking solely of herself. What was Francie feeling? What did Francie want?
Kate was exhausted, and she was hungry. She went with it.
“Any way to get some breakfast around here?” she asked him coyly.
Quentin looked taken aback. But his surprised expression didn’t last long. He seemed willing to be distracted.
“You’re hungry?” he asked.
“Famished. I usually have blueberry muffins for breakfast,” she rattled off. “Except on Sundays. On Sundays I go to this little bistro on Backwater Street. It’s about a block from the ocean, and they have the best eggs Benedict I have ever eaten.” She grinned invitingly. “With a mimosa. To die for, really.”
Quentin’s expression had relaxed.
She couldn’t help thinking it was easy being Francie. There was no need to worry about empathy or propriety or even good manners. You just led with your emotions and lived in the moment.
“Eggs Benedict it is,” he said. He gestured to the nursery doorway.
Kate was disappointed to leave Annabelle. But in the short term, getting into Quentin’s good graces was the most important thing. If she played her cards right, she’d have time to see Annabelle again later.
“You have a really gorgeous house,” she told him as they walked down the hallway. She ran her fingertips along the white panel molding.
“I bought it from Deke Hamilton,” he said.
“The movie star?” She put what she hoped was the right amount of awe and admiration into the question.
“He had it custom built,” said Quentin. “Cost ten million, but I got it for nine.”
“Nice.”
“The divorce.”
Kate wished she could remember something about Deke Hamilton’s love life, but she couldn’t.
“You always lose money on a divorce,” she said.
“True that,” said Quentin. “I’ll sure never fall for it.”
“Marriage?” she guessed.
“Marriage, common-law, palimony. Whatever.”
It occurred to her that was probably why Francie and Annabelle had lived in the gatehouse. Quentin didn’t want to risk a lawsuit. She couldn’t help but think he had to have plenty of money to spare.
As they descended the stairs, she pointed to a huge, dramatic crystal chandelier. “Swarovski?” she asked, dredging up the only famous name she knew.
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