At The Playboy's Command
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“Connecticut. She wanted me to live up there with her. My father was adamant I would remain under his roof.” Actually, it was “we.” He’d had a younger brother, a friend he missed dearly. But that was something Daniel never discussed. “Given my father was a lawyer at the time, I’m stumped how he didn’t win sole custody. The law isn’t about justice,” he told her, running a hand down her arm. “It’s about who has the most money. The most clout.”
“Your mother got custody?”
“It was split, straight down the middle. Half my time was spent in South Carolina in my father’s empty, angry mansion, having to contend with my grandmother calling my mother a—”
His throat constricted, he cut himself off. He’d leave it to Elizabeth to fill in the blank.
“And the other half you spent up north,” she said for him.
He thought back to last night at the Milton Ranch dining table. “You asked if my mother could cook.”
“I remember.”
“She was a health nut. Constantly lecturing about the body being your temple and pumping herself full of vitamins. When I left her home for the last time, I ate nothing but junk food for a month.”
Her grin was small and sad. “How old were you when you left?”
“I was eighteen when I told them both to go to hell.”
Elizabeth drew back. “Your parents?”
He lifted one shoulder, let it drop. He was sorry he’d offended her Southern sense of duty. He was sorry about a lot of things.
“By that time I’d had it up to here with being shuffled back and forth like a parcel with no voice.” No feelings.
His voice had grown louder and his hands had bunched. He breathed in deeply, pushed it all out and dragged his thoughts away from incidents that couldn’t be changed.
“When they both threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t come around, I said I didn’t want anything to do with their money. I put myself through college and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Have you seen them since?”
He set his jaw against the hollow, dark feeling rising from deep inside. “Not my father.” He couldn’t bring himself to speak to that egocentric, self-serving man again. “And my mother knows if she starts with telling me what’s best for her boy, it’ll be a long time before I darken her doorstep again.”
“It makes sense now. Why you had such a strong opinion about my parents’—” she searched for a word “—requests. If my folks had behaved like that, I’m not sure I’d be falling over myself to please them, either.”
Her situation was vastly different from his. “You love your ranch.” She wanted to stay. Or at least she’d convinced herself that she did.
As if she’d read his mind and had grown uncomfortable, she sat up, hugged her sheet-covered knees and made a confession he had no trouble believing.
“I do get a little restless by the end of the ten months,” she said. “I can break up the time I spend out of Royal, but I usually go through my two months away pretty well straight out the gate.”
“There are no loopholes?”
“I get more time if I want to study away but there are stipulations on that, as well.”
“Sounds as if they wanted their grandkids to be pure Texan.”
She cut him an amused look. “I’m not thinking about having a family just yet.”
That makes two of us.
“You’ll find your own way,” he assured her. Even if it turned out to be her parents’ way, too.
“Do you think so?” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not sounding so sure today.”
“You’re young.” He sat up, too, and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve got plenty of time to grow old and set in your ways.”
“Like you?” she teased.
“That’s right,” he said, only half joking.
“Guess you’ve earned the right given you’re, what? all of thirty-three?”
“Thirty-five.”
She covered her heart and pretended to lose her breath. “If I’d known, I would never have seduced you.”
His smile faded as the obvious question begged to be voiced. “Would it be impolite to ask your age?”
Please not twenty-two.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Don’t tell me.” His lips twitched. “Twenty-six next birthday.” The idea of racking up another year wasn’t so appealing once you hit thirty.
She narrowed her eyes, but playfully. “I know what you’re thinking and ten years isn’t that big of an age difference. I’m well over twenty-one.”
A knot low in his gut pulled and he held that breath. They’d just made love, were sharing some secrets, but that last comment sounded a little too much like, Where do we go from here?
He tempered her challenging tone with a fact he’d come to appreciate more and more the older he got. “My father was ten years older than my mother.”
“Sounds like they had bigger problems than a gap in birth dates.”
“A lot of married couples do.”
A hint of suspicion swam up in her eyes and she looked at him hard. “You’re not a fan of the institution.”
He leaned back against the strong timber headrest. “That’s right.”
Her gaze searched his until Daniel felt her unwarranted pity seep into his bones.
“Your parents failed,” she murmured. “You didn’t. You don’t have to run all your life.”
Somewhere a phone began to ring. His heart thudding, Daniel snapped a glance to his left. The bedroom extension. Five minutes ago he’d have cursed the interruption. Now? It seemed this distraction was right on time.
He picked up and blinked twice at the voice on the other end. He’d expected Rand or one of the boys.
“Daniel, is this a bad time?”
“Abigail?” He brought the sheet up higher, flicked a glance at Elizabeth. “I was going to call.”
“I just wanted to let you know,” Abigail said, “despite yesterday’s hiccup, I have faith in you. You weren’t voted American Architect of the Year for nothing. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”
Daniel was gnawing his bottom lip.
“Well, see, Abigail … that’s the thing—”
“Word around town is you’re seeing my friend, Elizabeth Milton,” she cut in, an interested and approving note in her tone.
His smile was thin. “Nothing like a well-watered grapevine for spreading rumors.” Photos would probably be in the Royal newspaper come morning.
Abigail laughed. “Anyone would think you didn’t want a gorgeous, refined lady like Elizabeth Milton hanging off your arm.”
He wanted to clear his throat. He’d done more than that this past hour. They’d got close enough for Elizabeth to assume she knew him, to tell him that he didn’t need to keep running.
She had it wrong. He hadn’t run away. When he was old enough, he’d finally stood up and pledged to do things his way and to hell with anyone who didn’t like it.
But then Daniel thought about that design, Abigail’s belief in him, the story behind that plaque. Mostly he thought about Elizabeth and the voice in his head telling him that, after what they’d just shared, he should do more than thank her for her time and bolt.
“When can we meet?” Abigail was asking.
“Let me get back to you, Abby. I have something to take care of.”
He disconnected and, after a contemplative moment, found Elizabeth’s gaze. Hugging her legs, her chin resting on her knees, she was grinning—grinning as if she could read his every thought.
“You’re staying, aren’t you?” she asked.
Hoping he wouldn’t regret it, Daniel tipped her back onto the sheets.
“Yeah,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m staying.”
Seven
The moment Elizabeth knew that Daniel wasn’t on the next flight out of Royal, she was at once elated and strangely unsettled.
Her first thought was that they could share again what they had today. She’d never experienced anything like the sensations he’d stoked and coaxed from her this morning. Making love with Daniel had been an all-consuming, unprecedented lesson in mounting pleasure and rolling release. Mind, body and spirit seemed to meld until she’d felt as if she were one-half of a wondrous whole.
But as Daniel kissed her a final time then headed for the attached bath, Elizabeth bunched the sheet up under her chin and told herself to keep her head. Yes, the sex had been outstanding. Powerful. In some ways, humbling. So many would go through life without appreciating the true meaning of the phrase “making love.”
But that didn’t mean Daniel felt as deeply about this morning’s interaction as she did. She had no cause to think he’d told Abigail he’d stay for any reason other than the fact he wasn’t ready to give up on that project. She was thankful for Abigail’s sake, and for the sake of the inevitable future of the club … if Daniel came up with a design that captured the members’ hearts and helped Abigail’s push to become the establishment’s first female president. The old guard would have a blue fit.
But the Texas Cattleman’s Club was due for change. The club’s creed—Leadership, Justice and Peace—surely applied to good women as well as good men.
Angling her legs out from beneath the covers, Elizabeth wiggled her toes into the carpet and, looking toward the bathroom door, she wondered if she ought to get dressed before Daniel returned. Probably best, she decided, collecting her shoes and padding out to the main room. She wouldn’t have him think she wanted more of his time than she’d already taken.
She moved into the main room, slipped on her lingerie, her dress, jacket and finally those magic heels. And then her attention slid toward the main door and a prickle of unreality bubbled up. She didn’t regret coming here, but now that she was dressed and had been left alone to wait, she found it difficult to believe that she’d actually gathered up her courage to ride that elevator up to Daniel’s suite without an invitation in the first place.
Some might say she’d been reckless. Perhaps that was true. But, by God, it’d felt good to do precisely what she’d wanted, when she’d wanted to. She was more like Daniel than he knew.
“Was it something I said?”
At the sound of that deep, sexy voice at her back, Elizabeth spun around. Daniel stood in the doorway leading to the bedroom, a white towel lashed around his hips. A flurry of butterflies released in her stomach as she scanned the expanse of his broad chest, the muscular definition of powerful arms and super-toned abs. Her mind wound back to the way he’d held her as he’d brought them both to the brink then had flung them both over that fiery edge. She remembered the delicious thrills that had spiraled through her and, drinking in the glorious picture of him now, she only wanted to do it again.
Some men were born lovers.
His shoulder pushed off the jamb and he sauntered toward her. With every step, that pulse low inside of her beat a little deeper and each breath came a little quicker.
“You’re leaving?” A line creased between his eyebrows.
With him close again, the magnet that had drawn them so fiercely together earlier began to tug again. But, although the idea was tempting, they couldn’t spend all day in bed.
Could they?
Forcing her eyes from his penetrating gaze, she moved to collect her handbag where she’d dropped it in the center of the room an hour earlier.
“I should be getting on my way,” she told him breezily. “You have work to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait until we’ve enjoyed an early lunch. After just coffee this morning, I’m starved.”
A saucy smile swam in his eyes as he brought her near and nuzzled the side of her neck. A jet of warmth rushed through her veins. She was helpless not to sigh and lean in more.
“Are you sure?” she murmured as his mouth traced a sensual line up to her chin.
“One hundred percent,” he growled.
“You’re not keen to start on your drawings?”
He tipped back to look at her sideways. “Anyone would think you’re trying of get rid of me.”
She laughed. Ridiculous. “I just wasn’t expecting you to stay.”
“You have somewhere else to be?”
“Not especially. Although I was going to drop by Chad’s office and organize a donation so those flamingos can be on their way. I shouldn’t be greedy. Someone else ought to enjoy the privilege for a while.”
“Chad?” Daniel adjusted his towel. “The financial advisor who likes to keep you on his leash, that Chad?”
Her jaw set. “I explained to you—”
“Yeah. I know. He likes to look out for you.”
“There’s a clause in the will that dictates Chad must be my financial advisor.”
“That document sure likes to dictate.”
She didn’t like—and didn’t have to endure—the irritation darkening his face.
She collected her bag and, straightening the strap over her shoulder, she nodded toward the door. “I should go.”
When she tried to skirt around him, however, Daniel reached out and caught her wrist. The disapproval burning in his eyes had turned to apology.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get into that again.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
And she did. But it was really time she left. She didn’t want to regret this time and if she stayed any longer she had a feeling that she might.
Five minutes later Elizabeth stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel foyer. Although she was seen in town, in this hotel, often, she kept her head down. She didn’t want to field any innocent questions about what had brought her here today.
She nodded to a stranger, sitting in a tub chair, who looked up from his newspaper and smiled. Stepping up her pace, she’d made it to the door when she ran into the one person she wasn’t prepared to face.
“Elizabeth? What brings you in here today?”
“Chad.” She tried to catch her breath and will the heat from seeping any higher up her neck. On a nervous laugh, she wet her lips and stammered some words. “I could ask the same.”
“I’m here to see a client.”
Now he was looking at her oddly, trying to see past the overly cheery facade.
“I was meeting a friend for lunch.”
His salt-and-pepper eyebrows nudged in. “It’s not even eleven.”
“Thought I’d book early. You know how I like particular tables.”
“Who are you meeting?”
She coughed out a short laugh. “Would you like me to hand over my appointment book?”
His eyes glinted with concern. “Elizabeth, you look shaken.”
Now her face was burning. She fanned herself.
“I do feel a little piqued.”
Moving to stand beside her, he rested a hand on her back. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“I’ll be fine.”
But he was already leading her to a comfortable settee and signaling to the concierge.
Then the situation got a thousand times worse.
Daniel stepped out of the elevator, his mind racing.
He’d rung to tell Rand that while he and the crew were free to leave today, the boss was staying. He was on his way now to the Cattleman’s Club to see if he couldn’t get some creative juices flowing. Somewhere the perfect idea was dying to bubble up, waiting only for the right inspiration to have it fully emerge. Thankfully, now that he’d made up his
mind to step back up and face the challenge, his enthusiasm barometer had cranked up to high.
That he’d had the best sexual experience of his life this morning no doubt contributed to the energy belting through his blood. Perhaps not surprisingly, images of Elizabeth and possible club designs were converging on one another in his brain. Despite the diminished note on which she’d left, he couldn’t ignore the truth. He wanted to see her again. Asking to view her house a second time would be a good excuse. But would she want to see him again? After his dig about the will, she’d practically burned rubber leaving when she had.
Daniel was striding across the long stretch of carpet when a flash of pink caught his eye and he pulled up sharply. A rush of disbelief falling through his center, he looked harder. Elizabeth had had plenty of time to leave the hotel. He wouldn’t have minded bumping into her here now, except for her current company.
His lip curled.
Tremain.
But, given she’d already spotted him, there was nothing to do but stop and acknowledge them both. Then he realized Tremain was handing Elizabeth a glass of water and his insides clutched. Was she ill? And what was Mr. Have Finance Will Travel doing here anyway?
Her gaze on his, looking ashen and alarmed, Elizabeth got to her feet. And then, of course, Daniel knew. She wasn’t ill but taken aback, probably at running into Tremain and then again seeing the lover she’d left moments ago.
“Daniel Warren! Seems I’m stumbling into everyone here today. Chad, you remember Mr. Warren from the club.”
Tremain fairly snarled. “Yes, I remember Mr. Warren.”
Again Chad Tremain didn’t extend his hand. This time neither did Daniel. Then a shadow crossed Tremain’s face and Daniel could barely contain a grin. He wouldn’t do it to Elizabeth, but he longed to confirm what was rattling around in Tremain’s suspicious mind. Yep, she was here to see me, chum. Males of all species sensed competition at a hundred paces.
Not that Daniel was a long-term threat. He might not be flying home today but he would stay only as long as necessary. Elizabeth knew that as well as he knew her situation.
Daniel addressed Elizabeth in a formal tone. “Nice to see you again, Miss Milton.” He noted the glass and feigned a concerned look. “You’re not feeling well?”
“I was dizzy for a moment. I’m feeling much better now.”
“Can I escort you anywhere?”
“No need, Warren,” Tremain cut in. “I can look after Elizabeth’s needs.”
Daniel sent Tremain a cold look and crooked grin. “Is that right?”
Tremain looked about ready to bare his teeth when Elizabeth shoved her half-empty glass at his chest.
“Would you refill this for me, please, Chad? I’m feeling flushed again.”
Tremain’s stony gaze gradually left Daniel’s to study Elizabeth’s innocent smile. He took the glass. “Certainly.”
Daniel waited until Tremain was out of earshot. “Awkward moment?”
Cutting a nervous glance around, Elizabeth tugged and straightened her jacket’s hem. In a hoarse whisper, she told him, “There’s no need for Chad to know what happened this morning.”
“I’d have no trouble informing him.”
Her eyes widened at his gravelly tone and she whispered again, sterner this time, “Don’t you dare stir up trouble.”
“On one condition.”
Striking a pose, she folded her arms. “Are you proposing blackmail?”
He wondered if he saw a touch of excitement light in her eyes.
“Nothing quite so dramatic. I’d like to visit the Milton Ranch again.”
She gaped at him for five full seconds before a smile flirted with one side of her mouth. “I’m sure Nita would love to accommodate you. I warn you, though. This time you’d better stay for dessert.”
“You can bet on it,” Daniel said.
“Can bet on what?”
Daniel flicked a glance to his left. Tremain was back. And while Daniel appreciated Elizabeth’s position with regard to privacy, he wasn’t about to hide behind corners like a kid. Elizabeth was woman enough for Tremain to hear at least part of the truth.
“I invited myself over to Milton Ranch for supper.”
Gaze firing, Tremain actually squared up. “Rather presumptuous of you, isn’t it, Warren?”
Daniel shrugged. “We Northerners are known for it.”
Chad’s shoulders went back at the same time Elizabeth stepped between them.
“Chad, did I mention I’m desperate to get those plastic flamingos off my lawn? Could we organize a donation today?”
Tremain’s glare slid away from Daniel, who hadn’t had this much fun since he’d whipped the butt of a college rival at tennis. It felt good to win.
Tremain addressed Elizabeth. “I can organize that for you, Elizabeth, although we’ll need to discuss an amount.”
“Do you have time to sit down now?” she asked.
Tremain eyed Daniel again before extending his arm for Elizabeth. But she either didn’t see the gesture or ignored it.
Daniel grinned to himself. Suck on that, Tremain.
Before moving off, she offered her hand to Daniel. “I’ll see you this evening.”
“Let’s say, seven?”
As their hands met and squeezed, a smile twinkled in her eyes. “Seven sounds just fine.”
Daniel was tempted to watch as she moved off, but to be on his way was probably wiser. He’d riled Tremain enough for one day. He asked the doorman to have his rental brought up and soon he arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Alighting from the vehicle, he surveyed the club’s grounds. Manicured gardens and lawn were set amid majestic sprawling plains dotted with small trees, which were bowed by prevailing southern winds. His attention veered toward the club building, grand, solid and appropriate … but also, to his taste, due for at least a good brushup.
Because of the sheer size of the state, its variations in weather and scattered patterns of settlement, Texas architecture enjoyed a diversity of styles. The clubhouse was a mixture of Victorian—red granite and timber exterior, sandstone and elaborate carved woodwork interior—and Spanish Colonial, an ancestor of the ranch-style house—thick stuccoed walls and small windows that invited in the breeze and kept out the heat. The structure conveyed a sense of strength. Endurance. And that was key.
So how to keep the heart of this club while promoting the new twenty-first-century feel Abigail and her supporters were after?
Daniel was wandering around a far corner of the building when he heard a hushed but intense conversation in progress. Male voices … the words “baby” and “blackmail.” Three men came into view, huddled together beneath a giant oak. Not wanting to intrude, he was pivoting away when one of the men glanced over then all three stopped to glare.
The nearest, a tall man with brown hair and hawkish hazel eyes, edged around to face him. “Can I help you?”
Daniel held up a friendly hand. “Just taking a stroll of the grounds. Admiring the club.” When their stares intensified, he added, “The name’s Daniel Warren.”
That same man’s eyes flashed. “Abigail’s star-chitect.”
And then it clicked and Daniel straightened his spine. “And you must be Bradford Price.”
This was the man who was running for presidency of the club and Abigail Langley’s nemesis. No wonder he was looking at Daniel as if he wanted to grab him by the collar and personally escort him off the grounds. And what was that about blackmail? Such murmurings didn’t bode well for a club whose motto was Leadership, Justice and Peace.
“I’m Abigail’s guest here, yes.” Daniel jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be on my way. Let you all get back to your conversation.”
As he rotated away, Daniel saw in Brad Price’s eyes that he wondered how much of the conversation the outsider had heard. Enough to be suspicious, that’s how much. But not enough to want to dig any further. Seemed there was a whole lot more going on in Royal than an unprecedented election.
As she and Chad took a seat in a private corner of the hotel, Elizabeth got straight to business and mentioned the amount she was more than comfortable with donating to the Helping Hands Shelter in exchange for having the flamingos removed.
Sitting back, Chad slowly shook his head. “You don’t need to donate that much.”
She frowned. “It’s a wonderful cause.” One of the best, to Elizabeth’s mind. Although she kept it quiet, she’d been helping out individual families for a while now. “That women’s shelter has helped a lot of people in need, children included. It offers a wonderful service for the community.”
“No doubt. And it’s great to have such a generous spirit. You never tire of giving. But, Elizabeth, you don’t need to go overboard.”
She eyed the man who had been directing her finances—her life—since her parents’ deaths, and a sick, empty feeling caved in around her. She’d told Daniel she wasn’t a child, but the truth was Chadwick Tremain made her feel like a minor. A mere girl with no rights. She was a twenty-five-year-old woman with a sharp mind. A mind of her own.