Elizabeth mentally punched the air.
Score one for the kid.
As she shut down the browser, the screen saver appeared, a picture of a hauntingly beautiful Scottish castle she’d visited one vacation. She wanted to see Australia next, but needed more time if she was going to see everything in one trip. She had to experience snorkeling over a coral shelf in the Great Barrier Reef. Climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, overlooking stretched blue silk waters and the enormous sails of the Opera House, was a must. No way would she miss visiting the Red Centre, watching the sun set over massive Uluru and absorbing a masterpiece created from God’s personal palette.
And there was so much more.
The generations-old hall clock struck the first of twelve. Elizabeth blinked back to reality and held the empty feeling that suddenly invaded her stomach.
Her mother had introduced her to the travel bug when they’d suggested boarding school in Europe. Neither of her parents had traveled extensively, but her mother, particularly, had wanted her daughter to grow up with a keen sense of culture and class. Sometimes Elizabeth wondered if they should have done her a favor by keeping her sojourns confined to within Texas, or at least the States. If she’d never known what amazing experiences and sights were out there, she wouldn’t miss it so much now.
Wistful, she pushed back her chair and meandered down the hallway, down the stairs, past that clock, the media room and the library, the area which had previously been her father’s trophy room. Every nook and cranny lived, embedded in her brain, as clearly as the computer had stored that remarkable shot of Scotland. No denying, she felt comfortable here. This was home.
How would she feel, how would she cope, if she ever decided to ignore the clause in her parents’ will and simply fly away?
When Elizabeth arrived at the kitchen, tonight’s dinner with Daniel came to mind again. She wouldn’t try to cook. In France she’d taken lessons in cuisine preparation, but, frankly, while she adored the flavors and textures, whipping up fabulous dishes didn’t come easily. She truly admired people like Nita who effortlessly created mouthwatering meals.
She dialed the Royal Hotel to pass on the change of plans. When the receptionist answered, Elizabeth gave her name and asked to leave a message for Daniel Warren, but at that moment, the receptionist told her that Daniel had walked into the hotel lobby. A few knocking heartbeats later, Elizabeth heard his deep, sexy voice on the line.
“I hope you’re not going to renege on our arrangement tonight,” he said.
His tone was teasing, but also curious. Did he honestly think she’d cancel?
“Nita won’t be home tonight. And I need to be up-front and say my attempt at barbecue leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Can you suggest a place? Snails don’t need to be on the menu.”
She laughed. “We’ll save that for France.”
The sentiment was an innocent one but once it was out, a shard of panic dropped through to her toes. It sounded as if she were inviting him to Paris. With almost all of her two months vacation time this year gone, she couldn’t and wouldn’t. Although the idea certainly had its merits.
She brushed over the gaffe.
“I can recommend Claire’s. It’s an upscale place that serves delicious food.”
“I’ll make the reservation and collect you at seven. And, Elizabeth?”
“Hmm?”
“If you want me to last through dinner, show some mercy and don’t wear those heels.”
* * *
Smiling, Daniel reluctantly hung up from the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. Crazy but he’d missed it more than he’d realized.
While he’d inspected the club earlier he’d kept his mind on the job, working through new ideas. But now that he was back in this environment, the memories of his and Elizabeth’s time spent filtered back. The scent of her, the silken heart-thumping feel. He’d been with women before—plenty. But there was something truly unique, and inspiring, about Elizabeth Milton. Something he couldn’t get enough of. That what they shared was purely “here and now” made its promise all the more appealing.
Standing at the far end of the polished timber counter, he motioned to catch the receptionist’s eye. He wanted to know if Rand had checked out yet. But it seemed the woman was engaged in what was fast becoming a heated conversation with someone else. He didn’t want to eavesdrop but he couldn’t ignore the spat, particularly when it centered on Abigail Langley and her push for the club’s presidency.
“We women have no right shoving our noses in their business,” the second woman with a helmet of light purple hair was saying.
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Addison.” The receptionist nudged her chin higher. “And I’m entitled to mine. Men don’t have dibs on leadership. Not anymore. There’s a lot of us who feel the same way.”
“You know she wants to tear down the club,” Addison said, “and start again, like suddenly that century-old building’s not worth a dime.”
The receptionist flicked an uncomfortable glance Daniel’s way and lowered her voice. “We have company. This isn’t the place.”
The other woman shifted her focus then her gaze sharpened. “You’re that architect she brought down.” Her eyes narrowed. “We don’t want your kind here. Go home.”
“Boss, everything all right?”
Taken aback, Daniel rotated to find Rand, standing at his back, jaw set, ready to do whatever needed to be done. The woman named Addison looked big enough, and angry enough, to ram a steer.
“Everything’s fine.”
Rand followed as his boss crossed to a settee. “Sounds like the natives are growing restless.”
“Local politics aren’t my concern.”
“Not unless you get lynched.”
“The Civil War’s over, remember?”
“Tell Mrs. Robert E. Lee over there that.”
Daniel stifled a chuckle. Matters surrounding elections often drove high feelings. He wished Abigail all the best with her efforts to infiltrate this previously held man’s domain. Other than that, he wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t get involved.
Daniel nodded at the laptop case Rand carried.
“You heading off?”
Rand nodded. “Sure you want to stay?”
“I have a job to do.”
“And a certain lady to see?”
Daniel opened his mouth to deny it, but what was the point. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m taking Elizabeth Milton to dinner this evening.”
“She must be
