Twenty-Two
He’d come too far to back out now. And after years of avoiding this confrontation, Grant knew there was nowhere else to hide. He’d tried traveling, he’d tried drowning himself in work and he’d tried avoiding the topic altogether.
But the fact of the matter remained that years of fear and nightmares had led him right back to where he’d begun, in a small town in Kentucky. And now he stood on the stoop of his sister’s small, one-story cottage.
His parents knew he was in town, but he’d assured them he wanted to talk to Melanie alone. God, how he wished Tessa were with him now. She was so courageous, so strong. He needed to draw from that strength. But she was in his heart, and she’d made him face this moment, made him realize that nothing in his life would truly be right, and that he couldn’t move on without finally letting go of the guilt.
And there was only one way to do that. First, he’d settle his past, then he’d try to win back his future.
Before he could press his finger to the bell, the wide front door opened and Grant’s whole world stilled.
“Were you going to knock or had you changed your mind?”
Melanie sat in her wheelchair, her long dark hair spilling over one shoulder, her legs so thin. But it was her face that shocked him the most. She was smiling...at him.
“Grant?” Her eyes sought his. “Are you coming in?”
Swallowing, he merely nodded. God, what an idiot. He couldn’t even speak as he stepped over the threshold. She’d eased back, and once he was in she closed the door.
He took in the open floor plan, the spacious layout and sparse furniture. Perfect for getting around in a wheelchair.
“Dad told me you were coming,” she said, her voice sounding just as unsure as he felt. “Do you want to come into the living room?”
When he turned to look at her, damned if his whole heart didn’t clench. That questioning expression on her face only added to the guilt he felt, the shame he was here to finally admit.
“If my being here is too hard, I’ll go.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, waiting to follow her lead. The last thing he wanted was to make her even more uncomfortable. “I just... God, Mel...”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I want you to stay. I miss my baby brother.”
The childhood joke had him smiling. “You’re only older by twelve minutes.”
Shrugging, she wheeled past him and into the living room. Following her, he ran through his head all he wanted to say. As if years of torment and grief could be summed up in a few moments. As if any words would rectify this situation he’d caused.
When she stopped next to the couch, he took a seat beside her. He’d barely settled when she reached over and grasped his hand.
And just like that, something inside him burst. Emotions over a decade old poured out of him, and he wasn’t the least bit ashamed that he sat there crying like a baby.
“Mel, I can’t even begin...”
He held her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss on her knuckles. Tears streamed from his eyes as she brought her other hand up and cupped his cheek.
“Grant, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
She was coming to his defense, trying to minimize the severity of this situation, this life he’d caused her. Hell no.
“Don’t,” he told her, gripping both her hands in his as he wiped his damp face on his shoulder. “Don’t defend me. I deserve nothing but anger from you. I honestly can’t take it if you’re going to pretend life is just fine. I stole everything from you, Mel. I robbed your life of all the dreams you had.”
She shook her head and offered him that sweet smile he’d sworn he’d never see again. “You stole absolutely nothing. I had a rough time at first, obviously adjusting, but I love my life, Grant. Do I wish I could walk? Of course, but I’m doing so much with my life, I can’t be sorry I’m in this wheelchair.”
Grant slid off the couch, crouched down at her feet, still clutching her hands. “I want to fix this. I’m used to getting what I want, used to having all I wish for. But I can’t undo this, Mel. It eats at me. I’ve struggled with what I’ve done, struggled with losing you. But every time I think of all that, I realize what you lost.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Being in a wheelchair is nothing compared to losing my brother. Nothing, Grant. I never blamed you. I ached for you, for the guilt I knew you’d taken upon yourself, for the fear that made you run.”
He dropped his head to their joined hands. “I’m done running, Mel. I don’t deserve to be asking to be part of your life again, but I want to be. Is there any way we can try? Is there anything I can do?
He closed his eyes, silently pleading for her to love him, though he deserved to be kicked out of her home, her life.
Instead of harsh words, she kissed the top of his head. “I’ve waited years for you to come back to me.”
Lifting his gaze to hers, Grant felt the weight of guilt and crippling fear ease from his body. “I love you, Melanie.”
“I know you do,” she told him with that sweet smile. “And if you ever run from me again, I’ll hunt you down.”
Laughing, Grant came to his feet, kissed her hands and sat back on the couch.
“Now, tell me about this film you’re working on.” She held up a palm before he could say anything. “But first, tell me about the woman. I know there’s a woman involved, or you wouldn’t have stayed on the set this long, with all the horses there.”
Laughing, Grant began to explain Tessa, explain how he’d messed things up with her, but planned on making them right.
“Sounds like someone I’d love to meet.”
“I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he told his twin. “You’ll love her.”
As he started to explain the film, Melanie’s eyes welled up with tears, but she smiled the entire time. And Grant knew he’d won back a place in his sister’s heart. Of course, he had a feeling she’d been holding his spot for a long time.
* * *
In the days since coming back to Stony Ridge, Tessa hadn’t seen Grant. Hadn’t seen movement around his cottage, hadn’t seen that flashy sports car...nothing.
She should’ve known when he hadn’t come down to the winner’s circle after the biggest race of her life that his priorities were film first, her second.
The hurt sliced deep, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. No way could she fight against the heavy weight that lived inside Grant’s heart.
Trying to focus on her life without him, she shoved her hair over her shoulders and headed toward the main house.
The scene today would be shot in the living room, so Tessa made a point to get there early so she could talk to Bronson or Anthony. Not that she cared where Grant was; she was just curious. That’s all.
As she entered the back door, Linda was taking freshly baked bread from the oven. Tessa inhaled the tantalizing aroma. “You could tempt a saint with your baking,” she told her.
“I keep thinking that man of yours will come in, but I haven’t seen him since before you all left for the derby.”
Tessa shrugged. No way was she commenting on the “man of yours” part, or the fact that he’d been absent around here.
“Has Bronson or Anthony come through yet?”
“I believe Damon was talking with Bronson in the living room. They’ve arranged all the furniture and even brought in some new pieces for the shoot today.”
Tessa had to admit this was pretty cool. As much as she’d hated the film at the beginning of the process, she kind of liked the crew that had been here.
“Care for some bread? Better get it before the guys come in,” Linda told her, setting the bread on the cooling rack. “I swear, this bunch likes to eat. Makes me so happy.”
Tessa laughed. “Maybe later. I really need to speak to someone first.”
Sure enough, Bronson was in the living room, but her father was nowhere in sight. Perfect. She certainly didn’t want to discuss Grant around her dad.
“Bronson,” she said, stepping over the lighting cords. “Do you have a minute?”
He turned from setting up a camera and offered her a killer smile. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“Is Grant going to be on set today?”
Yeah, just come out and ask. No leading into that. She may as well stamp Pathetic on her forehead.
Bronson’s brows drew together. “You hadn’t heard?”
“What?” she asked, fearful of what was coming next.
“I assumed everyone knew, but Grant quit.”
Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. “Quit? How can he quit?”
With a sigh, Bronson rested his hands on his hips. “I really hate getting in the middle of things, but I work with celebrities, so that’s virtually impossible. Grant resigned his position because of the clause he violated.”
Tessa’s mind ran all over the place. They knew about her and Grant? Was he forced to quit?
“I can’t say that I blame him,” Bronson went on. “He’s in love with you, you know.”
Tessa nodded. “I know, but we aren’t together anymore. In Louisville we...”
“That’s strange.” Bronson rested a hip on the edge of the new prop sofa. “He came back the day after the race, spoke with me and Anthony, got Marty Russo on the phone and resigned, stating he’d violated the conduct code.”
“You mean, you didn’t hear it from someone else?” she asked.
“Actually, I already had an idea something was going on between the two of you. Someone named Aaron Souders left a message with my assistant, stating he had some news about Grant he was going to take to the press, but Grant is the one who told me.”
Tessa rested her hand on the end table, trying to take in Grant’s actions. What was he doing, giving up all his dreams like this? How could he just drop the one movie he’d been waiting to make?
“Marty was pretty disappointed, especially with Grant so close to getting his own production company.”
Tessa jerked her attention to Bronson. “His own company?”
The producer’s dark eyes widened. “I see you didn’t know about that. Grant was offered his own company under Russo Entertainment once this film wrapped up. I’m not sure if Marty will still offer that to him now that he’s quit.”
Tessa wrapped her arms around her waist. Questions, nerves, confusion all consumed her.
“Where’s Grant now?”
Bronson shrugged. “He mentioned going home, said he had a past to face. After that I don’t know where’s he’s going. I do know that Anthony and I are meeting with Marty, though. There’s no way we can’t stand up for Grant, when he’s the best guy we’ve ever worked with on set and we need him.”
Facing his past? Her heart clenched. Could he truly be ready to work through the nightmares and move forward?
“But what about the clause?” she asked.
Bronson smiled. “I’m pretty sure that was for the old, carefree Grant. The new Grant has eyes for only one woman now.”
Tessa had an idea, but she needed help, and Bronson was just the man for the job. If Grant was strong enough to put his heart on the line and go home, then she was certainly strong enough to put her own heart on the line and go after her future.
“Call Grant,” she told him.
* * *
Grant couldn’t believe he was back on the set. So much had happened in the past two weeks. He’d spent a good portion of that time with his sister and his parents, falling back into old patterns and reconnecting those bonds he’d thought for sure he’d severed. But they’d welcomed him with open arms, and he promised to bring Tessa once racing season was over.
But then he was doubly shocked when Marty called and asked him to return to the set. Apparently, Bronson and Anthony had come to his defense and informed Marty that Grant was in love with the woman he “broke the clause” with, and now Grant was needed back at Stony Ridge.
But being there was hard. Everywhere he looked he saw Tessa. Glancing at the stables, he could practically see her stalking through with her tattered boots and hip-hugging jeans. At his cottage he saw her when she’d spent the night, all virginal in his T-shirt, her hair spilling over her shoulders.
Today, though, would be a true test of his will. They were shooting at the cabin on the back of the property, and Bronson had asked Grant to get there early to help set up the lighting.
Sure. No problem.
He’d planned on going to her now that he was back, but he’d wanted to do it in his own time. He had hoped for something more romantic than a scene with everyone standing around as spectators to the life he’d derailed, and was desperately trying to get back on track.
Grant headed out there on foot, needing the time to think. Of course, during his walk he thought back to the thunderstorm, when he and Tessa had come here...and she’d given herself to him for the first time.
Man, he missed her. He had to figure out a damn good way to let her know just how much he truly loved her, because he’d totally botched things up back in Louisville.
He remembered that the key was hidden above the lintel, but when he glanced up, he found the door already open a tad. Easing the creaking panel wider, Grant stopped in the doorway and stared at the most beautiful sight.
“I was hoping you’d show.”
Tessa sat on the chaise where they’d made love. She was wearing the gown he’d purchased for her when they’d gone to Colorado, and she had the most beautiful smile on her face.
Realization dawned on him. “We’re not filming here today.”
“No, you’re not.”
Grant eased on in, closing the door behind him.
“I was going to make you grovel,” she stated as she crossed one slender leg, shifting the side split of the dress to reveal skin all the way up to her hip. “But then I realized you’d already been through a lot, and so have I, and I’m done playing games.”
He laughed. “And you’re taking charge again.”
“Of course. First, I know you went to see Melanie. How did that go?”
Grant slid his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to cross the room, rip that dress off her and worry about talking later.
“Better than I’d ever hoped. She’s amazing, and I cannot wait for you to meet her. She’s come so far and actually works on a horse farm for handicapped children.”
Tessa’s smile widened. “I’m so happy you went to see her. I’m really proud of you. But now I want to move on to the nonsense of you quitting over the clause.”
Grant shrugged. “I figured Aaron would no doubt tattle, so I beat him to the punch. I’m man enough to stand up for what I want, and admit when I do something wrong.”
“And what do you want?” she asked, coming to her feet.
His heart picked up its pace as she crossed the small room. “I want everything.”
“This film?”
“Yes.”
She ran her hand up over his chest. “The production company you didn’t tell me about?”
He swallowed. “Yes.”
Her lips hovered just under his. “Me?” she whispered.
“God, yes.”
No more playing around. Grant snaked his arm around her waist and closed the narrow gap between them as he slammed his mouth down onto hers.
That taste, that touch, the soft sighs...he’d missed them all. He’d ached for them while he and Tessa had been apart.
She wound her arms around his shoulders and flattened her chest against his. All too soon she lifted her head.
“Bronson claims if we marry the clause is void.”
Grant smiled. “Is that so? And here I’d planned on asking you to marry me without even knowing about that little loophole.”
Tessa stepped back, went over to the old end table and picked up a sheet of paper. “Actually, I have everything spelled out right here.”
Looking down at all the colors and bold lettering, Grant laughed. “Another spreadsheet?”
“This one is much more enjoyable than the last one I gave you.”
His eyes scanned the days, the hours. “You have me in all the slots, Country.”
“That’s right, Slick. You’re all mine. So don’t ever, ever think of leaving me again, because you know how I hate to redo my spreadsheets.”
He tossed the paper aside, sending it fluttering to the floor. “You know what I hate? That fact that you have on too many clothes.”
Yanking the side zipper, Grant helped her peel out of the dress, leaving her clad in absolutely nothing but a smile.
“So it looks like we need to marry so I can keep my job,” he told her as he ran his hands up over her curves.
“I’ll do anything to keep your reputation and career intact.”
Smiling, he picked her up and laid her on the chaise. “I may also need to marry you because these last two weeks were pure hell, and I love you more than any film or any production company.”
Delicate fingertips came up to trace his cheek. “I’m glad you were miserable, because you deserved it. Now you deserve to be rewarded for your good behavior.”
Grant laughed as he started shedding his clothes. “I do love a woman in charge.”
* * * * *
If you liked this book from Jules Bennett, pick up her other passionate and emotional Hollywood stories!
CAUGHT IN THE SPOTLIGHT
WHATEVER THE PRICE
BEHIND PALACE DOORS
HOLLYWOOD HOUSE CALL
SNOWBOUND WITH A BILLIONAIRE
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Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.
Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!
Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy,
only from Harlequin Presents:
Avenge Me by Maisey Yates (June 2014)
Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews (July 2014)
Expose Me by Kate Hewitt (August 2014)
And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!
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One
Michael North awakened with a violent start in the middle of the night.
His first thought was for the safety of the exquisite woman curled trustingly against him. She was warm and soft, beguilingly beautiful in the moonlight with her dark golden hair spilling across his pillow. He wanted to touch that hair and kiss her lips again, wanted it so much he had to clench his hands.
Ironically, he’d enjoyed his evening with her more than he’d enjoyed being with anyone in a very long time.
Maybe that was why his gut twisted as he experienced an uncustomary pang of conscience. After all, he’d seduced her for very deliberate, self-serving reasons.
Careful not to disturb her, he sat up and brushed a lock of thick black hair out of his eyes. Everything he’d done tonight—the seductive dinner at her failing bistro, the lovemaking in his penthouse, all the shared laughter and smiles—had been a lie.
He’d set her up so he could protect his naive younger brother.
But at some point Michael had forgotten about Will. His dinner date with Bree had begun with champagne served in sparkling flutes at Chez Z, the intimate French bistro she’d inherited from her famous brother, Johnny Z. She loved to cook and to eat, and Michael had loved watching her indulge.
She’d blushed when she’d drunk champagne. She’d sighed when she’d licked chocolate off her fingertips, and his. The wet, warm tip of her tongue against his flesh had almost been as good as having sex with her. Almost.
He’d loved the sound of her laughter, the glow of her cheeks when she teased him, the flash of intelligence in her slanting eyes when she’d made him feel clever and her wildness in bed. When had he had such a good time with anybody?
Surprisingly, Bree had given him more pleasure and tenderness and amusement during their evening than he’d ever imagined possible.
Because, first, she wasn’t his usual type. He went for cool, sophisticated glamour, for sleek, slim blondes who made heads turn and other men envy him. Bree was lush and earthy and wanton. She loved color and baubles and cheap scarves and probably didn’t bother to carry a comb in her purse.
And second, Bree Oliver, for all her seeming innocence and charms, was a gold digger. She’d targeted his foolish brother, thinking Will was the chump she needed to keep Chez Z from going into bankruptcy.
For Will’s sake, Michael had to finish her off. No matter how much he’d enjoyed being with her or how fabulous she’d been in bed, she deserved it.
If only Michael had been as smart five years ago when he’d fallen for Anya Parris. But, no, like a fool, when Anya had lied about being pregnant, he’d married her. He’d suffered through a hellish marriage that had included infidelity, scandal and a very public divorce.
Never again would Michael forget the cynical truth about the North wealth. It attracted women who pretended a genuine interest in him when all they wanted was the use of his penthouse, his ranch, his helicopters, his private jets, his invitations to the right clubs, the best restaurants and the A-list parties. Unlike his brother, Michael wasn’t above enjoying the women his money lured, but only for brief intervals.
Never again would he believe any woman wanted more from him than his luxurious lifestyle. Never again would he make the mistake of forming a serious attachment. Unfortunately Will, who’d had a more indulged childhood than Michael, was too trusting for his own good. It was up to Michael to save Will from Bree.
Soft summer moonlight turned the high ceilings of his loft and his large bed to shades of silver and gray. Bree’s body felt warm; treacherously so as she nestled closer against him. Her cheap silver bangles and necklaces on the bedside table glittered. Her colorful, filmy clothes and scarves lay in tangles on the floor beside her sandals where he’d stripped her while she’d swayed to music, laughing.
The cozy heat of her satin-soft body lured him. He wanted to stay beside her, to see the shy warmth of her sweetly crooked smile and the flirtatious glow that lit her amber eyes every time he kissed her.
No, he had to finish her off—now—even if her sweet strawberry scent filled his nostrils and made him weak with the craving to bury his lips in her thick, satiny hair, to kiss her throat, to taste her mouth and other parts of her sexy, feminine anatomy just one more time.
Intoxicated by her soft, sensual allure, he lingered in the bed beside her, torturing himself as he savored her warmth and remembered all the ways they’d made love.
She’d been so silky and tight the first time, like a velvet glove. When he’d pushed eagerly inside, holding her against the wall, she’d cried out. But when he’d stopped out of concern for her, she’d pressed her palms into the small of his spine and pleaded with him to stay—to stay forever if that was possible. Slowly her small body had accommodated itself to him. Driving into her, the pleasure of each stroke had been so total in its visceral thrill that fierce pleasure unlike any he had ever known had saturated every cell in his body.
She’d been a damn good actress, playing at virginal innocence, enticing him, then surrendering like a wanton. She’d nearly undone him. She’d almost made him believe that he alone, not his fortune, was special to her.
“Who knew?” she’d whispered with him sheathed inside her. “I like it. No, I love it.” Then she’d stroked his cheek lovingly, her eyes shining with wonder. “I’m glad it’s you. I never thought it would be half so nice. I always wanted to date someone as handsome and smart as you. I...I just never thought anybody like you...would look at a girl like me.”
It had been nice for him, too, being with her. More than nice.
Special.
His world could be so cold, and she seemed so sweet. For one forbidden moment, when she’d kissed him as if she’d wanted to consume him, he’d lost himself in the searing hot, torrid welcome of her body. He’d almost forgotten to protect himself.
Every time he’d made love to her, even with a condom, the sex had gotten better. And each time afterward when she’d clung to him, she’d seemed sweeter. Whatever this thing was between them, it had shaken him to the core. Hell, just thinking about her and what she’d done to him made him hard again, even as he lay beside her icily plotting his next step.
“Will said you were cold and uptight,” she’d whispered.
He hadn’t liked her comparing him to Will, but with every kiss and unassuming glance her power over him had increased. A connection to her built deep inside him and morphed into something that felt more than physical.
What had been going on?
Her mysterious white-hot appeal had fueled a compulsion that no other woman had ever aroused in him. She’d made him ravenous. Together their writhing bodies had burned and soared. His out-of-control excitement had felt addictive, tempting him to forget everything he knew about women like her. She’d provided some deeply needed comfort he hadn’t known he’d craved until he’d experienced it in her arms. He had never known a real home, or felt at home with anyone, not even with the Norths, who’d given him their name and had claimed him as family. Not until tonight...with her.
She was dangerous. He had to rid himself of her quickly.
If he stalled for even one more night, she might have him totally in her power. He might even sink his own money into her bistro.
If he invested enough, would she favor him over Will?
Hell, he had the money. A part of him wanted her to prefer him to all others.
He swore. Such thoughts could derail him from his purpose. Just as he was about to throw off the covers and escape her so he could get his head straight, she whimpered. Clutching at his arms, she seemed to expect him to protect her from some mysterious terror.
“Michael...”
His heart throbbed. Oh, God.
Her voice was feminine, helpless. When her featherlight fingertips brushed his skin, he burned, aching for her all over again. No way could he resist her plea.
How old was she? Twenty-five? Ten years younger than he was? Or even younger? Whatever her age, with her thick, dark gold hair tumbling about her face and bare shoulders, her wild beauty dazzled him. She had a classic brow, a long, thin nose, high cheekbones, an incandescent complexion and full, voluptuous lips.
Not that she had the money or sense of style to dress properly. Her baggy, overlarge clothes had concealed and distracted more than they’d enhanced her beauty. But naked—with her tiny waist, curvy hips, soft breasts and those pert nipples exposed—she was perfect.
More than anything he wanted to roll her over, take her in his arms, hold her and pet her hair, and whisper that everything was all right. But nothing was all right. Not when he knew what she was—and what he had to do—and yet still felt so powerfully attracted to her.
* * *
Careful not to disturb her, he arose. He had to get a grip. But the minute he broke their physical connection, she sensed it and seemed to miss his presence as much as he missed hers.
“Michael,” she purred in a sexy, sleep-blurred tone. “Darling, come back to bed.”
“I’m not your darling,” he growled, hating that on some level he wanted to be.
“Michael, I... Have I done something...?” At his harsh tone, her voice grew shy and uncertain before it died in the silvery darkness.
The powerful need to comfort her from the hurt he was determined to inflict wrapped around him.
Hell. He had to finish this—or he would go crazy.
“I’m not your darling,” he repeated ruthlessly. “Tonight, everything, all of it—it was all lies.”
“Lies?”
“I seduced you to protect Will. From you. When you came on to me while I was with him at the fund-raiser, I knew what you were and saw how you intended to use him. You made my job easy when you made a play for me, too.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I sought you out tonight and slept with you so I could use it as leverage to make you stop seeing my brother. Tonight was all about Will.”
“Will?” She sounded confused. “Wait a minute. You think Will and I...that we’re a couple? That we’re dating? You...you don’t like me?”
“How could I like you, knowing what you are?”
Having been poor himself, he knew all about wanting more, about using people to get what he wanted. He’d worked damned hard. Still, he’d done a few things he wasn’t proud of to get where he was.
“You were after him, and then after me, because you needed our money for your failing restaurant.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you deny Will is one of your investors?”
“No.” But her beautiful mouth trembled just a little, and her eyes were now glistening with unshed tears. “You...deceived me? You didn’t really want me?”
He shook his head.
“Why? How could you do that? I would never use Will...or anybody. Will’s a friend, and yes, he’s an investor. He’s been an investor right from the beginning. But I’m not after his money! I’m not!”
“Then why did you hit on me so blatantly the night we met at the fund-raiser when you were with Will?”
“Maybe I flirted. But only because I thought you liked me....” She sucked in a breath. “Will is just a friend. He was a friend of Johnny’s first, and an investor in Chez Z when my brother first opened it. That’s how Will and I became friends.”
“Friends? That’s all you were?”
The night of the fund-raiser she’d worn a silver backless gown and a transparent shawl that had left very little of her sensuous shape to his imagination.
Her family history hadn’t helped his opinion of her. Six months ago, Johnny Z, her celebrity-chef brother, had been found dead in bed with a prominent plastic surgeon’s wife, another of the bistro’s investors. Everyone presumed the surgeon had shot Johnny, but the husband, who’d hired lawyers, wasn’t talking to the police, and his wife had vanished. Thus, the investigation had stalled. Still, the scandal, coupled with Z’s absence in the kitchen, had been devastating to Chez Z’s bottom line.
“Will asked me to go with him to the fund-raiser, so he could introduce me to some people who might be interested in investing. When he introduced me to you, I thought you might be one of those people.”
Her eyes were so brilliant with innocence and outrage he almost believed her. Then he remembered Anya and how gullible he’d been. He’d wanted to believe her. Capable as he might be in the business world, apparently he was an easy mark when it came to women he wanted in his bed.
“Bottle the performance! If you think I’m as big a fool as my little brother, you’re wrong. I want you to dress and leave. If you stay away from Will, I won’t tell him I slept with you tonight. If you don’t leave him alone, I’ll tell him about us.”
“Tell him for all I care. Better—maybe I’ll tell him myself. He needs to know how far you’ll go to control his life. Maybe he’ll resent you even more than he already does.”
Her reaction caught him off guard. He’d expected her to care more, to bargain, and what she’d said about Will hurt.
“He can’t afford to resent me,” Michael bluffed. “I write his allowance checks.”
“So everything’s just about money and control to you? And you think I’m like you—”
“I know you are! So, leave my brother alone, and I won’t make him think the worst of you by telling him about us. You bet on the wrong horse this time. Pick another. Someone who isn’t naive. Someone more like you and me.”
“Tell him. I’m not like you, and you can’t blackmail me, either.”
“You are like me. Greed isn’t the only thing we have in common,” he replied coldly. “If Will didn’t desire you, I’d be willing to set you up as my mistress. I’d keep you and your bistro afloat for as long you excited me.”
“Do you ever listen? For the last time, your brother and I are just friends. That’s why he won’t care if you slept with me. He was just an investor in the bistro. He already has someone in his life.”
“Really—who?”
Michael knew she was lying when she faltered and said, “Maybe you should ask him.”
If only Will did have someone, then Michael could have Bree for himself. He could afford her a helluva lot more easily than Will, couldn’t he?
Suddenly Michael reconsidered the situation. Where was the harm in keeping her, if she wasn’t serious about Will? As long as he understood what she was and was willing to be generous to her?
“Okay, then, if Will doesn’t want you because he has someone else, there’s nothing to stop me from having you. Here’s a new deal for you. If you cut Will loose as an investor and become my mistress, I’ll keep your bistro afloat for as long as you please me in bed.”
“What?” She stared at him as if she was having a hard time comprehending him.
“You heard me. Be my mistress, and your money problems will go away for as long as you keep me happy. Like you did tonight.”
“I can’t believe this. First you sleep with me to destroy an imagined relationship with your brother. And now you want to buy me for yourself? I’m sorry I ever met you.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel differently after you shop for the right apartment in the neighborhood of your choice and we settle on your generous allowance.”
“Now you wait a minute!”
“You want to save the bistro, don’t you? We enjoy each other, so why not?”
She pushed herself up from the bed. “You can’t just buy people!”
“You’d be surprised what money buys.”
“Well, I’m not for sale.”
“I doubt that. I just haven’t made you the right offer. Tell me what you want, and we’ll negotiate.”
“I can’t believe I ever thought for one second that you were a decent human being.” Her expression twisted in utter misery. “And I did. I really did. I can’t believe I’ve been such a fool...again.” She sighed. “This just proves what I told you earlier—I don’t have very good instincts about men. I think you’re the worst of them all...and I have to tell you, that’s pretty low.”
Her rejection stunned him. Too late Michael saw that he should have flattered her, that he should have seduced her into the deal as he had seduced her into his bed. Obviously she was like all the criminals in prison who proclaimed their innocence; she really didn’t see that she had done anything wrong. That’s where they were different. At least he knew when he’d crossed the line and was willing to accept the inevitable consequences.
“I’ll call my chauffeur,” he said coldly, hiding his disappointment. “He’ll be at the front door downstairs in five minutes to escort you out of the building. He’ll drive you anywhere you wish to go. After tonight I don’t ever want to see you with my brother again. Do you understand?”
“You can’t order me around...or your brother, who is an adult, and who is, whether you like it or not, one of my key investors. I fully intend to see him as often as I like! He has every right to invest his money where he chooses.”
“You’re very wrong.”
Michael turned his back and strode out of the room because the sight of her shimmering, pain-filled eyes, her quivering lips and her bare breasts were more than he could bear. Damn it, in spite of her rejection, in spite of what she was and how she was using Will, he still wanted her.
Only when he heard her rushing down his spiral staircase to the lower floor—she never used an elevator unless she had to because she was afraid of them—only when he heard his front door slam downstairs, did Michael return to his bedroom.
For a long moment he stood in the dark and stared out at the city that sparkled beneath a full moon and a starless sky. It was a beautiful night, he supposed, a night made for romance, if one believed in such things. He wondered if his failure to do so was due to the many flaws in his soul.
Growing bored with the view he left the window and turned on every light. Never had the vast marble bedroom in his penthouse apartment blazed with such cold and terrible brightness.
Only when he saw the bright splashes of red staining his sheet did he realize that maybe he’d been wrong about at least one thing.
Had she been a virgin? His heart, which usually felt so solid behind its frozen walls, began to beat with vicious, guilty pain. Surely no virgin would have shown such a wild, uninhibited response. And yet...
When he remembered her little cry when he’d first entered her, and her sweetness, and the admiration in her eyes when he’d discussed some of his projects with her, he recoiled. What if she had been an innocent? What if he, who’d been raised so roughly, had failed to see goodness because it had been such a rarity in his life?
“If I could succeed at even one thing, I’d feel so proud of myself,” she had confided. “And look at you—you turned the family investment firm around right after the last global financial meltdown. Now you’re opening banks and hotels in China and power plants in Malaysia. You conquer worlds—and accept such feats as your due. Your family must be so proud of you.” Her shining eyes had warmed him through.
If he’d been wrong about her virginity, had he been wrong about other things? Had she truly admired his accomplishments? Had she liked him, at least a little? Had he wounded her? And what was she really to Will?
No.
Damn it. He was sure of her ulterior motives. With her famous brother dead, his image trashed and their once popular bistro on the Upper West Side in trouble, she’d been after Will for his money. Then she had zeroed in on Michael at the fund-raiser when she’d seen a better mark. The only reason she’d turned down Michael’s second offer was because he’d wounded her pride.
As he yanked the sheets off his bed, he remembered her radiant complexion and the wonder in her eyes and his own intense pleasure. Sheathed to the hilt, he’d felt all male and powerful and yet happy in a bone-melting way he’d never known before.
If she was what he believed, why had she turned him down? Why?
Michael tried and failed to push his gnawing doubts aside. Damn it, he had to know why. But he couldn’t face her tonight.
They both deserved a few hours to recover from his brutal offer and her rejection. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to confront her again.
But by morning she was gone.
After he bribed the doorman to let him in to her empty apartment, he stomped about flinging her cupboards open while he dialed her cell phone, which went to voice mail. For more than an hour he searched for some clue as to where she’d gone and found none. His texts were ignored. When he went to Chez Z, her steely-eyed French mother, Bijou, had been in a meeting with the waitstaff.
“She said she had to go somewhere,” her mother said coolly, when he’d insisted upon interrupting her. “She said it was an emergency. She looked upset. I didn’t pry. Now, I wish I’d asked more questions. Are you the problem? Is she in trouble because of you?”
“No.”
“Well! She is no good with men. In fact, that’s an understatement. She’s pathetic. She took after me, you see. Her father did everything he could to ruin my life. If you aren’t going to treat her right, stay away from her, yes?”
What could he say to that? Despite the circumstances, he envied Bree for having such a mother. He hadn’t been so lucky.
When Michael went to his brother’s to warn him about Bree, Will refused to let Michael into his apartment.
“She already told me what you accused her of,” Will said, standing with the door half-closed to keep Michael in the hall. “I don’t know where she is, and frankly, I wouldn’t tell you if I did. You’ve overstepped the line.”
“She said you were seeing another woman? Are you?”
Will, who usually had an easy nature, scowled. “Right now, maybe you can guess why I don’t choose to discuss my personal life with you.”
Then he shut the door in Michael’s face.
Michael felt guilty and uneasy. What was Will hiding? Not only had Bree rejected him, she’d turned his brother against him. Will wouldn’t even confirm he was dating someone else, so did that mean he was still interested in Bree? If Will was involved with another woman, what the hell had Michael accomplished by bedding Bree other than becoming obsessed with her himself?
The odds were he was right about her character. Maybe she was gone, but what good was that if Will felt more protective of her than ever? Instead of turning his brother against her, all he’d done was make his brother angry with him.
Despite everything, Michael burned for her. No matter how hard he tried to bury himself in his work during the weeks that followed, no matter where he traveled or how many glamorous women he publicly dated in the attempt to prove to himself and to her how little she mattered, he couldn’t forget her.
Even when he left on what proved to be a month-long business trip to Shanghai to solve a crisis at one of his hotels, memories of her sweetness and outraged innocence lingered, haunting him.
The perfection of their night together drove him mad—especially after he learned that the same day he’d left New York, she’d returned to her bistro and had lunched with Will.
Had she deliberately remained hidden until he was gone? Was she that afraid of him?
What was her game? How could he stop her and save Will?