Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [64]
An odd expression darkened her eyes for a moment. “No, he doesn’t,” she said in a lifeless voice. “But then, you probably know he isn’t really my father. So any…attachment he might feel isn’t necessarily, legally paternal.”
The words were so simply, evenly spoken that it took him a moment to realize what she was saying. Before he could do more than stare at her she rose, taking the unfinished mug of coffee to the sink and draining it. Then she turned and smiled at him, and he realized with shock that her smile wasn’t terribly different from the one he’d seen in a Christmas photograph from almost thirty years ago, on his very own face.
He didn’t smile like that any more. And she looked far too cheerful for his peace of mind.
“Anyway, I’m glad we’ve had this little talk,” she said breezily. “I’m feeling much better about the whole thing.”
“What whole thing?”
“You and Jilly.”
“There is no me and Jilly,” he said in a perfect drawl. “Anymore than there’s a me and Roofus.”
Rachel-Ann raised an eyebrow. “I think the three of you will be very happy,” she murmured and floated away before he could protest.
She had a few more defenses than anyone gave her credit for, he thought belatedly, tipping the chair back and putting his feet on the scarred worktable. And she was more observant than anyone realized. She sensed that Meyer’s affection for her crossed the paternal line, and Coltrane didn’t think she liked it.
She really wouldn’t like it if she knew just how taboo that paternal affection was.
Meyer knew. There was no way he couldn’t. Rachel-Ann didn’t just show up on his doorstep—he’d gone out of his way to get her, to bring her home and pass her off as a foundling. The old man was an even bigger bastard than Coltrane had even begun to imagine. Bad enough that he murdered Coltrane’s mother. His sins were reaching the next generation and he had to be stopped.
“There you are, Coltrane!” Dean lounged in the door, deliberately languid as ever. “Whatever has gotten into my sisters? First Jilly goes driving away from the house like a bat out of hell, then Rachel-Ann ignores me and goes upstairs singing. Singing, for God’s sake!”
“I can’t imagine.”
Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Not that it matters. Any sign of cheer is encouraging. I just wanted to tell you I’m throwing a little dinner party tonight, and I’m counting on you to be there. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Why me?”
“It’ll be just the family, I promise. I decided that since the four of us are such a motley crew, a group dinner might help us learn to get along. I’ve already been in touch with the caterers—no one has to do a thing but show up. You drink Scotch, don’t you?”
Sitting down to a cozy dinner with the three Meyers was just about the last thing he wanted to do. Jilly would probably flat out refuse to attend if she knew he was coming. “I’ve got other plans.”
“Cancel them.” He followed the order with what he obviously thought was a winning smile. “You won’t be sorry.”
Coltrane resisted the impulse to snort in disbelief. “How are you coming on the Wentworth project?”
Dean held a silencing finger up to his mouth. “I’m learning all sorts of fascinating things, and not just about Wentworth. My father has unexpected depths. Amazing what kind of information you can dig up when you use a little imagination and a passing knowledge of computers.”
Coltrane’s eyes narrowed. He’d buried the Sanderson stuff in a file that Dean would never be able to access, no matter how adept he was at computers. But Dean still looked far too smug for Coltrane’s peace of mind.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked casually.
“Not now. I’m still busy gathering information. You’ll know when I’m ready to deal.”
Coltrane stared at him, suddenly edgy. “I wouldn’t underestimate your father if I were you. I don’t know if he’d let family loyalties get in his way if he’s feeling threatened.”
Dean laughed. “Believe it or not, I know just what my father is capable of. And he’d be smart not to underestimate