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 cli**x 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
W hy 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 cli**xes, 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.