Betrayals Read Online Free PDF Page A

fetched him baking soda and water the time he and Jared Sloan had peed in the yellow jackets’ nest, and she hadn’t told his mother of their idiocy when she’d demanded to know why the two boys were walking so funny.
    The thirty-ninth-floor reception area was, if anything, more opulent than the lobby, but Rebecca had no trouble lying her way past the receptionist into the inner sanctum of the president and chief executive officer of Winston & Reed, Boston’s most prestigious real estate and construction firm. Annette Winston Reed still retained the title of chairman of the board, but the real power of the company now resided with her thirty-seven-year-old son, a circumstance that surprised Rebecca. Annette had never thought Quentin was worth a damn.
    His secretary was a well-dressed, highly efficient woman who informed Rebecca she would require an appointment to see Mr. Reed.
    “I’m a family friend,” Rebecca said, breezing past her.
    On her feet at once, Willa Johnson, willowy and fast, protested, firmly suggesting Rebecca wait while she checked with Mr. Reed—or suffer the consequences of her whisking in security.
    “Mr. Reed and I,” Rebecca said, “were kicked out of the wading pool on Boston Common for taking our clothes off. He was five and I was two.” Supposedly, too, Jared had been the one who’d gotten them dressed and hauled them back to Beacon Hill. Mercifully, Rebecca didn’t remember.
    With Willa momentarily taken aback at the image of herwell-bred boss skinny-dipping on Boston Common, Rebecca slipped into his spectacular office.
    Across the room, Quentin Reed slowly hung up his telephone, his pale blue eyes riveted on her. “Rebecca,” he said in little more than a whisper.
    It had been fourteen years.
    A recovered Willa, about to strong-arm Rebecca out herself, heard the emotion in her boss’s raw voice and retreated, quietly shutting the door behind her.
    “Hello, Quentin.”
    He was as handsome as ever. Ash-haired, square-jawed, trim, even confident, although Rebecca suspected that was more in appearance than in fact. Quentin had forever been at war with his sensitive nature. He wore a conservative pinstriped suit of exquisite cut.
    He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”
    “Was it your idea or your mother’s to have me fired?”
    “You’re not an employee. It wasn’t a question of firing you.”
    “Semantics, Quentin. You’re not going to weasel out of this one. You found out about me, told your mama and she said to give me the boot?”
    He winced at her bald words, but confirmed her guess with a small nod.
    “Does this mean I’m going to have the long arm of the Winston-Reed clan undermining my business in Boston?”
    “Of course not.” He rose, and she was surprised at how tall he was. She’d forgotten. “Rebecca, look at this situation from our point of view.”
    “I have. That’s why I’m here. You can’t stand the idea of a Blackburn earning a penny off Winston & Reed.”
    “You don’t need the money—”
    “That’s not the point. Quentin….” She exhaled, wishingnow she hadn’t gotten back into the elevator. “Quentin, I was hoping we could put the past behind us.”
    He shut his eyes a moment, sighing, and shook his head. “You should have known that’s impossible.”
    She supposed she should have. Twenty-six years ago Quentin’s father and hers—and Tam’s—were killed in a Vietcong ambush for which Thomas Blackburn, Rebecca’s grandfather, was directly responsible. It was a lot for anyone to put aside. But she wasn’t going to give Quentin the satisfaction of telling him that.
    She told him instead, “Bidding on this project was strictly a business decision on my part.”
    “You never were worth a damn as a liar, Rebecca. It’s only your grandfather—”
    “Leave him out of this.”
    Quentin stiffened. “You’d better leave before we both say things we’ll regret.”
    On her way out of the luxurious office, Rebecca debated