everyone pull up to the front door. Staking her position at this perfect lookout gave her a smidgen of confidence for the eventual meeting between her and Leo.
* * *
“Well, damn, and well, damn.” Leo slowed to a stop and shifted the gear to Park.
He needed a moment to take in the sight in front of him. Not only was the sunrise a vivid fusion of color and brilliance, but its position just over the rooftop created a postcard effect. The house was something out of a movie. If he didn’t think Eric would lose his mind and do something idiotic, he’d take a photo with his cell phone and send the image to his coworker for the sheer pleasure of witnessing his ugly fall into deeper envy.
Leo’s own admiration had nothing to do with jealousy. The architecture soaked up his appreciation, thanks to a youthful pastime of studying the great builders in history. Though this impressive home had all the modern amenities and an expansive structure, he recognized the basic design from the 1920s, when industrialists flaunted their wealth from the blossoming American industrial economy with opulent family homes.
The Colonial Revival was typical of this area. Despite the contemporary touches, the British Georgian influence made its bold mark on the house with the symmetrical shuttered windows placed on either side of the door. Although the land was relatively flat, the house, with its two floors and broad, gabled roof, stood on a raised dune. Parked at the curve of the mile-long driveway, Leo understood why the original owner had chosen this parcel of land to show off this jewel. Every morning, the residents probably enjoyed the pleasure of seeing the sun’s rise with a fiery dawn kiss on the landscape. He looked forward to sharing in the experience.
After a few more seconds of staring at the view, Leo shifted the car into Drive and steered toward the most important assignment of his career. As he approached, other cars parked in front of the house came into sight. He pulled up behind the last one, stopped the engine and got out. His gaze took in the surrounding area and the close-up version of the estate.
“You must be Leo Starks.”
Leo nodded to the woman who emerged from the car in front of his. He waited for her to reveal her identity.
“Belinda.” She stepped away from her car with her outstretched hand. The warm smile eased his nerves. “I’m one of the granddaughters. And that’s Dana.”
He gave Dana a wave in answer to hers. This was cousin number two, the CEO. He recognized her from afar. So where was the third cousin? Where was Fiona?
“Come, let’s go in.” Belinda had her arm hooked in Dana’s as they marched their way to the open door.
“And I’m Jesse.” A man who was left behind by the women stepped up to shake Leo’s hand. “You’ll get used to being ignored by them.”
An older woman stood in the front doorway. “Please leave your luggage inside, near the door. And come in, come in, all of you.”
Leo followed the woman’s orders. She reminded him of his visa sponsor, Freida Elderhaus, the woman who was like a second mother to him.
After all the introductions, he stayed put, not sure what his next order of business would be.
“We’re heading up to Fiona’s. I know she’s up. I saw her looking out at us from her bedroom window.” Belinda was halfway up the stairs when she turned and looked directly at Leo. “I wonder who she was waiting to see.”
“Couldn’t be us,” Dana offered.
Leo cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure, but it felt like the cousins had marked him to be teased and taunted about Fiona. That was not what he wanted with Grace somewhere in the vicinity.
“Jesse, you are upstairs to the right. You’re in the last room at the end of the hall.” Mrs. Finch was clearly in charge of the operations. “And Mr. Starks—”
“Please, call me Leo.”
She nodded. “Leo, you will be staying upstairs on the left.”
“Oh no, he’s with the adults,” Belinda yelled down from where she hung over the rail.
“Now, that should make things interesting.” Dana cocked an eyebrow as she needled him with her remark, but it was more about the pointed tone. “Fiona, aren’t you going to come out here and greet your cousins?”
Mrs. Finch tsked and walked away shaking her head. “This house is about to get rowdy, Leo.”
Jesse had long since gone, leaving Leo on his slow walk up the stairs.
A door opened behind him from the second floor. He continued up the stairs, knowing that when he rounded the curve of the staircase, he’d see who had emerged.
“Leo, meet our cousin Fiona.” Belinda chuckled.
“But I think you know each other.” Dana’s face was turned toward Fiona.
And so was his.
Fiona, his Fiona, stood outside what he presumed was her bedroom. He immediately looked into those big brown eyes assessing him. He returned the favor, checking out and appreciating her beauty. Thick black hair framed her face and hung down past her slender shoulders. Her brown skin glowed under the natural lighting. His fingers itched to reacquaint themselves with its smooth softness.
He had to concentrate to quell the desire to run up the stairs and nervously wait for the okay to embrace her. Instead he gripped the rail and concentrated on each measured step. His gaze stayed put on her face, gauging her stoic expression for any clue to her thoughts.
Did her excitement match his?
Did her pulse pound in anticipation of the first moment that they would have to talk to each other?
Did she suffer from the same anxious twitches in the stomach, rapid breathing and sudden dryness of the mouth?
His foot took the last step onto the second floor. Time to act unfazed. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Hi, Fiona.”
She nodded, curt and unsmiling. Her lips pressed tight with no twitch of a smile to acknowledge him.
“We’ll be off so you can catch up.” Again Belinda took off with her cousin, arm in arm, heading down the hall away from where he and Fiona stood like statues.
The woman, although standing still watching him, was no statue. Three years might not be a significant length of time relative to a decade or a century. But face-to-face with her beauty—natural and exquisite—those thousand-plus days stretched out like eternity. His gaze covered her entire body, and he noted that not much had changed. Average height, hair styled into gentle curls that fell just past her shoulders. Slender frame. More on the thin side, which he knew was due to her forgetfulness about eating rather than vanity. In her dress, arms bare, legs were free to be admired. He drank in the sight of her smooth skin.
He tucked his hands in his pockets to mask the nervousness, their need to trace the lines of her limbs, to brush his fingers along the delicious brown palette of her skin.
“Good to see you,” she said, although her expression didn’t quite match the greeting.
“You, too,” he replied. Her
