His Seductive Proposal

A Touch of Persuasion

Janice Maynard

Terms of Engagement

Ann Major

An Outrageous Proposal

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

A Touch of Persuasion

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Terms of Engagement

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Epilogue

An Outrageous Proposal

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Copyright

A Touch of Persuasion

Janice Maynard

JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Harlequin family—a lifelong dream, by the way!

Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website at www.janicemaynard.com or e-mail her at JESM13@aol.com. And of course, don’t forget Facebook (www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReader Page). Find her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/Janice Maynard and visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.

For Deener,

Your energy, enthusiasm and joie de vivre challenge the rest of us to embrace life more fully! I am glad you are my friend!

One

Kieran stood on the front porch of the small, daffodil-yellow house and fisted his hands at his hips. In the distance, the sounds of a lawn mower mingled with childish shouts and laughter. The Santa Monica neighborhood where he had finally tracked down Olivia’s address was firmly, pleasantly middle class.

He told himself not to jump to conclusions.

The article he’d clipped from one of his father’s newspapers crackled in his pocket like the warning rattle of a venomous snake. He didn’t need to take it out for a second read. The words were emblazoned in his brain.

Oscar winners Javier and Lolita Delgado threw a lavish party for their only grandchild’s fifth birthday. The power couple, two of the few remaining MGM “Hollywood royals,” commanded an A-list crowd that included a who’s who of movie magic. Little “Cammie,” the star of the show, enjoyed pony rides, inflatables and a lavish afternoon buffet that stopped just short of caviar. The child’s mother, Olivia Delgado, stayed out of the limelight as is her custom, but was seen occasionally in the company of rising film star Jeremy Vargas.

Like a dog worrying a bone, his brain circled back to the stunning possibility. The timing was right. But that didn’t mean he and Olivia had produced a child.

Anger, searing and unexpected, filled his chest, choking him with confusion and inexplicable remorse. He’d done his best to eradicate memories of Olivia. Their time together had been brief but spectacular. He’d loved her with a young man’s reckless passion.

It couldn’t be true, could it?

Though it wasn’t his style to postpone confrontation, he extracted the damning blurb one more time and studied the grainy black-and-white photo. The child’s face was in shadow, but he knew her family all too well.

Did Kieran have a daughter?

His hands trembled. He’d been home from the Far East less than seventy-two hours. Jet lag threatened to drag him under. Things hadn’t ended well with Olivia, but surely she wouldn’t have kept such a thing from him.

The shocking discovery in his father’s office set all of Kieran’s plans awry. Instead of enjoying a long overdue reunion with his extended family on their remote mountaintop in the Virginia Blue Ridge, he had said hello and goodbye with dizzying speed and hopped on another plane, this time to California.

Though he’d be loath to admit it, he was jittery and panicked. With a muttered curse, he reached out and jabbed the bell.

When the door swung open, he squared his shoulders and smiled grimly. “Hello, Olivia.”

The woman facing him could have been a movie star herself. She was quietly beautiful; a sweeter, gentler version of her mother’s exotic, Latin looks. Warm, sun-kissed skin. A fall of mahogany hair. And huge brown eyes that at the moment were staring at him aghast.

He probably should be ashamed that he felt a jolt of satisfaction when she went white. The urge to hurt her was unsettling. “May I come in?”

She wet her lips with her tongue, a pulse throbbing visibly at the side of her neck. “Why are you here?” Her voice cracked, though she was clearly trying hard to appear unconcerned.

“I thought we could catch up… for old times’ sake. Six years is a long span.”

She didn’t give an inch. Her hand clenched the edge of the door, and her body language shouted a resounding no. “I’m working,” she said stiffly. “Now’s not a good time.”

He might have been amused by her futile attempt at resistance if he hadn’t been so tightly wound. Her generous breasts filled out the front of a white scooped-neck top. It was almost impossible not to stare. Any healthy man between the ages of sixteen and seventy would be drawn to the lush sexuality of a body that, if anything, was more pulse-stopping than ever.

He pushed his way in, inexorably but gently. “Perhaps not for you. I happen to think it’s a damn good time.”

She stepped back instinctively as he moved past her into a neat, pleasantly furnished living room. Though it was warm and charming, not an item was out of place. No toys, no puzzles, no evidence of a child.

On the far wall, built-in bookcases housed a plethora of volumes ranging from popular fiction to history and art appreciation. Olivia had been a phenomenally intelligent student, an overachiever who possessed the unusual combination of creativity and solid business sense.

A single framed picture caught his eye. As he crossed the room for a closer look, he recognized the background. Olivia had written her graduate thesis about the life and work of famed children’s author and illustrator Beatrix Potter. On one memorable weekend, Olivia had dragged Kieran with her to England’s Lake District. After touring the house and grounds where the beloved character Peter Rabbit was born, Kieran had booked a room at a charming, romantic B and B.

Remembering the incredible, erotic days and nights he and Olivia had shared on a fluffy, down-filled mattress tightened his gut and made his sex stir. Had he ever felt that way since?

He’d tried so damned hard to forget her, to fulfill his duty as a Wolff son. A million times he had questioned the decisions he made back then. Leaving her without a word. Ending an affair that was too new… too fragile.

But he had ached for her. God, he had ached. For Olivia… elegant, funny, beautiful Olivia… with a body that could make a man weep for joy or pray that time stood still.

He shoved aside the arousing memory. There was a strong chance that this woman had perpetrated an unforgivable deception. He refused to let his good sense be impaired by nostalgia. And let’s face it… this meeting should be taking place on neutral ground. Because without witnesses, there was a good chance he was going to wring Olivia’s neck.

Again, he studied the photo. Olivia stood, smiling for the camera, holding the hand of a young child. Kieran’s world shifted on its axis. He lost the ability to breathe. My God. The kid was a Wolff. No one could doubt it. The wide-spaced eyes, the wary expression, the uptilted chin.

He whirled to face his betrayer. “Where is she?” he asked hoarsely. “Where’s my daughter?”

Two

Olivia called upon every parentally bestowed dramatic gene she possessed to appear mildly confused. “Your daughter?”

The man facing her scowled. “Don’t screw with me, Olivia. I’m not in the mood.” She saw his throat work. “I want to see her. Now.”

Without waiting for an invitation, he bounded up the nearby stairs, Olivia scurrying in his wake with her heart pounding. She’d known on some level that this day would come. But in her mind, she’d always thought that she would be the one orchestrating the reunion.

Kieran Wolff had been her first and only lover. Back then she’d been a shy, lonely, bookish girl with her head in the clouds. He had shown her a world of intimate pleasures. And then he had disappeared.

Any guilt she was feeling about the current situation evaporated in a rush of remembered confusion and pain.

On the landing he paused, then strode through the open door of what was unmistakably a little girl’s bedroom. A Disney princess canopy bed… huge movie posters from a variety of animated children’s films… a pair of ballet slippers dangling from a hook on the door.

For a moment, Olivia was reluctantly moved by the anguish on his face, but she firmed her resolve. “I repeat the question. What are you doing here, Kevin?”

A dull flush of color rose from the neck of his open-collared shirt. Short-cropped hair a shade darker than hers feathered to a halt at his nape. He was dressed like a contemporary Indiana Jones, looking as if he might be ready to take off on his next adventure. Which was exactly why, among other reasons, she had never contacted him.

He faced her, his gaze an impossible-to-decipher mélange of emotions. “So you know who I am.” It was more of a statement than a question.

She shrugged. “I do now. A few years ago I hired a private investigator to find out the truth about Kevin Wade. Imagine my surprise when I learned that no such man existed. At least not the one I knew.”

“There were reasons, Olivia.”

“I’m sure there were. But those reasons mean less than nothing to me at this point. I need you to leave my house before I call the police.”

Her futile threat rolled off him unnoticed. He was intensely masculine, in control, his tall lanky frame lean and muscular without an ounce of fat. Amber eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll call the police and discuss charges of kidnapping.”

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her throat tight and her eyes burning. “Not after all this time. Please.” The entreaty was forced between numb lips. She owed him nothing. But he could destroy her life.

“Where is the child?” His unequivocal tone brooked no opposition.

“She’s traveling with her grandparents in Europe.” Not for anything would Olivia reveal the fact that Cammie’s flight wasn’t departing LAX for several hours.

“Tell me she’s mine. Admit it.” He grasped her shoulders and shook her, his hands warm, but firm. “No lies, Olivia.”

She was close enough to smell him, to remember with painful clarity the warm scent of his skin after lovemaking. Her stomach quivered. At one time she had believed she would wake up beside this man for the rest of her life. Now, in retrospect, she winced for the naive, foolish innocent she had been.

In high heels she could have met him eye to eye, but barefoot, wearing nothing but shorts and a casual top, she was at a distinct disadvantage. She pushed hard against his broad chest. “Let me go, you Neanderthal. You have no right to come here and push me around.”

He released her abruptly. “I want the truth, damn it. Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass. Go home, Kevin Wade.”

Her deliberate taunt increased the fury bracketing his mouth with lines of stress. “We need to talk,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “I have a conference call I can’t miss in thirty minutes, so you have a choice. Tonight at my hotel. Or tomorrow in a room with two lawyers. Your call. But the way I’m feeling, a public forum might be the best option.”

The sinking sensation in her belly told her that he would not give up easily. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said, her bravado forced at best.

He stared her down, his piercing golden eyes seeming to probe right through her to get at the truth. “Then I’ll do all the talking.”

Olivia watched, stunned, while he departed as quickly as he had come. She trailed after him, ready to slam the front door at the earliest opportunity, forcefully closing the door to the past. He paused on the porch. “I’ll send a driver for you at six,” he said bluntly. “Don’t be late.”

When he drove away, her legs gave out beneath her. She sank into a chair, her whole body shaking. Dear God. What was she going to do? She was a terrible liar, but she dared not tell him the truth. Kieran Wolff—she still had trouble thinking of him by that name—was not the laughing young man she remembered from their graduate days at Oxford.

His skin was deeply tanned, and sun lines at the corners of his eyes gave testament to the hours he now spent outdoors. He was as lethal and predatory as the sleek cats that inhabited the jungles he frequented. The man who helped dig wells in remote villages and who built and rebuilt bridges and buildings in war-torn countries was hard as glass.

She shuddered, remembering the implacable demand in his gaze. Would she be able to withstand his interrogation?

But there were more immediate details to address. Picking up the phone, she dialed the mother of Cammie’s favorite playmate. The two families’ backyards adjoined, and Cammie was spending part of the afternoon with her friend. Olivia had been terrified that Cammie would come home while Kieran was in the house.

Twenty minutes later, Olivia watched her daughter labor over a thank-you picture for her grandparents. Despite Olivia’s reservations about the recent birthday party, the worst that had happened to her precocious offspring was the almost inevitable spilled punch on a five-hundred-dollar party dress… and a sunburned nose.

The dress had been a gift from Lolita. Olivia warned her mother that the exquisite frock was highly inappropriate for a child’s birthday party. But as always, Lolo, as she liked to be called by her granddaughter, ignored Olivia’s wishes and bought the dress, anyway.

Cammie frowned at a smudge in the corner of the drawing. “I need some more paper,” she said, close to pouting. “This one’s all messed up.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. You’ve done a great job.” At five, Cammie was already a perfectionist. Olivia worried about her intensity.

“I have to start over.”

Sensing a full-blown tantrum in the offing, Olivia sighed and produced another sheet of clean white paper. Sometimes it was easier to avoid confrontation, especially over something so minor. Did all single mothers worry that they were ruining their children forever?

If Cammie had a father in her life, would she be less highly strung? More able to take things in stride?

Olivia’s stomach pitched. She wouldn’t think of Kieran right now. Not until Cammie was safely away.

She would miss her baby while Cammie was gone. The hours of reading storybooks. The fun baking experiments. The leisurely walks around the neighborhood in the evenings. The silly bathtub bubble fights. They were a family of two. A completely normal family.

Was she trying to convince herself or someone else?

She desperately wanted for Cammie the emotional security Olivia had never known as a child. The simple pleasure of hugs and homework. Of kisses and kites.

Olivia had been raised for the most part by a series of well-meaning nannies and tutors. She had learned early on that expensive Parisian dolls were supposed to make up for long absences during which her parents ignored her. The stereotypical poor little rich kid. With a closet full of expensive and often inappropriate toys, and a bruised heart.

Olivia remembered her own childish tantrums when her parents didn’t bring presents she wanted. Thinking back on her egocentric younger self made her wince. Thank heavens she had outgrown that phase.

Maturity and a sense of perspective enabled her to be glad that her parents were far more invested in Cammie’s life than they had ever been in their own daughter’s. Perhaps grandparenthood had changed them.

Olivia’s determination to live a solidly middle class life baffled Lolita and Javier, and they did their best to thwart her at every turn, genuinely convinced that money was meant to be spent.

The weekend party was an example of the lifestyle Olivia had tried so hard to escape. It wasn’t good for a child to understand that she could have anything she wanted. Even if Olivia died penniless—and that wasn’t likely—Cammie stood to inherit millions of dollars from her grandparents.

Money spoiled people. Olivia knew that firsthand. Growing up in Hollywood was a lesson in overindulgence and narcissism.

Cammie finally smiled, satisfied with her second attempt. “I wish Lolo had a refrigerator. My friend Aya, at preschool, says her nana hangs stuff on the front of the refrigerator.”

Olivia smiled at her daughter’s bent head. Lolo owned several refrigerators, all in different kitchens spread from L.A. to New York to Paris. But it was doubtful she ever opened one, much less decorated any of them with Cammie’s artwork. Lolita Delgado had “people” to deal with that. In fact, she had an entourage to handle every detail of her tempestuous life.

“Lolo will love your drawing, Cammie, and so will Jojo.” Olivia’s father, Javier, wasn’t crazy about his nickname, but he doted on his granddaughter, probably—in addition to the ties of blood—because she gave him what he craved the most. Unrestrained adoration.

Cammie bounced to her feet. “I’m gonna get my backpack. They’ll be here in a minute.”

“Slow down, baby….” But it was too late. Cammie ran at her usual pace up the stairs, determined to be ready and waiting by the door when the limo arrived. Olivia’s parents were taking Cammie to Euro Disney for a few days in conjunction with a film award they were both receiving in Florence.

Olivia had argued that the trip was too much on the heels of the over-the-top birthday party, but in the end she had been unable to hold out against Cammie’s beseeching eyes and tight hugs. The two adults and one child, when teamed against Olivia, made a formidable opponent.

Cammie reappeared, backpack in hand. Olivia had her suitcase ready. “Promise me you’ll be good for your grandparents.”

Cammie rolled her eyes in a manner far too advanced for her years. “You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

The doorbell rang. Cammie’s screech nearly peeled the paint from the walls. “Bye, Mommy.”

Olivia followed her out to the car. In the flurry of activity over getting one excited five-year-old settled in the vehicle, Lolita and Javier managed to appear both pleased and sophisticated as they absorbed their granddaughter’s enthusiasm.

Olivia gave her mother a hug, careful not to rumple her vintage Chanel suit. “Please don’t spoil her.” For one fleeting second, Olivia wanted to share the truth about Kieran with her parents. To beg for guidance. She had never divulged a single detail about her daughter’s parentage to anyone.

But the moment passed when Javier bussed his daughter’s cheek with a wide grin. “It’s what we do best, Olivia.”

The house was silent in the aftermath of the exodus. Without the distraction of Cammie, the evening with Kieran loomed menacingly. Olivia wandered from room to room, too restless to work. Cammie would be going to kindergarten very soon. Olivia had mixed emotions about the prospect. She knew that her highly intelligent daughter would thrive in an academic environment and that the socialization skills she acquired with children her own age would be very important.

But it had been just the two of them for so long.

And now Kieran seemed poised to upset the apple cart.

When Olivia felt her eyes sting, she made a concerted effort to shake off the maudlin mood. Life was good. Her days were filled with family, a job she adored and a cadre of close, trusted friends. Kieran wasn’t part of the package. And she was glad. She had made the right choice in protecting Cammie from his selfishness.

And she would continue to do so.

The remainder of the day was a total loss. She had a series of watercolors due for her book publisher in less than two weeks, but putting the finishing touches on the last picture in the set was more than she could handle today. She loved her work as a children’s illustrator, and it gave her flexibility to spend lots of time with Cammie.

But the concentration required for her best efforts was beyond her right now. Instead, she prowled her small house, unable to stem the tide of memories.

They had met as expatriate grad students at a traditional English country house party hosted by mutual friends. With only six weeks of the term left, each knew the relationship had a preordained end. But in Olivia’s case, with stars in her eyes and a heart that was head-over-heels in lust with the handsome, charismatic Kevin Wade, she’d spun fairy tales of continuing their affair back in the U.S.

It hadn’t quite turned out that way. During the final days of exam week, “Kevin” had simply disappeared with nothing more than a brief note to say goodbye. Thinking about that terrible time made Olivia’s stomach churn with nausea. Her fledgling love had morphed into hate, and she’d done her best to turn her back on any memory of the boy who broke her heart. And fathered her child.

After a quick shower, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Even if Olivia wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps, she would never have stood a chance in Hollywood. She was twenty pounds too heavy, and though today’s pool of actresses was more diverse, many directors still preferred willowy blondes. Olivia was neither.

By the time the limo pulled up in front of her house, Olivia was a wreck. But since birth, she’d been taught “the show must go on” mantra, and to the world, Olivia Delgado was unflappable. For six years, she had spun lies to protect her daughter, to make a life so unexceptionable that the tabloids had long since left her alone.

An unwed mother in Hollywood was boring news. As long as no one discovered the father was a Wolff.

Tonight Olivia would be no less discreet.

She had dressed to play a part. Confident and chic were the qualities she planned to convey with her taupe linen tank dress and coral sandals. Though she had not inherited an iota of her parents’ love for acting, she had inevitably learned from them along the way what it meant to present a serene face to the world, no matter if your life was in ruins.

Kieran Wolff’s hotel was tucked away in a quiet back street of Santa Monica. Exclusive, discreet and no doubt wildly expensive, it catered to those whose utmost wish was privacy. The manager, himself, actually escorted Olivia to the fifth floor suite.

After that, she was left to stand alone at the door. Instead of knocking, she took a few seconds to contemplate fleeing the country. Cammie was everything to her, and the prospect of losing her child was impossible to imagine.

But such thoughts were defeatist. Though she might not be able to go toe-to-toe with the Wolff empire when it came to bank accounts, Olivia did have considerable financial means at her disposal. In a legal battle, she could hold her own. And judges often sided with a mother, particularly in this situation.

She had no notion of what awaited her on the other side of the door, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Kieran Wolff didn’t deserve to be a father. And if it came to that, she would tell him so.

Deliberately taking a moment to shore up her nerve, she rapped sharply at the door and took a deep breath.

Kieran had worn a trail in the carpet by the time his reluctant guest arrived. When he yanked open the door and saw her standing in the vestibule, his gut pitched and tightened. God, she was gorgeous. Every male hormone he possessed stood up and saluted. A man would have to be almost dead not to respond to her inherent sexuality.

Like the pin-up girls of the 1940s, with legs that went on forever, breasts that were real and plenty of feminine curves right where they should be, Olivia Delgado was a vivid, honey-skinned fantasy.

But today wasn’t about appeasing the hunger in his gut, even if he had been celibate during a recent, hellacious foray into the wilds of Thailand. Bugs, abysmal weather and local politics had complicated his life enormously. He’d been more than ready to return to central Virginia and reconnect with his family. Not that he ever stayed very long, but still… that closely guarded mountain in the Blue Ridge was the only place he called home.

With an effort, he recalled his wayward thoughts. “Come in, Olivia. I’ve ordered dinner. It should be delivered any moment now.”

She slipped past him in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, making him wonder if she had worn the evocative scent on purpose. In the old days, she had often come to his bed wearing nothing but a long strand of pearls and that same perfume.

He waited for her to be seated on the love seat and then took an armchair for himself a few feet away. In the intervening hours, he’d rehearsed how this would go. Having her here, on somewhat public turf, seemed like a good idea. He was determined to keep his cool, no matter the provocation.

They faced off in silence for at least a minute. When he realized she wasn’t going to crack, he sighed. “Surely you can’t deny it, Olivia. You were a virgin when we met. I can do the math. Your daughter is mine.”

Her eyes flashed. “My daughter is none of your business. You may have introduced me to sex, but there have been plenty of men since.”

“Liar. Name one.”

Her jaw dropped. “Um…”

He chuckled, feeling the first hint of amusement he’d had since he saw the article about the party. Olivia might look like a woman of immense sophistication and experience, but he’d bet his last dime that she was still the sweet, down-to-earth girl he’d known back at university, completely unaware of her stunning beauty.

“Show me her birth certificate.”

Her chin lifted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t carry it around in my purse.”

“But you probably have it at the house, right? In order to register her for kindergarten?”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “Well, I…”

Thank God she was a lousy liar. “Whose name is on the birth certificate, Olivia? You might as well tell me. You know I can find out.”

Suddenly she looked neither sweet nor innocent. “Kevin Wade. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The sharp pain in his chest took his breath away. “Kevin Wade…”

“Exactly. So you can see that no judge would think you have any rights in this instance at all.” Her eyes were cold, and even that realization was painful. The Olivia he had known smiled constantly, her joie de vivre captivating and so very seductive.

Now her demeanor was icy.

“You put my name on her birth certificate,” he croaked. It kept coming back to that. Kevin Wade was a father. Kieran had a daughter.

“Correction,” she said with a flat intonation that disguised any emotion. “In the hospital, when I gave birth to my daughter, I listed a fictional name for her father. It had nothing to do with you.”

He clamped down on his frustration, acknowledging that he was getting nowhere with this approach. Unable to sit any longer, he sprang to his feet and paced, pausing at the windows to look out at the ocean in the far distance. One summer he had lived for six weeks on a houseboat in Bali. It was the freest he had ever felt, the most relaxed.

Too bad life wasn’t always so easy.

Olivia continued to sit in stubborn silence, so he kept his back to her. “When you hired an investigator, what did you find out about me?”

After several seconds of silence, she spoke. “That your real name is Kieran Wolff. You lost your mother and aunt to a violent abduction and shooting when you were small. Your father and uncle raised you and your siblings and cousins in seclusion, because they were afraid of another kidnapping attempt.”

He faced her, brooding. “Will you listen to my side of the story?” he asked quietly.

Olivia’s hands were clenched together in her lap, her posture so rigid she seemed in danger of shattering into a million pieces. Though she hid it well, he could sense her agitation. At one time he had been attuned to her every thought and desire.

He swallowed, painfully aware that a king-size bed lay just on the other side of the door. The intensity of the desire he felt for her was shocking. As was the need for her to understand and forgive him. He was culpable for his sins in the past, no doubt about it. But that didn’t excuse Olivia for hiding the existence of his child, his blood.

“Will you listen?” he asked again.

She nodded slowly, eyes downcast.

With a prayer for patience, he crossed the expanse of expensive carpet to sit beside her, hip to hip. She froze, inching back into her corner.

“Look at me, Olivia.” He took her chin in his hand with a gentle grasp, lifting it until her gaze met his. “I’m not the enemy,” he swore. “All I need is for you to be honest with me. And I’ll try my damnedest to do the same.”

Her chocolate-brown eyes were shiny with tears, but she blinked them back, giving him a second terse nod. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and forced himself to release her. Touching her was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment.

“Okay, then.” He was more a man of action than of words. But if he was fighting for his daughter, he would use any means necessary, even if that meant revealing truths he’d rather not expose.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dropped his head in his hands. “You were important to me, Olivia.”

A slight humph was her only response. Was that skepticism or denial or maybe both?

“It’s true,” he insisted. “I’d been with a lot of girls before I met you, but you were different.”

Dead silence.

“You made me laugh even when I wanted you so badly, I ached. I never meant to hurt you. But I had made a vow to my father.”

“Of course you had.”

She could give lessons in sarcasm.

“Sneer if you like, but the vow was real. My brothers and cousins and I swore to my father and my uncle that if they would let us go off to college without bodyguards, we would use assumed names and never tell anyone who we really were.”

“So it was okay to sleep with me, but you couldn’t share with me something as simple as the truth about your real name. Charming.”

This time it was Olivia who jumped to her feet and paced. He sat back and stared at her, tracking the gentle sway of her hips as she crisscrossed the room. “I was going to tell you,” he insisted. “But I had to get my father’s permission. And before I could do that, he had a heart attack. That’s when I left England so suddenly.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Leaving behind a lovely eight-word note. Dear Olivia, I have to go home. Sorry.”

He winced. “I was in a hurry.”

“Do you have any clue at all how humiliated I was when I went to the Dean’s office to beg for information about you and was told that Kevin Wade was no longer enrolled? And they were not allowed to give out any information as to your whereabouts because of privacy rules? God, I was embarrassed. And then I was mad at myself for being such a credulous fool.”

“You weren’t a fool,” he said automatically, mentally replaying her words and for the first time realizing what he had put her through. “I’m sorry.”

She kicked the leg of the coffee table, revealing a hint of her mother’s flamboyant temper. “Sorry doesn’t explain why suddenly neither your cell phone nor your email address worked when I tried to reach you.”

“They were school accounts. My exams were over. I knew I wasn’t coming back, so I let them go inactive, because I thought it was the easiest way to make a clean break.”

“If you’re trying to make a case for yourself, you’re failing miserably.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he insisted.

“They call them clichés for a reason.” The careful veil she’d kept over her emotions had shredded, and now he was privy to the pure, clean burn of her anger.

“Things were crazy at home,” he said wearily. “I stayed at the hospital round-the-clock for a week. Then when Dad was released, he was extremely depressed. My brother Jacob and I had to entertain him, read to him, listen to music with him. I barely had a thought to myself.”

She nodded slowly. “I get it, Kieran.” He watched her frown as she rolled the last word on her tongue. “I was a temporary girlfriend. Too bad I was so naive. I didn’t realize for a few weeks that I had been dumped. I kept making excuses for you, believing—despite the evidence to the contrary—that we shared something special.”

“We did, damn it.”

“But not special enough for you to pick up the phone and make a call. And you had to know I was back home in California. Yet you didn’t even bother. I should thank you, really. That experience taught me a lot. I grew up fast. You were a horny young man. I was easy pickings. So if that’s all, I’m out of here. I absolve you of any guilt.”

Fortunately for Kieran, the arrival of dinner halted Olivia’s headlong progress to the door. She was forced to cool her heels while the waiter rolled a small table in front of the picture window and smiled as Kieran tipped him generously. When the man departed, the amazing smells wafting from the collection of covered dishes won Olivia over, despite Kieran’s botched attempts to deal with their past.

Neither of them spoke a word for fifteen minutes as they devoured grilled swordfish with mango salsa and spinach salad.

Kieran realized he’d gotten off track. They were supposed to be talking about why Olivia had hidden the existence of his daughter. Instead, Kieran had ended up in a defensive position. Time for a new game plan.

He ate a couple of bites of melon sorbet, wiped his mouth with a snowy linen napkin and leaned back in his chair. “I may have been a jerk,” he said bluntly, “but that doesn’t explain why you never told me I had a daughter. Your turn in the hot seat, Olivia.”

Three

Olivia choked on a sliced almond and had to wash it down with a long gulp of water. The Wolff family was far more powerful than even Olivia’s world-famous parents. If the truth came out, she knew the Wolff patriarchs might help Kieran take Cammie. And she couldn’t allow that. “You don’t have a daughter,” she said calmly, her voice hoarse from coughing. Hearing Kieran’s explanation of why he had left England so suddenly had done nothing to alleviate her fears. “I do.”

Kieran scowled. Any attempts he might have made to appease her were derailed by his obvious dislike of having his wishes thwarted. “I’ll lock you in here with me if I have to,” he said, daring her to challenge his ability to do so.

“And how would that solve anything?”

Suddenly her cell phone rang. With a wince for the unfortunate timing, she stood up. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”

Kieran made no move to give her privacy, so she turned her back on him and moved to the far side of the room. Tapping the screen of her phone to answer, she smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you in New York?”

The brief conversation ended with Olivia’s mother on the other end promising to make Cammie sleep on the flight over to Paris. Olivia’s daughter had flown internationally several times, but she wasn’t so blasé about jet travel that she would simply nod off. Olivia had packed several of the child’s bedtime books in her carry-on, hoping that a semi-familiar routine would do the trick.

When Olivia hung up and turned around, Kieran was scowling. “I thought you said she was in Europe.”

She shrugged. “That’s their ultimate destination.”

“So this morning when I came to your house, where was she?”

“At the neighbor’s.”

“Damn you, Olivia.”

It was her turn to frown in exasperation. “What would you have done if I had told you, Kieran? Made a dramatic run through the yard calling her name? My daughter is now traveling with her grandparents. That’s all you need to know.”

“When will they be back?”

“A week… ten days… My mother isn’t crazy about abiding by schedules.”

His scowl blackened. “Tell me she’s my daughter.”

Her stomach flipped once, hard, but she held on to her composure by a thread. “Go to hell.”

Abruptly he shoved back his chair and went to the mini bar to pour himself a Scotch, downing the contents with one quick toss of his head. His throat was tanned like the rest of him, and the tantalizing glimpse of his chest at the opening of his shirt struck Olivia as unbearably erotic.

Sensing her own foray into the quicksand of nostalgia, she attacked. “If you want to have children someday, you should probably work on those alcoholic tendencies.”

“I’m not an alcoholic, though God knows you could drive a man to drink.” He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it into disarray. She saw for the first time that he was exhausted, probably running on nothing but adrenaline.

“You don’t even own a house,” she blurted out.

Confusion etched his face. “Excuse me?”

“A house,” she reiterated. “Most people who want a family start with a house and a white picket fence. All you do is travel the globe. What are you afraid of? Getting stuck in one place for too long?”

Her random shot hit its mark.

“Maybe,” he muttered, his expression bleak. “My brothers have been begging me to come home for a long time now. But I’m not sure I know how.”

“Then I think you should leave,” she said calmly. “Get back on a plane and go save the world. No one needs you here.”

“You didn’t used to be so callous.” His expression was sober. Regretful. And his cat eyes watched her every move as if he were stalking prey.

“I’m simply being realistic. Even if I had given birth to a child that was yours, what makes you think you have what it takes to be a father? Parenting is about being present. That’s not really your forte, now is it?”

She heard the cruel words tumbling from her lips and couldn’t stop them. If she could drive him away in anger, he would go and leave Olivia to raise her daughter in peace.

“I’m here now,” he said quietly, his control making her ashamed of her outburst. “Cammie is my daughter, I want to get to know her.”

Olivia’s heart stopped. Hearing him say her daughter’s name did something odd to her heart. “How exactly do you mean that?”

“Let me stay here with you for a little while.”

“Absolutely not.” She shivered, imagining his big body in her guest bed… a few feet down the hall from hers.

“Then I want the two of you to come to Wolff Mountain with me for the summer and meet my family. This afternoon I talked to the CEO of my foundation, Bridge to the Future. He’s lining up people to take my place until early September.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said politely. “But we can’t. Perhaps some other time.” When hell freezes over. If she let Cammie go anywhere near the Wolff family compound, Olivia stood a chance of never seeing her daughter again. Kieran’s relatives made up a tight familial unit, and if they got wind that another wolf had been born into the pack, Olivia feared that her status as Cammie’s mother would carry little weight.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “At the risk of sounding like one of your father’s action hero characters, I’m warning you. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I can get a court order for a DNA sample.”

Olivia shivered inwardly as she felt her options narrowing. She could buy some time by stonewalling, but ultimately, the Wolff would prevail. “My daughter and I have lives, Kieran. It’s unrealistic of you to expect us to visit strangers for no other reason than your sudden odd conviction that you are a daddy.”

“Your work is portable. Cammie doesn’t start school until the fall. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t claim her as mine…. I won’t even tell my family what I know to be true. But in exchange, you agree to let me see her as much as possible in the next few weeks.”

“She’s not yours.” The words were beginning to sound weak, even to her ears.

He came toward her. The silent intensity of his stare was hypnotic. When they were almost touching, chest to chest, he put his hands on her shoulders, the warmth of his touch searing her skin even through a layer of fabric. “Don’t be afraid of me, Olivia.”

His mouth moved over hers, light as a whisper, teasing, coaxing. The fact that her knees lost their starch should have made her angry, but there was no room for negative emotion in that moment. For no other reason than pleasure, her lips moved under his. Seeking. Responding.

He made an inarticulate murmur that encompassed surprise and masculine satisfaction. Then the kiss deepened.

His leg moved between her thighs as he drew her closer. “You haven’t changed,” he said roughly. “I’ve dreamed about you over the years. On nights when I couldn’t sleep. And remembered you just like this. God, you’re sweet.”

She felt the press of his heavy erection against her belly, and everything inside her went liquid with drugged delight. How long had it been? How long? No longer a responsible mother, she was once again a giddy young woman, desperate for her lover’s touch.

Unbidden, the memories came flooding back….

“You’re a virgin?”

Kevin’s shock worried her. Surely he wouldn’t abandon her now. Not when they were naked and tangled in her bed. “Does it matter? I want this, Kevin. I really do. I want you.”

He sat up beside her, magnificently nude, his expression troubled. “I haven’t ever done it with a virgin. You’re twenty-two, Olivia. For God’s sake. I had no idea.”

With a confidence that surprised her, she laid a hand on his hard, hairy thigh, her fingertips almost brushing his thick penis. “I told you I had led a sheltered life. Why do you think I wanted to cross an ocean to finish my schooling? I’m tired of living in a cocoon. Make love to me, Kevin. Please.”

His hunger, coupled with her entreaty, defeated him. Groaning like a man tormented on a rack, he moved between her legs once more, his erect shaft nudging eagerly at her entrance. Braced on his forearms, he leaned down to kiss her… hard. “I know I’ll hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No apology needed,” she whispered, sensing the momentous turning point in her life. “I need this. I need you.”

He pushed forward an inch, and she braced instinctively against the sharp sting of pain.

“Easy,” he whispered, his beautiful eyes alight with tenderness. “Relax, Olivia.”

She tried to do as he asked, but he was fully aroused, and she was so tight. His whole big body trembled violently, and she wanted to cry at the beauty of it. Another inch. Another gasped cry to be swallowed up in his wild kiss.

She felt torn asunder, violated, but in the best possible way. Never again would her body be hers. Kevin claimed it, claimed her.

When he was fully seated, tears rolled silently down her cheeks, wetting her hair, sliding into her ears.

He rested his forehead on hers. “Was it that bad?” he asked, clearly striving for humor, but unable to hide his distress over what had transpired.

“Try moving,” she said breathlessly. “I think I can handle it.”

“Holy hell.” His discomfiture almost elicited a giggle, but when he followed her naive suggestion, humor fled. Slowly, inexorably, her untried body learned his rhythm. Deep inside her a tiny flame flickered to life.

She moaned, arching her back and driving him deeper on a down thrust. It was easier now, and far more exciting. Her long legs wrapped around his waist. Skin damp with exertion, they devoured each other, desperately trying to get closer still.

Kevin went rigid and cursed, closing his eyes and groaning as he climaxed inside her. She was taking the pill, and he had been tested recently, so no condom came between them.

As he slumped on top of her, she wrinkled her nose in disappointment. She had been so close to something spectacular. But the feeling faded. Taking its place was a warmth and satisfaction that she had been able to give him pleasure.

He rolled to his side. “Did you come?”

She nibbled her lip. Would it hurt to lie? It wasn’t a habit she wanted to start. “Not exactly. But I know it takes practice. Don’t worry about it… really.”

He chuckled, yawning and stretching. “For a novice, you’re pretty damned wonderful. Hold still, baby, and let’s finish this.”

Without ceremony, he put his hand between her legs and touched her. She flinched, still not quite comfortable with this level of intimacy, and also feeling tender and sore. His fingers were gentle, finding a certain spot and rubbing lightly. Her hips came off the bed.

“Um, Kevin?”

“What, honey?”

“You don’t have to do this. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling sort of embarrassed.”

“Why?” The strum of his fingers picked up tempo.

“Well, you’re… um… finished, and it’s a little weird now.” Her voice caught in her throat. “That’s enough. I feel good. Really.”

He entered her with two fingers and bit the side of her neck. “How about now?”

Her shriek could have peeled paint off the walls, but she was too far gone to care. The attention she gave herself now and again when the lights were out barely held a candle to this maelstrom. Kevin gave no quarter, stroking her firmly until her orgasm crested, exploded and winnowed away, leaving her spent in his arms.

She cried again.

He made fun of her with gentle humor.

Then they turned out the lights and spent their first night together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Kieran cupped her breast with his hand, and just like that, Olivia was fully in the present. What shocked her back to reality was the incredible realization that she was a hairs-breadth away from letting him have her again. No protest. No discussion. Simply mindless pleasure.

And while that may have been okay six years ago, now she had a daughter to think about. Sexual reminiscing with Kieran Wolff was not only self-destructive and stupid, but also detrimental to her role as a parent.

“Enough,” she said hoarsely, tearing herself from his embrace and warding him off with a hand when he would have dragged her back for another kiss. “I mean it,” she said. “We’re not doing this. You can’t seduce me into agreeing to your terms.”

“Give us both more credit than that, Olivia. What happened just now proves that we’ve always had chemistry… and still do.”

“If you’re expecting to pick up where we left off, you’re destined for disappointment.”

“Is that so? From what I could tell, what just happened was a two-way street.”

“It’s late,” she said abruptly. “I have to go.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the back of the sofa, his eyes narrowed. From the look of him, no one would guess that sixty seconds ago he’d been kissing her senseless. “You can’t run from me, Olivia. Closing your eyes and thinking about Kansas is a child’s game. I want some answers.”

Her phone chimed to signal a text, and she pulled it from her pocket, glancing at it automatically. Her mother’s words chilled her blood.

Kieran touched her shoulder as she sank to a seat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The flight was delayed. My mother has a stalker fan, and he showed up at the airport.”

He squatted beside her, his mere presence lending comfort. “What happened?”

“When he tried to burst through a checkpoint, calling her name, TSA arrested him.”

He frowned. “I don’t like the thought of Cammie being exposed to something like that.”

“First of all, my parents take security very seriously, and second of all, this is none of your business. I’m her mother. It’s up to me to keep her safe.”

From his vantage point crouched at her side, their gazes collided. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” he said quietly, the words like a vow. “Any child with my blood running in her veins has the protection of the entire Wolff clan at her back.”

She swallowed hard, near tears, missing her daughter and feeling out of her depth. “A child is not a belonging. She’s her own person. Even if she is only five.”

“You think I don’t know that? I was a year younger than she is now when my mother was killed.” He sprang to his feet, pacing once more. “My brother Gareth was the only one of us really old enough to understand and remember the details, but I lived it, and those terrible days are buried somewhere in my psyche… the confusion, the loneliness, the knowledge that my world was never going to be the same. No child should lose a parent, Olivia, even if she thinks she has only one.”

Guilt reached inside her chest and squeezed hard. Kieran Wolff had hurt her badly. Did she have the right to make her daughter vulnerable to his undeniable charm? Conversely, was she wrong to deny her child a father, even an absentee one? The same questions had haunted her for half a decade.

Her head ached. “We’ll visit for a long weekend,” she said, her voice tight. “As soon as Cammie gets back from Europe. But that’s all it will be. All it will ever be. And if you break your word to me, I’ll take her away and never speak to you again.”

His lips quirked in a half smile. “Mama Bear protecting her cub. I like seeing you in this maternal role, Olivia. It suits you.”

She gathered her purse and the light sweater she’d brought with her. “No one and nothing in this world means more to me than Cammie. And you’d do well to remember that. Good night, Kieran. Pleasant dreams.”

He followed her to the door, having the temerity to press another hard kiss to her lips before allowing her to leave. “I’ll dream,” he said, brushing her cheek with the back of a hand. “But I have a feeling that pleasant won’t be the right word for it.”

Four

Kieran had never liked waiting. The ten days that elapsed between his confrontation with Olivia and her arrival at Wolff Mountain were interminable. Every moment of every day he imagined a dozen excuses she could make to keep from showing up.

As an adolescent he’d imagined the walls of the monstrous house closing in on him, as if he were trapped in a castle dungeon. Even now, his homecoming was tainted with confusion. Mostly he felt the agitation of being stuck in one place. He liked the freedom of the open road.

But if he were honest with himself, he had to admit that Wolff Mountain drew him home time and again despite his conflicted feelings about its past… his past.

Having his brothers close went a long way toward passing the time. They shared meals at the “big house,” and Kieran was introduced to Gracie, Gareth’s new wife. Kieran’s older brother was happier than Kieran had seen him in years, and it was clear that he adored his bride.

In the mornings, Kieran hiked the mountain trails with Gareth, and after lunch every day, he helped Jacob add on a new room to the doc’s already state-of-the-art clinic. Kieran welcomed the physical exertion. Only by pushing himself to the point of exhaustion was he able to sleep at night. And even then he dreamed… God, he dreamed.

Olivia… in his bed, beneath him, her fabulous mane of hair spread across the pillows like a river of molten chocolate shot with gold. Her honey smooth skin bare-ass naked, waiting for him to touch every inch of it with his lips, his tongue, his ragged breath… He’d dreamed of her before… At least in the beginning. When he first lost her. But the pain of doing so had ultimately led him to pretend she didn’t exist. It was the only way he had survived.

But now, knowing that he and Olivia would soon be sharing a roof, the chains he’d used to bind up his memories shattered. He’d taken more cold showers in the past week than he had as a hormone-driven teen. And in the darkest hours of the night, he wondered with no small amount of guilt if he was using his own daughter as leverage to spend more time with the woman he’d never been able to forget.

Olivia wasn’t coming here to be his lover. She’d made that crystal clear. Her single concession was to allow Cammie a visit. And that was only because Kieran threatened court proceedings.

He still felt bad about that, but Olivia’s stubbornness infuriated him. Why couldn’t she just admit that in the short time they were together, they created a life? He knew the truth in his gut, but he needed Olivia to be honest… to tell him face-to-face. Until he heard her say the words out loud, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

With Cammie as his child, everything changed. It meant that when he was laboring in some godforsaken corner of the world, he could dream about returning home to someone who was his, a child who would love him and hug his neck.

Kieran’s family loved him, but coming home to Wolff Mountain was painful. So painful, in fact, that he made it back to the States only a couple of times a year. No matter how hard he tried, the memories of his mother, though vague and indistinct, permeated the air here. And those same memories reminded him of how helpless he had felt when she died.

Seeing his father and uncle and brothers and cousins crying had left an indelible mark on an impressionable four-year-old. Until then, he’d believed that men never cried, especially not his big, gruff daddy. Kieran had been confused, and fearful, and so desperate to make everything better.

The day of the funeral he pretended to take a nap while the adults were gone. While the nanny was on the phone with her boyfriend, Kieran slipped into his mother’s bedroom and ransacked the large walk-in closet that housed her clothes. He tugged at the hems of blouses and dresses and evening gowns, ripping them from the hangers and piling them up haphazardly until he had a small mountain.

The fabrics smelled like her. With tears streaming down his face, he climbed atop his makeshift bed, curled into a ball of misery and fell asleep, his thumb tucked in his mouth.

Kieran inhaled sharply, realizing that he had allowed himself the bittersweet, two-edged sword of memory. That’s why he came home so seldom. In another hemisphere he could pretend that his life was normal. That it had always been normal.

Returning to Wolff Mountain always pulled the Band-Aid off a wound that had never healed cleanly. He remembered being discovered on that terrible funeral day and escorted out of his parents’ bedroom. No one chastised him. No one took him to task for what he had done. But three days later when he worked up the courage to once again sneak into his mother’s closet, every trace of her was gone… as if she had never existed. Even the hangers had been removed.

That day he’d cried again, huddled in a ball in the corner of the bare closet. And this time, there was no comfort to be found. His world had shredded around him, leaving nothing but uncertainty and bleakness. He hated the stomach-hollowing feelings and the sensation of doom.

No child should ever have to feel abandoned, and sadly, Kieran and his brothers had been emotional orphans when their father fell apart in the wake of Laura Wolff’s death. It took Victor Wolff literally years to recover, and by then, the damage was done. The boys loved their father, but they had become closed off to softer emotions.

Kieran cursed and kicked at a pile of loose gravel in the driveway. Was Cammie his daughter? A tiny shred of doubt remained. He found it almost impossible to believe that Olivia had gone from his bed to another man’s so quickly. But he had hurt her badly… and she might have done it out of spite.

The girl in the photograph at Olivia’s house looked like a Wolff, though that might be wishful thinking on Kieran’s part. And as for the Kevin Wade on the birth certificate, well… Olivia might have done that to preserve her privacy. Using the name of a man who didn’t exist to protect her rights as a mother.

But God help him, if Olivia had lied… if she had kept him from his own flesh and blood, there was going to be hell to pay.

His cell phone beeped with a text from the front gate guard at the foot of the mountain. Olivia’s car had arrived.

She had flatly refused Wolff transportation, either the private jet or a ride from the airport. Her independence made a statement that said Kieran was unnecessary. It would be his pleasure to show her how wrong she was.

When a modest rental vehicle pulled into sight, he felt his heart race, not only at the prospect of seeing Olivia, but at the realization that he might be, for the first time, coming face-to-face with his progeny.

The car slid to a halt and Olivia stepped out. Before she could come around and help with the passenger door, it was flung open from the inside, and a small, slender girl hopped into view. She had brown hair pulled back into pigtails and wore a wary expression as she surveyed her surroundings. Though Kieran didn’t move, she spotted him immediately. Try as he might, Kieran could see no hint that she resembled his family. She looked like a kid. That’s all. A little kid.

She slipped her hand into Olivia’s. “It’s like Cinderella’s castle. Do we get to sleep here?”

“For a few nights.”

Kieran wondered if Olivia was intimidated by the size and scope of the house. She had grown up as the only child of famous, wealthy parents, but this structure—part fortress, part fairy tale—was beyond imagination for most people. All it was missing was gargoyles on the parapets. With turrets and battlements and thick, gray stone walls, it should have looked unwelcoming, but somehow, it suited this wild mountaintop.

“Who’s that, Mommy?”

Kieran stepped forward, but before he could speak, Olivia gave Kieran a warning look. “His name is Kieran. He’s a friend of mine. But you can call him Mr. Wolff.”

“She’d better call me Kieran to avoid confusion, because she’s going to be meeting a lot of Mr. Wolffs.”

Olivia’s lips tightened, but she didn’t argue.

Kieran knelt beside Cammie. “We’re glad to have you and your mommy here for a visit. Would you like to see the horses?” He took a punch to the chest when he realized the child’s eyes were the same color as his own, dark amber with flecks of gold and brown.

He glanced up at Olivia, his heart in his throat. Tell me, his gaze signaled furiously.

Olivia didn’t give an inch. “I think it would be best if Cammie and I rested for a while. It was a long, tiring flight and we’re beat.”

“But, Mommy,” Cammie wailed. “I love horses.”

Kieran straightened. “Surely a quick trip to the stables wouldn’t hurt. And after that you’ll nap with no argument, right, Cammie?”

The child was smart enough to know when a deal was worth taking. “Okay,” she said, the resignation in her voice oddly adult. She slipped her hand into Kieran’s. “C’mon, before she changes her mind.”

Olivia followed behind the pair of them, realizing with chagrin that she would have been better served letting Kieran stay with them in California. On his turf, already Olivia felt at a disadvantage. And she hadn’t missed Kieran’s poleaxed look when he saw her daughter’s eye color. It was unusual to say the least. And a dead giveaway when it came to parentage.

Behind the massive house stood an immaculate barn with adjoining stables. Inside the latter, the smell of hay mingled not unpleasantly with the odor of warm horseflesh.

Kieran led Cammie past the stalls of mighty stallions to an enclosure where a pretty brown-and-white pony stood contentedly munching hay. He handed Cammie a few apple chunks from a nearby bin. “Hold out your hand with the fingers flat, like this.”

She obeyed instantly, her small face alight with glee as the pony approached cautiously and scooped up the food with a delicate swipe of its lips. “Mommy, look,” she cried. “It likes me.”

Kieran put a hand on her shoulder. “Her name is Sunshine, and you can ride her as long as you’re here.”

“Now?” Cammie asked, practically bouncing on her feet. “Please, Mommy.”

Over her head, the two adults’ gazes met, Olivia’s filled with frustration, Kieran’s bland. “Later,” Olivia said firmly. “We have plenty of time.”

She had been afraid that she would have to meet a phalanx of Kieran’s relatives while she was still rumpled and road weary, but he led them to a quiet, peaceful wing of the house where the windows were thrown open to embrace the warm, early summer breezes.

“This will be your room, Olivia.” Kieran paused to indicate a lovely suite decorated in shades of celadon and pale buttercup. “And through here…” He passed through a connecting door to another room clearly meant for a child. “This is yours, Cammie.”

Olivia saw her daughter’s eyes grow wide. The furnishings had been made to resemble a tree house, with the sleep space atop a small pedestal accessed by rope netting, which coincidentally made any possibility of falling out of bed harmless.

Cammie kicked off her shoes and scampered up the rope apron like the monkey she was. “Look at me,” she cried. “This is awesome. Thank you, Kieran.”

Soon she was oblivious to the adults as she explored the tree trunk bookcase, the two massive toy chests shaped like daisies and the enormous fish tank.

Olivia drew Kieran aside. “Are you insane?” she asked, her low whisper incredulous. “This must have cost a fortune. And for three nights? You can’t buy my compliance, Kieran. Nor hers.”

“The money isn’t an issue,” he said quietly, a small smile on his face as he watched Cammie scoot from one wonder to the next. “I wanted my daughter to feel at home here.”

“She’s not your daughter.” The denial was automatic, but lacked conviction.

Kieran barely noticed. “She’s smart, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes. Talking in full sentences before she was two. Reading at three and a half. Learning how to use my laptop almost a year ago. I can barely keep up with her.”

“A child needs two parents, Olivia.” He wasn’t looking at her, but the words sounded like a threat.

“You grew up with only one,” she shot back. “And you’ve done all right.”

He half turned and she could see the riot of emotions in his eyes. “I wouldn’t wish my childhood on anyone,” he said. The blunt words were harsh and ragged with grief.

Shame choked her and she laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Kieran. I really am.”

He took her wrist in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “Tonight. When she’s asleep. We’ll talk in my suite. One of the housekeepers can babysit and make sure she’s okay.” His grip tightened. “This isn’t optional, Olivia.”

Once again she was thrown by the way he mingled tenderness with masculine authority. Kieran wasn’t a man who could be “handled.” He expected to be obeyed, and it incensed her. But at the same time, she knew she dared not cross him and risk having him blurt out the truth to Cammie. That she had a father. A flesh and blood man who wanted to know her and be part of her life. What kind of mother would Olivia be if she stood in the way of that?

What else did Kieran want? Was this weekend visit going to appease him? Would he sue for joint custody? Or perhaps at the urging of his paranoid father, would he insist on full custody and try to lock Cammie up here in the castle until she was old enough to escape?

That’s essentially what Kieran and his brothers had experienced. They had been hidden away from the world until they were allowed to go away to school with aliases.

Olivia couldn’t live like that. And she certainly didn’t want her daughter to endure such isolation. So she had no choice but to convince Kieran that being a father was too much for him to handle.

He left them finally, and Olivia and Cammie fell into an exhausted sleep, both of them in Olivia’s bed. For a five-year-old, even with a private playground at her disposal, sometimes the most comfortable place to be was curled up in Mommy’s arms.

Shadows filled the room when they awoke. Someone had slid a note under the door indicating that dinner would be at seven. As Olivia and Cammie washed up and changed clothes, a smiling young maid brought by a tray of grapes, cheese and crackers.

Olivia blessed whoever had the foresight to be so thoughtful. When Cammie got hungry, she got cranky, and her resultant attitude could be unpredictable.

Fortunately Cammie was on her best behavior that evening. And it helped that the whole Wolff clan was not in residence. Only Kieran’s father, Victor, Kieran’s brothers, Gareth and Jacob, and the newest member of the family, Gareth’s wife, Gracie, were seated around the large mahogany dining table when Olivia and Cammie walked into the room.

Olivia put a hand on her daughter’s thin shoulder. “Sorry if we’re late. We took a wrong turn in the third floor hallway.”

Victor Wolff, one of the clan’s two patriarchs, lumbered to his feet, chuckling at Olivia’s lame joke. “Quite understandable. No problem. We’re just getting ready for the soup course.” His gaze landed on Cammie and stayed there, full of avid interest. “Welcome to the mountain, ladies. Kieran rarely brings such lovely guests.”

“Thank you, sir.” Olivia took a seat, and settled Cammie beside her, surprised to find that she was nervous as hell. It certainly wasn’t the formal dinner that had her baffled. She’d conquered dining etiquette as a child. No, it was the barely veiled speculation in the eyes of everyone at the table when they looked at Olivia and Cammie.

Only Kieran seemed oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. After digging into his pan-fried trout, caught in one of the streams on the property, he waved a fork at his father. “So tell me, Dad… what big projects do you and Uncle Vincent have lined up for the summer?”

He sat to the left of Olivia, and in an aside, he said, “My dad always likes to keep things humming here on the mountain. One year he repainted the entire house. Took the workmen six weeks and untold gallons of paint. Another time he added a bowling alley in the basement.”

She smiled, hyperaware of Kieran’s warm thigh so close to her own. “I imagine with a place this size there is always something that needs your attention.”

Victor nodded. “Indeed. But this time I’m branching out. I’ve decided to plant a portion of the back of the mountain in Christmas trees.”

Cammie’s face lit up, her attention momentarily diverted from her macaroni and cheese. “I love Christmas. My mama covers the whole house with decorations.”

Victor smiled at her. “How old are you, young lady?”

“Five,” she said casually, returning her attention to her meal.

Victor honed in on Olivia then. “My son hasn’t told us much about you, Olivia. Have you known each other very long?”

The food she had eaten congealed into a knot in her stomach. She had been dreading just such a line of questioning. It took all she had to answer in a matter-of-fact voice. “We met when Kieran and I were doing graduate work at Oxford. You were taken ill soon after that, and he and I lost touch.”

“I see.” Olivia was very much afraid that he did see.

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her skirt. Javier and Lolita tended to worry when she and Cammie were out of their reach, and they called often to check in. Since there was a lull before dessert, she smiled at the group in general and said, “Excuse me, please.”

When she returned a few moments later, Kieran jumped up to move out her chair. He leaned over as he seated her, whispering in her ear, “What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”

She wanted to hold on to him for comfort, and that scared her. So she swallowed her dismay and produced a smile. “Everything’s fine. That was my mother checking up on us.”

Kieran frowned, obviously unconvinced. “Olivia’s parents are Javier and Lolita Delgado.”

A rippled murmur swept the table. Gareth Wolff lifted an eyebrow. “I remember seeing her in Fly by Night when I was sixteen. She’s amazing.”

Jacob joined in the verbal applause. “And I’ll never forget when your dad played his first big role in Vigilante Justice. I thought he was the coolest dude ever.”

Hearing Kieran’s reserved brothers speak so enthusiastically about her parents made Olivia realize anew how much the older couple was beloved around the world. As their daughter, she saw them in a different light, but she understood the admiration and passion they generated in audiences.

Unfortunately not all of it was positive.

Biting her lip, she decided to share her unease. “My mother has a stalker fan who has been causing some problems. She just told me that he has hacked into her private email account and started sending her weird messages.”

All four Wolff males wore matching expressions of ferocity. “Like what?” Kieran demanded, sliding an arm across the back of her chair.

Olivia slanted a worried glance at her daughter, but Cammie was engrossed in playing with a kitten that had wandered into the dining room. Olivia lowered her voice, anyway. “He’s threatening violence. To my mother and to the people she holds dear. I could tell my mother is really spooked.”

“It’s a good thing you’re here,” Victor boomed, his florid face indignant. “How long are you staying?”

“Just until Monday.”

Kieran brushed her arm with his fingertips. “I could only get her to agree to a three-night visit, but I’m hoping to change her mind.” In front of God and everyone at the table, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips.

Olivia stiffened and turned red with mortification. Kieran’s family only grinned.

Victor signaled an end to the dinner by rising unsteadily to his feet. “Well, keep us posted. I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”

Gracie moved around the table and gave her brother-in-law a hug. “Nice of you to bring some estrogen to this male enclave.” She smiled at Olivia. “I hear you’re a children’s book illustrator. I’d love to pick your brain about that if you have time. I’m a painter.”

“I’d be happy to,” Olivia said. “But at the moment, I need to get Cammie ready for bed. When we cross time zones, it’s tough to keep her routine intact.”

Kieran took her arm as they left the dining room. “Remember,” he said. “My suite. Don’t make me hunt you down.”

She shivered, looking into his eyes for any sign of weakness. But there was none. His gaze was steady, confident, implacable. Her time of reckoning was nigh.

Cammie was irritable and uncooperative, perhaps picking up on Olivia’s unsettled mood. It was close to ten o’clock when the child finally went to sleep in her tree house bed.

One of the older housekeepers took a seat in front of the television in Olivia’s sitting room and promised to be vigilant in keeping an eye and ear out for Cammie. Olivia knew that her daughter rarely woke up after falling asleep, so she had no real reason to procrastinate any longer.

She slipped into the bathroom and changed out of the dress she had worn to dinner. Instead, she opted for soft, well-worn jeans and a light cashmere pullover sweater in pale mauve. Her mass of hair seemed unruly, so she swept it up in a thick ponytail.

The woman in the mirror had big eyes and a troubled expression. She’d been waiting for six years to face what was coming. But knowing the day had finally arrived made it no easier.

Somehow she had to prevent Kieran from seeing how much she still responded to him sexually. Giving him that advantage would weaken her, and she couldn’t afford that… not when Cammie’s life and well-being were at stake.

Kieran’s suite of rooms was across the hall from hers. Was the arrangement designed to let him see more of his daughter or to remind Olivia that she could no longer hide from him?

She wiped damp palms on her jeans and knocked.

Five

Kieran had wondered if she would come. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had used jet lag or some other excuse to postpone this meeting, yet here she was. In casual clothes and with her hair pulled back, she seemed scarcely old enough to be the mother of a five-year-old child. “Come in,” he said, feeling his muscles clench as she slipped past him. “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice husky and low. “White, please.”

He handed her a glass of the zinfandel he remember she liked and motioned for her to be seated. His suite, like the one he had chosen for her, included a bedroom, a lavish bath and this sitting room.

Olivia perched primly on a comfy chair, her knees together, ankles and feet aligned. Her curvy ass filled out the jeans she wore in a mouth-drying way. And that sweater. Jesus. Had she dressed this way deliberately to throw him off track?

Kieran remained standing, finishing his drink and setting the glass aside. “Cammie is mine,” he said slowly, still stunned by the notion. “Without a doubt. But you told me six years ago that you were taking the pill.”

She grimaced. “I was. But one morning I forgot to take it, and I found it lying by the sink when I got ready for bed that night. I swallowed it down right away, but obviously the damage was already done.”

“Hmm.” He was itchy, nervous, unsettled as hell. Tiptoeing through a minefield, that’s what this was. He cleared his throat. “We’re done with dancing around this, Olivia. I need to hear you say it. Tell me that Cammie is my daughter.”

When she remained stubbornly silent, he sighed. “Do you want to know the real reason I didn’t contact you after I left England?”

Shock flashed across her face, and she nodded cautiously, looking at him as if waiting for bad news from a doctor.

He ran both hands through his hair, searching for the right words. “After we had been together for a couple of weeks, you began telling me stories from your childhood… about what it was like to be the daughter of world famous celebrities. How there were always bodyguards and races to avoid paparazzi. You said you hated the isolation and never being able to play at a friend’s house. You told me you weren’t allowed to go to school, but instead, had private tutors. Do you remember saying all that?”

She nodded, frowning. “Of course.”

“Well, what I couldn’t tell you was that your story mirrored my own in many ways. We both suffered growing up, and I understood completely your feelings of being trapped, of wanting to fly the coop. You said on more than one occasion that all you wanted out of life was to be normal. To raise any children you might have like regular people.”

Grimacing, she took a sip of wine. “You really listened.”

“I did. And that’s why I never called. It’s not ego talking when I say that I knew you were falling in love with me. I felt the same way. You weren’t like any girl I had ever dated, and I wanted you so badly I couldn’t think straight half the time.”

“You never said anything.”

“I thought you’d be able to tell how I felt when we were making love. And I didn’t want to bare my soul when you knew me as Kevin Wade. If I told you I loved you, I wanted you to know I was Kieran.”

“And when your father had his heart attack?”

“It shook me. The night before I had called him and asked permission to tell you the truth. He was terribly upset, and the next morning I got the call that he’d been taken to the hospital. It felt like I had caused the heart attack, and maybe I did.”

“So you decided before you ever left England that we were over?”

“If I’m being honest… yes. I knew I could never give you what you needed, and I didn’t want to hurt you. My family is not normal. So it seemed kinder in the long run to end things before we both got in too deep. No matter how far I try to run from it, I’ll always be a Wolff, and the money will always make me and those I love a target. You have this dream of being a PTA mom and having a white picket fence. There’s not a place for me in that scenario.”

He thought his explanation would make her feel better. Instead, she looked furious.

“What gives you the right to make decisions for me, to map out my life?” she said angrily. “I had nothing but lies to go on, Kevin Wade. You’re an arrogant ass.” Her eyes flashed fire at him and her chest heaved.

How the hell did he become the bad guy, when he was only trying to protect her from hurt? “Tell me that Cammie is mine,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

Her lustrous eyes were wounded, her lips pale where she had pressed them together so hard. “Your sperm may have generated her life, but Cammie is my daughter.”

His heart caught in his throat and he sank onto the sofa, not for the world willing to admit that his knees had gone weak. “So you’re admitting we made a baby?”

Olivia’s face softened, and she came to sit beside him. Not touching but close. “Of course we did. Have you looked at her?”

Fury built in his belly. “How could you keep her from me for five long years? Damn it, Olivia. Do you have any idea what I’ve missed?” He vaulted to his feet, unable to bear her presence so close. He didn’t know whether to kiss her in gratitude for giving him a child or to strangle her for her deception.

He was shaking all over, and the weakness and turmoil he experienced infuriated him. Grief for the time he would never recoup mingled with wonder that a part of him lay asleep in a nearby room.

“When can we tell her?”

Olivia went white. “It’s not the kind of thing you blurt out. Maybe you should get to know her first.”

“In three days?” He was incredulous that she didn’t understand his urgency. “Guess again. I’m keeping her here this summer.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh, yes,” he said in dead earnest. “I can and I will. Both of you will move in here for the duration.”

“You can’t order me,” she whispered, anguish marking her face.

He shrugged. “I’m not being unreasonable. Your work can be done anywhere. She’s not in school yet. If you don’t agree, I’ll take you to court. I know plenty of judges who frown on parents who kidnap their own kids.”

“I didn’t kidnap her. That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“You kept her existence a secret from her father. Semantics, Olivia. I’m calling the shots now.”

“You’re bluffing.”

He felt a tingle of sympathy for her distress, but only that. She’d do well to understand that he fought for what was his. “It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, would it? To spend time here on the mountain?”

Clearly unconvinced, she frowned stubbornly as she stood up and crossed the room to stand nose to nose with him. “I can’t turn my life upside down overnight. You’re a bully.”

He grinned, feeling suddenly lighthearted and free. A daddy. He was a daddy.

Olivia cocked her head. “What’s so funny?”

“You. Me. Life in general.”

“I don’t see any humor in this situation at all,” she huffed.

He scooped her up, lifting her until his belt buckle pressed into her stomach. Her arms went around his neck. “Thank you, Olivia, for giving me Cammie.” He kissed her nose.

“She’s not a thing to give. But you’re welcome.”

He slid his lips across hers, tasting the flavors of the coffee and lemon pie she had consumed earlier. “One summer,” he coaxed.

“One weekend,” she countered.

He palmed her ass, pulling her into his thrusting erection. The clothes separating them were a frustration. So he set her on her feet and began undressing her.

Olivia went beet-red and batted at his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” she sputtered. “Sex won’t make me change my mind.”

“The decision’s already made.” He groaned aloud as he peeled away her sweater and revealed a mauve demi-bra barely concealing its bounty. “Sweet heaven. Please don’t stop me, Olivia. I need you more than my next breath.” His body was one huge ache that concentrated in his hard erection.

Her eyelids fluttered shut as her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. He removed the remainder of her clothing posthaste. The well-washed jeans, the socks and shoes, the scanty bra and, finally, the lacy thong.

Was it possible that he had forgotten how gorgeous she was? Full breasts with light brown centers topped a narrow waist and hourglass hips. He must have been insane six years ago. How had he left her?

He weighed both her breasts in his hands. “Look at me, Olivia.”

She opened her eyes and what he saw there humbled him. Sadness, resignation, need. “This won’t solve anything, Kieran.”

He nodded, refusing to let the future taint the moment. “Then don’t think. Just let me make you feel.”

A bleak smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Do you think you’re that irresistible? You have a bad habit of wanting to run the show.”

“I’ll work on my failings,” he promised, ready to agree to anything as long as she stayed in this room with him for the next half hour.

“What makes you think I’ll be lured into your bed given our history?”

“It’s because of our history that I believe it. We could never keep our hands off each other, and you know it.”

“I won’t have Cammie be hurt or confused by any relationship we might initiate.”

“Of course not. This is no one’s business but ours.”

“Someone might come in,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip.

“I locked the door, I swear.”

“And the housekeeper?”

“I told her you’d be back no later than eleven-thirty.”

Her face flamed again. “Oh, my God, Kieran. Don’t you think she knows we’re across the hall having sex?”

“We’re not having sex,” he pointed out ruefully.

“You know what I mean.”

His hands moved to her waist, petting her, soothing her. “She thinks we went for a walk in the moonlight. And she’s a romantic soul. Quit worrying.”

For one interminable heartbeat he thought Olivia would refuse him. But finally she nodded as if coming to some unknown decision. Her hands went to his belt buckle. “If we have a curfew, I suppose we’d better not waste any time.”

“I agree,” he said fervently, batting her hands away and ripping off his clothing in two quick swipes as he toed off his shoes.

Her eyes rounded in a gratifying way as she took stock of his considerably aroused state. “I seem to have forgotten a few things about you,” she said, cupping him in her hands.

He sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. “I’m on a hair trigger, Olivia. It’s been a while. Maybe you shouldn’t touch me.”

“There you go again, bossing me around.” She dropped to her knees on the plush carpet and licked him daintily.

The shock of it ricocheted through his body like streaks of fire. He cursed, gripping her head, and with one snap of his wrist breaking the band that held her ponytail in place. That fabulous hair tumbled across her cheeks, around his straining penis. The eroticism of the image sent him over the edge, and he came with a ragged shout.

They collapsed to the floor and Olivia lay beside him, a small, pensive smile on her face.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Was that meant to prove something?”

“Maybe. I’m not a kid anymore, Kieran. I’m a woman, and I’ve been running my life for six years without your help.”

“But you have to admit that when we do things together, the results are pretty spectacular.”

“Is that a sexual reference?”

“Could be, but in this case I was talking about Cammie.”

She curled into him, hooking one long, slender leg over his thigh. “I can’t argue with that.”

He stroked her hair. “We don’t have to be adversaries.”

“As long as you understand that you can’t ride roughshod over my feelings and opinions. And we don’t have to be a couple.”

“Fair enough.”

She touched him intimately. “If you’re trying to manipulate me with sex, it won’t work.”

His erection flexed and thickened. “Understood.”

“Then I think we’re on the same page.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Bed this time,” he grunted, reduced to one syllable words. He lifted her into his arms and deposited her in the center of his large mattress. The old Olivia would have pulled a sheet over herself immediately, but this more mature version lifted one knee, propped her head on her hand and smiled.

It was the smile of a woman learning her own power. Kieran was not immune. He sprawled beside her and entertained himself by relearning every curve and dip of her feminine body.

Olivia melted for him, her soft gasps and tiny cries filling him with determination to pleasure her as she had never been pleasured before. He brought her to the brink with his hands and then moved between her legs. At the last moment he remembered the need for a condom. He wasn’t taking any chances this time.

Not that he considered Cammie a mistake, but because he needed to learn how to be a father. One child was enough for the moment.

He sheathed himself in the latex and positioned the head of his penis against Olivia’s warm, moist flesh. She was pink and perfect, her sex swollen where he had teased her.

Her eyes were shut. “Look at me,” he insisted. When she obeyed, he drove into her, eliciting groans from both of them. Her body squeezed him, begged him not to leave. Panting, he withdrew and surged deep again. “We’re good this way,” he muttered. “So damn good.”

The truth of the statement tormented him.

He was not a family man. After a lifetime of living caged up, he needed the freedom he found in anonymous villages on the other side of the world. Olivia was important to him, and Cammie was part of him, flesh and blood.

But what did it matter when he was condemned to be alone? Loving meant loss, and he’d had his share of that.

Olivia’s sultry smile was drowsy. “Does it have to end?”

Even the question was enough to send heat streaking down his spine, sparking into his balls and rushing through the part of him that longed for release. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck corded and he shouted half in relief, half in awe when his body shuddered in the throes of a climax that left him weak.

Dimly he was aware that Olivia joined him at the end.

Panting, half addled from the scalding deluge of release, he rolled to his back, dragging her on top of him, their bodies still joined.

“Stay the night.” The words were muffled as he buried his face in her cleavage.

“I can’t,” she said, disentangling their limbs and rolling to sit on the side of the bed.

“I could come to your room.”

Her body stilled, her back to him. “No.”

As he watched, only momentarily sated, she dressed rapidly and finger-combed her hair. He frowned, already missing the feel of her in his arms. “Dismiss the housekeeper and come back. We could set an alarm so you’ll be in your room by morning.”

“I have responsibilities,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“And that precludes meeting your needs as a woman?”

She stopped at the door and faced him across the room. In her eyes he saw regret and resolution. “I can’t afford to get involved with you again. Sharing a daughter will be hard enough. Let’s view tonight as one for Auld Lang Syne and put it behind us.”

“I’m not a fan of that plan. It wouldn’t hurt for Cammie to see us getting along.”

“We can be civil without starting something we can’t finish. I’m here for a very short time. And unlike you, I don’t happen to see recreational sex as an appropriate lifestyle.”

Now he was pissed. “Who said anything about recreational sex?”

He strode to where she stood backed up against the door and got in her face. “I’m attracted to you, Olivia Delgado. I like you. And as of today, I know we share a child. Any intimacies we indulge in are far from casual.”

She licked her lips, her eyes huge. “You’re bullying me again,” she whispered.

Damn it. He was hard. And hungry. And mad as hell that she seemed to see him as some kind of a lowlife. He backed up two feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have more power than you think. But I won’t be pushed away.”

She reached behind her for the knob and opened the door. Since he was buck naked, and knowing that one of the housekeepers sat just across the hall, he didn’t have a prayer of stopping her.

But his chest was tight when he closed the door and banged his forehead against the unforgiving wood. She was making him crazy. Two steps forward… one step back. Perhaps it was time for a change of plan. He would get to know his daughter, and in the meantime, maybe Olivia would acknowledge the fire that burned between them and return to his bed on her own.

Six

A strange house. Odd night sounds. And dreams that were riddled with images of Kieran Wolff. No wonder Olivia slept poorly. She had no more defenses against him now than she had as a naive university student. All he had to do was crook his little finger and she fell into his arms without protest.

It was infuriating and humbling and, if she were honest, exciting. Her days since Cammie was born had been pleasant. And the white-picket-fence life she had so deliberately created was good. Really good. But what woman—still two years shy of thirty—should be willing to settle for that?

Kieran’s recent intrusion into her life was a jolt of adrenaline. Now she was scared and aroused and worried and challenged, but she wasn’t bored.

Finally, at 4:00 a.m., she fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened at the crack of dawn when Cammie crawled into bed with her. Crossing three time zones was not an easy adjustment for a child.

Olivia yawned. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“What are we going to do today?” Cammie snuggled close, her small, warm body a comfort Olivia never tired of.

“I think Kieran wants to hang out with us. Is that okay?”

In the semidark, her daughter’s face was hard to read. “Yep. I like him.”

That was it. Four short words. But hearing her daughter’s vote of confidence relieved at least some of Olivia’s concern.

Olivia dozed off again. When she woke, Cammie was gone, and light streamed into the room. Good Lord. She was a sweet kid, but mischievous at times. Olivia stumbled from her bed and rushed through the connecting passageway to Cammie’s whimsical bedroom. She stopped short when she realized that Cammie was sprawled on the floor on her stomach alongside Kieran, who was aligned in a similar position.

Both of them were playing with an expensive model train set. A small black engine choo-chooed its way around a figure-eight track. Seeing the two of them side by side wrenched something inside her chest and brought hot tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to dwell on what might have been.

Kieran looked up, his gaze raking her from head to toe, taking in the flimsy silk nightie that ended above her knees, her thinly covered breasts, her tousled hair. “Rough night, Olivia?”

His bland intonation was meant to bait.

“Slept like a baby,” she said, glaring at him when she thought her daughter wouldn’t see. Kieran looked delicious… clear-eyed and dressed casually in jeans and an old faded yellow oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His big masculine feet were bare, and Olivia discovered that there was no part of him that didn’t make her heart beat faster.

He motioned to a nearby tray. “Cook sent up fresh scones and homemade blackberry jam. And there’s a carafe of coffee.”

Cammie had barely acknowledged her mother’s presence, too caught up in the new entertainment. Olivia shifted her feet, reluctant to parade in front of her host to get a much-needed cup of caffeine. The awkward silence grew.

Kieran took pity on her. “Go take a shower if you want to. I’ll pour you some coffee and set it on the nightstand. Okay?”

“Thanks,” she muttered, escaping to the privacy of her room. In twenty minutes she had showered and changed into trim khakis and a turquoise peasant shirt that left one shoulder bare. She hadn’t needed to wash her hair this morning, so she brushed it vigorously and left one swathe to lie over the exposed skin.

The coffee awaited as promised. She drank it rapidly and went in search of a second cup. What she saw stunned her. Cammie, often shy around strangers, sat in Kieran’s lap in a sunshine-yellow rocker as he read to her from an Eric Carle book.

The two of them looked up with identical expressions of inquiry. Cammie’s typical smile danced across her face. “You look pretty, Mommy. Kieran’s going to take us to the attic.”

Olivia glanced down ruefully at her fairly expensive outfit. “Do I need to change?”

Kieran laid the book aside and shook his head. “The Wolff attic is more of a carefully maintained museum than a dusty hiding place. You’ll be fine.”

While Cammie took another turn with the train, Kieran spoke, sotto voce to Olivia. “She’s right. You look lovely.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “I wanted you when I woke up this morning.”

The gravelly statement sent goose bumps up and down her arms. She glanced at Cammie, but the child was oblivious to the adult’s tension. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Not here. Not now.”

He shrugged, unrepentant, and suddenly she saw the source of Cammie’s mischievous grin. Circling Olivia’s waist with one arm, he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, his hot breath tickling sensitive skin. “If you had stayed in my bed last night, neither of us would have gotten any rest. Remember the evening after the Coldplay concert? We didn’t sleep that night at all.”

His naughty reminiscence was deliberate. In a hotel room high above the streets of London, they had fallen onto the luxurious bed, drunk on each other and the evening of evocative music. Again and again he had taken her, until she was sore and finally had to beg off.

The resultant apology and intimate sponge bath had almost broken his control and hers.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “That was a lifetime ago. We’re different people.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think so.” He bit gently at her ear lobe, half turned so Cammie couldn’t see his naughty caress. “You make me ache, Olivia. Tell me you feel the same.”

She broke free of his embrace. “Cammie, are you ready for the attic?”

Kieran grimaced inwardly, realizing that he had already strayed from his plan. As long as he pushed, Olivia would run. Only time would tell if another tack would woo her in the right direction.

As they climbed the attic stairs, Cammie slipped her little hand into his with a natural trust that cut him off at the knees. Frankly it scared him spitless. What did he know about raising a kid? He’d been too young when his mother died to have many memories of her. And when his father imploded into a near breakdown, the only familial support Kieran had known was from his uncle, his two brothers and his cousins, all of whom were grieving as much or more than he was.

He halted Cammie at the top of the stairs. “Hold on, poppet. Let me get the switch.” It had been years since he had been up here, but the cavernous space hadn’t changed much. Polished hardwood floors, elegant enough for any ballroom, were illuminated with old-fashioned wall sconces as well as pure crystalline sunbeams from a central etched glass skylight. Almost thirty years of junk lay heaped in piles across the broad expanse.

Olivia’s face lit up. “This is amazing… like a storybook. Oh, Kieran. You were so lucky to grow up here.”

Though her comment hit a raw nerve, he realized that she meant it. Seeing the phenomenal house through a newcomer’s eyes made him admit, if only to himself, that not all his memories were unpleasant. How many hours had he and Gareth and Jacob and their cousins whiled away up here on rainy days? The adults had left them alone as long as they didn’t create a ruckus, and there was many a time when the attic had become Narnia, or a Civil War battlefield, or even a Star Wars landscape.

He cleared his throat. “It’s a wonderful place to play,” he said quietly, caught up in the web of memory. Across the room he spotted what he’d been looking for—a large red carton. He dragged it into an empty spot and grinned at Cammie. “This was my favorite toy.”

“I remember having some of these.” Olivia squatted down beside them and soon, the Lincoln Logs were transformed into barns and bridges and roads.

Kieran ruffled Cammie’s hair. “You’re good at building things,” he said softly, still struggling to believe that she was his.

“Mommy says I get that from my daddy.”

His gut froze. “Your daddy?”

“Uh-huh. He lives on the other side of the world, so we don’t get to see him.”

Kieran couldn’t look at Olivia. He stumbled to his feet. “Be right back,” he said hoarsely. He made a beeline for the stairs, loped down them and closed himself in the nearest room, which happened to be the library. His throat was so tight it was painful, and his head pounded. Closing his eyes and fisting his hands at his temples, he fought back the tsunami of emotion that had hit him unawares.

A child’s simple statement. We don’t get to see him…. How many times had Olivia talked to Cammie about her absentee father? And how many times had a small child wondered why her daddy didn’t care enough to show up?

His stomach churned with nausea. If he had known, things would have been different. Damn Olivia.

As he stood, rigid, holding himself together by sheer will, an unpalatable truth bubbled to the surface. He did live on the other side of the world. He’d logged more hours in the air than he’d spent in the States in the past five years. What would he have done if Olivia had found him and told him the truth?

His lies to her in England had been the genesis of an impossible Gordian knot. One bad decision led to another until now Kieran had a daughter he didn’t know, Olivia was afraid to trust him and Kieran himself didn’t have a clue what to do about the future.

When he thought he could breathe again, he returned to the attic. Cammie had lost interest in the Lincoln Logs, and she and Olivia were now playing with a pile of dress-up clothes. Cammie pirouetted, wearing a magenta tutu that had once belonged to Kieran’s cousin Annalise. “Look at me,” she insisted, wobbling as she tried to stand up in toe shoes.

Kieran stopped short of the two females, not trusting himself at the moment to behave rationally. “Very nice,” he croaked.

Olivia looked at him with a gaze that telegraphed inquiry and concern. “You okay?” she mouthed, studying him in a way that made him want to hide. He didn’t need or want her sympathy. She was the one who had stripped him of a father’s rights.

He nodded tersely. “I’ll leave you two up here to play for a while. I have some business calls to make.”

Olivia watched the tall, lean man leave, her heart hurting for him. In hindsight, she wondered if she and Kieran might have had a chance if he hadn’t lied about who he was, and if she had been able to get past her anger and righteous indignation long enough to notify him that she was having his baby.

It was all water under the bridge now. The past couldn’t be rewritten.

She and Cammie were on their own for most of the afternoon, despite Kieran’s insistence that he wanted to get to know his daughter. After lunch and a nap, Olivia took her daughter outside to explore the mountaintop. They found Gareth’s woodworking shop, and Cammie made friends with the basset hound, Fenton.

On this beautiful early summer day, Wolff Mountain was twenty degrees cooler than down in the valley, and Olivia fell in love with the peace and tranquility found in towering trees, singing birds and gentle breezes.

She and Cammie ran into Victor Wolff on the way back to the house. He was slightly stoop-shouldered, and his almost bald head glistened with sweat. From what Olivia had gleaned from the private investigator and from a variety of internet sources, Victor had been a decade and a half older than his short-lived bride… which meant he must now be banging on the door of seventy.

The old man stared at Cammie with an expression that made Olivia’s heart pound with anxiety. He shot a glance at Olivia. “The child has beautiful eyes. Very unusual.”

Olivia held her ground, battling an atavistic need to tuck her baby under her wing. “Yes, she may grow up to be a beauty like my mother.”

Cammie had no interest in adult conversation. She started picking flowers and dancing among the swaying fronds of a large weeping willow that cast a broad patch of shade. Victor’s eyes followed her wistfully. “I may die before I get to see any grandchildren. Gareth is the only one of my sons who is married, and he and Gracie have decided to wait a bit to start their family.”

“Are you ill?” Olivia asked bluntly.

He shook his head, still tracking the child’s movements. “A bad heart. If I watch what I eat and remember to exercise, my son, the doc, says I probably have a few thousand more miles under the hood.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“None of us knows how many days we have on this earth.”

“I’m sorry about your wife, Mr. Wolff. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been losing her so young.”

He shrugged. “We argued that day. Before she left to go shopping. She wanted to let the boys take piano lessons and I thought it was a sissy endeavor. I told her so in no uncertain terms.”

“And then she died.”

“Yes.” He aged before her eyes. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Olivia.”

“We all do, sir.”

“Perhaps. But I almost ruined my sons, keeping them locked up like prisoners. My brother, Vincent, was the same. Six children between us, vulnerable little babies. I was terrified, you know. My brother and I both were.”

“That’s understandable.” She began to feel a reluctant sympathy for the frail patriarch.

Suddenly his eyes shot fire at her, and the metamorphosis was so unexpected that Olivia actually took a step backward. “Kieran’s a good boy. It’s not his fault that the memories here keep him away.”

“We all have our own demons to face,” Olivia said. “But children shouldn’t have to suffer for our mistakes.”

“Are you talking about me or about you?”

His candor caught her off guard. “I suppose it could be either,” she said slowly. “But know this, Mr. Wolff. I will do anything to protect my daughter.”

He actually chuckled, a rusty sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. “I like you, Olivia. Too bad I didn’t have a daughter to take after my dear Laura.”

Olivia couldn’t think of a response to that, so she held her peace, walking beside Kieran’s father as the three of them made their way back to the house.

Seven

Kieran saw the three of them approach the house. He was watching from an upstairs window. Part of him resented the fact that his father was sharing time with Olivia and Cammie, something Kieran had intended as the primary focus of the weekend. But anger boiled in his veins, and he was afraid that if he snapped and confronted Olivia in Cammie’s presence, the child would be frightened.

Still, it was time for a showdown, and since nothing appeared to mitigate the harshness of the rage that gripped him, Olivia had better beware.

Dinner was an awkward affair with only the four of them. Jacob had been called way unexpectedly, and Gareth and Gracie were still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage, enjoying time together at home alone.

Cammie behaved beautifully at the overly formal table, conversing easily with Kieran and smiling shyly when Victor Wolff addressed her. Olivia was pale and quiet, perhaps sensing that a storm was brewing. The courses passed slowly. At last, Victor pushed back from the table. “I’ll leave you young people to it. If you’ll excuse an old man, I’m going upstairs to put on my slippers and sit by the fire.”

Cammie wrinkled her nose as he left. “A fire? That’s silly. It’s summertime.”

Kieran smiled, loving how bright she was, how aware of her surroundings. “You’re right about that, little one. But my father has his eccentricities, and we all adjust.”

“X cin…” She gave up trying to replicate the difficult word.

Olivia leaned over to remove crumbs from her daughter’s chin with a napkin. “It means that Mr. Wolff has lived a long time and he sometimes does strange things.”

“Like when Jojo puts hot sauce on his ice cream.”

Olivia grinned. “Something like that.”

Kieran saw himself suddenly as if from a distance, sitting at a table with his lover and their child. Anyone peering in the window would see a family, a unit of three. A mundane but extraordinarily wonderful relationship built on love, not lies.

But appearances were deceiving.

So abruptly that Olivia frowned, he stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. “Why don’t I tuck Cammie in tonight? Is that okay with you, Olivia?”

He saw the refusal ready to tumble automatically from her lips, but she stopped and inhaled sharply, her hands clenching the edge of the table. “I suppose that would be fine. What do you think, Cammie?”

“Sure. Let’s go, Kieran. Do you have any boats to play with in your bathtub?”

After they were gone, the silence resonated. Olivia realized that she was inconveniencing the waitstaff as long as she sat at the table, so she got up, as well. There were so many rooms in the huge house, it was easy to get lost. Not wanting to be too far away from Cammie, she found a staircase that led to the second floor and walked toward her suite. When she could hear laughter and splashing from the bathroom, she paused in the sitting room to call her mother.

Lolita’s well-modulated voice answered on the first ring. “Hello, darling. How’s the visit with your school friend?”

Olivia might possibly have fudged a bit on the details of her trip. “Going well. But I’m worried about you and Dad. Anything else from your psycho fan?”

“Don’t be so cruel, Olivia. Men can’t help falling in love with me. It’s the characters on the screen, of course, but I play them so well, they seem genuine and warm, especially to someone who has already experienced a disconnect with reality. We should have compassion for the poor soul who is obsessed with me.”

Olivia’s mother had no problem with self-esteem. But her nonchalance seemed shortsighted. Olivia might have been even more worried were it not for the fact that Javier Delgado took his responsibilities as a husband very seriously. He was narcissistic to a fault, but he did love his tempestuous wife, and he had the bodyguards and manpower to prove it.

“Still, Mom, please be vigilant. Don’t let down your guard.”

“It’s a tempest in a teapot, Olivia. Just a sad man wanting attention. Quit worrying.”

“Has he sent more emails?”

“A few. The police are monitoring my computer.”

“What did the notes say?”

“More of the same. Threats to me and the people I love. But you and Cammie are in a safe place for now, and your father and I are well taken care of. Everything’s fine.”

The conversation ended with Olivia feeling no less concerned than she had been earlier. As much as she hated to admit it, her parents would always be targets because of their celebrity and their wealth. Which was exactly why Olivia had struggled so hard to make a home for herself and her daughter away from the limelight that surrounded Lolita and Javier. Even letting Cammie travel with her grandparents was a leap of faith, but Olivia wanted the three of them to be close, so she bit her tongue and prayed when necessary.

The noise of Cammie’s bedtime rituals moved from the bathroom to the bedroom. Olivia walked through the door in time to see Kieran tuck his daughter into the raised bed, giving her a kiss in the process. “My turn,” she said.

Feeling awkward beneath Kieran’s steady gaze, she hugged Cammie and tucked the covers close. “Sweet dreams.”

Cammie’s eyes were already drooping. “Nite, Mommy. Nite, Kieran.” The two adults stepped into the hall. Kieran’s expression was brooding, none of the lightheartedness he’d exhibited in Cammie’s presence remaining. “Put some other shoes on,” he said. “We’re going for a walk.”

Kieran saw on her face that she recognized the blunt command for what it was.

She frowned. “When you have a child, you can’t waltz away whenever you want. She’s too small to be left alone.”

“I’m not stupid, Olivia.” Her patronizing words irritated him. “Jacob returned a little while ago. Cook is fixing him some leftovers. He’s bringing a stack of medical journals with him and has promised to sit up here until we get back.”

“I don’t know why we have to leave the house.”

“Because it’s a beautiful night and because I don’t think you want to risk having our conversation overheard.”

That shut her up. He was in a mood to brook no opposition, and the sooner he stated his piece, the better.

About the time Jacob appeared upstairs, Olivia returned wearing athletic shoes as instructed. She had changed into jeans and a long-sleeve shirt in deference to the chill of the late hour. Even in summer, nights on the mountain were cool.

They chatted briefly with Jacob, and then Kieran cocked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Outside, Olivia stopped short. “You haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“To the top of the mountain.”

“I thought we were on top.”

“The house sits on a saddle of fairly level land, but at either end of the property, the peak splits into two outcroppings. One has been turned into a helipad. We’re headed to the other.”

She followed him in silence as he strode off into the darkness, deliberately keeping up an ambitious pace. If she ended up exhausted and out of breath, perhaps she wouldn’t be able to argue with him.

When the trail angled sharply upward, she called out his name. “Kieran, stop. I need to rest.”

He paused there in the woods and looked at her across the space of several feet. Her face was a pale blur in the darkness. The sound of her breathing indicated exertion.

“Can we go now?” He was determined not to show her any consideration tonight. Nothing would dissuade him from his course of judgment.

She nodded.

He spun on his heel and pressed on. They were three miles from the house when the final ascent began. “Take my hand,” he said gruffly, not willing to place her in any actual danger.

The touch of her slender fingers in his elicited emotions that were at odds with his general mood of condemnation. He pushed back the softer feelings and concentrated on his need for retribution.

Clambering over rocks and thick roots, they made their way slowly upward. At last, breaking out of the trees, they were treated to a vista of the heavens that included an unmistakable Milky Way and stars that numbered in the millions.

Despite his black mood, the scene humbled him as it always did. Every trip home he made this pilgrimage at least once. To the right, a single large boulder with a flat top worn down by millennia of wind and rain offered a seat. He drew her to sit with him. Only feet away, just in front them, the mountain plunged into a steep, seemingly endless ravine.

Olivia perched beside him, their hips touching. “Are you planning to throw me off?” she asked, daring to tease him.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights.”

“We’ll come back in the daylight sometime. You can see for miles from up here.”

They sat in silence for long minutes. Perhaps this had been a mistake. The wild, secluded beauty of this remote mountain was chipping away at his discontent. Occasionally the breeze teased his nostrils with Olivia’s scent. All around them nocturnal creatures went about their business. Barred owls hooted nearby, their mournful sound punctuating the night.

Olivia sat quietly, her arms wrapped around her.

He rested his elbows on his knees, staring out into the inky darkness. “You committed an unpardonable sin against me, Olivia. Robbing me of my daughter—” His voice broke, and he had to take a deep, shuddering breath before he could continue. “Nothing can excuse that… no provocation, no set of circumstances.”

“I’m sorry you missed seeing her grow from a baby into a funny, smart girl.”

“But that’s not really an apology, is it? You’d do the same thing again.”

“The father of my child was a liar who abandoned me without warning or explanation. And later, when I did discover the truth, I found out what kind of man you are. An eternal Peter Pan, always searching for Neverland. Never quite able to settle down to reality.”

“You think you have me all figured out.”

“It’s not that hard. All I have to do is look at the stamps on your passport.”

“Traveling the world is not a crime.”

“No, but it’s an inherently selfish lifestyle. I’ll admit that your work is important, but those bridges you build have also created unseen walls. You’ve never had to answer to anyone but yourself. And you like it that way.”

The grain of truth in her bald assessment stung. “I might have made different choices had I known about Cammie.”

“Doubtful. You were hardly equipped to care for a baby. And by your own admission, you’ve returned to Wolff Mountain barely a handful of times in six years. You may feel like the wronged party in this situation, Kieran, but from where I’m standing, both of our lives played out as they had to—separate… unrelated.”

He couldn’t let go of the sick regret twisting his insides with the knowledge that he had never been allowed to hold his infant child. “You call me selfish, Olivia, but you like playing God, controlling all the shots. That hardly makes you an admirable character in this scenario.”

“I did what was necessary to survive.”

“Lucky for you, your parents had money.”

“Yes.”

“Because, otherwise, you’d have been forced to come crawling to me, and that would have eaten away at your pride.”

“I would never have come to you for money.”

He pounded his fists on his knees. “Damn you. Do you know how arrogant you sound?”

“Me? Arrogant?” Her voice rose. “That’s rich. You wrote the book, Kieran. All you do is throw your weight around. I won’t apologize for protecting my daughter from an absentee father.”

“Military families deal with long absences all the time and their children survive.”

“That’s true. But those kids suffer. Sometimes they cry themselves to sleep at night wishing with all their hearts that their mommy or daddy was there to tuck them in. It’s a tough life.”

“But you never gave us a chance to see if we could make it work.”

“You had sex with me for six weeks and never told me your real identity. What in God’s name makes you think I would have put myself out there to be slapped down again? You hurt me, Kieran… badly. And when I found out a baby was on the way, it was all I could do to hold things together. If you had at least contacted me, who knows what might have happened. But you didn’t. So forget the postmortems. What’s done is done.”

“I want to tell her I’m her father.”

“No.”

“I have legal rights.”

“And you have plane tickets to Timbuktu at the end of the summer. Telling her would be cruel. Can’t you see that?”

“She needs me. A girl should have a daddy to spoil her and teach her how to ride a bike.”

“And you’ll do that via Skype? Is that what you had in mind?”

“God, you’re cold.”

“What I am is a realist. We’re not talking about how much Cammie needs you. This is really about you needing her, isn’t it? And if you’ll stop and think about it, the mature thing to do would be to walk away before she gets hurt.”

“I want her to stay for the whole summer.”

“She would fall in love with you and then be crushed when it was over. Absolutely not.”

“We’re getting nowhere with this,” he groused. “It’s a circular argument. I have a proposition. My cousin Annalise is returning tomorrow. She’s great with children, and Cammie will love her. I have to make an overnight trip the following morning to New York to meet with a charitable board about the September project. I want you to come with me and we’ll see if we can work this thing out.”

“There’s nothing to work out.”

“Let me put it this way… either you agree to go to New York and hash things out on neutral ground, or I tell Cammie the truth when she wakes up in the morning.”

“You can’t.”

“Try and stop me.” He was beyond pleasantries, fighting for his life, his future.

Olivia leaped to her feet and he grabbed for her wrist. “Be careful, damn it. You’re too close to the edge of the cliff.”

She struggled instinctively, and then froze when his words sank in. “Take me back to the house.” Unmistakable tears thickened her voice.

He stood up and backed them both from the precipice. “Don’t make this so hard, Olivia,” he murmured, sliding his hands down her arms. “We’re her parents. Together. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“But you want to torture me.”

“Not that, either.” Her nearness affected him predictably. “I want to make love to you, but I don’t have a death wish, so I suggest we get off this ledge.”

He steered her down the winding, narrow path until they were once again cloaked in the pungent forest of fir and pine. When he halted and slid his hands beneath her hair to tilt her face toward his for a kiss, she didn’t protest. But her lips were unmoving.

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, wiping away dampness. “You have to trust me, Olivia.” He could feel the tremors in her body as he pulled her closer. “I won’t hurt Cammie. I won’t hurt you.” He said it almost like a vow, but as the words left his lips, he realized the truth of them.

Traditional or not, Olivia and Cammie were his family… as much or more than Gareth, Jacob and Victor. He would protect them with every fiber of his being, to the death if necessary. If he could make Olivia understand how deep his feelings ran, how desperately he wanted to take care of both the women in his life, perhaps she would be more inclined to believe his sincerity and his resolve.

With aching slowness he claimed her mouth, tasting her, nipping at her tongue. At last, her arms circled his neck and her sweet lips dueled with his. There was less tenderness tonight, more unrestrained passion. Frustration and conflict segued into ragged hunger and rough caresses.

He jerked her shirt over her head and fumbled with the bra, dragging it down her arms and tossing it away haphazardly. Red-hot desire hazed his vision, and he trembled as if he had a fever.

Her lush breasts took on gooseflesh in the night air, and her nipples pebbled into small, hard stones. He took them in his mouth, one after the other, and suckled her, dragging on her tender flesh with his mouth and plumping her breasts with worshipful hands.

Olivia moaned, a sound that went straight to his groin and sent scalding heat to scorch him alive. He ripped at her jeans, shoving them down her hips only enough to touch her between her legs. She was damp and ready for him.

Freeing his own eager sex, he fumbled in his pants pocket for a condom, rolled it on and then lifted her and braced her against the nearest tree. It was animalistic and raw and absolutely necessary.

With a grunt of determination, he thrust up and into her warm, hot passage. The sensation of being caressed by wet silk made him groan aloud. “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, the words muffled against her neck. “God, you make me burn.”

After that, conversation evaporated in the white-hot conflagration of his drive to completion. Olivia’s fingernails bit into his shoulders as she clung to him in desperation. He gripped her ass and lifted her high, angling his hips to fill her more deeply.

She cried out and trembled, heart pounding against his as she climaxed wildly, her inner muscles milking him. Her release triggered his. Keeping his hands under her ass to protect her from painful contact with the tree, he thrust recklessly, not caring if his hands suffered in the process. Nothing could have separated him from her in that moment.

She kissed him softly, and the simple caress was his undoing. Shaking, breathing hoarsely, he came with a rapid fire punch of his hips, feeling his strength drain away as he reached the end.

Legs embarrassingly weak, he went down, rolling onto his back in a sea of pine needles, settling Olivia on top of him as they both recovered. “Stay the summer,” he begged.

She put her hand on his lips. “Stop. Let it go for now. I’ll travel to New York with you. That’s two more nights, total. After that, Cammie and I have to go home. I have a project to finish, and she has play dates scheduled with friends. We have a life, Kieran. But I’ll consider returning later in the summer for a visit. Don’t push me on this.”

It was hard to be angry when she laid on top of him, every voluptuous inch of her his for the taking. Lazily he rubbed her firm, generous ass. She was the most intensely female woman he had ever known. As though her entire body was created for the purpose of male fantasy.

His erection was already perking up, but he had only brought one condom. Bad mistake. Instead of feeding his own hungry obsession, he reached between them and touched the tiny bud of nerves that made her quiver and pant. Deliberately he brought her to the brink again. She tried to fight him, but her body defeated her.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, relishing the feel of her dew on his fingers. He might ache, unappeased, for hours, but it was worth it to hear her call his name as she spiraled into bliss and then slumped onto his chest.

Eight

Olivia wanted to remain in the dark. Deep in the woods, she could pretend that she wasn’t scared of repeating mistakes that should have been far behind her.

She wasn’t lying to Kieran when she said she didn’t want Cammie falling in love with him only to experience a child’s broken heart when he left. But that was only half the truth.

Olivia couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t fall in love with him again, either, and that’s what was bound to happen if she remained on Wolff Mountain for the summer. Though she’d die rather than admit it, Kieran was irresistible. Look how she’d tumbled into his arms with barely a protest. Only physical distance could protect her. In New York, she planned to make her position clear.

Neutral ground, Kieran had said. The proposition sounded sensible on the surface. But Olivia had been to New York several times, and she knew that with the right man, the city would be magical.

She could always make celibacy a condition of the trip, but that would be self-deceptive in the extreme. She wanted Kieran… looked forward to spending an uninterrupted night in his arms. And by reminding herself that when it was done, it was done, she could protect her heart.

Maybe in August she and Cammie would make one final quick trip for Kieran to see his daughter. Then he’d fly out across the globe, and she and Cammie could get back to their normal lives.

Why did that thought have to hurt so much?

Olivia had grown up in chaos, being dragged around to movie sets all over the world, hiding in her bedroom when her flamboyant parents indulged in one of their theatrical shouting matches. All she had ever wanted was a peaceful, normal existence to raise her child. And if she looked seriously, surely there was some nice guy out there who would want to marry her and add to the family.

Try as she might, such a picture never came into focus.

Kieran held her hand as they made their way back to the house. Their feet made scarcely a sound as they walked.

Her fingers clung to his, wishing she had the right to be with him like this forever. He was a loving man, and an honorable one, despite his youthful misjudgments. He loved his family, and he was clearly on his way to loving Cammie, as well.

But ultimately he saw Wolff Mountain as a trap, one that had robbed him of his childhood. And though he might visit from time to time, he was never going to settle in one place.

They entered through the back of the house, treading quietly in deference to sleeping servants. When they entered the room where Jacob kept watch, he stood up and stretched. “I was about to give up on you.”

Kieran grimaced. “Sorry. The time got away from me. It’s a beautiful night.”

Jacob’s gaze settled on Olivia. He was a quiet, intense man, and his piercing eyes, like the X-ray machines he used, seemed to see right through her. “You need to watch out for my brother,” he joked. “We used to call him the ‘were-Wolff,’ because he loved roaming the woods at night.”

She blushed, feeling as if Jacob could see exactly what she and Kieran had been up to. “I enjoyed the walk,” she said. Her red cheeks were probably a dead giveaway, but she kept her expression noncommittal.

In the wake of Jacob’s departure, an awkward silence bloomed. Kieran’s jaw was rigid, and hunger still tightened the planes of his face. “Will you come to my room?” he asked.

She shook her head, backing away. “I need to get some sleep. Cammie will be up early. Good night.”

Her retreat was embarrassing to say the least, but she needed distance. His masculinity dragged her in, demanding a response, and for tonight, she needed to regroup and figure out how to protect her vulnerable heart.

Late the following morning Kieran’s cousin Annalise arrived. She blew in on a burst of wind and rain, her laughter contagious and her genuine welcome hard to resist.

“So glad to meet you both,” she said, squatting in Prada pumps to hug Cammie.

She was tall, dark-headed and gorgeous. And when she looked at Cammie, she was clearly shocked.

Olivia squirmed under her assessing gaze, but refused to be lured into saying something she would regret. “How was the family vacation?”

Annalise hugged her cousins, as well. Kieran and Jacob had showed up to eat lunch with her before going back to their construction project at Jacob’s clinic. Gareth had gone home to see Gracie. “Daddy and the boys are still fishing in Wyoming, but I reached my fill of tying lures and fighting mosquitoes. Plus, I had to get home to see Kieran. It’s like a sighting of the Loch Ness monster. You don’t want to miss it.”

“Very funny.” Kieran suffered her teasing with an easy grin, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked to the dining room. “Admit it, brat. You just had to come home and meet my guests.”

She wrinkled her classically beautiful nose. “You got me.” She gave Olivia a rueful glance. “It’s a well-known failing of mine,” she said, patting Cammie’s head as she seated herself at the table. “Whenever we were little, the guys tortured me by pretending to have secrets I wasn’t privy to. I’d badger them unmercifully, until half the time they admitted that they had made it all up.”

“It must have been hard being the only girl.”

“You have no idea.” She paused, expression concerned. “Where’s Uncle Victor?”

“He had a rough night,” Jacob said. “But he hopes to be with us for dinner.”

Over a lunch of cold salads and fresh fruit, Olivia watched Annalise interact with her family. There were three more males not present, the brothers Annalise spoke of, as well as Vincent Wolff, who was Victor’s twin. Clearly Annalise was close to Kieran and Jacob. She teased and kidded them with open affection.

The six young cousins had been raised in isolation in this huge house after the violent deaths of their mothers. It was no wonder they had formed a bond. Tragedy had marked this family and shaped its face.

When the meal was concluded, the men were itching to get back to work. Annalise turned to Olivia, her face alight with enthusiasm. “Why don’t we go swim in Gareth and Gracie’s pool?”

“A pool?” Olivia looked askance at the window where lightning flashed and water rolled down the panes.

“Indoors, silly.” Annalise laughed.

Kieran frowned. “Does Cammie know how to swim?”

“We’re from southern California. Of course she does.” Olivia noted Kieran’s response, as did Annalise. He had reacted with a parent’s automatic concern. Olivia wondered how long it would be before someone in Kieran’s family came right out and demanded to know if Cammie was a Wolff.

The pool was amazing. Built to resemble a natural tropical lake, it featured a waterfall, twittering parakeets and water that was heated just enough to be luxuriously comfortable.

Cammie loved it. She swam like a fish, and soon she was all over the pool. Gracie joined them soon after they arrived. The small redhead had a quiet smile and a look of contentment about her that Olivia envied.

At one point, Annalise threw back her head and laughed in delight. “I love having women here,” she exclaimed, beaming in her gold bikini that seemed more suited to sunbathing at a resort on the French Riviera rather than actually getting wet.

Gracie nodded. “Me, too. After our honeymoon, Annalise was gone, and I have to confess that I was lonely sometimes for girl talk.”

“How long have you two been married?” Olivia asked.

“Less than two months. I’m still getting used to this amazing house.”

Gareth’s Western-themed home was spectacular, though not as large as Wolff Castle, of course. And Olivia had glimpsed Jacob’s more modern house through the trees. She frowned. “Why has Kieran never built his own place?”

Annalise shrugged. “Doesn’t need one. He’s here less than a dozen nights during the year. Two days at Christmas if we’re lucky. Other than that, he’s always on the go. The constraints of our situation were hard on all of us kids growing up, but Kieran chafed at them more than anyone. At the first opportunity, he struck out for freedom and has never really looked back. You can’t cage a man who wants to roam.”

Was that pity Olivia saw in Annalise’s eyes? Olivia hoped not. It was bad enough for Olivia to acknowledge to herself that a future with Kieran was impossible. She didn’t want or need anyone’s commiseration, no matter how well meant.

When Gracie hopped out of the pool to dry off and get back to her painting, Olivia spoke quietly to Annalise, all the while keeping tabs on Cammie’s high energy stunts. “Kieran has asked me to go to New York with him overnight. He thought you wouldn’t mind keeping Cammie. Did he volunteer you too freely?”

“Of course not.” Annalise straightened one of the flimsy triangles of her bathing suit top. Though she was the complete antithesis of Olivia’s mother in looks, she possessed the same star quality. A woman no one, particularly no man, could resist. She smiled. “Cammie is a delight, and I’d be happy to look after her.”

Standing next to her, waist deep in silky water, Olivia felt frumpy and large, though Kieran certainly seemed to have no complaints about her less than reed-thin figure. His appreciation for her… assets was flattering.

She signed inwardly. “Just one night, and we won’t be late the following day, because Cammie and I will have to catch the red-eye back to the West Coast. That reminds me, I need to shift our tickets one day later.”

“Why don’t you take the family jet? Did Kieran not offer?”

“He has. Several times. But I prefer to make my own travel arrangements.”

“Because you don’t want to feel beholden to him?”

“It’s not that. I’ve tried to raise Cammie away from the over-the-top lifestyle my parents enjoy.”

“How’s that workin’ out for you?”

Olivia shook her head ruefully. “Sometimes I think it’s a losing battle.”

“So you didn’t like growing up with all the bells and whistles?”

“I liked the toys and activities as much as the next kid. But I had friends whose parents were what I thought of as normal. Nine-to-five jobs, cookouts on the weekend. T-ball games. That wasn’t part of my life, and I wanted it for Cammie.”

“Sometimes we don’t appreciate what’s in our own backyard. There’s something to be said for not having to worry constantly about money. And there’s also the satisfaction that comes from helping people less fortunate. Our family has never wanted for anything, but I like to think we aren’t spoiled. Our fathers instilled in us a sense of responsibility, noblesse oblige, if you will.”

“If I can do as much for Cammie, I’ll be happy.”

Annalise twisted the ends of her long hair and squeezed out water. “She’s a great kid, already. For a single mom, you’ve done a great job. It can’t have been easy.”

Here it comes. Olivia braced herself, waiting for Annalise to demand an explanation of Cammie’s parentage. But the other woman merely smiled.

“Thank you,” Olivia said awkwardly. She followed Annalise out of the pool and began drying off.

“If you ever need a friendly ear, I’m here.” For once, the bubbly personality shifted to reveal a deep vein of seriousness. Her eyes, like Jacob’s, seemed to see all.

“I appreciate that.” For a moment, Olivia was tempted. She wanted to share with another female the fears and heartaches that came with being Kieran’s lover, with bearing his child. But Annalise was Kieran’s cousin, part of his family. Olivia had not even allowed Kieran to claim his daughter yet, so it would be unethical at the very least to share their secret.

She wrapped a towel around her waist and stretched out on a lounge chair to watch Cammie play. Annalise did the same. From speakers tucked away somewhere in the foliage, pleasant music played. Olivia yawned, ruefully aware that her unsettled sleep had everything to do with Kieran. When she wasn’t actually with him, she was dreaming about him. What did that say about her subconscious desires?

Annalise’s long legs were tanned and toned, making Olivia realize it had been some time since she herself had hit the gym. It was tough with a child. An older woman in Olivia’s neighborhood came most mornings for several hours to watch Cammie so Olivia could work. Cammie still napped in the afternoons, and after that it was time to fix dinner, play games and enjoy bath time.

The routine worked well for them, and Olivia wasn’t willing to leave her child with an evening babysitter to go work out. Perhaps after Cammie started kindergarten it would be easier.

Cammie did a handstand in the shallow end, making sure both women were watching. They clapped and cheered her success.

Olivia grinned, pleased that her daughter was enjoying this visit. “Cammie found one of your old ballet costumes in the attic. I hope it was okay for her to play with it.”

“Of course.” Annalise yawned, leaning back her head and closing her eyes. “Tomorrow I’ll show her my secret trove of Barbie dolls. I had to keep them hidden or the boys would pop off their heads.”

“That’s terrible.” But Olivia chuckled in spite of herself.

Annalise lifted one eyelid, her expression morose. “Don’t get me started.”

Nine

Olivia and Kieran left for New York at first light. Though Olivia had worried about abandoning Cammie, it was clear the child was having the time of her life. Victor Wolff doted on her. Jacob promised her a tour of his clinic and a lollipop, and Gareth and Gracie had sent up a note inviting Cammie to swim again.

And then there was Annalise. She and Cammie had bonded like long lost sisters. If anything, Cammie was the more sensible of the two. Annalise had planned out a twenty-four-hour agenda of fun that would be impossible to fulfill, but she delighted in making Cammie laugh at her antics.

Kieran and Olivia said their goodbyes and departed via helicopter to a small airstrip near Charlottesville. There, the Wolff family jet sat waiting, its brilliant white fuselage gleaming in the sunlight. Though Olivia was well accustomed to luxury and pampering, the level of wealth enjoyed by Kieran and his clan far surpassed anything she had experienced.

Fortunately she had packed liberally in preparation for her trip to Wolff Mountain. Knowing nothing of Kieran’s family or what to expect socially, she had gladly paid for extra bags so her wardrobe and Cammie’s would cover all eventualities. Which meant that she had plenty of choices for this impromptu New York trip.

Inside the plane, a handsome male attendant offered Olivia her pick of beverages along with a midmorning snack, in case her breakfast had been inadequate. She declined the fruit parfait with murmured thanks. Her earlier meal had been more than generous. Victor Wolff’s current chef had once served in the White House, and with three full-time cooks to assist him, the menu offerings were varied and delicious.

Kieran grabbed a bag of cashews and went forward to chat with the pilot. As Olivia fastened her seat belt in preparation for takeoff, she had time to appreciate her plush seat. It was more of an armchair, really. She stretched her legs and felt a little frisson of excitement wend its way through her veins.

Rarely did she take time all to herself for something as frivolous as a vacation. Tending to a rambunctious child, even when she and Cammie traveled with Lolita and Javier, generally meant little downtime.

Closing her eyes with a smile of contentment, she let her mind drift. It was a shock when she felt a warm hand settle on her shoulder. When she looked up, Kieran grinned at her, his expression more lighthearted than she had seen him at any time since their university days.

He sat down in the seat adjacent to hers and clicked his belt. “Are you a good flier, or one of the white-knuckled types?”

“I love it,” she said simply. “How about you?”

“It gets me from A to B quickly, and for someone in my line of work, that’s the main thing. But I also love the freedom and the sense of adventure. I’ve never lost that. Don’t guess I ever will.”

Olivia’s heart sank. This Kieran, chomping at the bit to take off, was the man who circumnavigated the globe. She could see in his body language the expectation, the energy.

The day dimmed suddenly and her anticipation of the trip palled. It was painful to see the evidence of what she had only surmised. Her lover, the father of her child, was a road warrior, an adventurer. He would never be content to live inside Olivia’s mythical white picket fence.

Soon, the noise of takeoff overrode the possibility of conversation. Olivia closed her eyes again and pretended to sleep. Her emotions were too close to the surface. She could fall in love with him again so easily. Not with the nostalgic reminiscence of a young woman’s rosy fantasy, but in a solid, real way. How could she not? He was caring and honorable. With Cammie, he showed a gentle side that ripped at Olivia’s heart.

Kieran loved his daughter, even knowing as little of her as he did. He was committed to being her dad. Only Olivia’s fears and reservations stood in the way. That and her determination to protect herself from the pain of losing him again. The devastation six years ago still rippled inside her, waiting to be resurrected. Terrifying in its power.

As Kieran spoke to the attendant, Olivia studied his profile. Classic nose, sculpted chin. Straight teeth that flashed white in a tanned face when he smiled. His body was fit and healthy; his long limbs and broad shoulders were a pleasing package of masculine perfection.

Her mouth dried and her thighs tightened as she remembered last night’s lovemaking. When they were together, he made her feel like the most important, most desirable woman in the world. His frank hunger and sensual demands called to the essence of her femininity.

Though she was well capable of taking care of herself, she enjoyed his protectiveness, his innate gentlemanly core of behavior. In a crisis, Kieran Wolff would be a rock.

At one time, being his wife had been her dream. Now she knew that even if he put his name on a piece of paper, the dream would end in pain and frustration. Olivia knew herself. She needed a lover who would be there on the ordinary days and not just in the midst of an emergency.

Kieran could handle the crises. No doubt about that. But Olivia was pretty sure that he would just as soon not have to deal with the mundane aspects of family life.

Taking out the trash, paying bills, mowing the grass. Ordinary husbands and fathers did those things.

Too bad Kieran Wolff was not ordinary. And too bad that ordinary was what Olivia had always wanted.

To Olivia’s surprise, she actually slept. Kieran woke her in time to peek out the nearest window and see the Statue of Liberty as they flew past. Soon, the landing gear deployed, the pilot set them down with a tiny bump and it was time to go.

A limousine awaited them on the tarmac.

In no time at all, Kieran and Olivia were speeding toward the city amidst a maze of taxicabs. He took her hand, surprising her. As he lifted it to his lips for a kiss, he smiled lazily. “We’re going to drop you downtown. Do you mind entertaining yourself for a couple of hours while I get this meeting out of the way?”

“Of course not, but I…”

“What?”

She bit her lip. “I owe you an apology. I thought this business trip was only an excuse to get me alone.”

They were sitting so close, she could inhale the aftershave he had used that morning. In a severely tailored charcoal-gray suit with a pale blue shirt and matching tie, he looked nothing like the man she had come to know. If he had reminded her of Indiana Jones before, now he looked more like a character from Wall Street. She wasn’t sure she liked the transformation.

He tugged her closer, one strong arm encircling her waist as he claimed her mouth with an aggressive kiss. When she was breathless, her heart pounding, he released her and sat back. “Sucking up to the fat cats is a necessary evil for the work I do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m meeting this morning with the heirs of a wealthy socialite. The dead mother wanted to fund a variety of charitable works around the world. But her charming children thought the ten million she left each of them was an insult, so they went to court. Fortunately the judge couldn’t be bought and he upheld the will. Unfortunately for me, the kids sit on the foundation board, so I have to deal with their greedy, petulant demands to get what I need for my next project.”

“The one in September?”

He nodded. “We’re going to design and build an orphanage in the Sudan. A variety of church agencies will do the staffing and oversee operations.”

“Isn’t it dangerous there?”

He shrugged. “Have you looked around the Big Apple? You can get killed crossing the street.”

Before Olivia could respond, the car pulled up in front of a row of small, and obviously expensive, designer shops. She wrinkled her nose. “I’d really rather go to Macy’s, the original on 34th Street. You know… from the movie. Is that too far out of our way?”

“No. But I thought given your Hollywood roots you’d enjoy the upscale shopping.”

She shrugged. “I’m really more of a Macy’s kind of gal.”

“Whatever you say.” The ride to midtown didn’t take long. When Kieran hopped out to open Olivia’s door and escort her to the sidewalk, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his gaze filled with something she wanted to believe was more than affection. “Here’s my card with all my numbers. Have fun,” he said softly, brushing a kiss across her lips.

Her arms wanted to cling, to beg him to stay. She forced herself to back up. “Go to your meeting. I’ll be fine.”

He winced when a cacophony of horns protested the illegally parked limo. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”

Kieran tolerated the meeting with less than his customary patience. The “awful offspring,” as he had nicknamed them in his mind, were no more difficult than usual, but today he was in no frame of mind to placate them. All he could think about was getting Olivia back to a hotel room and spending twenty-four hours in bed.

It was a great fantasy, but, of course, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to show her a good time out on the town first. Even that would be fun with Olivia.

And then there was the issue of Cammie. Once he made his case for claiming his rights as a father, would the mood be ruined? He wasn’t sure where Olivia stood at the moment. Sometimes it seemed as if she was ready for him to tell Cammie the truth. But on other occasions, she bowed up, determined that Kieran was not father material.

To further strain his mood, the meeting ran long. At twelve-thirty, he finally stood and excused himself. The major business had been completed. All that was left was the minutiae that didn’t require his presence.

He called downstairs, and the limo was waiting when he strode out into the sunshine. Unfortunately the lunch hour rush had traffic backed up in all directions. When they finally reached Macy’s, after sending Olivia a text that they were on the way, Kieran’s head was pounding from hunger and tension.

Olivia jumped in quickly, all smiles. A lot of women would be bitching about his late arrival. Instead, she seemed happy to see him. Kieran reacted to her greeting automatically, but inside, he dealt with a stunning realization. He had become addicted to her smile. In fact, he couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing that look on her face.

The knowledge shook him. Since the death of his mother and his father’s involuntary emotional abandonment, Kieran had never really allowed himself to need anyone. He prided himself on being self-sufficient, a lone Wolff.

He took Olivia’s hand in his, clearing his throat to speak. “I know several great restaurants where we can have lunch. Do you have a preference?”

She patted the large shopping bag at her feet. “When your meeting ran late, I picked up several things at the gourmet shop around the corner. I thought we could have a picnic in Central Park. What do you think?”

Suddenly the irritations of the past several hours rolled away. “Sounds perfect.” He gave the driver a few directions, and soon they were hopping out in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. As they crossed Fifth Avenue and entered the park, he took Olivia’s heavy bag. “Good Lord. What all did you buy?”

She laughed, shoving her hair out of her face as the wind whipped it carelessly. Her beautiful creamy skin glowed in the sunlight, revealing not a flaw or an imperfection. He suspected that Olivia, growing up as she had in the shadow of her outrageous mother, had no clue that she was equally stunning. It would be his job and his pleasure to convince her.

With no blanket to stretch on the grass, they instead sat on a bench overlooking the lake, in a patch of shade that lent dappled shadows to their alfresco feast. Olivia wore a white sundress scattered with yellow-and-orange sunflowers. When she took off her small sweater, Kieran’s food stuck in his throat.

Her body was like a centerfold’s, curvaceous, even voluptuous. With her sienna hair and chocolate eyes, she reminded him of a young Sophia Loren. The dress was not particularly immodest, but the crisscrossed vee of the neckline was hard-pressed to contain her full breasts. He imagined licking his way from her collarbone down each rich slope, and his body hardened painfully, visualizing what it would be like to peel back the cloth and reveal pert nipples.

Nestled against the cleavage was a yellow diamond pendant that he remembered from their university days. Her parents had given it to her for her twenty-first birthday. Olivia had been loath to wear the expensive bauble on a daily basis, but he had lobbied for enjoying the gift and not worrying about losing it.

He tore his gaze from her charms and guzzled his Perrier, wishing fervently that they had dined in a more private locale. All around them life ebbed and flowed… the dog walkers, the teenage lovers, the nannies pushing expensive strollers. Seeing the babies made him frown.

How would he have reacted if Olivia had let him know she was pregnant? Back then, he’d been full of piss and vinegar, chomping at the bit to make a name for himself in the world, especially a world that had nothing to do with the Wolff empire. Parenthood wasn’t even on his radar.

As soon as Victor recovered from the heart attack that had brought Kieran home from Oxford, Kieran had hit the road, determined to explore the globe despite his father’s concerns about safety. Where Kieran went, no one knew or cared who he was. He waded through rice paddies, canoed down rivers of sludge in mosquito-infested jungles, hiked soaring peaks where the air was so thin a man gasped to breathe.

And every mile took him farther and farther away from the mountain that had been his prison, albeit a luxurious one. He’d kept in touch via the occasional email and phone call, learning that Gareth and Jacob were acting out their own rebellions. As far as the civilized world knew, Kieran Wolff had ceased to exist.

Gradually his nomadic existence with no purpose began to pall. His first project had come about almost by accident. He’d been in Bangladesh during a monsoon, and the resultant water damage had left a huge cleanup effort. Kieran had pitched in to rebuild bridges that connected remote villages to the help they so desperately needed.

After that, he’d found his architectural skills in demand from place to place. He used to joke that he was a cross between Johnny Appleseed and Frank Lloyd Wright. His work gave him a sense of peace and fulfillment, something he’d never been able to find at home.

But what if he had known about Cammie?

The question buzzed in his brain like an annoying gadfly.

Olivia brushed bread crumbs off her skirt and stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles. Her toenails were painted a deep coral that matched her dress. Kieran wanted desperately to kiss each delicately arched, perfect foot.

God knows he’d never been a fetishist, but somehow, Olivia was turning everything he thought he knew about himself on its ear. She made him ache and sweat and laugh all in the space of a single conversation. How had he ever made the decision to leave her six years ago?

The answer was easy. For once in his life, he’d done the mature thing. When Olivia talked back then, he had listened. Hearing about how much she hated the unsettled childhood she had experienced and how badly she wanted to settle down and be normal made him realize he had to give her up before either of them got in too deep.

The Wolffs were not a normal family.

But his altruistic decision had, in the end, caused Olivia even more pain. She believed he didn’t want her. Surely she couldn’t doubt that now. He needed the summer to prove to her that he had wanted her back then and he wanted her still.

Cammie’s existence changed everything. Kieran and Olivia were involved. Only time would tell how deeply.

He sighed inwardly, wondering if such a thing as salvation existed. He was more than happy to pay atonement, but Olivia had to accept his offering. “What now?” he asked abruptly. “A Broadway matinee? A harbor tour? More shopping?”

Olivia half turned to face him, her face shadowed with worry. “We can’t ignore the elephant in the room. You brought me here to hash out our situation. We might as well deal with that, and maybe then I’ll be able to enjoy the rest of the day.”

He shrugged, stretching his arms along the back of the bench and staring out across the water. “You know my position. I want you to stay for the entire summer, and I want to tell Cammie that I’m her dad.”

Olivia nibbled her bottom lip, hands twisting in her lap. “I have work to finish, Kieran. I need to get back to my studio.”

“Tell me about that,” he said, wanting to know everything concerning her life, what made her tick. He’d been impressed with her talent for whimsical watercolors when they first met, and he’d recognized an ambition and drive for perfection that mirrored his own.

“I illustrate children’s stories for two publishers here in New York. It’s a flexible job, which means I can be there for Cammie when she needs me. One of my last books was nominated for an award.”

“You’ve done well, then.”

She nodded. “I never wanted to live off my parents. I like my independence and the security of knowing I’m providing for my daughter.”

“So why can’t you work on the mountain?”

“It’s not as easy as that, Kieran. I have paints and papers and supplies. And besides…”

“Yes?” He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this one.

“I haven’t changed my mind about what your leaving would do to Cammie. She sees you as a buddy now, but it would be so much worse if you were her father. I haven’t told you this, because I didn’t want to cause you pain, but she has always begged me for a daddy, ever since she was old enough to know that she was supposed to have two parents and not just me. If we told her the truth, she would jump to the conclusion that you were going to come back to California and live with us.”

The image of his baby daughter begging for a daddy haunted him. Regret sat like a boulder on his chest. “So that’s your final word?”

She stared at him, solemn, wary. “Are you going to take me to court?”

He stood up and turned away from her, afraid of what she might see on his face. “Oh, hell. Of course not.” Impotence and rage tore at him, but what made it worse was that he had no target for his anger.

Olivia joined him, wrapping an arm around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. “Don’t be mad… please. I’m trying to do what’s best. Maybe not for you or for me, but for Cammie.”

He tugged her close with his left arm, still staring at boaters on the lake that sparkled like diamonds in the sun. “I’m not mad,” he said gruffly.

“Let me go home tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll finish my project. Cammie and I have some fun summer activities planned. Then in August we’ll come back for another visit before you have to leave for the Sudan.”

He thought of all the long, lonely weeks that stretched between now and then. “Will you promise to think about letting me tell her who I really am?”

Her body stiffened in his embrace and finally relaxed. “I’ll think about it,” she said softly.

“That’s all I ask.” He wanted more… so much more. But for now he would bide his time.

Ten

Olivia felt terrible. Kieran was being firm, but reasonable, and she was the one refusing to compromise. But how could she? Nothing Kieran suggested had any basis in reality.

At least they had solved the question of whether or not she and Cammie would go home. Olivia badly needed physical distance to recoup her equilibrium. If she stayed with Kieran much longer, she would end up agreeing to anything solely to see his smile and to feel his body wrapped around hers.

He had shed his suit jacket in the limo earlier, and had rolled up his shirtsleeves. To the casual observer he was a big city businessman taking a lunch break in the midst of a busy day. But Olivia knew better. Like a chameleon, he had assumed the camouflage that enabled him to get what he wanted.

Kieran Wolff might appear civilized at the moment, but in reality, he was a man’s man—steel-cored, physically honed, mentally sharp. Olivia had no doubt that he could accomplish anything he put his mind to… which didn’t bode well for her ability to hold out against his wishes in the long run. He might very well be planning to wear down her resistance by any means necessary… including intimacy.

She had little defense against him, though she’d tried to keep her distance. Men could have sex for the sake of sex. Why couldn’t women? If Olivia kept her head, she could enjoy the time with Kieran but not let her good sense be swayed by his magnetism.

Two choices, both risky. Leave and take Cammie away, provoking Kieran’s anger and possible vengeance. Or stay, and keep her heart intact by regarding any sexual relationship as temporary and recreational.

She gulped inwardly. There was no doubt that she and Kieran were going to end up in bed together before the day was out. Not because he was going to lure her there, but because she wanted him desperately. One more day. Surely she could keep her messy emotions at bay for one more day. And then a brief visit in August. After that, Kieran would be safely on the other side of the world, and there would be no chance of Olivia doing something embarrassing like going down on her knees and begging him to stay and love her and her daughter.

He released her and gathered up their lunch debris, tossing it in a nearby receptacle. “Have you ever taken a carriage ride in the park?” he asked.

“No. But I’d rather do that at night, I think.”

“Okay. Then what shall we do now? Anything you want. I’m at your disposal.”

“How about we check into our hotel and not waste any more time?”

Her boldness shocked him. Heck, she shocked herself. It was almost amusing to see the slack-jawed surprise on Kieran’s face. Almost, but not quite. Limbs trembling and stomach doing flips, she awaited his answer.

Kieran stood there in the sunlight, gorgeous as a big jungle cat, and equally dangerous. “Are you serious?”

She approached him slowly, her feet having a hard time making the steps. “Completely. I want to be with you for as much time as we have. I want to sleep in your bed and wake up beside you. I want it all.”

All constituted a heck of a lot in her book, surely more than he was willing or able to give. But he would think she was referring to sex, and that was okay. No reason for him to know that she was so much in love with him that the thought of returning to California was an actual pain in her chest.

He took her wrist and reeled her in, snaking an arm behind her waist and pulling her against his chest. “You’re going to get me arrested,” he muttered, his mouth moving over hers with sensual intent. “I’m not sure I can resist taking you here… now.” He dragged her off the path near a clump of trees. Privacy was still not an option, but at least they weren’t smack in the middle of the walkway.

His erection thrust between them, full, hard, seeking.

Her knees went weak, and if he hadn’t been supporting her, she might have melted to the ground in a puddle of need. No one was paying any attention to them. But this game was dangerous. “Isn’t the hotel close?” she panted.

“Not close enough.” He bit her bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth, sucking until she shuddered. She wanted to climb inside his clothes, rip them from his body.

“Call the car,” she begged.

He smelled of starched cotton and warm male skin. His hands cupped her ass. “I could tell the driver to circle the city… over and over and over. Have you ever made love in a limo, Olivia?”

Dizzy, needing oxygen, she leaned into him. “No. Have you?”

“Never had the pleasure. But damned if I couldn’t be persuaded right about now.”

She whimpered when he pulled away and barked an order into his cell phone. The planes of his face were taut, his eyes glittering with arousal. “C’mon. He’s picking us up in five minutes.”

Hand in hand, they walked rapidly. His breathing was audible and as choppy as her own.

Unfortunately the car ride from the edge of the park to the Carlyle was long enough for only one heated kiss. Suddenly a uniformed gentleman was opening Olivia’s door and they were engulfed in the bustle of check-in. Twenty minutes later, in a luxurious suite that was blessedly quiet and totally private, Kieran faced her, arms folded across his chest. “Take off your dress.”

The blunt command, combined with the intensity of his regard made her thighs quiver and her sex dampen. Never contemplating refusal, she shed the tiny shrug sweater and reached behind her for the zipper. When she stepped out of the dress and tossed it on a chair, she saw his eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

The dress didn’t require a bra, so she stood facing him in nothing but a lacy red thong and high heels. Her generous breasts were firm and high. The urge to cover them with her hands was there, but she resisted, wanting to please him.

His whispered curse was barely audible. She saw his fists clench at his hips. “Walk toward me.”

The distance between her and the door where he stood was considerable, more so because she was naked and he was eyeing her like a condemned man who hadn’t seen a woman in months.

When she was halfway across the room, he held out a hand. “Stop. Turn around. Take down your hair.”

She had tucked it up in a loose chignon during lunch when the heat of the day made the weight of her long hair uncomfortable. Now she reached for the pins and removed them, dropping them into a cut glass dish on the coffee table. Deliberately she ran a hand through the masses of heavy, silky strands and shook her head.

When she was done, she looked at him over her shoulder through lowered lashes. “Does this meet with your approval, Mr. Wolff?”

His jaw firmed. “Are you sassing me, Olivia?”

“Would I do that?” Her eyes widened dramatically.

“Face me. Touch your breasts.”

They were playing a game of chicken, and Kieran had just upped the stakes. Olivia felt her throat and cheeks flush, but she reversed her position and hesitantly placed her hands on her chest. Her voice was gone, locked down by the giant lump in her throat.

“I said touch them. Put your fingers on your nipples.”

Good Lord. She licked her lips, dizzy and desperate for his touch. Feeling awkward but aroused, she did as he demanded, feeling her sensitive flesh bud and tighten as she stroked herself. The sensation was incredible, pleasuring herself as Kieran watched with a hooded gaze.

“Beautiful.” He breathed the word like a prayer, the three syllables almost inaudible.

When her skin became too sensitive to continue, her hands dropped to her sides.

Kieran didn’t move. How did he do it? She was so hungry for him, her whole body trembled.

But he wasn’t finished. His gaze blazing with his heat, he narrowed his eyes. “Go to the bedroom. Don’t look back. Lie down on the bed on your stomach.”

She flinched in momentary fear. But it was a gut reaction. Kieran would never hurt her or make her uncomfortable. This was all about pleasure. His and hers.

Turning away from him was difficult. She knew he watched her, hawklike, as she walked slowly toward the doorway that led into the rest of the suite. Once, she stumbled, but she finally made it into the bedroom. For a moment, she stood in indecision. Was she supposed to turn back the covers?

The bedding was expensive and ornate. Making a rapid decision, she folded back the top layers and lay, facedown, on the smooth crisp sheet. Her heartbeat sounded loud and irregular in her ears. Her arms were by her sides. Ten seconds passed. She raised her arms over her head.

What did he want? What were his plans?

Moments later she heard the sound of his footsteps on the carpet. Nearby a rustle and then the rasp of a zipper. A soft clink when the belt buckle slid free. The sounds of a man undressing.

An activity that was at once commonplace and yet deeply erotic, particularly when the woman in his bed was not allowed to witness the disrobing. She imagined his long, muscular limbs, narrow hips, jutting arousal.

The bed shuddered when he put a knee beside her hip and joined her on the mattress. Without warning, he took her two wrists and bound them together with what felt like his necktie. She struggled instinctively. He paid her no mind.

The silk fabric tightened, and then she felt him lean down as he whispered in her ear. “You’re at my mercy now. Everything I ask of you, you’ll do, and in exchange, I’ll make you burn.”

“Kieran…” The word ended on a cry as he ran his tongue around the shell of her ear and winnowed his fingers through her hair. With a slow, steady touch, he massaged her scalp. His fingertips skated to her nape, the back of her ear. Her whole body craved his attention, but he was set on a course that was drugging, slow and steady.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he moved south, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. Her spine caught his focus. He ran his tongue the length of it and then rubbed gently on either side.

At her ass, he made a sound, a cross between a groan and a curse. Quivering, helpless, she felt him plump the cheeks, trace the cleft, reach beneath her and brush the part of her that ached the most.

When she spread her legs, begging wordlessly, he chuckled and abandoned the ground he had barely conquered. “Patience, Olivia.”

She felt his hands beneath her hips, lifting her, turning her. Now she could see him, and the sight took her breath and shredded it. His broad chest was tanned and rippled with muscle. An arrow of fine, dark hair traced the midline, all the way down to where his shaft reared proudly against his abdomen.

His erection was thick and long, and a drop of moisture glistened on the tip. “Please,” she begged without pride. “Please don’t make us wait.”

“Waiting is half the fun. I want you crazed when I finally take you, so lost to reason that nothing exists but you and me and this bed.”

It was as if he were a hypnotist. Her body responded to his words atavistically, ceding control without a qualm. But by the look on his face, his control was more fragile than he was willing to admit. His jaw was tight. The dark flush of color staining his cheeks made him look wild and uncivilized… a man close to the edge.

He bent over her, no part of his body touching hers except his lips. “I love your mouth,” he said, tracing the soft flesh with his tongue and sliding through to taste her.

She tried to link her bound wrists over his head to trap him close, but he moved away, using one big hand to pin hers to the mattress. “Naughty, naughty,” he teased.

Suddenly very serious, he kept his gaze locked on hers as he slid his free hand down her stomach and between her thighs. Two large fingers entered her, testing her readiness. Her hips came off the bed, her heartbeat racing as sweat beaded her forehead.

He never looked away and neither could she. All the secrets of a man’s desires were there in his eyes if she could only translate them. Was this all he wanted from her? Dare she hope he needed more?

Stroking lazily, he turned interrogator. “Tell me about the men in your life, Olivia. Who has benefitted from what I taught you back in England?”

His finger brushed her clitoris and she gasped. “None of your damned business, Wolff man. I haven’t quizzed you about your women in every port.”

Back and forth. Back and forth. That brazen fingertip brought her closer and closer to the edge. “There haven’t been that many,” he said slowly, looking at his hand’s mischief and not her face. “I work long hours when I’m overseas. Not much time for play.”

“But a man like you can’t go without sex for long. Back in university you wanted it twice a day, three times if we were lucky.”

“That’s because I was obsessed with you.”

The blunt confession gave wings to her heart. But she reined in her excitement. The pertinent word in that sentence was in the past tense. Was. Kieran had been a horny young adult male. And Olivia had fallen into his bed like the proverbial ripe peach.

As a fully mature man, he was no less sexually primed, but he’d had any number of women since he left England so suddenly. And even now, being with Olivia was probably more about expedience and availability than any deep-seated obsession.

Kieran’s early experiences in life had clearly stunted his ability to express deep emotion. He was a passionate man, but she doubted whether he was capable of true romantic love. That would mean putting a female first in his life, and she had seen no sign of such willingness in his behavior.

He clearly wanted her, but for Olivia, that would never be enough.

His hand moved, and she gave up analyzing the situation. Today was about physical pleasure. Her heart was safely locked away.

Kieran released her wrists. Sliding far down in the bed, he used his hands to widen the vee of her legs. When she felt his hot breath on her thighs, she tensed in panic. They had never explored this kind of intimacy when she was younger. “No, wait…” she blurted out. “I don’t like this.”

“How do you know?” he asked, a lazy smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

“Seriously, Kieran.” She pushed at his shoulder. “I mean it. Stop.”

He reared up, all humor erased from his face. “I’ll stop. If you insist. But it would give me great pleasure to do this with you.”

She nibbled her lower lip, caught between unease and cautious interest. “What if I can’t come, because I’m too self-conscious?” Blurting out what she was thinking wasn’t something she planned, but he might as well know the truth.

“Relax, Olivia. It’s not an exam you have to study for. I want to make you happy. That’s all. You don’t have to do a thing.”

Her hand fell to the sheet. “Well, I…”

Anticipating her consent, he resumed his earlier position. She felt the softness of his hair on her leg, jerked briefly as his hot breath feathered over her belly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes, arching her back at the first gentle pass of his tongue. When she moaned, helpless in the grip of shivering sensation that spread in warm ripples throughout her lower body, he repeated the motion. The sensation was indescribable. Like a warm, electric shock that built and built until she called out his name in a frenzy of need. “Kieran. Oh, God. Kieran.”

His muffled response was neither decipherable nor important. She was lost, caught up in a whirlwind that slammed into her, dragged her over the edge of a perfect climax and dropped her helpless into his embrace.

When she recovered, he had moved up beside her and was leaning on an elbow watching her with a totally masculine satisfaction. “Still don’t like it?” he asked drolly. One eyebrow lifted in a questioning stance.

She tried to corral her ragged breathing. “Don’t brag.”

He placed his hand, palm opened flat, on her belly. “Watching you come like that ranks as the highlight of my year.”

“The year’s only halfway done,” she quipped, trying not to let him see how completely undone she was. “Too early to tell.” She put her hand on top of his and laced their fingers together.

“Don’t be so modest. I’m sure they heard you in Brooklyn.”

“Kieran!” Mortification washed over her and she rolled to her side, bending her knee and resting her leg across his hairy thighs. They were hard and corded with muscle. His deep tan extended everywhere except for a narrow band of white at his hips and the tops of his thighs.

She imagined him, laboring out beneath a blazing tropical sun, shirtless, wearing only cargo shorts and boots. Did he ever get lonely always living among strangers? The question hovered on her lips, but she knew it was self-serving. Obviously his lifestyle suited him. Otherwise, he would have come home long ago.

He lifted her without warning and settled her astride his hips. His hunger unappeased, he flexed and grew at least another centimeter beneath her fascinated gaze. She put both hands on him, measuring the length and breadth.

Hard steel pulsed beneath his velvet skin. Even if she had been with a dozen lovers in the interim, she couldn’t imagine that any of them would have been as beautiful in body and spirit as Kieran Wolff. Perhaps such a virile man might balk at the feminine adjective, but Olivia chose not to retract it, even in her own private discourse.

Kieran’s body was perfect. Even the smattering of scars that were part and parcel of the hard physical labor he performed only served to make his physique more interesting.

She saw him reach for a condom, and her heartbeat accelerated.

Extending his hand, he challenged her. “Will you do the honors?”

Eleven

Kieran waited, amused and impatient, as Olivia fumbled with the condom. The earnest intent on her face filled him with tenderness and another feeling not so easy to diagnose. He brushed aside the unfamiliar emotion and concentrated on the physical.

While she labored, he played with her breasts displayed so temptingly in front of his face. He tweaked a nipple, noticing with interest that his gentle pinch washed her face with color. A similar firm caress on the other breast deepened the crimson.

Olivia finished her task, her face damp with perspiration. “There. All set.”

He tested the fit and nodded. “Good thing I brought a dozen.”

“A dozen?”

The strangled squeak in her voice made him chuckle despite the fact that the skin on his penis was tight enough to cause every vein to bulge. He’d been in this state, in varying degrees, for over an hour now. In fact, he might set some kind of damned record for extended foreplay.

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed himself immensely. God, she was sweet. And hot as a firecracker. Though she probably didn’t see it in herself, she was one of the most innately sensual women he had ever met.

With his hand, he positioned himself. “You ready, honey?”

Her eyelids were at half-mast, her lips swollen from his kisses. The skin at her throat bore the marks of his passion, and her nipples puckered as if begging for his kisses. He leaned up and obliged, just as he thrust as hard as he could manage into her welcoming heat.

Their foreheads actually bumped together.

“Hell,” he said ruefully, the pain giving him a moment’s respite from total insanity. “Rub my head.” His hands were clenched on her curvy ass, and he had no plans to let go.

She kissed his forehead. “Poor baby.”

Her innocent motion seated him more deeply. “Hold still,” he said through clenched teeth. “Damn it, I’m about to come.”

“Isn’t that the object of this exercise?”

He groaned, caught between incredulous laughter and the imminent explosion in his loins. Had any woman ever made him experience both in such measure? His heart caught, and he buried his face in her neck, panting, trying to stay the course. “You’re killing me.”

Reaching behind her, she found his sac and delicately played with him. It was like being hit by a lightning bolt. He lost control of himself, of her, of the entire flippin’ situation.

Pumping his hips wildly, he thrust upward again and again, deaf, blind, mute… except for the caveman grunts that were all he could manage. Olivia clung to his shoulders as he fell to his back. Her breasts glided across his face, sweet-smelling, soft and warm.

God, he never wanted to stop. He wanted to mark her as his, to stake a claim. She found his lips and kissed him. That was all it took. He shot so hard that his balls pulled up, a vise tightened around his forehead and he saw nothing but blackness and yellow sparks for long, agonizing seconds.

At last, he lay spent, Olivia draped over him like a weary nymph.

“Good God in heaven.”

She nodded, her breasts smashed against his heaving chest, her cheek resting atop his thundering heart. “I hope you’re in good shape. I’d hate to have to call the concierge for the number of the closest cardiac center.”

He stroked her ass, deciding he might never move. “You’re something else, Olivia Delgado.”

One eyelid lifted and then fluttered shut. “Mmm…”

“Don’t go to sleep on me.”

“Is that literally or metaphorically?”

Given her current posture, it was a fair question. “Either, I suppose.” He yawned and stretched. “Any idea what time it is?”

“Do we care?”

“I may not have been entirely truthful.” When she stiffened in his arms, he could have kicked himself for his unfortunate phraseology. “I promised we could do this for twenty-four hours, but I think I’m going to need sustenance.”

“Room service?”

He patted her butt. “I was thinking of something a bit more upscale. After all, we are in the greatest city in the world. We should go somewhere incredibly expensive and over-the-top.”

“And you know such a spot?” She slid off him, sat up and clutched the sheet to her chest.

Her sudden modesty was baffling. But then again, he never claimed to understand women. “I’ve heard Jacob talk about a place he likes.”

“Jacob, the strong silent doctor? Somehow I thought he was above us mere mortals who need to eat.”

“Jacob has his weaknesses. New York style cheesecake, for one. He’s usually here in the city for medical conferences every year or so. In fact, he did a consult at Lenox Hill Hospital last Christmas.”

“He’s scary smart, isn’t he?”

Kieran grinned. “Oh, yeah. Perfect score on the SATs. Four years of college in two and a half.” He paused, and cocked his head. “Do we have to talk about my brother any longer, or can I interest you in a shower?”

“I’ll race you.”

He was treated to a delicious view of Olivia’s backside as she dropped her only covering and darted into the bathroom. When he followed her, she was already hidden from view, water running. “Room for two?” he asked, stepping in without an invitation.

When Olivia sputtered with maidenly affront, he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Olivia discovered that even a man who slept in grass huts and swallowed the occasional disgusting, edible bug could drum up romance if he put his mind to it, starting with a tuxedo that appeared as if by magic, delivered by a uniformed bellman.

When Kieran strode out of the bedroom clad in crisp black and white, fumbling with a bow tie, her breathing hitched. He was gorgeous. No other word to describe him. “Help me with this damned thing,” he said. “They’re a necessary evil, but I’m out of practice.”

She stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, deftly folding the fabric into the desired configuration. “Out of practice?” She nipped his earlobe with her teeth. “I don’t think so.”

He turned and scooped her off her feet, twirling her in a circle before setting her back down. “I love reviews from satisfied customers.”

“Customer? Good grief. Am I going to get a bill for services rendered?”

“I haven’t decided yet. This afternoon was only my warm-up. I’ll have to let you know.”

He slid his hands beneath her hair and steadied her head while he dove deep for a hungry, forceful kiss.

On tiptoe, Olivia clung to his forearms and tried not to get the vapors. Kieran Wolff was like hundred-proof whiskey: guaranteed to go straight to a woman’s head.

The night was clear and relatively cool so they decided to walk. The restaurant Kieran had chosen was only a couple of blocks away on a side street around the corner from East 76th.

He didn’t hold her hand. But he did wrap an arm around her shoulders and tuck her close to his side. She felt warm and cherished, and for the span of an evening’s stroll, she allowed herself to knit cobwebby dreams about happily ever afters.

When they arrived, Olivia paused on the sidewalk. “Do you mind if I call Cammie? She’ll be in bed by the time we finish dinner.”

“Of course not.”

Olivia took her cell phone from her purse and punched in the contact info she’d saved for the Wolff house. An employee answered, and seconds later, Cammie’s excited voice came on the line.

“Hi, Mommy. Me and Annalise are dressing up for dinner.”

“Oh?” She grinned at her daughter’s enthusiasm.

“We’re going to be…” A muffled conversation ensued to the side and then Cammie said loudly, “… flappers.”

“That sounds fun. Will you ask Annalise to take a picture for me?”

“Yes, ma’am. May I speak to Kieran now?”

Olivia hesitated, taken aback. Usually Cammie chattered away forever on such a phone call. “Sure,” she said, handing her cell toward Kieran. “She wants to talk to you.”

He blinked, and then smiled, barely masking his pleased surprise. But he hit the button for speakerphone, a thoughtful gesture that made Olivia ashamed of her odd jealousy. “Hey there, ladybug. What’s happenin’?”

“I got to play with your wooden submarine today,” Cammie said. “It’s way cool, and Annalise tried to torpedo me a bunch of times, but I got out of the way.”

Kieran laughed out loud. “Tomorrow morning, ask her to show you the secret tunnel. It’s a little spooky, but a brave girl like you will like it.”

Suddenly the line went silent, but in the background they could hear Cammie’s excited squeal.

Annalise picked up the call. “How are you lovebirds getting along in New York?”

Kieran’s lips quirked. He gave Olivia a rueful smile. “Behave, brat,” he told his cousin firmly. “We’re fine. Should be home by lunch tomorrow. I’ll bring you a dozen bagels if you’re nice to me.”

“Oooh… bagels. Big spender.”

Olivia giggled. “I can do better than that, Annalise. Thanks again for keeping Cammie. Give her a kiss and hug for me.”

They all said their goodbyes, and Kieran took Olivia’s arm. “Ready to eat?”

She nodded, relieved to know that Cammie was happy and content. “I’m starving.”

Patrice’s was delightful, with snowy linen tablecloths, fresh bouquets of Dutch iris and freesias, and a modest string ensemble tucked away in a far corner. Even the lighting was perfect.

Olivia sank onto a velvet-covered banquette and leaned back with a sigh of appreciation. “Order for me,” she said. “I’m in the mood to be surprised.”

Kieran wondered how surprised Olivia would be if he were honest about his intentions. After dinner, he planned to hustle her back to the room and hold her captive there until they were forced to check out the following morning. He’d let her sleep… occasionally. But the sand in his hourglass was running out rapidly, so he didn’t plan to waste a minute.

As they’d entered the restaurant earlier, practically every head had turned, the women’s faces reflecting envy, and the men’s expressions frankly lustful. Olivia was oblivious. How could she not recognize the impact she made? He’d never met a woman more genuinely modest and unselfconscious, especially not one with Olivia’s stunning beauty.

The dress she wore tonight was deceptively simple… a slender column of deep burgundy with a halter neck and a back that plunged to the base of her spine. Her hair was pinned on top of her head in one of those messy knots women managed to create. The only accessory she had chosen to wear was a pair of dangling earrings comprised of tiny ruby and jet beads.

He knew her body intimately, and he was pretty certain she was wearing nothing beneath the sinuous fabric that clung to her body like a second skin.

A waiter interrupted Kieran’s musings. By the time their order was placed, the sommelier appeared to offer a wine selection. Kieran perused the extensive list. “We’ll have champagne,” he said. “To celebrate.” He indicated a choice near the top of the price list.

Olivia propped her chin on one hand and gazed at him curiously. “What are we celebrating?”

“How amazing you look in that dress.”

His sincere compliment flustered her. She straightened and fidgeted, looking at their fellow diners. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said. “You outshine your mother any day.”

“Oh, please,” she huffed. “I could stand to lose a few pounds, my mouth is too wide and my chest is too big.”

He burst out laughing.

“What?” she cried.

“You really have no clue, do you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” She played with her silverware, refusing to meet his gaze.

“First of all, my naive chick, as far as a man is concerned, there’s no such thing as a chest that’s too big. God in his infinite wisdom created breasts in all shapes and sizes, and yours are a work of art.”

Her head snapped up at that, a small frown between her brows. But she didn’t speak.

“Second of all,” he continued, “just because your mother is petite and thin doesn’t make her more beautiful than you. The camera may love the way she looks, but you are fabulous just the way you are. You’re incredibly feminine and knock-’em-dead gorgeous. Every man in this room wishes he were sitting in my chair.”

Her cheeks went pink. “You’re a tall-tale raconteur, but thank you. That’s very sweet.”

He threw up his hands. “I give up. But know this, Olivia Delgado. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” As the words left his mouth, he understood just how true they were. She was his ideal woman. And if he were in the market for a wife, he’d have to look no farther.

But he wasn’t… in the market, that is. He was a man destined to travel alone. Despite that reality, he hoped to forge a bond with Cammie this summer that could withstand the long separations. He might not be the best dad in the world, but he would ensure that his daughter knew her father loved her.

Over a meal of stuffed quail and apple-chestnut dressing, they conversed lazily. Though he drank guardedly, the wine went to his head, and all he could think about was getting Olivia naked again. She, on the other hand, seemed content to enjoy the formal, drawn-out dinner.

Finally the final bite of dessert was consumed, the last cup of coffee sipped. Kieran summoned the waiter, asked for their check and waited, fingers drumming on the tablecloth, for Olivia to return from a trip to the ladies’ room.

As he watched her make her way between the carefully orchestrated maze of tables, someone reached out a hand to stop her. Olivia’s face lit up, and the next thing Kieran knew, his lover was being kissed enthusiastically on the mouth by a tall, handsome man in a dark suit.

Feeling his temper rise, Kieran got to his feet. Olivia didn’t even look his way. Now she was hugging the mystery guy and patting his cheek. The waiter had the temerity to block Kieran’s field of view for a few seconds as he provided the bill. Kieran scribbled his name with leashed impatience on the credit card slip and started toward the couple on the far side of the room.

“Olivia?”

She stayed where she was, only now the fellow had his arm around her waist. By the look of things, Olivia’s admirer was dining alone. And in the meantime, trolling for other men’s girlfriends?

Kieran tamped down his annoyance. “Am I missing the party?” he asked, not managing entirely to squelch his pique.

She reached for his hand. “Come meet someone, Kieran. This is my dear friend, Jeremy Vargas. We’ve known each other forever. We used to be in school together on the MGM lot. He’s here in New York rehearsing for a stint in a Broadway play… during a brief lull between shooting a string of great movies. Jeremy, this is Kieran Wolff, my…” She stumbled, licked her lips and trailed off.

“Olivia and I are seeing each other.” Kieran shook the man’s hand, taking in the firm grip and easy smile that said Jeremy Vargas was confident and in no way threatened by Kieran’s glower. “Nice to meet you,” Kieran said, lying through his teeth.

Vargas might be a stage name, because Jeremy didn’t appear to have a drop of Latino blood. He was the quintessential Hollywood golden boy, blond hair, blue eyes and a killer smile.

Olivia recovered and beamed her approval back and forth between the two of them.

Jeremy continued to embrace Olivia. “It’s a pleasure, Kieran. You’ve snagged a great girl.”

“A great woman.” Was he the only one who noticed the note of over-familiarity in Jeremy’s voice? And did Jeremy know about Cammie?

Olivia finally freed herself from the other man’s proprietary hold and stood beside Kieran. “I wish we’d known you were here. We could have shared a meal.”

Like hell. Kieran suddenly remembered where he had heard Vargas’s name. He was mentioned in the article about Cammie’s birthday party… as Olivia’s date.

Intellectually Kieran knew that Olivia hadn’t been a nun for the past five years. She was a passionate, gloriously beautiful woman. But seeing with his own eyes that other men weren’t blind to her beauty put a sour taste in Kieran’s mouth.

One day soon, when Olivia was ready to expand her white picket fence, perhaps with a second baby on the way, she wouldn’t have any trouble finding men to line up for the role of husband and father.

Kieran brooded on the way back to the hotel. Damn Jeremy and his inopportune arrival. “Have you and Vargas dated?” he asked abruptly, tormented by the fact that she had an entire life apart from him.

“He’s like a brother.” The blunt response shut him up. After that, Olivia was mostly silent. Kieran wasn’t sure if she was sleepy from too much champagne or if she was remembering all the reasons she wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

In their hotel room, he paced, stripping off his jacket and tie, and swallowing a glass of ice water, hoping it would cool him down. Olivia removed her earrings. When that innocent tableau turned his sex to stone, he knew he was in trouble.

He cleared his throat. “Are you ready for bed?”

Twelve

Olivia dropped the earrings on the table. “For bed or for sex?” She met his gaze squarely, no pretense, no games. Her big brown eyes were rich and dark, masking her secrets.

“I want to make love to you.” The words ripped his throat raw. He’d never said them to any woman.

Her face softened as if she read his inner turmoil. “I don’t expect you to change for me, Kieran. You are who you are. I am who I am. We’re two people who met at the wrong time and the wrong place. But we created a child and we have to put her first.”

When he stood rigid, torn between honesty and seduction, she came to him and held out her hand. “Let’s have tonight. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

He allowed himself to be persuaded. There was no choice, really. If he didn’t have Olivia one more time, he would die, incinerated by the fire of his own reckless passion.

This time, he vowed to give her tenderness. He’d been rough with her earlier, rough and earthy and carnal. What she deserved was a man who would worship at her feet.

He dropped to his knees, heart in his throat. Encircling her hips with his arms, he laid his head against her belly. She had carried his child, her lovely body rounded and large with the fruit of their desire. God, how he wished he had been with her, had been able to see her flesh expand and grow in lush, fertile beauty.

Her swollen breasts had nursed their baby. If life had played out differently, Kieran would have been there to watch. To be a part of something wonderful and new.

Regret was a futile emotion, one he’d learned a long time ago to push down into a dark, unacknowledged corner of his gut. The only important thing was the here and now. He lived for the moment… in the moment.

Olivia trembled in his embrace.

She stroked his hair. The light caress covered his skin in gooseflesh. What he felt for her hurt, reminding him of a dimly remembered anguish from his childhood. Women were soft and warm and wonderful. But loving them meant vulnerability. A man could not afford to let down his guard.

Without speaking, he snuggled her navel with his tongue, wetting the fabric of her dress. Carefully he bunched the cloth in his hands and lifted the long, slim skirt until he could see what had tantalized him all evening. A wispy pair of black lace panties, a thong, which explained why he’d thought she might be naked.

Despite his vow of gentleness, he gripped the thin bands at either side of her ass and ripped the fragile undergarment. It fell away, exposing her intimate feminine flesh.

Her smooth, honey-skinned thighs were scented with the distinctive perfume he’d come to recognize as her favorite.

Olivia tugged at his hair. “You’re embarrassing me,” she whispered. “Quit staring.”

He stood abruptly and scooped her into his arms. “Whatever the lady wants.” As he strode with her into the bedroom, Olivia nestled her head against his shoulder. The trust implicit in her posture dinged his conscience. He had failed her once before. This time he had to do what was right. He wanted the world to know he was Cammie’s father, but if Olivia truly believed that was a mistake, Kieran might be forced to humble his pride and step back.

Retreat had never been his style. But for Olivia, he would try.

Beside the bed he stood her on her feet and, without ceremony, removed her dress. She stepped out of her shoes and put her cheek to his chest, hands on his shoulders. “Thank you for bringing me to New York,” she whispered. “I think we needed this… for closure. I didn’t want bad feelings between us.”

He ignored her comments that intimated a swift and unwelcome end to their physical relationship. “Let me love you,” he said hoarsely, the “L” word rolling more easily from his lips this time. “Lie down, Olivia.”

Stripping off his clothes, he joined her on the bed. When she held up her arms, he couldn’t decide if the smile on her face was a lover’s welcome or the erotic coaxing of a siren, luring a man to doom.

Foreplay wasn’t even an option. That had gone up in smoke during a four-course dinner with Olivia sitting across from him wearing a dress designed to turn a man’s brain to mush. He found a condom, rolled it on and moved between her legs.

Their eyes met. As he entered her slowly, her lashes widened. Her breath caught. Her throat and upper chest flushed with color. He put his forehead to hers, filled with a maelstrom of inexplicable urges.

Half a millennium ago, he would have slain dragons for her, might even have used his travels to bring home chests of gold and jewels. But Olivia didn’t want the knight on the white charger. She was looking for a more stable fellow, perhaps the village miller or the town carpenter.

If Kieran truly wanted to make her happy, he would head out on his next crusade and leave her to build a life between the castle walls. Without him.

The room was silent save for their mingled breathing. He moved in her so slowly that her body seemed to clasp him and squeeze on every stroke. It was heaven and hell. Giving a man what he hadn’t known he needed and in the next breath reminding him that the gift had an expiration date.

He braced most of his weight on his arms, but his hips pressed against hers, pinning her to the mattress. Her hair, fanned across the pillows, made an erotic picture that seared into his brain, never to be forgotten.

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