“Don’t frown, Blake. People will think we’re fighting.”

Blake turned his sister and forced a smile to his face. “What about you, Gwendolyn, had you ever thought of going against the man?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Mother needed me here. Can you imagine being left with him by yourself?”

Blake actually blinked with his sister’s words. “I can’t, but I don’t think our mother would want you to give up your life for her.”

Gwen patted his arm. “I know. We’ve talked about me traveling, seeing more of the world without her by my side. I suppose now that you’ve settled down, mother will focus more on you and your family.”

“It’s just Samantha and I.”

“Please, I have eyes. It won’t be long before there are more of you.”

The song was fading to an end, and luckily the finish of their dance. “We haven’t even cut the wedding cake, Gwen. Let’s not start talking about birthday cakes.”

But his mind was already there, had been ever since Mark polluted his plans and mind with another block.

He and Gwen parted and Blake turned to search Samantha out. Unfortunately, his aunt cornered him for a dance, and Samantha was already in the arms of one of his sly cousins.

The party went into the early morning hours. Out of town guests stayed in several guest rooms at the estate, while those that lived local went home.

Back in their room, Samantha removed her heels at the door and sank into the carpet with her toes. “Oh, that feels good.”

“I didn’t think some of the guests would ever leave.”

“Leave? Some of the men retired to the blue room for cards and cigars. You’d think they were English gentleman of the eighteenth century the way they spoke.”

Blake loosened his tie and toed off his shoes. “What do you mean?”

“One guy, I think his name was Gilbert…”

“Gilabert,” he corrected, instantly picturing the man in his head. Old money, like his father, with his ways set in stone.

“Silly name for a grown man, but whatever, Gilabert waved off one of his ‘poker friends’ wives when she asked if she could join them for a game. ‘Oh, no, ladies aren’t allowed.’” Samantha had dipped her voice low and forced an English slant to her tongue.

“That sounds like him.”

“If he’d said that to me, I’d have sat at the man’s right hand side just to annoy him.”

Blake would like to see that. “Imagine that tenfold and you may be able to picture my father.”

Samantha stared, horrified. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Shaking her head, she stepped into the walk-in closet and Blake started to pull his shirt from his pants.

“We’re a mess, you and I,” Samantha said from the other room.

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Our dads did a number on us. Yours is reaching from the grave, still calling the shots, and mine had me questioning every man whoever walked into my life.”

Blake flung his shirt to the back of a chair before unzipping his pants. “You don’t seem to question me.”

“Oh, I did, in the beginning. Those first few days anyway. But you’ve grown on me.”

He smiled into the thought. “Really?”

“You’ve been nothing but honest from the beginning. I admire that.”

He hesitated. He should say something now, about the new, tiny problem the lawyer brought up. But Blake’s mouth went as dry as a desert.

“I was shocked when some of your colleagues told me how ruthless you are in business. I guess I’ve not seen that side of you.”

He was all that and more. Blake didn’t lose. His eye never left the goal until it was met. “Was someone badmouthing me?”

“Oh please, Blake. Like I would have allowed that. No, not badmouthing. Just informing me. It was strange, even the lawyer… what was his name?”

Blake’s heart slammed into his chest. “Mark Parker?”

“That’s it.”

He had to sit down. Good thing the bed was at his back.

“He said your father and you held the same merciless way of getting what you want. I had to laugh. I kept thinking of you sitting at the restaurant in Malibu telling me everyone had a price. Mark seemed like he wanted to add something, but I kept giggling. I think he got irritated with me before walking away.”

A long-winded sigh hissed from Blake’s lips. Mark kept his mouth shut. Thank God.

It wasn’t as if Blake would keep the new portion of the will from Samantha forever, just that he needed more time to find a loophole, something, so that he could keep his inheritance and Samantha.

Well, for a year anyway.

Less than twelve months.

Samantha cleared her throat from across the room where she stood leaning against the doorframe.

She’d slipped into a white lace teddy with barely-there panties that covered nearly nothing. Her hair that had been piled high all night fell to her shoulders in a beautiful auburn cloud.

In her hand was an empty condom box. “Please tell me you have more of these?” She waved the box in a circle.

“And here I expected you to be too tired tonight.” Him, too, for that matter. But his body sprung to life as she walked toward him, her hips swaying in time to the beat of his heart.

He had stripped to his boxers and Samantha’s gaze shifted low. “You’re not tired.”

She slid a hand up his chest. He sucked in the scent of her skin. Three hundred and sixty five days didn’t seem to be enough.