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“You also claim you lied when you said you loved me and wanted to have my children. Why should I believe you’re not lying now?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. He had a point. She hated that he believed she’d slept with his father, but nothing she said was going to change Rand’s mind. He had to come to that realization himself. And when he did, he’d realize how selfish she’d been. Her refusal to become Everett’s partner in exchange for top-notch oncologists’ care could very well have cost her mother her life.
Would Rand hate her for being weak? Because she certainly hated herself.
She sighed. “I’m not lying.”
“Truth seems to be a fluctuating commodity with you. I’ll see you at the office. Thanks for the breakfast and coffee. But tomorrow, don’t bother.”
“Any idea which heads will roll?”
Tara turned toward the familiar, raspy female voice. “Hello, Patricia.”
Patricia Pottsmith had been head of human resources when Tara had originally joined KCL seven years ago. She’d been a cutthroat and ambitious manager back then, and her current position as vice president of the Rendezvous line implied that hadn’t changed. She’d moved up the ladder quickly. Tara suspected it was because Patricia didn’t mind who she stepped on.
“How about a little insider info for an old friend? A new broom always sweeps clean. Who is Rand going to fire?”
Tara didn’t bother to point out they had never been friends. “Even if I knew Rand’s plans I wouldn’t reveal confidential information.”
“I hired you and recommended you as Everett’s PA.” Patricia’s haughty tone implied Tara owed her.
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to get what you want from Rand. He’ll be calling in each brand’s management team for meetings starting Monday.”
“Well, at least your job is secure. For as long as Rand’s interest lasts, that is.”
The bottom dropped out of Tara’s stomach. “Excuse me?”
“Sleeping with the boss has its perks. I don’t hold that against you, Tara. I’ve done it myself.”
Tara tried to hide her distress and shock. Distress that she and Rand had become the hot topic. Shock that Patricia might have slept with Everett. Tara wondered again if she’d misjudged her boss. “Do the other executives believe I slept with Rand to get this job?”
Patricia rolled a narrow shoulder. “It’s common knowledge that you never filled out a new application, interviewed or underwent a criminal background check and drug test. HR didn’t hire you. You’ve been wasting away at a backwater small business since you left KCL, and yet you waltz back into one of the most sought after positions in the company—a company that prides itself on promoting from within.”
To know this supposedly confidential information Patricia must have used and abused her HR connections. Tara scanned the group of sixteen men and women—the presidents and vice presidents of each line—who’d gathered in the glitzy private hotel dining room for cocktails and dinner. Their snide appraisals made her want to run.
The joy over an event well-planned and discovery of the perfect cocktail dress in a tiny boutique during a mad lunch-hour shopping dash drained away. Suddenly, her black jersey off-the-shoulder dress felt sleazy instead of subtly sexy. The garment exposed more cleavage than she was used to revealing. Not that the dress was daring by most people’s—or Miami’s—standards, but it was by Tara’s.
She wanted a sweater. Or an overcoat.
And she wished Rand were here. But an international call about a problem at an Italian port had detained him as they were leaving her house. She’d driven herself and he planned to follow as soon as he could.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, Rand strode through the doorway. He wore a black dinner jacket over a white collarless shirt and black, sharply creased pants.
The years in California had been good for him. He’d always been confident, but he seemed even more so now. He dominated the room by simply being here, and it wasn’t because of his position. It was the air of command he radiated. Conversations stalled and heads turned.
He scanned the room and his attention locked on her. He stopped in his tracks. His gaze slowly raked her from head to toe and back. At any other time his heated look would have made her shiver with awareness and pleasure. But not tonight. Not knowing that others thought she’d sold herself to get this job.
Yes, she was sleeping with Rand, but not because of work. It was because she thought they might be perfect life partners not convenient temporary bedmates.
“Excuse me, Patricia.” Tara forced herself to move toward Rand. Her unsteady legs had nothing to do with the obscenely high heels she’d bought to go with the knee-length dress with a longer hem in the back that swished flirtatiously as she walked.
She stopped a circumspect yard away from him. “I’ve had the bartender serve drinks and appetizers. We’re not far behind schedule. You’ll still have time to mingle. All I need is a sign from you when you’re ready for dinner to be served.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Had her tone given away her agitation? She made a conscious effort to blank her face. “They’re waiting to see who you’re going to fire. Let me get your drink.”
He grabbed her elbow. “Tara.”
She tugged but he didn’t release her. His long, warm fingers held tight. She could feel the eyes of the executives on them. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Not here. Please.”
He frowned at her then shifted to stand between her and their guests, turning his back to the room and blocking her view of the executives and theirs of her. “I’ll ask again. What’s wrong?”
She hesitated, but if Rand was concerned with his credibility as CEO then he needed to know. “They know we’re living together, and they think I slept with you to get this job.”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “You knew sharing an address would cause problems.”
“Yes … No. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t expect … animosity.”
“You want me to move out?” His eyes searched hers.
If she wanted a chance with Rand, it was now or never. This opportunity wouldn’t come again. She’d lived through watching her mother fade more with each passing day. She could handle a little gossip.
Live your life without regrets, Tara.
Lifting her chin, she squared her shoulders. “No.”
“Then you have to suck it up and deal with their attitudes. You and I know the truth. We’re both profiting from this situation.” He waited until she nodded, then faced his employees. “Thank you for coming. I know you have questions. I’ll answer as many of those as I can tonight. But first I want to thank Tara. She’s put her life on hold this year for KCL.
“I recruited her and bribed her to return as part of the transition team because my father always claimed she was the best PA he’d ever had. In four short days, I’ve learned that if anything, he underestimated her worth. Tara has already become an invaluable asset to me. I place a great deal of trust in her opinions.”
With a few words Rand implied the employees had better respect her, or else. After his gentleness last night, his support now was enough to make her eyes sting. She blinked to hold back the tears. She’d had to be strong for her mother for so long. Having someone stand up for her made her throat tighten.
No wonder she’d fallen in love with Rand five years ago.
“Most of you are familiar faces,” Rand continued. “I look forward to getting to know the rest of you and learning how you believe you can increase sales in your brand. We have issues to address, and we will be making adjustments this year. But for the most part, KCL is on the right course. Your input is and will always be welcome. I have an open door policy, but if at any time you can’t reach me, you can take your concerns to Tara and trust that she will relay everything you say to me. We work as a team.”
Tara saw Patricia Pottsmith stiffen.
Rand turned to Tara. “I’ll take that drink now.”
She smiled at him and nodded. He’d called them a team. He couldn’t possibly know how badly she wanted that to be true in every sense of the word or how hard she planned to work to make it happen. And every ounce of kindness he showed her only made her more determined to recapture the passion of their past.
Tara tapped on Rand’s closed bedroom door.
Seconds passed, but he didn’t answer. She knew he was here because she’d heard him come upstairs while she was removing her makeup.
Was he avoiding her? The evening had gone nicely for the most part. There had been some tension, but Rand had handled it well. And she wanted to tell him that.
She rapped again, harder this time. She was on the verge of returning to her room when the door flew open. A dripping Rand stood on the other side. Water streamed from his hair, cascading over his bare, broad shoulders and trickling through the dark curls on his chest and belly to be absorbed by the mauve towel encircling his hips. The dark hairs on his legs clung to his tanned flesh.
She jerked her gaze from his bare feet to his eyes. He looked annoyed, but that didn’t stop hunger from swirling in her midsection. Not even the feminine, colored towel could lessen his masculine appeal. Bubbles clung to his neck behind his left ear. Shampoo suds?
She hugged her robe tighter around her waist, fisting her fingers in the fabric and fighting the urge to brush the bubbles away. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in the shower.”
“What do you want, Tara? A command performance?”
She flinched. “N-no. I wanted to thank you for tonight, for backing me. And I wanted to tell you that you handled the executives’ anxiety better than Everett would have.”
His jaw shifted and his eyes narrowed. “Thanks. Goodnight.”
He pivoted and stalked back into the room without closing the door.
Don’t let him walk away this time.
She followed him, admiring the wide, droplet-spattered V of his torso and watching as he grabbed another towel from the bathroom rail and briskly scrubbed the moisture from his hair and skin. The muscles of his back and arms flexed with his movements and her body responded by generating heat in her belly and her skin. “But you didn’t have to lie, Rand.”
He met her gaze in the mirror. “I don’t lie.”
“I meant about Everett saying I was the best PA he’d had.”
“That was the truth. My father thought you could do no wrong.”
“Really?” That meant a lot because she had tried very hard not to disappoint him after he’d taken a chance on pulling her from reservations.
She smiled and Rand turned to scowl at her. He scowled a lot these days. She didn’t remember him doing so in the past … except for that last morning.
She cleared her throat. “Well … anyway, thanks for telling me and for your other compliments. And thank you for last night.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing to me.” She closed the distance between them and rose on tiptoe to brush a quick thank-you kiss on his cheek. But something went amiss the minute her palm encountered the steamy, damp flesh of his naked chest.
Rand sucked in a sharp breath. His hand gripped her waist, and he turned his head. Their lips met. Brushed. Clung. Separated.
Surprised by the sensual impact of what she’d intended as a friendly peck, Tara eased back and tried to catch her breath. His heart pounded heavily beneath her hand, racing almost as fast as hers. The gold flecks in his hazel eyes glittered and his pupils expanded with desire. An answering need swelled within her.
Moisture flooded her mouth. She gulped it down and gave in to temptation to reach up for the stray suds. She stroked them down his neck and across his collarbone, not stopping until her hands rested side by side on his chest.
She licked her lips. “I didn’t come in here for this.”
But that didn’t mean she didn’t want it. Want him.
Live your life without regrets.
Sliding her hands to his shoulders, she rose again and covered his mouth with hers. Rand didn’t pull away, nor did he do anything to aid her. He stood as still as a statue. But so much warmer. Hotter.
Her pulse stuttered like the woodpecker that sometimes woke her by pecking on the gutter outside her bedroom. She sipped from Rand’s mouth and then traced his lips with her tongue.
An almost inaudible sound rumbled deep in his throat. The fingers at her waist tightened. But he didn’t push her away.
In their past relationship she’d never been bold enough to take the initiative with him, but back then she’d been inexperienced and unsure.
She tasted him, sweeping the soft inner flesh of his lips and his slick teeth, and then she leaned in to him. His saunalike heat soaked through her thin gown and robe, scorching her breasts and abdomen and making her ache deep in her core.
Only Rand could melt her with nothing more than a kiss. Only Rand could banish the emptiness and loneliness clawing at her. She wanted him like she’d never wanted any other man. Showing him seemed … important somehow.
She lifted her head and sank back on her heels, then glided her hands over his chest, across the hard nubs of his tiny nipples and the sparse curls covering his pectorals. She traced the hairline leading to the towel with a feather-light caress. His skin goose-bumped and his stomach muscles contracted beneath her fingertips. His indrawn breath hissed.
She’d always loved touching him, pleasuring him, making this man who seemed so in control ninety-nine percent of the time lose it. He’d taught her how. In fact, he’d taught her everything she knew about making love, but she’d always been tentative and afraid of doing something wrong. In the end she had, but it had been her words, not her actions, that drove him away.
Leaning in, she painted a wet circle around one nipple and then the other. She grasped the towel on his hips for balance, sliding her fingers behind the damp barrier. The knot loosened. She tugged and the covering dropped to the floor, revealing his thick erection.
He wanted her. Wanted this. The undeniable proof stood between them.
Encircling his smooth shaft with one hand, she cupped him with the other and tested his length, his silkiness. His muscles turned rigid, the tendons of his face and neck strained. She circled the satiny head with her thumb the way she knew he liked and relished his groan.
“Tara—”
“Shh. Let me.” She sank to her knees and licked him from base to tip.
He jammed his fingers into her hair so swiftly she expected him to yank her away. But he didn’t. Parting her lips, she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, stroking him, loving him. His texture. His taste. His response. Each growl and hiss and pulse rewarded her efforts.
She dragged one hand down a rock-hard thigh and skimmed it around to cup his clenched buttocks. Her tongue swirled around him and the fingers in her hair trembled. Each little quake teased her scalp and heated her core. She smiled and deepened her kiss, knowing he liked what she was doing.
Rand swore.
“Tara.” He ground out her name in a command, a warning, a plea.
She dragged her short nails up and down the back of his thigh. The tremors spread to his legs. His toes curled into the rug.
She remembered his erogenous zones, the spots that made Rand shudder, and she shamelessly reacquainted herself with each one, lingering until his back bowed and his fingers fisted. He tried to pull away, but she cinched her arms around him and wouldn’t let him go. And then he roared out his pleasure.
Moments later his hands fell heavily to her shoulders, then he cupped her face and urged her to stand. She rose slowly, kissing a path from his hipbone to his sternum, his collarbone, his jaw and finally his mouth.
Rand’s arms banded around her, crushing her body to his as he kissed her so fiercely she grew dizzy and had to break away to gasp for breath. His hazel eyes burned into hers and his nostrils flared with each inhalation.
Happy that she could give him as much pleasure as he’d given her two nights ago, she smiled and traced a finger along his jaw. As long as they had this explosive chemistry between them, she had a chance to revive and improve on their past relationship.
“Thank you for being there for me.” Her words came out choppy with emotion. It had been so long since she’d had someone to lean on. But she wasn’t going to turn on the waterworks in front of him again. She’d done enough of that last night.
She wiggled free and made a beeline for the door.
“What was that about?” Rand’s harsh voice stopped her before she could escape. Tara looked at him over her shoulder. Suspicion clouded his eyes, and it tore her heart. Why couldn’t he trust her?
“I wanted to make you feel good.”
The flush of passion had faded from his face and his lips made a thin, straight line. “What do you expect in return?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Right.” Disbelief stretched out the word. He closed the distance between them until he loomed over her. “You want me. I can see it in your eyes and the color of your cheeks. Your nipples are hard. I’ll bet you’re wet, Tara.”
“Without a doubt.”
He lifted his hand and grasped her shoulder. His thumb covered the racing pulse at the base of her neck. She shivered.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t aroused, Rand. I said I didn’t expect anything from you tonight.”
“But you wouldn’t say no.” The razor-sharp edge had returned to his voice. He dragged a finger to her breast, bumped over a tightened nipple, bisected her belly and grazed the sensitive area between her thighs.
Desire clenched her womb. But Rand seemed angry instead of turned on and his anger wasn’t what she craved. The gold flecks in his irises glittered, but not with hunger. This wasn’t the same man she’d lost her heart to. This Rand was harder, less trusting and less charming.
What had made him that way?
“I wouldn’t say no if I thought you wanted me right now. But you don’t. And I don’t want you back in my bed until you want to be there.” Backing him into a corner and demanding sex had only thickened the walls between them. She had to give him space.
His eyes narrowed to slits. “What game are you playing?”
“No game.” She stepped away although part of her ached to stay, to find sexual pleasure with him even though she knew she’d regret it later. “Good night, Rand. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She slipped through the door and into her room.
Gaining his trust would be difficult, but if she couldn’t do that, then she’d never win his heart. Five years ago she hadn’t been up to the task, but today she was older, wiser, stronger and more determined. She wasn’t going to rush this time. She had a full year to accomplish her goal.
She wanted the man she’d fallen in love with back, and then she’d win him over.
Because this time nothing less than everything Rand Kincaid had to offer would be enough.
Six
The sudden roar of an engine broke Rand’s concentration Saturday evening.
He looked over his laptop screen and out the window beyond the desk he’d set up in his bedroom, and spotted Tara with a red lawnmower on the back lawn. A floppy straw hat covered her hair and face, but her skimpy bathing-suit top and short shorts did a piss-poor job of covering her from her shoulders to the white sneakers on her feet. His gaze cruised past the curves of her breasts to her midriff and long legs and back up again. His pulse quickened.
He forced his attention back to the spreadsheet, but the numbers might as well have been encrypted. He shoved the pages away. So much for the financial report. His brain had been hijacked by his libido.
Again.
The entire week had been a challenge. Tara was everything he’d said at the executives’ dinner and more. Smart. Efficient. Productive. She seemed to anticipate his needs even before he recognized them.
She was also a distraction. Her scent lingered in his office long after she left, and he heard every movement she made on the other side of the wall dividing her workspace from his. He’d never had trouble blocking out his previous PAs’ voices, but at this rate his open door policy was in danger of becoming the closed door variety.
She’d played him with the oldest trick in the book Thursday night. Seduction. And it pissed him off. Heat steamed from his pores and his body switched to red alert at the mental replay of her hot, wet mouth pulling a response from him. One he’d wanted to deny but couldn’t.
Cursing his inability to block the images from his memory, he closed his laptop, and gave in to the temptation to look at her again.
What was it about Tara Anthony that made him ignore rules and good sense?
Tara swiped a hand across her forehead, driving Rand’s gaze to the outside thermometer hanging by the back gate in the flower-flooded garden. Eighty-eight degrees. He drummed his fingers on the desk.
He’d been cloistered in his bedroom working for most of the day. And he wanted to stay here, avoiding Tara, avoiding the sexual craving her proximity caused, avoiding the memory of her talented, lying mouth. Avoiding the relationship he wanted no part of but she seemed insistent on forcing.
But his conscience wouldn’t let him, and he couldn’t concentrate with her making all that racket. He shot out of his chair, headed downstairs and plowed open the back door. He slammed into a humid wall of heat the second he hit the patio.
Tracking the engine noise, he stepped off the hot flagstones and around a hedge of tall green shrubs loaded with pink blooms and buzzing bees, and jerked to a halt when he spotted Tara bent at the waist with one hand on the mower handle. The curve of her backside pointed in his direction, and her shorts rode up to expose paler crescents of flesh beneath the ragged hem.
His muscles seized and his eyes gorged. A burn unrelated to the evening sun baked his skin. He fisted his hands by his side against the urge to trace those untanned curves. Most women hated tan lines, but he loved them. That pale flesh signified something taboo, an area meant to be concealed.
Tara scooped up a yellow ball, straightened then tossed the toy over the six-foot wooden privacy fence separating her yard from her neighbor’s. She resumed mowing, her long, lean leg muscles flexing with each stride.
“Tara.” She either didn’t hear him or ignored him. “Tara,” he shouted.
She spun around so abruptly the noisy engine died. “What?”
The closer he got to her, the drier his mouth became. Her blue underwire top cupped and lifted her breasts like lingerie or his hands would, and her denim shorts were so old and faded it was a wonder they hadn’t split at the seams when she’d bent over. On second thoughts, they hadn’t torn because they were too large and barely clung to her hips. The waistband gaped to reveal her navel. Frayed bits of bleached fabric danced along the tops of her thighs in the slight evening breeze. A sheen of sweat glistened on her body, and a rivulet ran from between her breasts to disappear behind her loose waistband.
One tug and Tara’s denim cutoffs would be tatters. Rand’s fingers twitched. He swallowed, but the gesture did nothing to wet his dry mouth or douse the fire behind his fly. Neither did his gulps of suntan-oil-and-fresh-cut-grass-scented air.
“Why don’t you have a lawn service?” The unwanted attraction pissed him off and his anger came through in his clipped words.
She shrugged, removed her hat and wiped her forehead with her forearm. “Too expensive.”
“Not with the salary I’m paying you.”
“That money is earmarked for something else.”
“What?”
She shifted and the shorts slid south a fraction of an inch. Another wiggle of her hips and they’d hit the grass.