that’s not the point.’
‘Look, Jess. I can’t explain this thing with Linc and Monroe to you properly. It’s complicated. It has to do with their childhood.’
‘Really?’ A kernel of curiosity pierced Jessie’s anger.
Jessie knew there was something wrong with Linc’s family—the only person he’d ever mentioned was his British grandmother who’d died years ago. From the little Jessie knew, he’d spent his summers with her as a child, but he never spoke about the American side of his family and neither did Ali. But still, having met That Man, she wasn’t convinced Linc needed to get to know him again. The guy had ‘deadbeat’ written all over him.
‘I can’t tell you about it, Jess. Linc wouldn’t want me to.’ Ali paused, seemed to struggle to find the right words. ‘Since we had Emmy, it’s been important to Linc to find his brother. He may not be able to have a relationship with Monroe. But the fact that he’s here is important. Linc needs to make sure he’s okay.’
Jessie looked at her sister and thought she understood.
Ali and Linc were such fantastic parents, they just naturally wanted to watch over everyone. It was the thing she admired most about them. Their devotion to Emmy and to each other had made her yearn for a home and a family of her own.
Jessie didn’t think for a minute that the man who had been taking a dip in their pool needed anyone to watch over him. She could see, though, she wasn’t going to be able to convince her sister of that. She heaved a sigh of frustration. ‘If it’s that important, I won’t get involved.’
‘Jess, you are involved. You’re here and so is he. Couldn’t you make peace with him? I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable. It’s taken us years to find him and get him here. I want Linc and him to have a chance.’
Put like that, what choice did Jessie have? Ali and Linc had done so much for her. They’d comforted her when she’d broken up with Toby. She was sure they’d only invited her to stay with them this summer because they’d been worried about her. She could never refuse them anything.
‘Oh, all right.’ But she’d be keeping her eye on Linc’s bad-boy brother. No one took advantage of her family.
‘Great.’ Ali’s eyes warmed. ‘Once Linc has helped Monroe settle into the garage apartment, why don’t you go over there with some clean sheets and towels? Show him there are no hard feelings, then you could invite him back to the house for dinner.’
Jessie groaned as her sister waddled off towards the house.
Flipping fantastic! How exactly had she gone from being Bruce Willis in Die Hard 2 to the welcoming committee from The Stepford Wives?
CHAPTER TWO
‘NICE place you got here,’ Monroe said to Linc as they walked through the lush landscaped gardens towards the garage. Talk about an understatement, Monroe thought. A spread like this must have cost well into the millions.
There had to be at least two acres of grounds. They came to the large three-car garage, nestled at the end of the estate. Monroe was glad to see the two-storey building was a good distance from the main house, constructed in the same wood and glass.
Monroe knew his brother had done well for himself, built his own computer software company up from scratch. Monroe had picked up on a few magazine articles over the years about the Latimer Corporation and its successes. Still, he’d never given any thought to what that meant. His brother was a stranger, so why would he? But now his brother’s wealth was staring him right in the face, he could see Linc and he weren’t just strangers. They were from different worlds.
‘It does the job,’ Linc replied mildly.
Linc led the way round the side of the building. Monroe followed his brother up the outside steps.
‘Your wife’s English, right?’ Maybe a bit of polite conversation would help ease the knot in his gut.
‘Ali, yeah. We live in London most of the year, her family’s there. But we vacation every summer in Long Island. We’ll be here through September.’
‘Right,’ Monroe grunted. No way would he be here that long. Hearing the affection in his brother’s voice as he talked about his family had made the knot in Monroe’s gut tighten.
Linc opened the door to the apartment and flicked on the main light switch. Recessed spotlights illuminated the spacious, airy room. With a new kitchen and breakfast bar on one side and a comfortable, expensively furnished living area on the other, the room looked clean, modern and barely used.
‘It’s only two rooms and a bath,’ Linc said.
Two rooms or not, it was the most luxurious accommodation Monroe had seen let alone stayed in for a very long time.
‘It’s a good thing we had it fixed up over the winter,’ Linc said, opening the French doors at the end of the room that led onto a small balcony. ‘Or we wouldn’t have had a place to offer you.’
Monroe frowned. He needed to put the brakes on, before Linc got the wrong idea. ‘It’s nice of you to offer. But I don’t know if I’ll be staying more than a night. I’ve got stuff to do in New York and I don’t have a lot of dough at the moment.’
It wasn’t the truth. He’d worked like a dog the last six months so he could afford to spend a few clear months painting. He had stacks of sketches stuffed in his duffel bag that he wanted to get on canvas. He’d had a vague offer to tend bar that came with a room in Brooklyn where he’d been hoping to settle while he got it done.
Painting was Monroe Latimer’s secret passion. Ever since he’d taken one of the art classes they’d offered during his second stretch inside, painting had been his lifeline. In those early days, it had been an escape from the ugliness and the sheer boredom of life in a cage. After he’d got out, it was the thing that had kept him centred, kept him sane. He always gave the pictures away or simply burned them when he had to move on. The process was the only thing that mattered to him. Making the oils work for him and putting the visions in his head onto canvas. He didn’t need family and possessions. He could put up with the drudgery of dead-end jobs and enjoy his rootless existence, if every six months or so he got the chance to stop and create.
He wasn’t about to tell his brother any of that, though. After all, he didn’t know the guy.
‘Monroe, if you’re short right now, surely it’d be good to crash here for a while.’
Monroe stiffened. Pride was the one thing he never compromised.
The irony of the situation, though, didn’t escape him.
When he’d been sixteen and desperate, after his first stretch in juvie, he’d been prepared to do anything to survive. Mooching off his rich brother back then wouldn’t have bothered him; in fact, he would probably have enjoyed screwing the guy over. But in all of the years since, Monroe Latimer had learned a lot about self-control and a whole lot more about self-respect. He’d sworn to himself after that second stretch that he would never go back to that horror again. To do that, he’d stayed clean, and he’d learned to rely on nobody but himself.
‘I’m not a freeloader.’ Monroe forced
