Shattered by the CEO by Emilie Rose

Rand stared into the eyes he once thought guileless.

“Tara, you won’t get anything more than sex from me. No gifts. No rings. No promises. And definitely no children.”

Her breath hitched and her eyes rounded when she realised he’d accepted her terms. She blinked and swallowed and then dampened her lips with the pink tip of her tongue.

Hunger for her taste instantly consumed him.

Damn the desire. Damn her for making him want her.

Five years ago she’d made him forget every hard lesson he’d learned. She’d tempted him to break his vow to remain single and unattached.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

The Boss’s Demand by Jennifer Lewis

“Will that be all?” she asked.

She stared at him for a moment, daring him to look back up at her. Did she imagine it, or did his fingers tighten around the pen? He paused in his reading, tugged at his collar, then glanced at her.

“Yes, Sara.” He said her name slowly, emphatically, his dark eyes unblinking. Her stomach flipped and she held herself steady.

His full lips straightened into a hard line.

Lips that had kissed her with force and tenderness she could never have imagined. Lips that had teased and tempted her into a frenzy of passion.

Lips that held the power to fire her, as she’d invited him to do on her first day.

Yes, she’d failed once.

She wanted him to know it would never happen again.

Shattered by the CEO

EMILIE ROSE

The Boss’s Demand

JENNIFER LEWIS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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SHATTERED BY THE CEO

by

Emilie Rose

Dear Reader,

It’s not often a location won’t let me go. But that’s exactly what happened when my husband and I took a research trip to Miami and a cruise to the Bahamas for a book I wrote last year.

Miami is dynamic, exciting and diversified. I wish I’d had more time to explore the city and surrounding areas. I need at least a week just to sample the regional foods. And don’t get me started on the shopping… I’ll need to leave hubby at home when I go back for that.

I can see why Miami is the setting for so many movies and TV shows. On one hand you have the beaches, and on the other there’s the money and power of the big city. I can’t wait to return. In the meantime, I’ve indulged myself with setting some books in this great city. Hope you enjoy!

Happy reading,

Emilie Rose

EMILIE ROSE

lives in North Carolina with her college sweetheart husband and four sons. Writing is Emilie’s third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include quilting, gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). Her favourite TV shows include ER, CSI and Discovery Channel’s medical programmes. Emilie’s a country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song.

Letters can be mailed to:

Emilie Rose

PO Box 20145

Raleigh, NC 27619, USA

E-mail: EmilieRoseC@aol.com

To my parents, who have given so much love

and support even when it wasn’t easy.

Mom and Dad, thanks for all you do.

Prologue

“You will return to Kincaid Cruise Lines as acting CEO for one full year.” The lawyer paused dramatically, his eyes finding Rand Kincaid’s over the top of Everett Kincaid’s will. “And you will convince Tara Anthony to come back with you as your personal assistant.”

The words hit Rand like a bullet, knocking him back in his chair and punching the air from his lungs. “No. Hell no.”

The lawyer didn’t flinch. Years of dealing with Rand’s bastard of a father had probably left the man immune to profanity and raised voices.

“Should you refuse, not only will you forfeit your share of your father’s estate, but your brother and sister will lose theirs, as well. In fact, if any of you fail in your assigned tasks, then I’m instructed to sell all of Everett’s holdings to Mardi Gras Cruising for one dollar. The business, the estate, the investment portfolio.”

Son of a bitch. Rand slammed his palms on the table and shot out of his chair. He should have known the old man would find a way to pull his strings—even from the grave. “Mardi Gras is Kincaid’s biggest rival, and the CEO is my father’s sworn enemy.”

“I am aware of that.”

Clenching and releasing his fists by his sides, Rand paced the length of the Kincaid Manor dining room. He glanced at his younger brother and sister and saw more than grief and shock in their pale faces. He saw resignation, and in the case of his brother, frustration and suppressed anger.

They expected Rand to walk. The way he had five years ago. The fact that he’d failed to contact Mitch or Nadia or return their calls in the interim had no doubt contributed to their lack of faith in him, but he’d cut all ties because he hadn’t wanted to put them in the middle of his war with their father.

Rand struggled to shake off the invisible straight jacket cinching tighter around him. He owed Mitch and Nadia, and not just for abandoning the family business.

He pivoted and refocused on the attorney. “Anyone but her. Not Tara Anthony.”

Within three weeks of declaring she loved Rand and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, the woman had gone after deeper pockets when Rand refused to cough up a wedding ring.

“I’m sorry, Rand. Everett insisted on Ms. Anthony.”

His father would. The manipulative despot. He had always coveted whatever Rand had and then he’d taken it by fair means or foul and flaunted his successes like a cat leaves a carcass on the doormat.

“And if she refuses?” Rand would make sure Tara did.

“Then you’ll change her mind. Unless you choose to fail, there is no other option.”

Another dead end. Frustration burned like acid in his belly. “I’ll contest the will.”

The lawyer didn’t even blink. “Contesting by any of the three of you immediately results in forfeiture.”

Rand struggled with the urge to punch something. His tyrannical father had closed the obvious loopholes before unexpectedly dropping from a heart attack in his latest mistress’s bed three days ago. But there had to be a way out, and if there was, Rand would find it.

He planted his fists on the table and leaned toward the attorney. “Richards, you know my father must have been mentally incompetent to demand this.”

“He wasn’t crazy, Rand,” his brother said before Richards could reply. “I’d have known. I worked with him every day. You would have known, too, if you’d stuck around.” Mitch made no attempt to conceal his anger.

Nadia’s head bobbed in agreement. “Dad was impossible, insensitive and immoral. But he wasn’t insane.”

A volley of curses ricocheted around inside Rand’s skull. He straightened and nailed his brother with a hard stare. “Why aren’t you protesting? CEO should be your job.”

Mitch shrugged, but his jaw looked rapier-sharp. “Dad wanted you.”

Rand couldn’t contain his snort of disgust.

“That’s a first. You were always his favorite and his right-hand man. I was his sparring partner—the one he liked to beat.” Not physically, but in every other way. Sports. Business. Women. Until his father had taken their competition too far.

Rand looked from his brother to his sister. “This all-for-one garbage is absurd. He spent his life trying to drive us apart.”

“And it looks like in death he’s trying to bring us together,” Nadia replied.

Richards cleared his throat. “Over this past year Everett realized he’d made some mistakes. He wants the three of you to help him rectify them.”

“So he won’t eternally rot in hell,” Rand muttered. A sense of doom descended on his shoulders. He was trapped. Like a rat in a maze. Exactly how his father liked it.

Whatever game you’re playing, old man, I will win this time.

Even if it meant facing Tara again.

He squared his shoulders and looked his brother straight in the eye. “I’ll do it. I’ll come back to KCL, and I’ll make Tara Anthony an offer she can’t refuse.”

One

The doorbell echoed through the two-story foyer, stopping Tara Anthony in the process of kicking off her shoes. An ivory sandal dangled from her toe.

Tightening her grip on the newel post, she debated ignoring her visitor and then groaned, stabbed her foot back into her shoe and rolled her tense shoulders. Whoever was out there had very likely watched her walk inside thirty seconds ago and knew she was here. As if to prove her point, the bell chimed twice more in quick succession.

No doubt she’d find another developer on the other side of the door, one who wanted to buy her lot, demolish her old house and build a minimansion in its place as had happened with so many of the neighborhood properties. This section of Miami had become an increasingly desirable location lately. But she couldn’t sell. She’d promised her mother she’d hold on to the house. Just in case.

Tara pushed back her hair and sighed. She wanted this rotten day to end, and she wasn’t up for a pushy sales pitch tonight. But apparently, her hot bath and the pint of Ben & Jerry’s she’d planned to have for dinner would have to wait.

Not for long.

Tomorrow she’d buy a bigger No Soliciting sign.

Resolved to deal with her uninvited guest as quickly as possible, she crossed the foyer and yanked open the door. She reeled back in shock at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the opening.

“Rand,” his name poured from her in a lung-deflating whisper.

An evening breeze ruffled short, straight hair the color of dark chocolate, and his narrowed hazel eyes raked her from head to toe and back.

Emotions tumbled over her like raging river rapids. Shame. Pain. Anger. But something warm and welcoming spurted through her, too. Love? Could there be a lingering trace of that misplaced sentiment in her veins?

Surely you aren’t still stuck on a man you haven’t seen or spoken to in five years?

“May I come in?”

So polite, that deep, rich, goose-bump-raising voice. He hadn’t been polite the last time she’d seen him. That day his tone had been cold, cutting and cruel.

You didn’t waste any time, did you? You couldn’t hook me so you went after deeper pockets. But the joke’s on dear ol’dad. He wants you because he thinks I do. But I’ve already had you, Tara. And finished with you. He’s welcome to my leftovers.

The chill that had seeped into her bones that night at Kincaid Manor returned. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she crammed the memories back into their dark closet and focused on the man in front of her.

“What do you want, Rand?”

He looked stiff and perturbed in his perfectly tailored dove-gray suit, white shirt and burgundy raw silk tie, as if he didn’t want to be here any more than she wanted him on her front porch. “To discuss my father’s final demands.”

Everett Kincaid. One of the low points in Tara’s life. “I heard he’d passed away. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Rand didn’t look mournful. “His will involves you.”

Everett always had been kind to her, but why would her former boss leave her a bequest? Especially after the way they’d parted. “He left me something?”

Rand’s lips flattened into a thin line and his square jaw shifted to an antagonistic angle. “No, but unless you agree to his terms we’ll lose everything.”

Talk about dramatic. She barely managed not to roll her eyes. And then, puzzled, she frowned. Rand had never been the over-the-top kind. He’d been very straightforward about what he wanted. And what he didn’t.

She tucked a curl behind her ear and wondered if he noticed she’d cut her hair or that she’d lost weight since they’d been an item. Or had he slept with so many women that the features blurred together into a homogeneous female form? Had she even left a mark in his memory?

His lousy relationship track record hadn’t kept her from falling in love with him five years ago, but back then she’d been young, shy and an impossibly naive twenty-four. She wasn’t any of those things anymore. Watching her mother die slowly and painfully had aged Tara what felt like decades.

She should boot Rand and the memories associated with their brief affair right off her property, but curiosity got the better of her. She opened the door farther. “Come in.”

His brisk stride carried him past her and straight into the den. The same cologne he used to wear encircled her like a long-lost friend. A friend who’d stabbed her in the back.

No, that wasn’t right. Rand had told her before their first date that he wasn’t interested in forever. She was the one who’d broken the rules by getting emotionally involved. But how could she help herself when he’d been everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man? Fun, sexy, intelligent, attentive, gentle, good in bed. Correction. Amazing in bed.

She couldn’t help wondering if she could have changed his mind about their future had she kept her mouth shut and let the love and trust sneak up on him. But she’d never know because three months into their affair she’d slipped up after making love and blathered out her feelings for him and her dreams for their future like the besotted twit she’d been.

Her ill-timed words had launched the next Ice Age and the fastest dumping in history. Rand had left her apartment so fast it’s a wonder he hadn’t burned tracks in her carpet. And then he’d left the country.

A frown line formed between his eyebrows as he examined the room’s furnishings. “This looks nothing like your old place.”

So he did remember. Her stupid heart skipped erratically. She scanned the room. The traditional furnishings were not the light-and-airy wicker and chintz she’d had in her apartment. “It’s my mother’s house and it was my grandparents’ before it became hers.”

His gaze sharpened and shot to the archway leading to the kitchen. “Is your mother at home?”

Tara’s heart squeezed with pain and guilt that seemed like they would never end. “She’s dead.”

“Recently?”

She gave him points for trying to be civil, but she didn’t want to discuss her mother with him. The wound was still too raw. “A year ago. But that’s not why you’re here. Could you get to the point, please? I have plans tonight.”

Sad, solo plans, but that was the story of her life these days. Other than a few regrettable exceptions in those lonely months immediately after her mother’s death when Tara had needed someone to hold her, someone to keep the loneliness at bay, men had been a nonissue for her since Rand had dumped her. She’d never found the passion or the connection she’d experienced with Rand with another man, nor had she found the solace she’d been seeking on those lonely, regrettable nights. The physical acts with near-strangers had left her feeling emptier and more alone than before, so she’d quit looking.

Tension crackled in the air between them. Rand didn’t sit. Neither did she. “Everett’s will requires me to return to KCL as CEO—”

“Return? You left Kincaid Cruise Lines? When? Why? The company is your life, your legacy.”

“Yes. I left.” His expression turned even more formidable. The lines bracketing his mouth carved paths through his five o’clock shadow. She used to love to feel that stubble beneath her fingertips and on her breasts. The memories made her pulse quicken and her skin flush.

“My father insists you come back as my PA for one year.”

Rand’s shocking revelation made her willing to overlook the fact that he hadn’t answered all of her questions. “Me? Why? And why would I want to?”

“If you don’t, then Mitch and Nadia will lose their home, their jobs and everything else.”

Regret settled heavily in Tara’s chest. For three years Nadia had been her friend, probably the closest one Tara had ever had. But a fissure had formed between them when Rand abruptly ended his and Tara’s affair, and then Everett’s proposition had finished what was left of the relationship. Tara had been so filled with shame and self-loathing she hadn’t been able to face Nadia—or any of the Kincaids for that matter—again.

“I don’t understand. Why would Everett insist on me returning to my old job? And why now?”

“Who knows what was going through his twisted mind? He has each of us jumping through hoops. He’s harassing us from the grave.” Bitterness and fury vibrated in Rand’s voice.

What had happened to drive the men apart? Rand and his father had always been competitive, but she didn’t remember Rand hating Everett. It sounded as if he did now.

“Can’t you do something about the will?”

He shook his head. “I had a team of top-notch lawyers go over every word. The will’s airtight. I’ll pay you ten thousand a month, plus benefits.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

That was double what she’d made when she last worked at KCL and more than three times her current salary.

It had taken Tara four months after she’d left Kincaid to find a job. It hadn’t been easy without a reference, but she hadn’t dared ask for one after the way she’d left without giving notice, without even returning to empty her desk. Her replacement had done that and shipped Tara’s belongings to her.

By the time Tara had finally found a position, she’d wiped out her savings, given up her apartment and moved in with her mother. The new job had paid less, but Tara had taken it because of the flexible hours and the opportunity for telecommuting gave her the time she’d needed to care for her mother during the grueling courses of chemotherapy.

Tara definitely planned to leave her current job. Her newly promoted boss was an arrogant, condescending jerk who had decided Tara’s “flexible hours” meant she was at his beck and call 24/7. She just hadn’t worked up the energy to start looking for a new position yet.

But working with Rand again… Too risky given that tiny flicker of joy she’d experienced earlier. The man had already broken her heart once. She’d have to be a fool to return for a second helping of that kind of agony. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”

“Fifteen grand a month,” he offered without hesitation.

Tara caught her breath at the obscene amount and her knees nearly buckled. Carol Anthony’s job as a hairstylist hadn’t provided health or life insurance, and Tara had inherited her mother’s debts along with her home and possessions. With that kind of money she could pay off the exorbitant medical bills her mother had left behind and stop the increasingly threatening collection notices.

She was more than a little tempted. But why, oh, why did it have to be Rand Kincaid making this offer? “It’s not about the money, Rand.”

He punched his fists to his hips, shoving his suit coat away from the flat plane of his stomach—a stomach she’d once been free to touch and taste. “Look, we both know you don’t give a damn about me. But do it for Nadia and Mitch. They don’t deserve to have the rug ripped out from under them. Name your price, Tara.”

Tara wavered. Common sense said refuse. But a minuscule, insistent part of her reminded her how good she and Rand had been together. When she’d been with him she’d felt special and important, as if happily-ever-after might actually be possible.

She’d never had time to come to terms with his abrupt ending of their relationship. Before she could sort out her chaotic emotions her mother’s persistent cough had been diagnosed as stage-three lung cancer. From that moment through the next few years Tara’s life had careened out of control on a roller coaster of hope and despair. Every waking thought had centered on her mother’s survival. There had been too many difficult decisions to make and so many fears to face. There hadn’t been time to think about her own wants and needs, her broken heart, disappointed dreams or the man who hadn’t wanted her.

And then after battling four long, torturous years, her mother had died. Grief and guilt had consumed Tara. Since the funeral she’d been too numb to do anything but go through the motions of daily living. Work. Home. Paying bills.

She’d clung to the status quo like a sailor hung on to a capsized boat, afraid to let go, afraid another crisis would drag her under. Inertia wasn’t something she enjoyed, but even one more change seemed like one more than she could handle. That was the only reason Tara could think of to explain why she’d stayed at a job she hated and why she couldn’t face boxing up and donating her mother’s things or even moving the bedroom furniture her mother had used out of the dining room. She couldn’t even open the dining room door.

She chewed the inside of her bottom lip and studied the man in front of her. Was Rand’s reappearance in her life a wake-up call? An opportunity to get her life back on track? Hugging herself she stared at the picture of her mother on the mantel.

Live your life without regrets, Tara. Promise me…. Her mother’s final words echoed in her head.

Tara had learned two very important lessons as she watched her mother bravely fight and eventually succumb to the disease that had ravaged her body. One was that life shouldn’t be filled with regrets for the things you hadn’t done. The second was that some things are worth fighting for.

Tara had failed on both accounts.

She hadn’t been courageous or unselfish enough to buy her mother more time and maybe even save her life—a fact that would haunt her for eternity.

Second, she’d let Rand walk away. She hadn’t fought for him—for them. She’d allowed his fear of commitment and his unwillingness to listen to her reasons for turning to his father destroy any chance they might have had for a future together.

Rand watched her silently now with no trace of emotion on his hard-set face, but she was absolutely certain he had felt something for her back then even though he’d denied any emotions deeper than lust. If he hadn’t cared, he wouldn’t have treated her so well, and she didn’t think she’d imagined the quickly masked flash of pain and shock in his eyes that last morning. If his feelings for her hadn’t gone deeper than lust, he wouldn’t have been hurt by what had appeared to be a betrayal on her part.

Unable to concentrate with his intense stare nailing her in place and compelling her to accept, she turned away. She’d never expected to see Rand Kincaid again, and she could have survived without him in her life. But here he stood in her home. It seemed as if fate were offering her a second chance to make this right—to make them right.

Did she dare try?

It would be a huge gamble. She might fail and get her heart shattered all over again, but at least she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d given it her best effort.

But how? How could she reach a commitment-phobic man who’d walked away once already? How could she prove to him that good relationships could and did happen?

She peeked at his reflection in the mirror that hung behind the sofa and caught his gaze raking her body. Heat flared in his eyes and kicked her pulse into a faster beat. And then he realized he was under scrutiny and masked his desire. He held her gaze dispassionately, but the raw hunger she’d glimpsed gave her the answer she needed.

She’d start with the one thing that had always been good between them—the sex—and build from there. And this time she wouldn’t blurt out her feelings prematurely and scare him away.

Her skin flushed and her heart pounded at the possibility of sleeping with Rand again. She would, ironically, be offering him almost the same deal his father had offered her. Move in, be her partner in every way, and she would help him with his problem.

Would Rand have the courage to accept where Tara had failed?

Blinking to break the connection, she wiped her damp hands on her dress, exhaled slowly—shakily—and faced him. “I’ll come back to Kincaid on two conditions.”

“Name them.”

“One, I want a glowing recommendation from you in writing. In advance.” If this gamble didn’t work out, she didn’t want to be forced into another low-paying, dead-end job. She had bills to pay and an obligation to keep this house.

“If I give you the letter now, what’s to keep you from walking before the year’s up?”

“My word.”

He hesitated, his square jaw shifting. “Done. What else?”

Chaos clamored inside her. She licked her dry lips and smoothed her damp hands on her hips again. “You. I want you, Rand. In my life. In my home. In my bed. Exclusively. For that year.”

Rand recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “That offer is not on the table.”

She fought to conceal her pain.

Did you expect him to be thrilled?

Maybe not thrilled, but something less than appalled would have been nice.

But without their intense physical chemistry on her side, the odds of succeeding in this quest were next to nil. She might as well give up now and save herself the false hopes and heartache. Mentally and physically, she backed away. “Then I can’t help you.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously and the gold flecks in his irises glittered dangerously amidst the green. “What is this? Another attempt to get a ring out of me? I’ve told you before, I don’t do commitment.”

No, and he never would if she couldn’t get past the boundaries he guarded so carefully. Last time he’d never spent an entire night in her bed or even met her mother. If she wanted her plan to succeed, she had to find a way to slip past his defenses and make him a part of her life. But she’d have to be careful. Rand would bolt if he thought she entertained even the faintest hope for wedding bells in their future.

She held his gaze and forced a lackadaisical smile even though her nerves stretched as tightly as piano wires.

“I’m not asking for forever. Just twelve months. You’re not so irresistible that every woman wants to marry you, Rand. You and I both know this job is going to take long hours and involve a lot of overnight travel. I already have no social life—and therefore no sex life. Whatever else may have been lacking between us, the sex was always good.”

Raw, urgent hunger exploded in his eyes and his chest expanded on a swiftly drawn breath. Her heart missed a beat.

He remembered their passion.

And that subtle reaction gave her hope and the grit to press on. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “When do we start?”

What man in his right mind would refuse sex with a beautiful woman he desired?

He would.

“I can’t give you what you want.” Rand forced the words through a locked jaw.

Tara lifted a hand and tucked a golden curl behind her ear. Rand clenched his fingers on the memory of how soft her hair had been against his skin and tangled around his hands and wrists. While part of him mourned the long, loose curls, he had to admit the way the chin-length style bared her neck and shoulders was sexy as hell. Professional, but just tousled enough that a man knew she wouldn’t mind him messing her up.

“Sex?” Her lips stretched in a tight smile.

“Love.” He almost couldn’t say the word. He didn’t do love. Would never do love.

He was, according to his family, a carbon copy of his father. He’d learned the hard way not to allow himself the luxury of the destructive sentiment.

He’d seen how loving his unfaithful father had destroyed his mother and driven her to take her own life. And Rand had repeated the pattern when he’d broken up with his high school girlfriend before going away to college because he’d wanted to experience all the campus—meaning the female students—had to offer.

He was a selfish bastard, and because of that Serita had swallowed a bunch of pills that night after he’d left her. She’d been luckier than his mother. Someone had found her and called 911 before it was too late. Serita had survived loving a callous Kincaid.

“Ah. This is about what I said that night.” Tara ducked her head, but not fast enough to conceal her pink cheeks. And then she lifted her chin and met his gaze. Her eyes were such an intense cobalt-blue that when they’d first met he’d believed them to be colored contacts. He’d been wrong. “I goofed, okay? If you’d hung around long enough for me to apologize and explain that I was lost in the moment—”

“Lost in the moment? You said you loved me, that you wanted to marry me and have my children. You practically named them.”

The minute she’d said those words he’d bolted—to protect her from the curse of loving a Kincaid. And he’d worried about her for three solid weeks before returning to find her sneaking out of his father’s suite after midnight.

Tara Anthony had played him for a fool and he’d fallen for her innocent act. Never again.

Her color darkened and her gaze bounced away again. “Um, yeah. Sorry about that. But you’re…really good in bed.”

Once more looking directly at him she added, “We can live here or at your condo. Either place is about the same distance from the office.”

Every cell inside him balked. “I’m not playing house with you.”

“Then I guess this discussion is over. I’ll show you out.”

Dammit.

Rand snagged her arm when she walked past him, and awareness shot through him on contact with her warm, satiny skin. The electricity between them had been there from the first time he’d shaken her hand on the day she’d signed in as his father’s PA. He’d ignored the attraction between them—or tried to—for seven torturous months before saying to hell with it.

It had taken him a month to get Tara to go out with him and another one to get her into bed. Had she been playing him against his father the entire time?

“I no longer own the condo. I live in California.”

Her eyebrows lifted and what appeared to be genuine surprise filled her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d moved.”

That reminded him of her earlier comment. He’d ignored it before because he thought she was lying. “How could you not know I’d left the company? My departure from KCL had to have caused an upheaval, and my father must have hit the ceiling when I accepted a job with his West Coast competitor less than twenty-four hours after leaving KCL.”

“I didn’t know because I never returned to the office after…that night.”

“The morning I caught you leaving my father’s bedroom.”

Thick lashes descended to shield her eyes. She stubbed a toe into the carpet. “Yes.”

The same day he’d told his father to go screw himself because he was through screwing his oldest son. Those were the last words he’d spoken to Everett Kincaid.

“Why did you leave? My father wouldn’t marry you, either?”

Her teeth clicked audibly. She jerked her arm free. “To borrow your words, that offer was never on the table. You need to leave, Rand.”

He wanted nothing more than to walk out that door and never look back. Her demands were absurd. Was he going to meet them?

Searching for another option, he stared into the eyes he’d once thought guileless—man, he’d been an idiot—and came up empty. For Mitch’s and Nadia’s sakes he had no choice. Not one his conscience would let him live with. He wouldn’t abandon his brother and sister again.

“You won’t get anything more than sex from me. No gifts. No rings. No promises. And definitely no children.”

Her breath hitched and her eyes rounded when she realized he’d accepted her terms. She blinked and swallowed and then dampened her lips with the pink tip of her tongue.

Hunger for her taste instantly consumed him.

Damn the desire. Damn her for making him want her.

Five years ago she’d made him forget every hard lesson he’d learned. She’d tempted him to break his vow to remain single and unattached.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Tara Anthony couldn’t be trusted, and he was and always would be his father’s son. A chip off the old block. A selfish jerk to the core. A man incapable of fidelity.

One who could hurt a woman without a second thought.

A smile wobbled on her mouth. “If you’re paying me fifteen thousand dollars a month, then I won’t need anything else from you.”

He ripped his gaze from her damp lips. “Two weeks. I have to fly home and wrap up loose ends. I’ll be back on the sixteenth and our year will begin.”

And he hoped like hell he didn’t live to regret it.

Two

“Don’t waste my time.”

At the sound of his brother’s voice Rand set his laptop case on his father’s desk and turned toward the door. Mitch had followed him into the large office.

Rand had expected his brother to be glad he’d shown up not ready to pick a fight on Rand’s first day on the job. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t set up shop here if you’re not going to stay the full year. If we’re going to lose KCL, then let’s make a quick, clean break and get on with our lives. Nadia is going to be miserable stuck in Dallas with nothing to do for twelve months. Don’t put her through that if you’re going to blow this.”

Nadia’s portion of the will required her to penthouse-sit and remain unemployed for a year. His sister would go crazy without something to keep her distracted from the memories that haunted her of the husband and child she’d lost.

Just one more reason to curse his old man, the sadistic snake.

“Mitch, I resigned from a job I enjoyed and put my condo on the market. I’m not going to quit. I’m here for the full three-hundred and sixty-five. If we lose KCL, it won’t be because I failed to do my part.”

Mitch’s disbelief was plain on his face. “Why come back now?”

“Because this time he isn’t going to win.”

His brother didn’t look convinced.

Rand shoved a hand into his pants pocket, withdrew his pocket-knife key chain and flicked it open. The blade flashed silver in the light as he pressed it to his fingertip. With the emotions churning through him he barely felt the prick.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Mitch demanded.

Red oozed from the cut. “You want me to sign in blood?”

“We’re not kids anymore, Rand. Blood vows don’t cut it. This is business. A multibillion-dollar business in case you’ve forgotten.”

Clearly he wasn’t going to erase five years of silence with their old childhood ritual. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Rand looked around for a tissue and saw nothing usable in his father’s Spartan corner office. He dropped his knife with a clatter on the desk and put pressure on the tiny wound with his thumb.

Movement drew his attention to the doorway. Tara, in a pale yellow dress with her gleaming hair scraped back tightly against her skull, stood in the opening. The severe style wasn’t unattractive, not with her bone structure, but he missed her golden curls. He shut down that port of thought. Her hair was no concern of his.

Tara’s blue gaze traveled from his open knife to the small amount of blood on his fingers, then met his. “I’ll find the first-aid kit.”

Mitch’s gaze tracked her retreat before returning to Rand. “Is she the reason you left?”

“I’m sure Dad spewed his own version of why I quit.”

“He said nothing. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Rand tried to mask his surprise. His father had loved to gloat. “I left because he took our competition too far.”

“How so?”

He stonewalled his brother with a look. Sleeping with KCL employees had always been frowned upon. Rand had known better, and to this day he didn’t know why he hadn’t been able to resist Tara’s alluring trap. Since he hadn’t been her supervisor, and therefore wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules, he’d chosen to ignore company policy.

“What exactly do you want, Mitch? Guarantees? Fine. I guarantee you I’ll see this through to the end.”

“Why should I believe you? You walked away five years ago without a word. One day you were here. The next you were gone and completely incommunicado. Hell, I didn’t even know if you were alive until your name surfaced on the letterhead of our competition.” Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “Rumor had it you’d run away with Tara.”

Apparently the rumor mill hadn’t known Tara was two-timing him with his father. “You should know better than to listen to rumors.”

“C’mon, Rand. You and Tara disappeared on the same day.”

Tara’s gasp drew Rand’s attention to the door. Her wide-eyed expression indicated she’d overheard. She searched his face as if seeking confirmation of Mitch’s statement.

So she hadn’t been lying. About that. She really hadn’t known he’d left KCL.

“I—I have the first-aid kit. Let me see your cut,” Tara said when he neither confirmed nor denied Mitch’s statement. Her heels tapped out a brisk beat as she crossed the marble floor. She set a small plastic box on the desk, opened it and extracted the necessary items, then held out her hand.

Rand cursed himself for being a fool. Why had he thought he could walk back in here and have things be the same—specifically his formerly close relationship with his brother? He regretted that casualty more than any other, but he’d sowed those bitter seeds with his silence, and now he’d have to harvest the crop of resentment.

He laid the back of his hand in Tara’s palm and discovered that some things hadn’t changed. Even knowing she was a liar didn’t stop that same old zing from ripping through his veins. Her familiar sultry, spicy fragrance filled his lungs as she bent over her task. He welcomed the distracting sting of disinfectant as she gently cleaned the nick.

“Should I have the staff prepare your old suite of rooms at the house?” Mitch asked.

Rand’s living arrangements were only going to add fuel to the rumors. Was that Tara’s plan? Did she think she could use gossip to force him into a commitment? If so, she’d be disappointed.

Rand met Tara’s gaze then his brother’s. “I have a place lined up. Besides, you already have company.”

Mitch’s part of the will required him to play daddy to a child from one of their father’s affairs, a one-year-old half brother Rand hadn’t known existed until Richards handed out inheritance assignments. The boy and his guardian had moved into Kincaid Manor. Rand had yet to meet the kid. But in his opinion, the boy was better off not having Everett Kincaid in his life.

Tara quickly and efficiently bandaged Rand’s finger, then released his hand and packed away her first-aid supplies without mentioning their cohabitation. If she planned to use it as leverage, then why hadn’t she informed Mitch?

“Human resources has the first candidate for the director of shared services position downstairs. Which one of you is conducting the final interviews?” she asked.

“Show him or her to the conference room,” Rand directed and looked at Mitch. “Meet me there in five. You know Nadia’s current duties better than I do, and you’ll be better able to gauge which applicant can handle them. But I’m sitting in. The COO should join us, too.”

“There is no chief operating officer. Dad eliminated the position when you left.”

Rand banked the information to deal with later. No doubt that action had launched its own series of rumors. “Then we’ll handle the interviews together. As a team.”

Mitch remained motionless for a full ten seconds, his gaze direct and hard. Rand held his brother’s challenging stare and once again cursed his father for putting Rand in what should have been Mitch’s job. As chief financial officer, his brother was the logical choice if the COO position had been eliminated—even if Rand had been raised to be CEO of KCL and had the experience of the top job with the competition. Mitch nodded and left Rand’s office. Tara turned to follow him.

“Tara.” She paused then looked at Rand. He lifted his hand to indicate the bandage. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She bit her lip and shifted on her sandaled feet. “Did you leave because of me?”

The pain in her voice slipped between his ribs quicker than his pen knife had pricked his finger. He hardened himself to the wounded shadows in her eyes.

She was a damned good actress. Too bad her talent was wasted on him.

“You were merely the straw that broke this camel’s back. You and my father deserved each other.”

She flinched. “But I—”

“What, Tara?” he barked when she didn’t continue.

Her chin and gaze fell. “Nothing.”

“Good. Because the subject of the past is closed. Clear?”

Her shoulders snapped straight. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

Rand scanned his father’s—and now his—domain. He’d always hated this office. With its architectural glass-and-chrome desk, the bare, cold marble floors and the glass walls overlooking Biscayne Bay, the room looked more like a trophy case than a workspace. An empty trophy case. He eyed his father’s metal mesh ergonomic chair with disgust. The old man’s motto—“a real executive never looks like he’s working”—rang in Rand’s ears.

Not Rand’s management style.

“Get me some furniture. Desk. File cabinets. Shelves. Tables. Wood, for godsakes. This pane of glass is useless. I want a decent chair—leather—rugs on the floor and comfortable visitor seating that doesn’t look like acrylic urinals. And send the IT team up to connect my laptop to the company network. My father may have refused to work with a computer, but I won’t work without one.”

“Yes, sir.” Her words snapped as sharp as a salute.

“I need hard copies of the press releases for the past five years, a current financial statement and a list of KCL’s officers and division heads within the hour. That’s all for now.”

She pivoted sharply and headed for the doorway, but then stopped and faced him again without speaking.

“Spit it out, Tara.”

“When are you moving in?”

Ah, yes, the other part of this ridiculous farce. Why had she demanded sex and cohabitation? What did she expect to gain if not a rich husband? He didn’t buy her too-busy-to-date story. A woman who looked like Tara wouldn’t lack dates or sexual partners if she wanted them.

But this time the scheming witch would fail.

“Tonight.” Damned if the hunger for her didn’t hit him hard in the gut. He desired her and he resented the hell out of her ability to yank his strings. “I want my own bedroom.”

“But—”

“You’ll get laid, Tara. But I won’t sleep in your bed, hold you afterward or pretend we’re a happy couple. I’m living under your roof because you’ve given me no choice. Don’t forget that. Not for one second. I certainly won’t.”

She paled, nodded and quickly left him, driving home the fact that he really was a chip off the old block.

A real son of a bitch.

The voices in the KCL cafeteria petered out as soon as Tara entered. Heads turned and she found herself under the scrutiny of more than a hundred pairs of eyes.

She recognized a few familiar faces scattered among a sea of new ones and forced a smile. The buzz of conversation suddenly resumed. Apparently the employees who’d tapped into the gossip grapevine felt duty-bound to update those who hadn’t.

Mitch’s words replayed in her head. You and Tara disappeared on the same day.

She hadn’t known. She’d deliberately sought a job outside the travel industry and had skipped the business and travel sections of the newspaper so she wouldn’t hear talk about the Kincaids. She hadn’t even read Everett’s obituary. And now she and Rand were returning to KCL on the same day and working together. Tongues would wag for sure—especially if word of their living arrangements leaked out. That was one part of the plan she hadn’t thought through.

Chilling doubt crept over her. Had she made a mistake?

No. When she’d been with Rand, he’d made her feel special, as though he couldn’t get enough of her or wait to see her again. She’d felt the same way about him. He’d been a part of her life that had been carefree, happy and fun. Her life was none of those things now. She was tired of being alone and she wanted to feel connected again.

She only hoped those old feelings were still there, waiting to be nurtured back to life. From the quiver of awareness she experienced each time he was near, she had to believe that was the case. And today for the first time in ages she’d awoken looking forward to the day instead of counting the hours until it ended.

She crossed the bright and spacious cafeteria, and headed toward the food line. Kincaid’s had always pampered its employees with first-rate amenities. Tara had loved working here.

Despite rumors from the business community to the contrary, she’d always believed Everett Kincaid to be a decent guy. Her former boss had offered her the gentle affection she’d never received from her own absentee father. When her mother was diagnosed it had seemed natural to seek Everett’s advice. He’d offered a solution. Move in. Let him take care of everything. But the idea of sleeping with him when she still loved his son…

She pushed down the icky feeling and reminded herself Everett had been lonely and looking for companionship and a woman who didn’t have her sights set on being the next Mrs. Everett Kincaid. Tara had been a logical choice. They worked well together and respected each other. And Tara had needed the kind of financial help only someone with Everett’s deep pockets could afford.

But Tara ultimately hadn’t had the stomach to accept his offer, and she hated herself for being weak when her mother needed her. Weak where Rand had been strong.

The hum of conversation died again as Tara picked up a tray and silverware. She glanced over her shoulder toward the entrance and saw Rand. Almost as one the other employees’ gazes bounced from him to her and back again, like spectators of a tennis match waiting to see the next shot.

He spotted her and stalked in her direction. Tara’s appetite fled, but she went through the motions of ordering shrimp scampi, grilled asparagus and rice pilaf even though her antennae were attuned to his approach. She calmly said hello to a few of the familiar line staff as if her heart weren’t beating at twice its normal rate.

“My desk is gone,” Rand said from close behind her—too close for a boss-employee relationship. She could feel his body heat and smell his crisp Lacoste cologne. Her mouth dried.

Conscious of their audience, she neutralized her expression, put a few inches between them then turned and met his gaze. “I had your office emptied while you were conducting interviews. Your new desk, along with everything else you requested, will be delivered at two. IT has your laptop.”

“Good.”

She gaped at him. Years of bottling up her emotions bubbled over. “Good? I worked miracles and all you can say is good?”

One dark eyebrow lifted at her vehemence. Okay, so maybe she’d been soft-spoken and eager to please when they’d dated before, and according to her mother, Tara had always had a tendency to avoid conflict and confrontation. But Tara wasn’t the same starry-eyed girl Rand used to know—the one who’d been overawed at being pulled from the reservations center downstairs and moved to the executive suite on the top floor. Wrangling with her mother’s multitude of doctors had given her a backbone.

“Thank you for being so efficient, Ms. Anthony,” he said in a voice heavily laden with sarcasm.

She turned her back on him, but out of sight didn’t mean out of mind in this case. Rand shadowed her through the line, his presence following her like a heat lamp.

When they reached the cashier he extended his arm past her, offering his company ID, which acted as both identification and debit card. “Put both meals on my account.”

“You don’t have to buy my lunch,” Tara protested.

“I’m buying. Deal with it.”

The cashier swiped his card without arguing.

Rand followed Tara to an empty table and sat beside her—close beside her. A prickle of uneasiness crept up her neck. “What are you doing?”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For everyone to see us together? Did it wound your pride when I dumped you, Tara?”

She searched his hard face for a remnant of the charmer she’d fallen for but found none. Back then she’d heard him described as gorgeous yet soulless, but she hadn’t believed it for one minute. She’d seen his love for Nadia and Mitch and felt his passion for her in bed.

Had he changed that much? Probably not. The Rand she remembered hadn’t been under as much stress as he was now. He’d recently lost his father, moved clear across the country and taken over KCL. Anyone would be cranky under those circumstances. She’d cut him a little slack.

“No one knew about our affair then, Rand, and no one has to know now.”

“People knew. My father knew. And I’m sure human resources will spread the news that you and I both listed the same home address.”

Another oversight. She hadn’t thought about HR. “Your father had ways of finding out all kinds of information.”

“He had spies.”

“Oh, please. You didn’t used to be so melodramatic. Everett was a nice guy. People talked to him and he listened. Everyone except his competitors loved him.”

“They loved him because he bought their affection,” he said bitterly.

“That’s not true. They loved him because he cared. KCL is a perfect example. Headquarters has trained chefs to prepare four-star-restaurant-quality foods at below cost prices, onsite child care, a medical center and a gym with personal trainers and dieticians on staff. And most of the company’s employees could never afford to take a cruise on any of KCL’s ships if it weren’t for Everett’s policy of deeply discounting employee rates.”

She unrolled her cloth napkin and placed her silverware beside her plate even though the idea of eating repulsed her at the moment. Rand’s proximity kept her nerves and her stomach tied in knots.

“Your father’s ideology of a strong connection between work, family life and vacation time results in tight friendships with co-workers and a supportive community atmosphere. People like working here. They liked working for him.”

With pity in his eyes, Rand shook his head. “He had you completely fooled. My father never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. There was always an ulterior motive and a price tag attached.

“FYI, Tara, it’s cheaper to provide all the goods and services you mentioned, thereby keeping morale high and turnover and absenteeism low, than it is to repeatedly train new employees or waste money hiring temps who don’t know the job.”

What he said made a sick kind of sense. “You’ve become very cynical.”

“Not cynical. Realistic. I was CEO of Wayfarer Cruise Lines for five years. I know what I’m talking about because I implemented the same programs myself and reaped the same rewards. Trust me, it’s all about the bottom line.” He picked up his knife and cut into his thick, juicy, medium-rare steak. “I knew my father. Better than you apparently.”

If she believed Rand’s account that Everett always had an eye toward benefiting himself, then she would have to seriously consider what Rand had said that morning when he’d caught her fleeing Everett’s suite. Rand had claimed Everett was using her as a pawn in a game against his oldest son.

But she couldn’t swallow that harsh tale because it would mean she’d completely misjudged the man she’d worked for, a man she’d admired and respected. A man she’d almost slept with. Never mind that Everett’s proposition had totally shocked her. She was convinced he’d offered his protection and financial assistance because he genuinely cared for her and needed a full-time hostess. And he’d promised to pay for her mother to have the best oncologists available because he didn’t want Tara to worry.

Right?

But a small part of her wanted to believe Rand, because it made Tara’s inability to become Everett’s mistress a smidgeon easier to swallow.

“This is your room.”

Rand followed Tara into a decent-sized square room and set the two suitcases he’d brought in beside the queen-size bed. Not bad. More homey than a hotel, but nothing like his luxurious high-rise condo or the palatial Kincaid Manor. The double window was a plus.

Tara crossed the room and hung the garment bag she’d carried in from his Porsche in the closet. “This is the biggest bedroom. You can redecorate with more masculine colors if you want. With only Mom and me here, I’m afraid everything is pretty feminine.”

He wouldn’t be here long enough for the Monet decor to bother him. He hoped that once Tara realized she wasn’t going to snag him she’d give up on her absurd scheme and let him get his own place. “Your father wasn’t around?”

“He disappeared when I was seven.”

Surprised, he looked at her. “You never told me that.”

She stared at the beige carpet. “I, um, guess I didn’t want to bore you. And you really never asked about my family.”

An intentional oversight. Their relationship had been action-packed and tightly focused on their strong sexual attraction. He’d always been careful about revealing anything that Tara might inadvertently share with his father, and that meant avoiding personal topics. “Your parents were divorced?”

He wished his had been. And then maybe his father wouldn’t have driven his mother to drink and suicide. Her death had been ruled an accident. But Rand knew better. He knew, and he should have found a way to prevent it.

“It’s hard to divorce a man who’s not here.”

“He’s dead?”

She shrugged and turned away to fluff a pillow. “I don’t know. When I say he disappeared, I mean he literally disappeared. He left for work one morning and never came back. No one ever found his body or his car, and we never heard from him again. Mom and I moved into this house with my grandparents. It’s where my mother lived when she met my father.”

Sympathy slipped under his skin. He hardened himself to the unwanted emotion. Was Tara telling the truth or yanking his chain? He didn’t know what to believe anymore. He’d believed her when she said she loved him. But then she’d turned to Everett days later, proving to Rand that his judgment concerning Tara was faulty.

He shook off the sting of betrayal.

“We stayed because Mom wanted him to be able to find us.”

He stared in disbelief. “She thought he’d come back after twenty-odd years?”

She shrugged. “If he’d been injured or had amnesia or something, he might.”

“Do you believe that?”

Her gaze broke away. She smoothed a hand over the bedspread. “I don’t know. But Mom asked me to keep the house just in case, so I will.”

He couldn’t argue with illogical logic. “Bathroom?”

“Through there.” She pointed to a door.

“Internet hookup?”

“Anywhere in the house. I installed a wireless network when I moved in. My mother was—wasn’t well. I needed to be able to work wherever she needed me.” The strong emotional undercurrents in her voice warned him to change the topic or get embroiled in an emotional tar pit he’d rather avoid.

Five years ago he’d been enthralled by Tara, now he felt entrapped. Last time he’d wined and dined her and swept her off her feet. This time he wasn’t going to waste the effort. “Your room?”

“Across the hall.”

“Show me.”

She pivoted and crossed the caramel-colored carpet. Rand followed a few steps behind. His gaze dropped to her butt. She’d lost weight since they were together. He’d enjoyed her generous curves before, but this leaner version had its own appeal. Not that it mattered how attractively she baited her trap. He wasn’t biting her hook.

A maple queen-size four-poster bed took up most of the space. His blood heated and need clenched like a fist in his groin. He didn’t want to want her, dammit. But, to borrow a cliché, he’d made his bed and he’d have to lie in it. With Tara.

Consider it a job.

He’d had worse jobs than pleasuring an attractive woman. His father had made sure of that by making Rand work his way up from the bottom of the cruise line ranks. Not so for Mitch or Nadia. His siblings had never had to work in the bowels of a KCL ship or spend months sleeping in a windowless cabin.

Looking uneasy, Tara hugged herself and faced him.

Might as well get started.

He grasped her upper arms, hauled her close and slammed his mouth over hers. The initial contact with her warm, silky lips hit him like a runaway barge, rocking him off balance. And then the familiar taste, scent and softness of her flooded him with heat, desire and memories. He ruthlessly suppressed all three and focused on the mechanics of the embrace.

He sliced his tongue through her lips, taking, pillaging, trying to force a response and get the task done as quickly as possible.

Tara stood woodenly in his arms for several seconds while his tongue twined with the slickness of hers, then she shuddered and shoved against his chest. He let her go and she backed away, covering her lips with two fingers.

What exactly did she want from him? She’d said sex. For a year. He’d give her exactly what she demanded. Nothing more. Nothing less. If she didn’t like it, that was her problem.

He reached for his tie, loosened it then started on his shirt buttons.

Her wide gaze fastened on his chest. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m going to do you. Isn’t that why I’m here?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe we should wait.”

He paused in the act of yanking his shirttail free. “Until after dinner?”

“Until we’ve…become reacquainted.”

Her nipples tented her dress in little peaks, her breaths came quick and shallow, and the pulse in her neck fluttered wildly. Desire pinked her cheeks.

“You want me—whether or not you’re willing to admit it.” And as much as he hated it, he wanted her. Physically.

It’s a trap. Keep the hell away from her.

Not an option.

He closed the distance between them. “You made this deal, Tara, and I’m ready to deliver my end of it.”

“I-if I wanted sex with a stranger, I’d drive to the beach and find one.”

The idea of Tara with some other guy irked him. She was twenty-nine. Of course she’d had other lovers.

Including his father. He shoved down the disgust and dragged his fingertips down the smooth skin of her arm. He relished her shiver.

“But we’re not strangers, are we?”

She jerked away. “I’ll start dinner.”

She tried to step around him. He blocked her path. “So you’re calling the shots. I perform on command. Like a trained dog. Or a gigolo.”

She gulped and briefly closed her eyes. “I had hoped the desire would be mutual. Like it was before.”

“Before you slept with my father?”

She frowned. “I told you I didn’t sleep with Everett.”

“You forget, Tara, I know what you look like after you’ve been screwed. Your mussed hair, smudged makeup and the hickey you had on your neck that night, told the tale.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Believe what you will.”

The vulnerability in her expression nearly sucked him in. She lifted a trembling hand to brush back a loosened strand of hair. “We used to be good together, Rand. Don’t you want that again?”

Did he want to be a gullible fool again? Hell no.

Given her betrayal and the Kincaid men’s history with women, cutting her loose had been his only option. “I don’t repeat my mistakes.”

She flinched. “I never considered us a mistake.”

He had to keep her happy or risk having her walk out before the end of the required year. He didn’t know what game Tara was playing. She hadn’t asked for romance when she’d brokered this bargain, but apparently she required a measure of pandering before they hit the sheets.

Fine. If she wanted seduction she’d get it. But that was all she’d get. She wouldn’t get his heart this time.

Three

The hair on the back of Tara’s neck rose. She didn’t have to turn to know Rand stood behind her. Close behind her.

She’d been so engrossed in her reading she hadn’t heard him return from Tuesday morning’s round of interviews. He must have slipped in through the back door of his office.

He planted a big hand on either side of her blotter, trapping her against the desk between charcoal-colored suit-clad arms. Even with the back of her chair separating their bodies she could feel the heat radiating from him and smell his delicious scent.

She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness of her mouth. “Can I do something for you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you breathing down my neck?”

“I’m reading over your shoulder.” His breath stirred her hair and something inside her fluttered to life like a butterfly wiggling to get free of its cocoon.

“I’ll send you the link to the company newspaper archives, and then you can read at your computer between interviews. Better yet, you can wait for my notes—the ones you asked me to make.” She pushed her chair back, forcing him to move or have his wing-tipped toes run over.

“But reading over your shoulder is more fun.” Rand stepped aside, leaned against the corner of her U-shaped workstation and smiled.

That familiar slow, seductive smile made her stomach flip. She studied the fit form beneath his tailored suit, his crisp white shirt and his neatly knotted black-and-gray striped silk tie. There was a difference in his body language today, one she couldn’t decipher. It made her uneasy.

He was up to something. She could see the cool assessment in his eyes and behind that false smile. She’d sensed that same calculation in his kiss last night—a kiss that had been all technique and no emotion. If there had been even a trace of genuine passion in his embrace, she would have made love with him. She needed to be held that badly.

God, she was pitiful.

But the thought of having Rand “do her,” as he’d said, repulsed her. She wanted him to make love with her because he desired her. Not because he had to perform.

If it weren’t for the fire sometimes making the gold flecks glimmer among the green in his hazel eyes, she’d wonder if he found the prospect of making love with her as abhorrent as she had the idea of intimacy with his father.

If only she hadn’t…

Live your life without regrets, Tara. Promise me.

She stiffened her spine. “If you need something to do, Rand, then go write my recommendation letter.”

“It’s written.”

“I’d like a copy.”

He eased upright and leisurely strolled into his office as if they didn’t have a packed schedule for the day. She’d never known Rand to leisurely do anything…except explore her body. Heat prickled beneath her skin at the rush of memories and desire.

She narrowed her gaze on his broad shoulders and shifted in her chair to relieve the tension seeping through her.

Getting rid of him had been far too easy. His behavior confused her. Five years ago she’d loved Rand’s focus and intensity. When he’d been at work he’d been all business, but when they were together and away from the office he’d been equally single-minded in his attention to her and his dedication to having fun.

Today he was muddying the waters, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

She checked his appointment book. He had ten minutes before his next interview. With Nadia out of the office for twelve months fulfilling her part of Everett’s will, Rand and Mitch had to hire her replacement soon. None of the pre-screened candidates human resources had sent up yesterday had seemed a good fit.

Tara turned back to her monitor and tried to concentrate on the words without much luck. Rand had asked her to list any pertinent happenings at KCL during their absence. She’d thought the company newsletters would be a good place to start. Instead, what she’d found—or rather what she hadn’t found—disturbed her.

Rand returned, once more blocking her escape from her desk. “What’s the problem?”

“Our departures from KCL are never mentioned in the first year’s worth of company newsletters after we left. That’s unusual. When someone leaves there’s always a brief note stating years of service, company awards and such—unless the employee was fired. I don’t like the idea of my co-workers believing I was fired. You shouldn’t, either. It will make it difficult to gain their trust.”

“My father was never one to offer excuses, explanations or apologies.” Rand bent over her desk and scrawled his signature on a piece of KCL letterhead. He slid it across the glossy surface.

Tara took it, but didn’t read past the header. “This is postdated.”

“You think I’d hand you the ammunition to waltz out of here prematurely? If you quit early, we lose everything.”

Which went back to their main problem. He didn’t trust her. Had he ever? Tara sat back in her seat with a sigh. “I gave you my word I wouldn’t leave, and I signed an employment contract. Don’t you trust anyone, Rand? Anyone at all?”

“I know when to protect my own interests. Or in this case, Mitch’s and Nadia’s.” He hitched a hip on her desk, invading her space with a long, lean knife-creased trouser-encased thigh. “Arrange a cocktail party for the executives of each of the brands by the end of the week. Plan to attend as my date.”

“Is that wise? Us dating openly, I mean.”

“I need a hostess, and you’re the one who insisted on exclusivity.”

So she had. And she’d occasionally provided the same service for Everett. Was that why her former boss had believed she’d be open to a more intimate relationship? “At Kincaid Manor?”

“Anywhere but there.”

“Your father always—”

“I’m not my father. I don’t need to flaunt my wealth or have a woman half my age on my arm to make me feel like a man. And I won’t be taken in by a pretty face or a good lay. You’ll do well to remember that.”

She gasped at his rude comment. Was he trying to rattle her? If so, it was working. “Are you deliberately being obnoxious so I’ll release you from your part of our agreement?”

He reached out and traced her jaw. Her pulse stumbled erratically beneath the slow drag of his fingertip.

“Why would I do that, Tara, when as you said, the sex between us was always good?”

Her mouth dried and her palms moistened. Arousal streamed through her. But suspicion dammed her response. She scooted her chair out of his reach. What was he trying to pull? First he’d flat-out refused to be her lover and then he’d accepted reluctantly. And now he was trying to seduce her?

His about-face didn’t ring true, then she realized why. There wasn’t any passion in his eyes despite his comment on their sex life. Rand was cold and distant—the way he’d been the day he’d climbed from her bed and broken her heart, and the day he’d caught her leaving his father’s bedroom.

He wasn’t at all someone she wanted to be intimate with.

Not like this.

She didn’t doubt he could make her ache for him even with this emotionless seduction. He’d always been a skilled lover. But perfect technique wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted the unbridled passion they’d shared in the past, and it looked like she’d have to fight for it.

He glanced at his watch and stood. “We’re going out to dinner tonight. Wear something sexy and low-cut if you want to get me in the mood.”

He pivoted on his heel and stalked into his office.

Aghast, Tara stared after him. And then anger blasted through her. He’d just thrown down the gauntlet.

If she wanted to get him in the mood?

Oh, she’d get him in the mood all right. In fact, she wasn’t going to be happy until she’d shattered Rand Kincaid’s icy control and won back the man who’d given her the happiest days of her life.

Tara knew the minute her eyes met Rand’s that her decision to fight dirty was the right one.

Tiny bubbles of excitement effervesced in her veins as she descended the stairs to where Rand waited by the front door. She could feel the heat from his unblinking appraisal warming her skin and her core. She forced her fingers from the newel post and indicated her dress with what she hoped looked more like a casual flip than a nervous flail. “Look familiar?”

“You expect me to remember your clothing?”

Oh, he remembered all right. His tight voice, flaring nostrils and the color slashed across his cheekbones gave it away. Those telltale signs made the hour she’d spent taking in the cocktail dress two sizes worth every second. Thank God for her grandmother’s sewing lessons and her ancient sewing machine because Tara hadn’t had the time, money or necessity to shop for evening wear since Rand had dumped her.

“I wore this dress the night we first made love,” she told him anyway.

His lips flattened and his shoulders stiffened, but he remained silent.

“I fixed the tear. You know, from when you ripped the dress off of me in your foyer.” His gaze dropped to her bodice as if seeking the mend, and hunger hardened his face. Her nipples tightened in response. Did he remember she hadn’t worn a bra that night? Could he tell she wasn’t now?

“Are you ready to go?” he asked tightly.

For the first time in years she felt alive and eager instead of numb. When he looked at her that way—as if he wanted to strip her and take her where she stood—she believed her plan to make him fall in love with her could actually work.

“Oh, I’m ready.” She added a quick, mischievous smile to the words even though her stomach had twisted into a corkscrew of nerves. “Are you?”

She didn’t mean for dinner. The desire burning in those hazel eyes told her the ashes of Rand’s desire were far from cold.

And she had every intention of fanning the flames.

Even at the risk of getting burned.

He’d underestimated his opponent.

And that was exactly how he had to classify Tara from now on, Rand decided as he followed her out of the humid Miami air and into the cool, darkened house. She wanted something from him, and as with any business deal, he’d concede some points but not all. That way everyone left the bartering table satisfied.

Grace in victory wasn’t a concept he’d learned from his father. Everett Kincaid had relished crushing and humiliating his adversaries. Rand preferred to allow his competitors to walk away beaten but not broken. Defeated, but not destroyed. In the tight-knit, almost incestuous cruise industry no one knew when they’d have to work for or with a previous foe again. Burning bridges wasn’t smart business.

Time to seal this deal.

Moonlight shone through the living room windows, glinting off Tara’s loose curls like moonbeams on rippling water split by a ship’s bow. Before she could turn on the lamp he intercepted her hand and carried it to his chest. Her breath caught audibly.

She’d been leading him around by his libido for most of the evening, starting with a dress that brought back memories hot enough to cauterize his veins, followed by brushing up against him on the restaurant’s dance floor until he was so hard he could barely walk back to their table.

She was good, very good, at luring a man into her trap.

It was time to regain control of the situation. He relaxed his clenched jaw and slowly reeled her in. His heart pounded out a hard-driving rock tempo beneath her palm. Snaking an arm around her waist, he brought her body flush against his. Hot, urgent desire pulsed through him.

Sex. Physical hunger. That’s all this is.

And he could control that.

“Ran—”

He smothered her words with his mouth, stole them from her tongue with his. He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to be distracted from the job ahead.

She tasted of the tiramisu she’d had for dessert mixed with a hint of the sweet wine she’d sipped throughout dinner.

And Tara. She tasted like Tara.

Damn the memories he couldn’t erase.

Her fingers fisted on his chest, but her resistance lasted only seconds before her body relaxed and curved into his, molding her soft breasts against a rib cage that felt so tight he could barely inhale.

He still wanted her even after she’d betrayed him, and the knowledge burned like sea water in a fresh gash.

Rand shut down his emotions and focused on his actions—actions guaranteed to seduce the woman in his arms. He swept a hand down her back, splayed his fingers over her butt and pressed her against his raging hard-on. Her quickly snatched breath dragged the air from his lungs.

Skimming his hands from Tara’s hips to her waist to her shoulders and then finally her breasts, he mapped her new shape while he devoured her mouth. Hardened nipples teased his palms as he cupped and caressed her.

She broke the kiss to gasp for breath, and he dipped to sample the warm spot beneath her ear. Her skin was fragrant and satiny beneath his lips, tender and tempting against his tongue. Memories battered him. He bulldozed them back.

She shivered and drove her hands beneath his suit coat. Short nails raked parallel to his spine, inciting his own involuntary shudder.

Tara leaned away and stared up at him with her lips damp and swollen, and her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her low, rounded neckline. She pushed off his jacket.

He searched her face looking for signs of the conniving woman he knew her to be, but the shadows obscured his view. He grasped her waist and swung her into the moonlight. Dense lashes curtained her eyes.

She reached for the side zip of her dress, the one he hadn’t been able to find five years ago. The sound ripped the silence, then she dipped her shoulders, first one and then the other. The black fabric floated to the floor with a swish, leaving her bare except for a tiny pair of black panties and her stiletto heels.

He gritted his teeth to hold back a groan. He even remembered her shoes. Or more accurately, he remembered doing her in those shoes. And nothing else. More than once.

Damn.

Heat and pressure built inside him until he felt like a Molotov cocktail—ready to blow with the slightest spark. He inhaled so deeply, so quickly, his lungs nearly exploded. Releasing the air in a slow, controlled hiss, he fisted his hands and fought the need to take her hard and fast where they stood.

Tara had been curvy and beautiful before, but now… Now she looked incredible. The curves were still there, only tighter, sexier. The moonlight caressed her breasts, the indentation of her waist, her hips, her legs. Oh, yeah, she’d definitely come well-armed for this mission.

He reached for his tie.

“Let me.” She nudged his hands aside. Her fingers teased his neck with butterfly-light brushes as she loosened the knot, then she pulled the tie free like a slithering silk snake. She dropped it and started on his buttons. The roar of his pulse nearly deafened him.

Once she had his shirt opened, she closed the gap between them and strung a line of feather-light kisses along his collarbone. Rockets of fire shot to his groin. He ground his teeth together. She eased the cloth from his shoulders and licked the skin covering the pulse jackhammering in his neck. And then she nipped him and he nearly lost it. His fingers convulsed at her waist.

For godsakes, pull it together. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve gotten laid.

Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip. He was hanging onto his control by his fingertips, and if he didn’t take this upstairs, he was going to make an unforgivable mistake. Sex without protection.

He would never tie himself permanently to a woman. Or a child. He couldn’t risk failing, either.

He tossed his shirt aside, swept her into his arms and headed for the stairs. But even within his grasp she didn’t abandon her assault on his senses. She smelled good. Spicy. Sultry. Like sex.

Her arms looped around his neck, crushing her bare breasts to his chest, and the tip of her tongue traced his ear. Hot. Wet. She blew on the damp flesh. The effect was anything but cooling. A groan he couldn’t contain barreled up from his lungs.

Tara had learned some new tricks since their breakup. Wondering who’d taught her made Rand’s stomach churn like a concrete mixer.

In her room he stood her beside the bed. A small table lamp with a Tiffany shade cast a dappled puddle of Technicolor lights on the spread. One yank sent the covers flying to the foot of the mattress.

“Condoms.” His voice sounded strangled.

She folded her hands demurely in front of her waist as if she were self-conscious. But he knew better. She’d demanded this charade. And that took balls. “In the drawer.”

He pulled the knob she indicated with a glance, located the box and ripped it open. Extracting a ribbon of protection, he tore one packet free and tossed it onto the bed.

“Lose the panties. Keep the shoes.”

A quiet laugh bubbled from her and a sexy smile tilted her lips. She looked up at him through her thick lashes and desire bolted through him, as jagged and searing as lightning.

He cursed silently. He’d said the same words to her in the past. Back when he was foolish enough to believe she was his every fantasy come to life. Back when he’d believed he could play with fire and not get burned.

Before she’d screwed—

Don’t go there.

But the chilling thought brought him a measure of restraint. He wasn’t going to think about…her other partners. Not here. Not now. It didn’t matter whether she’d had one other lover or a dozen. He’d dumped her. Not his concern.

So why did the idea ride his back like a cheap wool shirt?

Get on with it. Give her what she wants until she begs for mercy.

She wiggled the lacy triangle over her hips and ankles then reclined on the bed with one knee bent. His gaze raked over her. Damp red lips, slightly parted. Taupe nipples tightly puckered on full, round breasts. The slight curve of her belly. An untamed tangle of golden curls. And legs…Tara had always had the most amazing legs. Long. Sleek. Toned. Her best weapon.

Her shoes—definitely do me shoes—were a reminder why he was here and what she’d demanded of him.

He reached for his belt with surprisingly unsteady hands. What was his problem? This wasn’t his first trip to the sheets.

She watched his every move through slumberous eyes. His zipper rasped. He shoved his pants and boxers to the floor then had to sit down to remove the shoes and socks he’d forgotten.

She rattled him. He took a sobering gulp of air.

The mattress shifted beneath him. A whisper of warm, moist breath was his only warning before her lips brushed his nape. He snapped to rigid attention. Above and below the waist.

She cupped his shoulders then stroked downward as if she were reacquainting herself with the feel of his back, hips and buttocks. She hugged him from behind, aligning her hot naked curves against him. Her breasts burned his skin and her hands splayed over his lower abdomen. His muscles contracted, bunching with need beneath the soft scrape of her nails. Her thumb swept across his engorged tip, catching a slick droplet and rubbing it in.

A sharp stab of hunger had him sucking a swift breath. He bent to tackle his socks and shoes. Finally, he kicked both aside, then he turned and tumbled Tara back onto the pillows. He couldn’t let her set the pace. Couldn’t let her push his buttons. Couldn’t let her make him lose control. Couldn’t let her make him forget why he was here.

Do the job.

He kissed her on the lips. Hard. Fast. And then he worked his way lower. His tongue found and circled one nipple while his hand found the other. He plucked, sucked, rolled and licked until she squirmed beneath him and panted his name. Navigating south, he drew a damp line to her navel and then lower. Her fragrance went straight to his head. Both of them.

Every muscle in his body tensed. It took him a full ten seconds before he could think again. He found her swollen flesh. Smelled her. Tasted her. Laved her. Sucked her.

Too good. Too familiar. Too much.

He traced her slick entrance with his fingers and then plunged deep. Her hips arched. She dug her fingers into his hair and whispered his name. Using knowledge he thought he’d lost, knowledge he should have lost, dammit, he drove her relentlessly toward a climax with his mouth and hands.

Moments later orgasm broke over her, convulsing her body, contracting her internal muscles around his fingers. Her low, shuddery moan had him grasping himself with his free hand and damming the eruption about to happen.

He clenched his teeth until the white-hot haze ebbed.

What in the hell? He’d almost lost it. And he wasn’t even inside her. He hadn’t come prematurely since his teens. His early teens. And he’d almost—

He shook off the unsettling thought. Tara had always had that effect on him. She’d always made him want to rush. Going slow with her had been a challenge every time.

He grabbed the condom and shoved it on. And then he grasped Tara’s buttocks, lifted her hips and drove deep into the wet, tight glove of her body. Buried to the hilt, he froze, locked his muscles and fought for control as sensation scorched a lava trail up his spine.

She’s a job, dammit. Do her. Screw her. Forget her.

But she didn’t feel like a job. She felt hot and slick and soft and so damned good. The fingers she dragged down his back sent sparks skipping down his vertebrae.

“Rand, don’t stop. Please.” She wiggled impatiently and clutched his waist. His brain short-circuited and his nerves crackled like downed power lines. He withdrew and surged in harder, faster.

Do her, screw her, forget her, he silently chanted with each thrust.

He tried to focus on the mechanics. His arms and legs trembled with the effort to hold back. His lungs burned. And then he made a mistake. He looked into her deep blue, passion-darkened eyes, and the hunger on her flushed face sucked him into a black hole of need. She cried out and her body quaked as another climax rippled through her.

Did she come like that with him?

The rogue thought slammed his libido like a submerged iceberg, stilling his movements, sinking his desire. Struggling to fill his deflated lungs and ban the repulsive image from his mind, Rand pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head clasped between his hands.

Damn. Damn. Damn. He couldn’t do this.

When he had a measure of control he turned and looked at Tara, at her flushed face and her heavy-lidded eyes.

“Good for you?” He bit out the words.

“Yes,” she said on an exhalation. Her brow furrowed. She rolled to her side and reached for him. “But—”

He shot to his feet before she could touch him and gathered his discarded clothing. “Then good night.”

“But, Rand, you didn’t—”

He slammed the bedroom door, cutting off her words.

No. He hadn’t. But he’d come close.

Too damned close to forgetting why he was here.

Blackmail. His father’s. Tara’s.

And he’d almost forgotten who he was, what was at stake and that she’d lied to him before.

And that was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make.

Four

Why had Rand left without finishing? Tara wondered as she swiped on her mascara Wednesday morning.

He’d been lost in the passion with her. She was sure of it. She’d felt his heat, his hardness, the rapid slamming of his heart and the trembling as he tried to slow his pace. And then he’d just…stopped.

Had she done something to repulse him?

Her idea of getting closer to Rand by getting closer to Rand had failed. Sex hadn’t brought them together. It had driven them further apart, and now her emotions about last night were a tangled mess. He’d given her exactly what she asked for, but despite the climaxes, she wasn’t satisfied. Physically or emotionally. In fact, she felt a bit…icky.

Not that the sex hadn’t been good up until he’d walked out. But making love was supposed to be about two people. Not one. She needed more than just a superficial encounter.

She needed to know she mattered to someone.

In her experience Rand had never been the cuddle-until-morning type, but in the past he’d held her afterward at least until their pulses slowed and sometimes until she’d fallen asleep. But this time he’d—

She stopped midthought and stared at her reflection as realization dawned. She’d done it again. She’d let him walk away without demanding an explanation. Why?

Because she was afraid of what he might say.

The sobering reminder that she lacked courage when it counted chilled her. She’d learned the hard way that being a coward and taking the easy way out left too much room for regret. And hadn’t she vowed not to do that again? If she wanted to make this relationship work, then she’d have to find the courage to ask what went wrong.

No more avoiding conflict. No matter how much she preferred not to make waves.

She put away her makeup and left her bedroom determined to ask difficult questions and possibly receive hard-to-hear criticisms. She paused in the hallway to gather her nerve and silence settled over her like a heavy, smothering quilt. An old, familiar emptiness filled the house. Rand wasn’t here. She knew it even before she tapped on his door and didn’t get a response.

Nonetheless she turned the knob and pushed open the panel. He’d made his bed. No discarded clothing littered the floor and no personal belongings cluttered the furniture surfaces. Only a lingering trace of his cologne hinted at his occupancy.

Desire and disappointment, relief and regret mingled in her belly. Since Rand had apparently left the house before she’d awoken for the second morning in a row, she’d have to ask her questions at the office. Not the ideal place for awkward morning-after encounters or private conversations.

Had he planned it that way? Was leaving before sunrise his way of keeping the walls between them intact?

She left his room and went downstairs. Last night’s black silk dress draped the back of the rocking chair instead of lying puddled on the floor where she’d dropped it. Only Rand could have put it there.

She entered the kitchen. Like yesterday, Rand hadn’t left any signs of his passing through. There weren’t any breakfast dishes cluttering the sink or drain board, and the coffeepot stood cool and empty. If not for the slight tenderness between her legs, she’d believe she’d dreamed up his reappearance in her life.

She forced herself to eat a yogurt and drink a glass of juice even though hunger was the last thing on her mind. Her stomach churned over the encounter to come. She had to confront Rand and find out why he’d held back and why he’d left her. And then she’d find a way to make the next time better. For both of them.

Unfortunately, the pre-rush-hour drive to Kincaid Cruise Lines’ towering waterfront building overlooking Biscayne Bay and the Port of Miami remained uneventful, giving Tara plenty of time to think about all the ways this affair could go wrong. By the time she pulled in to her assigned parking space her nerves had tied themselves into knots a Boy Scout would envy.

The security guard waved her through and then the glass elevator whisked her all too swiftly up the outside of the building to the top floor. Even the amazing view of the bay and the boats couldn’t distract her from the encounter ahead.

She entered her office—the same one she’d used when she’d been Everett’s PA. She was going backward, in many respects, to move forward. And yet nothing was the same. Especially not her.

The click of computer keys and rustle of paper carried through Rand’s open office door, affecting her pulse like a starting gun and sending it racing. She stashed her purse in a drawer, took a bracing breath and gathered her courage before crossing to the doorway.

“There are eight brands under the KCL umbrella,” Rand said without looking up from his laptop. “All are profitable except the Rendezvous Line. Reserve the first available balcony cabin for us on a three- or four-day cruise. I want to see for myself why those bookings are down when that price point is the fastest growing market for our competitors.”

From the look of his rolled-back shirt cuffs and the two to-go cups from a nearby coffee shop chain shoved toward the corner of his desk, he’d been here a while. “Us?”

His hazel eyes lifted and met hers coolly as if he hadn’t been in her bed and inside her body last night. Unease prickled her scalp. Had sleeping with her meant nothing to him?

“It’s primarily a couple’s cruise. I don’t want any fanfare or special treatment. I want to travel as an average Joe, not the company CEO.”

The idea of taking a romantic cruise with Rand made her pulse flutter and warmth pool beneath her skin, but his all-business face erected barriers larger than the Rocky Mountains between them. She had to get past those barriers. If sex wouldn’t do it, what would?

“I’ll make the reservations in my name and through a travel agency if that will help with anonymity,” she offered and he nodded.

“Give me the dates when you have them.” His gaze returned to the computer screen, dismissing her.

Determined to get the awkward conversation over with before the rest of KCL’s employees arrived or she chickened out, she tangled her fingers and approached his desk. “Rand, about last night—”

His jaw turned rigid and his head snapped up, corking her questions. His eyes met hers before slowly raking over her as if he were visually stripping away the red sleeveless dress and matching bolero jacket she’d worn to boost her confidence. His pupils expanded and her heart shuddered.

“What do you want, Tara? A roll on the company couch?”

Her breath caught and heat arrowed through her belly. A tumble of confusing emotions rumbled through her. She glanced at the leather sofa that had been delivered Monday along with the rest of the office furniture then back at Rand. Was he serious about sex in the office? Did she want him to be?

And how could she possibly desire him when he was being this cold and distant? Was she that needy?

He calmly checked his watch. “Mitch will be here in five minutes. You’ll have to wait until tonight. Unless you want him to join us. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on one of the Kincaid men.”

His insolence left her speechless. Fury flooded her until she thought the dam on her temper would burst.

The slam of his office door made Rand wince.

He’d never deliberately humiliated an employee—or anyone for that matter. Humiliation had been his father’s specialty. Rand knew firsthand. And he didn’t like it.

But for a moment he’d seen an earnest and tender look in Tara’s eyes that convinced him she wanted to make more out of last night than there was. He’d had to snuff that notion fast.

Last night… He shook his head. Last night he’d come too close for comfort to losing his head and forgetting what was at stake. Too close to forgetting she’d taken him in once before with her passion-glazed eyes and words of love.

Still, he’d been a bastard. Just like his old man.

Before he could rise to find her and apologize the door flew open and Tara stormed back through. She marched toward him with her fists clenched by her sides and angry red streaks marking her cheekbones.

Would she punch him? He deserved it.

She stopped in front of his desk, her body trembling. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get out of your part of our deal with your rude, crass comment. But don’t forget for one moment who loses if I quit. I just left one obnoxious boss. I will not tolerate another one. The only reason I’m not already cleaning out my desk is because I gave you my word and because Nadia and Mitch can’t help it if their brother is sometimes a jerk. But if you make one more nasty remark like that, Rand Kincaid, I’ll revoke my promise and I’ll walk. And you will fail your brother and sister. Do you understand?”

Taken aback, he stared at the woman in front of him. The Tara he remembered had been soothing, soft-spoken and amenable. He’d never seen this assertive, untamed side of her before. The spark in her eyes and the strength in her spine looked more like the woman he knew her to be—one who could profess her undying love for one man then sleep with his father as soon as that man was out of town.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I was out of line.”

Some of the starch seeped from her shoulders. She capped off her tirade by ducking her head and looking embarrassed. Her blush was so damned endearing and convincing, he almost wanted to circle the desk and hug her. And that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t fall for her trickery again.

“Completely out of line.” She turned and left, brushing past Mitch on his way in with a brisk, “Good morning, Mitch.”

“Hello, Tara.” His brother stared after her then shut the door. “Lover’s spat?”

“Explain that remark.”

“You’re shacking up with Tara.”

The gossip grapevine thrived at KCL, and this time it had broken speed records. This was only his third day as CEO.

Rand clamped a hand across the sudden snarl of tension at the base of his skull. If he was going to keep KCL employees and the public from losing trust in the company after the change in leadership, he needed credibility. As Tara had already pointed out, a cloud of suspicion hung over their unexplained departures five years ago. Sleeping with his PA wasn’t going to help matters. “Where did you hear it?”

“My PA picked it up in the cafeteria this morning.” Mitch folded his arms. “So you did leave with Tara.”

“No. I moved to California alone. But I am living in her home now.”

“Rekindling the old romance?”

“There is no romance.”

He considered telling Mitch about Tara’s ultimatum, but confessing he’d become a pawn in Tara’s game was as infuriating as it was frustrating. And arousing.

He hated that she’d backed him into a corner and turned him into her personal gigolo. Hated that, despite all he knew about her, she still had the power to make him want her. And he definitely hated the way his pulse had jackhammered and his blood had rushed below his belt the minute he’d heard her in the outer office this morning.

His sleep last night and his concentration this morning had been shot to hell because her breathy cries kept echoing through his head.

“Am I going to have to clean up after you the way I am after Dad?”

Mitch’s reminder of their father’s inability to be faithful to his wife or any other woman was exactly what Rand needed to hear to get his head back in gear. Even if Tara tried to sucker him into a long-term relationship, Rand didn’t have the stay ing power to make it last.

Like father, like son.

“How is it going with Dad’s little brat and his guardian? What was the tenacious aunt’s name again?” Rand asked.

“It’s going fine. Her name is Carly. But we’re talking about you.” Mitch lowered himself into one of the sleek leather visitor chairs stationed in front of Rand’s wide mahogany desk.

Tara had indeed worked miracles on this formerly sterile space. Besides the office paraphernalia he’d requested, she’d added plants, art that actually looked like something recognizable and a sofa long enough for him to stretch out on if he had to pull an all-nighter in the office. An oversize ottoman doubled as a coffee table and a foot stool. And the wooden cabinet/shelf combo against the wall concealed a refrigerator.

Rand tossed his pen on his desk. “I can handle my own affairs.”

“Why did you leave, Rand? The truth this time. No BS. And don’t deny Tara’s involvement. Your reaction to her name at the reading of the will and the tension between you when I walked in proves she was part of it.”

Rand debated redirecting the discussion to the résumés on his desk, but Mitch wore a familiar stubborn look on his face that said he wasn’t going to be diverted. His brother had a right to his questions, and he needed assurances that Rand wouldn’t let him down this time.

And as much as Rand hated revealing the truth, Mitch needed to keep a wary eye on Tara. If she was looking for a rich husband, Mitch was just as likely a target. His jab about Tara missing out on one of the Kincaid men had hit a little too close to the mark. The idea gave Rand heartburn.

“When I returned from auditing the Mediterranean line five years ago, I caught Tara leaving Dad’s suite.”

Mitch swore. “Not again.”

“Yes, again.” Tara hadn’t been the first of Rand’s lovers to end up in his father’s bed, but she had been the only one Rand had given a damn about.

Had Everett pursued Tara or had Tara done the chasing? Either was a betrayal, but which was the most egregious? Tara’s, Rand decided, because he expected no less from his father.

Rand stood and crossed to the windows to stare out at the blue-green water thirty stories below. “I was sick of his games, sick of him coveting everything and everyone I possessed. I didn’t want to put you or Nadia in the middle. So I left.”

“I was always in the middle, Rand, like a referee in a prize fight. But Tara was fair territory. You’d dumped her. Hell, I even considered asking her out. You have to admit she’s smart and easy on the eyes.”

Every muscle in Rand’s body clenched. He spun and faced his brother with his fists ready. The challenge on Mitch’s face dared him to argue. Rand couldn’t. The moment he’d ended his affair with Tara he’d lost whatever temporary claim he had on her. Having no ties to her had been his choice. And it had been the right decision—the only decision—given the Kincaid history with women.

So why had seeing her with his father sucker punched him? And why did the idea of Tara with Mitch make him want to hit something?

Because she’d claimed she loved you.

And for a split second that night in her bed five years ago when she’d been spinning her fairy tale, Rand had believed her, and he’d wanted the life she’d described. Until he’d remembered who he was. What he was. A bastard who let people down. Just like his old man. He’d remembered what loving Everett Kincaid had done to his mother, and what loving Rand had done to Serita. He’d known he couldn’t risk that with Tara.

And then he had recalled how his mother had told him she loved him minutes before peeling out in his father’s prized ’69 Jaguar XKE and plowing it into a tree at a hundred miles per hour. He’d remembered that Serita had called him on the phone and said the same words either right before or right after swallowing a bottle of pills. Had she intended those to be her final words?

But the joke had been on him. While he’d been agonizing over whether or not to risk loving Tara and letting her love him, Tara had moved on.

“Chasing Tara would have been a waste of time anyway,” Mitch said, interrupting Rand’s thoughts. “She still had it bad for you.”

“Not so bad if she turned to Dad three weeks after we broke up.”

“Whatever. Being second string to my big brother was a position I was tired of playing. I wasn’t going after your girl.” Mitch’s bitterness came through loud and clear.

“She wasn’t mine and you were never second string. You were the golden child who could do no wrong.”

For a moment Mitch stared silently then he shook his head. “Why do you think Dad pushed you so hard, Rand? It was because he knew I idolized my big brother, and I’d have to raise my game to keep up with the standards you set. And you always aimed for perfection.”

An invisible band tightened around Rand’s chest. Mitch had idolized him and Rand had let him down by walking out and hauling himself to the other side of the country to nurse his wounded ego. “He yanked both our chains.”

Mitch nodded. “Dad was a master manipulator. He had ways of getting what he wanted from each of us. He pushed and goaded you because you thrived on the competition. He was more devious with me because I never let him know when he’d pushed my buttons.”

Rand cursed. How had he missed that?

Because you were too busy butting heads with the ol’man and too busy blaming him for being such an ass your mother would rather be dead than married to him.

And too busy hating yourself for being just like him. Selfish. Self-absorbed. Unable to love a woman the way she deserved to be loved.

Mitch stood. “It’s against company policy to fraternize with a direct subordinate. Tara was as out of bounds for Dad then as she is for you now. Don’t set us up for a sexual harassment law suit.”

His brother would crack a rib laughing if he knew the price for Tara’s participation was stud service. Rand ignored the rebuke and asked, “Since when did our father play by the rules?”

Mitch’s gaze shifted to the trio of potted trees Tara had positioned in the corner to keep the late afternoon sun’s blinding rays from creating a glare on Rand’s computer screen. “Yeah.”

The tone of that single word sent a prickle of unease creeping up the back of Rand’s neck. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Mitch?”

“I have everything under control. You need to make sure this thing between you and Tara doesn’t turn sour. If you piss her off and she leaves before the end of the year—”

“She won’t.” He’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t. He hated someone else holding the cards, calling the shots and controlling the outcomes. That wasn’t his style. He liked having the upper hand. But the ridiculous terms of the will had him handcuffed, and for the time being Tara held the key. “At the end of the year KCL will be yours and Nadia’s.”

“What about you?”

For the first time in his life, Rand realized he didn’t have a long-term plan. He hadn’t thought beyond fulfilling his duty and not letting his father screw Nadia and Mitch out of their inheritance. He hadn’t thought beyond beating his father at his own game.

Would there be a place for him at KCL?

Did he want to spend the rest of his life walking in his father’s shoes?

He didn’t have the answers.

“We’ll table that discussion for now. We have work to do. I want Nadia’s replacement chosen by the end of business today.” He tapped the résumés on his desk. “One of these applicants has every quality we’re looking for—if she survives the interview.”

Mitch looked ready to argue, but Rand preempted him by pressing the speaker button. “Tara, please send the first candidate through to the boardroom.”

“Yes, sir.” Her snippy reply told him his apology hadn’t totally placated her. He shouldn’t care. He’d done what he had to do to make sure she knew she wouldn’t fool him this time.

Tara Anthony was a complication he didn’t need. Come hell, high water or hurt feelings he would keep his objectivity. Emotional distance was the key to surviving this year of playing house with a woman determined to land herself a rich husband.

He had plenty of practice with meaningless, no-strings sex. It was the only kind he’d ever allowed himself to have. He never got sucked in to his lovers’ lives. They came together, satisfied each other’s physical needs, then went their separate ways when the chemistry burned out.

This affair wouldn’t be any different. He wouldn’t let it.

“Waiting up for me?”

Rand’s hard voice startled Tara. She pressed a hand over her jolted heart and spun around. He stood in the open door of the dining room—the door she’d kept firmly closed for a year. His narrowed eyes pinned her in place.

“You startled me.” Belatedly she remembered her tears and quickly turned back to her boxes.

“Tara?”

Ignoring the question in his voice, she swiped her face then snatched up the packaging tape and concentrated on stretching a long, sticky strip across the box’s flaps. “I thought you were working late. You said it would take you half the night to go through the information I compiled on each of KCL’s brands’ executives, and you wanted to be familiar with each employee’s history before the cocktail party tomorrow night.”

He’d told—no, ordered—her to eat dinner without him and not to wait up. After the way he’d hurt her feelings and angered her with his nasty remark this morning, she’d been happy to have time alone. She hadn’t even been able to escape him at lunch because he’d insisted she join him, Mitch and Julie, the newly hired director of shared services, for lunch at a South Beach Thai restaurant.

Her plan to regain what she and Rand had once had was on shaky ground because she couldn’t get past his anger and distrust. She’d lost hope this morning after their ugly confrontation, and she needed to regroup and rethink her plan.

Maybe…maybe this new bitter version of Rand wasn’t a man she could love.

Her fingers tightened on the tape dispenser and the serrated edge dug into her flesh. Exhaling, she made a conscious effort to relax her grip before she drew blood.

She could hear the sound of Rand’s footsteps cross the hardwood floor. He stopped just behind her right shoulder. His scent and warmth reached out to her, and she had to fight the urge to turn and lay her head against his chest. Tonight had been hard, like saying goodbye to her mother all over again. But she’d known it would be. That’s why she’d avoided this task so long.

“Why are you packing? You can’t leave. You signed a contract.”

“I’m packing up my mother’s things. It’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

She chanced a peek at him from under her lashes. His green and gold eyes searched her face, then scanned the room, taking in the portable toilet, wheelchair and walker and the bedroom suite from Tara’s old apartment.

When her mother could no longer climb the stairs, Tara had done her best to make her comfortable in this makeshift bedroom. Her mom had gone downhill fast in her last six months. She’d barely left this room except to be wheeled to doctors’ appointments. She’d spent most of her time in Tara’s wicker rocking chair in front of the bay window overlooking the back garden.

“She was handicapped?”

“She was dying. Lung cancer. Too many years of smoking.”

His impenetrable mask softened a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. But it’s time to move on. She wouldn’t want me to keep this stuff when it could benefit someone else. It would have been cheaper to rent the medical equipment instead of buying it, but renting seemed like…” Her throat closed, burned. She stopped, swallowed, inhaled and then tried again. “Renting seemed like admitting it would only be a matter of time before I had to turn it back in. I wasn’t ready…to give up.”

He studied her long and hard, then glanced at the door and rocked on the balls of his feet as if he wanted to leave. Instead he sank back on his heels, shoved his hands in his pockets and inhaled deeply. “You never mentioned her illness when we were together.”

“She hadn’t been diagnosed then. That came…after…us.” One moment Tara had been wallowing in heartache and woe-is-me, and the next her world had turned upside down.

Rand had been working overseas when she’d received the news, and with the ugly way he’d ended things, calling him hadn’t been an option.

Forget it. There is no us. We have no future. I won’t marry you or father your children. It was sex, Tara. Nothing more.

She’d had no one to turn to except the doctors, whose faces and prognoses had been grim. Panic had set in. She’d been so afraid of losing her mother and of the misery, surgeries and chemo her mother had ahead of her. The day after Tara had found out, she’d broken down in her office at KCL. Everett had whisked her to Kincaid Manor, where she’d poured out her fears.

And then Tara had failed her mother by refusing the one lifeline they’d been offered. Shame scalded her cheeks and weighted her shoulders.

She pushed back the pain and checked her watch. After ten. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Have you eaten? I could fix something.”

“I ate. Did you?” He indicated the boxes stacked in the corner with a nod. “Looks like you’ve been at this for a while.”

“I…no, I haven’t eaten. I…couldn’t.”

“You have to eat, Tara.”

Her stomach seconded his opinion by growling loudly. “I’ll grab something later. I’m almost finished.”

She lifted another empty box from the floor to the mattress.

Rand laid his warm palm over the back of her hand, stilling her movements. “Take a break.”

Her pulse did a quickstep, but despite her body’s involuntary reaction, the idea of being intimate with him after what he’d said earlier today about sharing her with Mitch repelled her. As she suspected he’d intended his comment to.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I, um…don’t need you tonight. So you can…go to bed. Good night.”

His gaze held hers for a long moment. “Despite six months working in a ship’s galley, I’m not a whiz in the kitchen. But I won’t poison you. I’ll scramble some eggs and make toast.”

Why was he being nice after being so hateful this morning? She couldn’t understand him. She bent her head and flicked a fingernail on the box flap. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

“Tara.” He waited until she looked at him. His jaw shifted as if he were grinding his teeth. “You won’t be any good to me tomorrow if you don’t fuel up tonight.”

She snapped her shoulders back. So much for believing his compassion was altruistic. “I’ll manage.”

“Is that how you lost the weight? By starving yourself? Get your butt in the kitchen,” he ordered, then yanked the box from her hand.

She held her ground. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want you to be a liability.”

“You don’t want me period.” She grimaced and bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to let that slip. So much for holding onto her pride.

He caught her chin with his fingers before she could duck again. “I don’t want to want you. That’s a whole different story. Now get in there and sit down. I’ll help you pack after you eat. Two of us will knock it out faster than one.”

Emotion squeezed her chest and stung her eyes at this unexpected glimpse of the man she’d fallen for five years ago. Rand had always claimed to be hard-hearted and self-serving, but she’d seen past the facade to the man he’d tried so hard to hide. He might be a ruthless businessman, but no matter how many times he denied it, Rand Kincaid cared about others.

She studied his face. His lips were so close, his eyes so intense. He’d been a gentle and unselfish lover who’d coaxed her past her shyness and taught her about pleasure, about her own body. A less generous man wouldn’t have bothered. She wanted to cradle his stubble-shadowed jaw and hurl herself in his arms.

Tonight proved the man she remembered, the one she’d loved, was still in there. Somewhere. All she had to do was draw him out.

Her waning hopes rebounded. All wasn’t lost. And to borrow another of Tara’s famous last words, tomorrow was another day.

And this time she wasn’t giving up without a fight.

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