Chapter Two
Teddy
I never understood the point of hosting a party. Everyone thanked me profusely, and my reputation grew exponentially, but I didn't do a thing. The staff moved into high gear, my more conservative guests worried about the antiques getting knocked over, and my friends were always responsible for the guest list.
In fact, throwing a party meant that I was kicked out of the estate's lower level as my uptight housekeeper whipped through the rooms like an obsessive-compulsive tornado. All I did was stay out of the way until I was planted near the front foyer to greet dozens of people I barely knew.
The tabloids had marked me as one of the best hosts and had half of the Eastern Seaboard scrambling to secure an invite anytime word got out I was having a party. When I tried to credit my housekeeper and staff, my friends shook their heads and told me I was being gauche. To me, bad taste was not giving credit where credit was due.
"Another superb party, Teddy!" Another wave of guests arrived, headed up by my former school buddy, Darren.
I looked around and had to admit that it looked like fun. An eclectic and upbeat mix of music poured through the built-in speakers, and the Brickman Estate pulsed with fun. I stifled a yawn and shook my head. It was strange that I only ever came home to throw a party.
She was responsible for making me think about coming home. One glance at her wild, dark hair reminded me of the summer I had been chained to my family's estate while my father recovered from a car accident. She'd been there, a mysterious almost untouchable puzzle that drew me like a magnet, while three long months had flown by.
I found out her name and vowed to get to know her, but Kiara Davies hardly ever reappeared along our stretch of Long Island. Until today.
"Teddy! Snap out of it, man. There's an impromptu performance going on in the ballroom that you are not going to want to miss." Darren flagged me down across the crowd of people.
I swallowed another yawn and made my way across the marble expanse of the foyer, tight with party guests. Women batted their eyelashes, men chucked me on the shoulder, and everyone shoved back against the crowd so I could get through. The one nice thing about being a recognizable figure was being free to move, as long as I didn't mind being stared at along the way.
"That Whitney Barnes is something else," Darren panted as I joined him in the ballroom doorway. "I don't know what your hang-up is. Not only is she richer than half the royalty in the world, but she is hotter than hell."
"An apt description," I muttered.
"Seriously? You can't look at that and tell me that marriage to Whitney Barnes would be some circle of hell." Darren elbowed me in the ribs.
Whitney, the willowy heiress with the perfect white-blonde hair, was draped over the curve of the grand piano. Her shimmering dress slipped over a tight and rigorously maintained body that made most men drool. She tossed her shining hair and blew me a kiss.
Darren melted. "She'll do anything to get your attention."
"There must be something wrong with me," I said.
"Yeah, it's called that gorgeous Amazon you brought with tonight," Darren chuckled. "No wonder Whitney's putting on such a show. She thinks she's up against a supermodel."
I glanced around, realizing that I had completely forgotten the companion I had driven out to Long Island. She stopped speaking to me in the car when all I could do was wonder about Kiara Davies.
Damn it, there she was, getting in my head again.
"She's over by the French doors," Darren said.
"Who?" I whipped my head around, looking for that tangle of dark, silky hair.
Darren patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. I got your back. I'll go cozy up to the supermodel so you're free to enjoy Whitney's show."
It would have been rude to leave when her warbling voice was just reaching its high, soprano peak of impressiveness. The ballroom rang with the clear note, and Whitney's light-blue eyes locked on mine. I looked away.
Whitney Barnes could have had her pick of any man, but for some backwards reason, she had pinned her plans on me. My track record made it clear that I was not going to settle down into society anytime soon, but she thought of me as a project.
Just the thought of getting roped into an engagement made my collar feel too tight. I unbuttoned the top button of my dress shirt, applauded along with everyone else, and then looked for an out.
Too bad the only person I could find that I even remotely wanted to talk to was Roger Dallas. I had gone out of my way to not invite him, but he strode across the foyer and shook my hand like we were old friends. I despised him, mainly for having the talent to escape his family legacy and create a name for himself, but the rivalry was far more interesting than another round of polite conversations.
"Got lost?" I asked.
"Somebody had to show up and make sure you don't ruin our generation's reputation before we even get started," Roger said. He had an ease about accepting his place in society that irked me every time.
"Last time I checked, my reputation had very little to do with me and more to do with my family name," I said.
Roger nodded, his smile genuine. "True enough. That's why I opted for a profession. My family was sure the earth was going to cave in once I went to work, but everything seems to be working out fine."
Fine was an understatement—the kind of gentlemanly modesty that made Roger so irritating. "Speaking of fine, you just missed Whitney's aria. Why don't you go ask for an encore?"
"Thanks, but I have my eye on a new acquaintance. I don't suppose you'd be a gracious host and introduce us, would you?"
I followed Roger's subtle nod and my mouth dried up. The woman in question stood alone on the wide portico outside the ballroom. Her vintage, Versace cocktail dress fit over slender curves and nipped in tight at the knees to accentuate long, delicious legs. She tapped one small, delicate, black high-heel against the stones, but I couldn't tell if it was nerves or irritation. Her long, dark hair rippled down her back in loose, wild waves.
I tore my eyes off Kiara Davies long enough to consider the antique, dueling pistols above the second ballroom fireplace. I would rather have faced off at a dozen paces than introduced my rival to the only woman that made me actually feel a heartbeat.
"Darling, I've just had the most wonderful idea," Whitney chirruped at my side. "Nice to see you again, Roger."
"What wonderful idea is it this time?" I asked before Roger could draw Whitney's attention to Kiara.
"A bonfire!"
"Why?" I asked with a snort. "There are at least twenty fireplaces here. There are two in this room, for God's sake."
Whitney tossed her hair and slipped an arm through the crook of Roger's elbow. "Fine, if you want to throw the same, old, boring party again, it's up to you. I just thought a bonfire would be energizing."
"Pagan," Roger added with a mischievous grin.
"Where?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and clocking Kiara as she moved farther away onto the lawn.
"How about the south clearing, past the gardens?" Whitney asked.
Right next to the split-rail fence that divided Brickman Estate from Kiara's family property. I nodded. "Fine, but you have to tell my housekeeper."
Whitney laughed and tossed her hair again, letting go of Roger to wrap around my arm like ivy. "Of course you didn’t notice the staff disappearing. I already told your housekeeper and sent them to set everything up. The bonfire started about twenty minutes ago. Shall we?"
I nodded and let Whitney direct me into the wave of well-dressed humanity spilling out the French doors and heading across the sweeping lawns. I wondered if Kiara's appearance had to do with the clamor of the party-goers practically marching up her back lawn. I had no idea what else would possess her to gate-crash. She had never set foot on the Brickman Estate before.
Whitney was resplendent with triumph as she marched me around the bonfire. I went along with her in the hopes of spotting my elusive neighbor again, but the crowd was still thick, and the bonfire sent everyone in and out of shadows.
Finally, I untangled myself from Whitney's grip and went to refill my drink. Vincent Jeffry, my laser-focused and frighteningly efficient housekeeper, had set up a full bar complete with a white, linen tablecloth and uniformed bartender. It didn't matter that it was on a folding table at the base of an old pine tree; it was fully stocked and serving my insatiable party-guests without any signs of running dry.
"See any party-crashers, Vinny?" I asked.
Vincent Jeffry pursed his lips at my informality and straightened his cuffs. "Ms. Davies has made an appearance, sir."
I blinked, only partially surprised that my housekeeper had noticed. Nothing escaped his attention. "Point me in her direction?"
A flash of surprise and some unrecognizable emotion shot across Vincent Jeffry's face. "Near the fire, on the western side."
I raised my glass to him and then turned to push my way into the revelers. Outside in the shadowed flickers of the bonfire, the crowd did not part for me as easily. I elbowed my way through until the heat of the bonfire was nearly unbearable.
"Sorry. I hope I didn't spill your drink."
I fought the urge to down the rest of my scotch in a panic. My mouth had dried up again and snapped shut as the crowd surged, and Kiara was pushed tight up against my chest. She looked up at me with her dark-brown eyes reflecting the wild dance of the fire. Heat that had nothing to do with the flames ignited between us, and I was happy to see her eyes cloud with confusion. She felt it, too.
Then, the hard glint returned to her expression, and she shoved me back. "I'm hoping we can keep this polite, Brickman," Kiara snapped. "When are you going to move this circus away from my windows so I can get some sleep?"
I panicked and reverted to my manners. I wiped my sweating palm on my tailored pants before holding out my hand. "I'm Theodore Brickman the Third, but you can call me Teddy."
She raised a dark eyebrow as her dark petal lips drew back in a snarling smile. "Really? Fine. Nice to meet you, Teddy. I'm Kiara Davies, your pissed-off neighbor."
"As long as you tell me you aren't some tabloid reporter looking for an exclusive. Oh, God, the tabloids didn't hire you because they knew you could get onto the estate, did they?"
Kiara ripped her hand out of mine and obviously fought the urge to curl her fingers into a fist. "I didn't know I could get onto the estate," she spat. "I remember you once made it very clear that our kinds don't mix."
"Our kinds?"
She snorted. "I don't need your polite obtuseness. I know all of Long Island considers it abhorrent that my family still retains this small plot of land. But, that's the point. That fence marks my property, and seeing as you have acres and acres, all I'm asking is that you move your debauchery to some other corner."
"Kiara, what are you talking about?" The crowd moved again, and we were swept to the outer edges. I felt the loss of her close-pressed body and caught her hand before she could draw back farther.
"Just do one decent thing and move your goddamn bonfire," Kiara said.
I struggled to hang onto her hand. "I don't abhor you or your family. We're not different kinds of people."
She yanked her hand away as if I'd stung her. "I'm not falling for your charm, Brickman. Just, please, move the party away from my house."
"Your house?" Whitney materialized from the crowd with her usual ring of rich friends. Her laugh was echoed by her entourage. "Someone actually lives there? I thought it was some abandoned garden shed."
"It's a cottage," Kiara and I said at the same time.
"Well, whatever it is, it does explain the old dress and those shoes," Whitney said. "Sorry, dear, I love Versace as much as the next woman, but I would never match it with store-bought pumps."
I wished Whitney and her friends weren't circled around me in a way that made it seem like we were blocking Kiara out. "I meant to tell you how nice you look," I said.
Kiara shook back her wild hair and glared at me. "I only put on this dress so I could get past the door and make my complaint directly to you. Or would you rather I called the police?"
"The police?" Whitney tittered. "I'm sure they'd point out that we are on Teddy's property and perfectly within our rights."
"The Brickman Estate has over twenty fireplaces, so explain to me why it is so important to have a bonfire right outside my back door?" Kiara crossed her arms and faced us without any sign of backing down.
"How do you know about the fireplaces? Have you taken the penny tour like all the other poor tourists?" Whitney's neck was stiff, and her nose pointing up.
It was clear that she saw Kiara as a threat and things were only going to get worse, but Kiara was unflinching and didn't give me a chance to step in.
"Poor tourists don't often see the heir to the throne covered head to foot in soot after his father made him scrub out all the fireplaces," Kiara snapped.
The memory snapped into focus, and my heart lurched. "You loaned me your brother's swimsuit, so I could rinse off at your beach."
Whitney's light-blue eyes flared at the connection we shared. "This is ridiculous. Teddy Brickman doesn't need to curtail his private events for some mouse in an old shed. Come on, darling, let's get back to the festivities."
I stepped forward before Whitney could wrap her hands around my forearm. It was very obvious that I was crossing some invisible line to stand with Kiara until Roger swooped in with Darren on his heels.
"Anyone who knows childhood stories about our Teddy is a friend of mine," Darren said with a dimpled smile.
Roger's smile elicited stifled sighs from Whitney's entourage as he gave Kiara a slight bow. "Just give us a few minutes, and we'll have the party moved back up to the house."
It was irritating how one smile and one casual promise from Roger was all it took to make Kiara's expression clear.
Her eyes warmed again, and she bit back a smile. "Thank you."
"Roger. Roger Dallas," he said gallantly.
"The artist?" Kiara asked.
I stepped in. "Graphic artist, logos and stuff like that."
Kiara raised an eyebrow at me. "He's been commissioned to design the next Olympic logo."
Roger shook his head. "No, no. I've just been asked to submit a few design ideas. People from all over the world are doing the same."
"No more car trouble?" The towering supermodel who had accompanied me on the drive appeared behind the stout figure of Darren.
Kiara actually laughed. "That pickup truck has been trouble for twelve years."
Darren slipped a chubby arm around the supermodel's waist. "You've had the same pickup truck for twelve years? Wow. You sound just like Teddy. He's car-obsessed."
Whitney had watched the exchanges with narrowed eyes before flouncing back into the crowd. Her dramatic exit left me worried, but it took a few moments to realize just what she had planned. Suddenly, the bonfire jumped up to dangerous heights and a cloud of sparks lit up the dark sky.
Roger frowned. "Whitney's telling everyone to throw the rest of the wood on the fire."
"At least, she's telling people to head back up to the house," Darren said.
The supermodel pouted. "I don't want to walk all that way again."
Darren pulled her closer. "Don't worry, darling. We'll borrow the staff's truck and be back in the ballroom in no time."
Roger took a second to squeeze Kiara's hand. "It was nice to meet you," he said before he pushed into the crowd to take charge of the raging bonfire.
I ground my teeth as Kiara watched him go. "I'm sorry about all this," I said. "Normally, your place is empty."
Kiara turned to me with a tight frown. "I know."
Somehow that short comment overflowed with a familiar emotion. Kiara was used to being alone, like I was. I took a step closer to her, but another roar burst from the bonfire, and a cloud of sparks whooshed high up into the sky.
Vincent Jeffry appeared at my side, his scowl brightly lit by the towering flames. "I believe we may have a situation, sir."
"Better step in," I said with a gallant air, but Kiara was not impressed.
She thanked my housekeeper and then slipped into the shifting crowd. Party-goers were lined up to get their drinks refilled before the long hike back to the house. Music started pumping out of the black truck the staff used, and I saw Darren spinning the supermodel into a dance next to the open truck doors. Roger was still encouraging people to head back to the house, but he was fighting a losing battle. The party had a mind of its own, and no one was in a hurry to leave Kiara in peace.
Whitney sneaked up and slipped an arm around my waist. She snuggled in tight against me and purred, "You have to admit that the bonfire is romantic. Though, maybe what we really want is a small fire just for the two of us. Maybe on the beach?"
I caught sight of Kiara's dark hair, so shiny that it caught the firelight. She was struggling to get back to the split-rail fence that divided our properties, and for one electric moment, our eyes met. Then, I realized she saw Whitney pressed tight to my side, and the moment turned awkward.
"Poor thing," Whitney purred. "Thinking she has a chance with you. How tragic. Why doesn't she just sell the property to you?"
"The Davies won't sell to anyone," I said.
Whitney sighed. "Some people just don't know when they don't belong."
I struggled to slip out of her tight arms. "Why wouldn't she belong? This is where she grew up."
"Please, Teddy, don't be silly. Just because she managed to inherit a little plot of land doesn't mean she belongs here. I mean, look at that place. It's nothing more than a falling down shack. It practically ruins the south views from your mansion."
"I always thought it looked comforting," I admitted. "The kind of home that's always warm."
Whitney stiffened against me, before moving away. "Come on, darling; we better get back. You have a party to host."
She caught my hand and tugged me towards the mansion, but my feet were rooted to the ground. "You didn't need to be so rude to her, Whitney."
Whitney blinked at me in shock. "Rude? Rude is crashing a party just to make some pathetic complaint. I'm all for charity, Teddy, but I'm not about to lie to someone. A little bit of fashion advice like I gave her might go a long way with someone who actually cared."
"Cared about what?"
"Cared about her status, her place in society. It bothers me when people complain, but they never lift a finger to better their own situation. She should just sell that pile of kindling and get on with her life," Whitney said.
I'd heard the same argument hundreds of times since childhood. My fathers' friends and relatives couldn't understand why he tolerated the tiny cottage bordering his pristine property. The Davies had been offered fortunes time and time again, but they still remained. It would have made more sense if it was a treasured family home, but I hardly ever saw anyone there. Occasionally there were lights, but the only person I had ever actually seen around the small house was Kiara.
As a child, I’d thought of her as some fairytale princess, abandoned at the edge of a vast, dark forest.
"Teddy? Did you hear me? Roger said he'd take care of the bonfire while we get the party resettled in the house," Whitney repeated with barely concealed impatience.
"Roger? I should be in charge of putting out the bonfire. You go ahead, and I'll meet up with you when it's out," I said.
Whitney flounced away, but not before she nodded to her friends. They in turn egged on their escorts, and suddenly, the rest of the dry firewood was flung on the already roaring bonfire.
Another cloud of sparks billowed up, and this time, the dry branches of a tall pine tree crackled. The flames sputtered, then consumed the top of the tree. The laughter around the bonfire turned to screams.
Panic took hold of the high society crowd as they fled towards the lights of the mansion. Expensive haircuts were shielded from the ash, custom-made suits were turned from the disaster, and haute couture dresses were sped towards safety.
The music cut off, and I heard Darren calling. "Jump in, honey, let's go!"
He revved up the black pickup truck the staff had used to haul down the bar. Darren's supermodel jumped into the passenger side, and he slammed on the gas. I don't think I had ever seen Darren in the driver's seat of anything before, and his unfamiliarity was obvious as he was in reverse. The black truck gunned across the uneven grass and crunched hard against the burning pine tree.
The cracking of the tree trunk was louder than a gunshot, and the crowd scattered. I spotted Kiara across the fire from me, the only other person frozen to the spot.
She watched as the tall, blazing pine tree shuddered and then tipped towards her family home. I moved so fast I didn't feel the heat of the fire until I'd passed it and swept Kiara into my arms. We dove to the cool grass just as the tree crashed down on her cottage with a terrifying clamor.
Darren, white as a sheet and barely in control of the pickup, bounced to a stop next to us. "Get in!"
Kiara struggled out of my arms and sprang to her feet. One look, and I knew exactly what she planned to do. "Call the fire department. Now!" I yelled to Darren as I scrambled to my feet.
Kiara was sprinting for the split-rail fence, and I caught her just before she vaulted over. "Let go, damn it! I've got to get to the garden hose before-"
It was too late.
With a deafening roar, the fire burst out of her crumpled cottage roof and tore into the cool, night air. Hissing to draw in more oxygen, the fire burst windows and soon engulfed the small home.
I held on tight as Kiara fought me. She was surprisingly strong, and we were both exhausted and panting by the time she gave up her struggle. The cottage was gone, just a shadow amidst a growling wall of flames, and there was nothing she could do.
"It'll be all right," I told her. "Your family can rebuild."
Kiara broke out of my arms and shoved me away as the fire department's flashing lights approached the blaze. Over the din of the sirens, she said, "Leave me alone. I just want to be alone."