A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,25
to say you’ve left a—let’s just say very healthy—trust fund and incredibly huge amounts of interest sit around and gather dust because somewhere up in your ancestral tree, someone parked their boots under the wrong bed?”
Trevor laughed. “I’ve never quite thought about it that way, but…kind of.”
“No one is that selfless. Blindly so, I might add.”
“It matters to me. Who I am, where I came from.”
“And Lionel doesn’t suspect this? Does anyone in your family know or believe what you suspect? Do they treat you poorly or something?”
“No, they treat me fine. Or would, if I hadn’t nosed around my family tree when I was younger and started asking questions no one wanted to answer.”
Now Emma frowned. “Why? It’s not the Dark Ages anymore. Surely they accept that every family, even ridiculously wealthy ones, have skeletons. Why wouldn’t they tell you the truth? I mean, it’s still your money. If they know there were affairs and the lineage isn’t perfect, but still dole out the trust funds, then…why does it matter? You’re a Hamilton in every way that really counts, right?”
“Not right. Not to me, anyway.”
She sighed. “You’re really a very contrary man.”
“Just an honest one. Who wants to know who he is.”
“I understand that, on an emotional level. But even if you find out your lineage branches off to an entirely different tree somewhere back, will that make you feel any differently about who you are? I mean, you were raised by your parents, as part of this family, which you are. How would you feel different if you found that your great-great-whoever slept with someone other than the Hamilton she was married to?”
“That’s just it. I’ve always felt different. For as long as I can remember.”
She smiled a little. “Poor, hot-looking, rich…misfit?”
He grinned. “Like I said, you had no idea how pathetic. But, uh…essentially, yeah.”
She shook her head. “I…really don’t understand.”
He slid his arm around the back of her waist, and tugged her, finally, fully into his arms. “And, you see…that’s what so intrigues me, because, I already happen to think you’re going to be the first person who really does.”
“You do, do you?” she asked, unable to keep from smiling up into his beautiful blue eyes. If this really turned out to be just a dream, then the hell with it. She was going to milk it for all it was worth. “Why is that?”
“Because you see clearly. And you think clearly.”
“Not when you’re holding me like this, I don’t.”
His grin widened. “I understand the condition, trust me.”
“So you’re not just fogging my brain so I’ll help you look for…whatever it was you came here to find? Proof, I presume.”
“If I was thinking clearly, I wouldn’t be anywhere near you, and you’d never suspect why I was here. I’ve waited what feels like a lifetime to finally have the chance to get to the truth. I’m a fool for risking this chance by spending my time here with you, much less confiding in you.”
“You say all the right things,” she said, wanting to distrust him, knowing she needed to maintain a healthy dose of skepticism around him, because, the truth was, she wasn’t going to be around him for any real length of time.
Which rendered all of this as much a foolish venture on her part, as it apparently was for him. Only for vastly different reasons. She knew she was a confident person, and came off as such. But, in this arena, she was as vulnerable as anyone. Maybe more so, because she wasn’t the sort that people—male people—thought needed much tending to. Emotionally anyway. And, in addition to being wildly attracted to him, she was really starting to like Trevor Hamilton. It was a killer combination.
And she didn’t need the one-two sucker punch that was surely coming her way. Stuff like this only happened in movies. In real life, the pet-sitting Emma Laffertys of the world simply didn’t get the trust-fund Trevor Hamiltons. Not for more than a night, anyway.
“I mean what I say,” he said. “I want you to know me. Because I think you actually would. Know me. For me. You might even like me.”
“I know I’m going to probably regret saying this, but I do like you. Or I’m starting to.”
“Then I’m going to be completely honest with you about something else.”
“See, I knew it. You’re going to tell me you’re dying, or that—”
“I’m going to tell you that we’re going to be trapped in this house for a day or two