Page 28 of Complete Me

Belle shook her head furiously. "There's something about him."

"Yes, the fact that he likes your mother," Clara said.

"That might be it," Belle admitted with a laugh.

Mrs. Watson bustled into the room, a flurry of skirts and aprons. She held out a slip of paper for inspection.

"I need one of you to review this, and I don't care which," she said in a thick Scottish brogue. Clara knew the woman less well than most of the others, and she was eager to impress her. Watson was one of the Cambridge men's maternal influences during their youth. Clara dutifully took the sheet and skimmed it.

"I know everyone is busy planning the wedding," Watson continued in a tizzy, "but I need to worry about Christmas supper. There will be far more people here for that."

There would, indeed. This year, the three of them had hatched a plan to revise the typical Balmoral family Christmas. While it had been tradition in Albert's time to extend an invitation to nearly all the branches of the family, Clara had expressed her desire to leave the royal brat pack out of her holiday festivities. Edward had wholeheartedly agreed. Alexander’s and Edward’s cousins weren't always on their best behavior, and they had never been anything but rude to Clara. Coupling that with the fact that Edward had stayed in the closet longer due to his fear of what they might do, it had been unanimously agreed that they would make their own family this year. It wouldn't be all smooth sailing, though.

After much discussion, it had been decided that all of the Bishops should be invited. Lola was well-loved by Belle and Edward, but David still felt a little annoyance over her misunderstanding with Edward. It had led to an unwanted kiss between the two. Still, she could be counted on to be on her best behavior. Madeline and Harold Bishop were another story. Clara's parents had been in couples counseling for the better part of the last year, and as far as she knew, her father had finally ended his affair with his younger business partner. She hadn't bothered to ask him herself, though. Undoubtedly, there would be tension.

Smith had no living family, and Belle was more than happy to leave her mother off the invite list. The only person representing the newly formed Stewart-Price clan would be Aunt Jane, who had an uncanny knack for knowing when to step in and went to stay out. Clara almost asked Edward if he considered asking her to stay for the wedding, but she wanted to respect his wishes. If it had been up to her when she was planning her own wedding, it probably would have only been close friends, too. As it turned out, she'd gotten just that, but not because she wanted it. Her actual wedding vows had been said in a hospital room. She was determined that Edward's fairytale would be more romantic.

Edward peeked over Clara's shoulder. "This all looks grand to me." He stood and locked his arm to hers. "Now, if we could discuss the filling of the cake."

The old housekeeper might need to worry about Christmas dinner, but everyone else's minds were on the wedding.

13

It had come to this. He had opened his door to a wolf. Georgia looked out of place standing in his foyer. Then again in her leather pants and motorcycle jacket, she looked out of place most everywhere. She certainly didn't belong there. This was his present and his future. She was firmly in his past. She turned in a circle then shoved her hands into her leather jacket and whistled, "You really are a changed man, Price."

"Yes, I am," he assured her.

But just having her here suggested the contrary. This was the second time he had seen her in a month.

He'd taken a few days to consider the information she had given him and to see Belle safely off to Scotland. Knowing who was behind Hammond and the conspiracy that had nearly claimed his wife's life didn't mean he knew what to do about it. There had been a time when Smith Price wouldn't have thought twice. He would have acted on instinct. But, his instincts hadn't always proven wise. Instead, he had digested this news slowly and taken time to consider all of his options.

"I've been thinking about what you told me," he said to Georgia.

She held up a hand. "I have a feeling I need a drink for this. Or are you going to pretend to be sober again?"

His eyes narrowed, but he tipped his head toward the sitting room. Once they reached it, he pointed to the bar cart.

"Not joining me?" she asked.

If someone had told Smith that Georgia was the original serpent in the Garden of Eden, he would have believed it. How many times would he fall victim to her dangling forbidden fruit in front of him? He shook his head. What was the point of any of this if he didn't learn from his mistakes?

"Suit yourself," she shrugged as she uncapped a crystal decanter and poured herself a bourbon. She didn't bother to sit. Instead, she leaned against the wall, sipping slowly. She was here on business and they both knew that. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Has anything changed?" he asked. He doubted it, but it seemed a prudent place to start.

"Not really," she hedged. He sensed she was holding something back. Of course she would. That was how she operated.

"Has your team found anything new?" he pressed.

"No," she said finally, “because I told them to stop looking.”

Smith prided himself on his ability to bluff, but she'd caught him off guard. Surprise passed over his face before he could stop it. She had been so sure that Oliver Jacobson was the one behind the attacks. Had something changed? He cleared his throat. "Why?"

"You asked me the other day if it would be the Crown's justice or my own," she reminded him, and he nodded. "I don't think justice belongs to either of us."

"Who does it belong to?" he asked in a measured voice. This was why it was difficult to accept that Georgia was working for the Crown. She didn't play by their rules. She didn't play by anyone's rules but her own, and it was impossible for an outsider to understand the twisted logic she employed to guide her moral compass.

"It's yours," she told him with a note of finality.