The Delacourt Scandal

Tyler raked a hand through his hair. How could he blow a gasket over the man’s very real concern? Rodney was a valuable building employee precisely because he cared about the condo owners and paid close attention to their security and well-being. The elderly owners considered him a friend.

Maddie was another story.

Tyler patted the doorman on his back. “It’s okay, Rodney.”

The man regarded him with genuine dismay. “It won’t happen again, sir.” He backed away. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Other than peace and quiet, Tyler couldn’t imagine what that might be. Rodney disappeared on the elevator, leaving Maddie behind.

“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?” he asked.

“Your doorman pretty much summed it up. You haven’t been at O’Reilly’s. No one’s seen you since the other night.”

“So?”

“You weren’t in the best mood,” she said, as if that were somehow significant.

“And that would be your business because…?”

Her gaze clashed with his, not wavering by so much as the flicker of an eyelash. Those amber eyes glowed with warmth and concern. “I was worried, that’s all.”

To his amazement, she sounded as if she actually meant it. What had she thought might happen? “Maddie, I drop out of sight all the time. Usually I’m back out on some rig.”

“But you’re not there now, are you?” she pointed out reasonably.

“No, but…”

“So, something could have been wrong.”

“But it’s not.”

“Thank goodness,” she retorted fervently.

He regarded her with suspicion. “How did you know where to find me? I never even told you my last name.”

“O’Reilly told me. He was worried, too.”

Tyler laughed at that. Kevin O’Reilly rarely worried about his patrons unless their bar tabs weren’t up-to-date. More likely, he’d just fallen for little Ms. Kent’s innocent act of concern.

“He was,” she claimed indignantly. “He told me exactly where to find you. Said you owed him one.” A frown knit her brow. “I’m not sure what he meant by that.”

Tyler knew. O’Reilly obviously thought he’d been doing Tyler a favor by delivering a sexy little package straight to his doorstep. “I’ll have to speak to O’Reilly about minding his own business.”

“He seems like a very nice man, very helpful.”

“Yes, I suppose you would see it that way.” He sighed. “Well, now that you’re here, I suppose you might as well come on in and have something to drink. I’m fresh out of ginger ale, though.”

“Juice, water, whatever you have,” she said agreeably. She was already wandering around the apartment, studying it with undisguised curiosity.

Tyler went into the kitchen, poured her a glass of soda, added ice, then returned to find her holding a family portrait, one taken at Christmas the year before. There was an odd expression on her face, one he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Do you have a big family?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Just two brothers. Both my parents are dead.”

“I’m sorry. Do you spend much time with your brothers?”

“Not really.” She put the picture back very carefully.

There had been a few occasions when Tyler had regretted being part of such a large, tight-knit family, but seeing the sadness in Maddie’s eyes, he realized once again just how lucky he really was. From time to time he and his siblings might aggravate the daylights out of each other, but they would go to the ends of the earth for each other.

And with the rest of them married and starting families of their own, the Delacourts were an impressive bunch when they all got together in one place as they had last year for the holidays. His father’s heart attack had been a reminder to all of them how quickly things could change. They had vowed at the hospital never to let another holiday season pass without some sort of reunion. Last year Trish had managed to lure even their parents to Los Pin˜os for a quiet, old-fashioned family celebration, rather than the Houston social whirl they preferred.

“That’s too bad about you and your brothers,” he told Maddie. “Did you have a falling out?”

“No. We just drifted apart. We don’t have much in common anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, helpless to think of anything more profound to say.

“You’re very close to your family, aren’t you? I can see it in the picture.”

“We get along well enough—most of the time, anyway. Like all families, we have our ups and downs.” After his illness, a mellower Bryce Delacourt had seemed to accept the decisions his children had made for their lives—all except Tyler, apparently.

Maddie curled up in an oversize chair facing him. “Tell me about them—I love hearing about big families. And yours is pretty much legendary here in Texas.”

Since that particular cat was clearly out of the bag and she didn’t seem overly impressed by it, Tyler gave her a brief rundown of the various Delacourts, right down to the most recently adopted grandchildren, Josh and Jamie, two brothers taken in by Grace and Michael, who were currently staying over on Trish’s ranch in Los Pin˜os while the newlyweds traveled on their honeymoon. Maddie listened raptly to every word he said, prodding him with questions every time he thought her curiosity must surely be satisfied.

“You have to be bored hearing all of this,” he said at last. “It’s like watching home movies of people you don’t know or vacations you didn’t share.”

“No, really, I love it. Tell me more about your father. I’ve read about him, of course. What’s he like?”

“He’s stubborn, ambitious, dynamic and generally a pain in the butt,” Tyler said honestly. “But we all love him just the same.”

Suddenly she glanced at and then picked up a tiny framed picture of his daughter, the only one Tyler had. He froze as she studied it. Cursing the fact that he hadn’t put it away as he usually did when company came over, he waited for the questions he sensed were about to come.

“Is this a niece or nephew?” she asked.

“No,” he said tersely, then forced a smile. He restrained himself from snatching the picture out of her hands. Eventually she put it back in place, though her gaze kept straying back to it.

“Enough about my family,” he said, when it seemed she was about to ask more questions. “Tell me more about yours. Were you very young when you lost your parents?”

“I was fifteen when my dad died,” she said.

Tyler saw the pain behind her stoic expression, heard the sorrow in her voice. As irritating as he often found his father, he couldn’t imagine losing him. Last year’s heart attack, though mild, had scared all of them, reminding them that even the larger-than-life Bryce Delacourt was merely mortal.

“That must have been hard,” he said sympathetically.

“It was.”