Kelly Hunter – A Forbidden Passion: No Longer Forbidden? / The Man She Loves To Hate / A Wicked Persuasion (страница 11)

“Use my tablet if you want a novel,” he offered. “There are hundreds on it.”

“If I have time to read, I have time to practice.” She said it like something she’d memorized by rote. “Same goes for television—not that that’s an option right now.” She came away from the bookshelf with a look that was both disgruntled and lost. “I’ve already done my exercises. If I work my leg anymore I’ll just hurt myself. I was about to start dinner, but the freezer is empty and the power’s gone.”

“I brought the boat,” Nic reminded her, his body involuntarily reacting to the way she moved like a leaf in a stream, meandering in a way that mesmerized him.

“I’ve had enough of the sea today, thanks.” Her aimless path took her to a lamp fringe, which she lightly stroked, making the silk lift and fall in a ripple.

This was so like her—the way she accepted as her due that a room would pause and take notice when she entered. What was it about her that made it happen? he wondered. She was lovely, with her buttermilk skin and sable hair, the sensual softness of her features and the toned perfection of her frame, but that wasn’t what gave her such power. There was something more innate, something warm, that promised happiness and fulfillment if she noticed you.

Nic shut down that bizarre tangent of thought. He was not one of those people who fell for charisma, watching and waiting for the next act, aching to feel important because he was touched by her attention.

Irritated with himself, he did what he’d always done when Rowan inveigled herself into his space. He pretended he was ignoring her even though he could practically feel the heat off her body from across the room.

That was his libido keeping her on its scope. He hadn’t made much time for women in the last year and his body was noticing.

“Cold sandwiches are fine,” he said. “Bring mine here so I can keep working.”

“That reminds me. I should have said earlier, Nic.” She moved toward him, pale fingers coming to rest like a pianist’s on the opposite edge of his desk. The candlelight made her solemn expression all the more wide-eyed and impactful. “What you’ve done for Olief? Looking after things for him? That’s good of you. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

The unexpected praise turned him inside out. No one had ever suggested he was a good son. Olief certainly hadn’t acknowledged him that way—ever—and Nic had long given up expecting him to. Having Rowan offer this shred of recognition was a surprise stiletto through the ribs that slid past his barriers to prick at the most deeply protected part of himself.

For a second he couldn’t breathe. The sensation was so real and sharp and paralyzing. Then his inner SWAT team snapped into action and he remembered her using this same gamine face and earnest charm to garner affectionate pats on the head and indulgent approval from Olief. They’d been president of each other’s fan club, and now she was obviously looking for a new partner in her mutual admiration society.

“I’m not doing it for him,” Nic stated bluntly, angry with himself for sucking up her flattery like a dry sponge.

“But …” Rowan’s brows came together and she took a half step back from the refutation she read in his face. “Who, then?”

“Myself. I’ve been working my way up since he brought me aboard to launch his web journals on the Middle East ten years ago. It was a merger, actually, since I was already established in the electronic publishing side. I made it clear then that I had ambitions. He hadn’t named me as heir, and I wasn’t at the top of his corporate succession plan when he disappeared, but it was due to be reviewed and we both knew this is where I wanted to end up.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t …? Of course you’re his heir!”

Rowan’s certainty made a harsh bubble of laughter rise to catch in Nic’s throat. They were talking about a man who hadn’t spoken to his son until Nic had walked up to him at an awards gala and said, “I believe you knew my mother.”

With fresh rancor, Nic said, “We won’t know who inherits until he’s been declared dead and his will is read. Perhaps he left his fortune to Cassandra and you?”

With a shake of her head that made loose tendrils of hair catch the candlelight and glitter like an angel’s halo, Rowan said, “You’re his son. And you can build on what he’s already accomplished. Of course he would leave everything to you. Except maybe Rosedale.” Her chin hitched with challenge as she gave him a considering look.

“This land was bought as an investment property to be developed. It’s never been taken off the books as a company asset,” Nic said. “I know that much.”

“Therefore you control it as long as you’re in that chair?”

“Exactly.”

Her narrow shoulders slid a notch, but her breasts lost none of their thrust. For a skinny little thing, she had beautifully rounded breasts. All of her was a little curvier than he remembered. It was nice. Healthy.

“If I did inherit everything from Olief, I could fire you.”

Her disdainful look down her nose was the kind of entitled sassiness that had always made him want to yank her off her self-built pedestal. He reminded himself not to let her engage his emotions.

“I’ve spent the last year proving to the board I’m the right man for the job. They’re not going to switch allegiance on the whim of a spoiled brat—despite your proven ability to charm older men.”

Her chin twitched at the word ‘spoiled’ before her thick lashes came together and her most impudent smile appeared. “Don’t underestimate me. I charm the younger ones, too.”

“Yes, you always manage to get what you want, don’t you?” he said with chilly disgust. “Until now.”

As soon as he said it a vision of her feet flashed in his mind’s eye and he heard her again. I want my family. The source of hardness in him turned on its edge, pressing at an unpleasant angle against his lungs. He grimaced, wishing for her to be the diva ballerina he’d always found easy to dismiss.

“Am I really that bad, Nic?” Her white hands sifted the air. “Maybe Olief did pay my expenses, but developing as a dancer was my job. I didn’t have time to hold down a real one. And, yes, I did take things too far in the last few months, but it was the first time I’d been free to! I kept waiting for someone to set me a limit and finally realized I had to. Everyone goes through that on the way to becoming an adult. You’re making out like I’m all new cars and caviar, but what did I ever have that you didn’t?”

His laptop timed out, abruptly going black and dimming the room into a place of darkness and shadows. Thunder continued to rumble in the distance, along with the piercing wail of wind and the churn of rough waves against the shore.

“What a loaded question,” he muttered, stabbing a key to make the screen come back to life, and rising restlessly at the same time. “What did you have?” he repeated.

He rounded his desk to confront her in the cold bluish glow. He couldn’t contain the confused hurt bottled against the spurned rock that was his heart.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to meet your father for the first time when you’re an adult? To finally be invited into his home only to watch him fawn over the daughter of his mistress—a girl who isn’t even related to him—while knowing he never once wasted affection on his real flesh and blood? Now, to be fair, my mother was only a one-night stand—not a long-term companion like your mother—but he knew about me from birth. He paid for my education, but he never so much as dropped by the boarding school to say hello. I came to believe he was incapable of fatherly warmth.” He’d had to. It had been the only way to cope. “Then I saw him with you.”

Rowan drew in a breath that seemed to shrink her lungs, making her insides feel small and tense. Olief was the one safe, reliable, loving person she could go to without being told to try harder, commit deeper, be better. That was why his disappearance was killing her. She missed him horribly. She loved him.

And apparently Nic felt she’d stolen all those precious moments at his expense.

“At least that explains why you hate me.” Nic, like everyone, had expected better of her and, like always, she didn’t know how she could have been different. All she could do was what she’d always done: apologize. “I’m sorry. I never meant to get between you.”

“Didn’t you?” he shot back, his feral energy expanding until her skin prickled with goose bumps.

She felt caught red-handed. Her old crush on him sputtered to life in neon glory, making her feel gauche. The memory of today’s kiss, which she’d managed to ignore through sheer force of will since entering this room, was released like an illicit drug in her mind—one that stole her ability to think and expanded her physical perceptions.

Betraying heat flooded into her loins while the tips of her breasts tightened. She was hyper-aware of his male power held in tight restraint. For years he’d looked at her with bored aversion. Today he was seeing her, and his gaze was full of the force of his primal nature, accusatory and personal.

And for once she understood his animosity.