Dr. Hot Stuff - Tawna Fenske Page 0,45

Her emphasis on my paternity makes it clear she’s eager to end this line of discussion. “Perhaps Dante’s merely vacationing. You said the resort is lovely this time of year.”

I don’t even try to keep the eye roll from my voice this time. “He’s following me around like some creepy stalker. I hate it, and I want you to summon him home.”

“Talk to your father about that.” A pause, a pregnant one at that. “Are you doing anything there that would be cause for concern?”

“For whom?”

She huffs out a breath. “For any of us. I’m counting on you to be good, Isabella. You know there’s a plan in place. If Oliver had lived, things might be different.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the pain that hits me square behind the breastbone anytime she brings up my dead baby brother. I touch three fingertips to the spot, recalling how softly Bradley kissed it the other day.

“I understand.” I force the words through a tight band of guilt, knowing it’s my own fault I’m in this position.

My mother is quiet on the other end of the line. “Do you recall our discussion right before you left for boarding school?”

I gulp back a second guilty wave, wondering if she knows I thought of that very conversation just days ago. If she knows Bradley’s hand was on my breast as I recalled our mother/daughter chat on the chaise back then. “Yes,” I manage to choke out. “You mean the one about not waiting for marriage to have sex?”

She makes a muffled sound of assent. “Be discreet.” She whispers it like the Duke is standing nearby. Maybe he is. “A lady employs good taste at all times.”

I open my mouth to protest, unsure if I’m about to insist I’m always discreet, or that I don’t want to be a damn lady. But the sight of Austin’s car pulling in next door pulls my attention to more important matters.

“I have to go, Mother.” I choose my next words with care. “Give my love to Father?”

“Of course, dear.”

I can tell by her tone I’ve appeased her. That I’ve bought myself just a little more time in America. The clock is still ticking, and I know there’s no stopping it. But perhaps just a little while longer…

“Be well, darling,” my mother says. “And above all, be discreet.”

Be good.

Be discreet.

Be a lady.

There’s never any mention of being happy, being fulfilled, being my own person. I press my lips together and breathe deeply through my nose before answering. “I will.”

I switch off the call and take a few moments to collect myself. There’s a flutter of snowflakes drifting dreamily past my window. By morning, the trees will be swathed in white with a carpet of fresh glitter laid out at their feet. White twinkle lights blink in the ponderosa trees lining the path to the lodge. I take it all in, hoping to absorb some festive flair, but my mood stays dark.

I feel alone and trapped and burdened by the weight of the world. Then I feel like a jerk because I’ve led a life of privilege. What more could I want?

Autonomy.

Love.

A life that’s entirely my own.

A white truck glides past, and my pulse ticks up a notch. Bradley’s arriving for poker night, and my silly, irrational heart goes from canter to gallop in just one breath.

Standing up with a sigh, I make my way to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. There’s no reason at all I should put on makeup to spend an evening with my infant nephew, but vanity gets the best of me, and I reach for my mascara.

Ten minutes later, I’m striding out the door wearing Luscious Spice lipstick and another bright sweater, this one royal blue. It was Lily’s personal favorite from our shopping trip.

“This makes your tits look fabulous,” she said as she adjusted the deep V neckline. “Throw your shoulders back when you wear it and walk into every room like you own the place.”

I take her advice, straightening my spine as I step onto the front porch of Mark’s cabin. I rap once, braced for my burly cousin to answer. Instead, I hear a shout from inside.

“Door’s unlocked. Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, I push my way through and head for the dining room.

My eyes land first on Bradley, and that’s all it takes. My heart stutters to a halt in my chest as I stumble over my own feet.

He’s cradling Brian in his arms, cooing down