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A hint of warmth drifted across her cheekbones. “I take it you’re not,” she said drily.
“I’m here to help finalize the Worth deal, Ms. Worth.” He leaned on her last name. “Our meeting tonight is sheer coincidence since you didn’t even bother to tell me who you were when we first met.”
“I don’t recall you asking. Nor do I recall you sharing your name at the time,” she replied with impressive calm.
“Now you know it. It’s Larson. Chase Larson.” The name rang a vague bell, but she couldn’t quite place it. As though aware of that fact, he added, “I’m Rafe Cameron’s brother.”
She missed a step and Chase supported her weight while she recovered her footing. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Problem?”
Where did she begin? Or perhaps she shouldn’t begin at all. If Chase was anything like his brother, whatever she said would definitely be used against her. “Suffice to say the list is long and detailed.” She focused on the knot of his crisp red bow tie, not daring to look at him in case her gaze reflected her distaste for his brother. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your involvement in the Worth Industries purchase?”
“I own Larson Investments, a financial investment firm. I’m helping Rafe put the purchase together.”
No wonder his name sounded so familiar. She’d heard of Larson Investments. Who hadn’t? That also meant that he was the illegitimate son of business tycoon, Tiberius Barron. Dismay filled her. How could her father possibly hope to negotiate a fair contract for the sale of Worth Industries when Rafe controlled such powerful factions? She moistened her lips. “I assume you’re in favor of the deal?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, his expression giving nothing away. “Now that we’ve finished discussing our unexpected business connection, answer a personal question for me. That night we spent together, would you have told me your last name if I’d asked?”
Emma lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “I don’t see why not.” She glanced up at him and caught his guarded expression. “What about you? Would you have told me your last name?”
“Not our first night together.”
She stiffened, offended. “I see. I’m supposed to be forthcoming with you, but—”
“I’ve discovered it’s wise to protect myself.”
“Protect yourself,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing. “From what? Sexy little things who have an itch they’re hoping you’re rich enough to scratch?”
“Something like that.” His gaze impaled her. “Are you a sexy little thing?”
How could she have found him charming? He wasn’t the least bit charming. “Do you mean, am I after a wealthy husband or lover?”
“Are you?”
“No, thanks. You can relax. I have my own money.”
“See?” He flashed a smile that was all too—yes—charming. “Now I’ve insulted you. It’s not an easy question to ask on a first date, is it?”
She released a sigh. “Shall I assume that if I answered incorrectly when we first met there wouldn’t have been a second date?”
“No, there would have been.” Hunger flickered through his eyes so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it. “With you there definitely would have been.”
She scanned his expression, understanding dawning. “But it would have come with strings. Or should I say, a lack of strings? You’d be willing to share my bed, but I’d better not get any ideas.”
“Come on. Be fair, Emma,” he chided. “Is it any different for you? Aren’t you concerned that when men hear your name, learn of your connection to Worth Industries, they see you as their perfect shot at a life of leisure? To relax on a nearby beach sipping endless rounds of mai tais?”
Anger swept through her. “You give me far too much credit. Why would I object to that when it’s clearly my goal in life, too? At least, that’s your brother’s opinion of me, something he’s made abundantly clear the few times we’ve spoken.”
“I believe that’s because Rafe and I earned our fortunes the hard way.”
“Whereas I inherited mine?”
She could tell him that she chose to devote her spare time to working at It’s Time, the local women’s shelter, but why should she be forced to defend herself when she’d done nothing wrong? Exhaustion swept over her worsening the headache, which had been gnawing at the edges of her consciousness all day. “Are we through here, Mr. Larson? I’d like to go home, if you don’t mind.”
“First, my brother’s opinion does not reflect my own, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t color me with his brush. I prefer to form my own opinion about you, just as I expect you to form your own about me. And second, you still haven’t answered my question.”
She wondered if her desperation to escape showed. She’d had years of experience maintaining a calm, remote demeanor. But for some reason, whether the man or the occasion, she couldn’t pull it off tonight. “What question?”
“Why did you leave without a word?”
She really didn’t feel well. And now that she thought about it, it occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. That, combined with the few sips of champagne she’d consumed, was leaving her seriously off-color. “Sorry, Chase, but we’ll have to save this for another day.” She pulled free of his arms. “You know who I am now and how to get in touch with me, assuming it’s even necessary.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t eaten,” she admitted. “I’m feeling a bit light-headed.”
She should have known better than to offer so much information to someone like Chase. He instantly took charge. “There’s a buffet across the room. Why don’t we find something that will help?”
She couldn’t bring herself to look in that direction. Not when the scent of seafood drifted off the gleaming tables. “What I’d really like is to go home, put my feet up and fix myself some tea and toast.”
“Fair enough. How did you get here?”
“With my father,” she reluctantly admitted.
“You live with him?”
“Yes, but—”
“His estate is a few miles south of here, isn’t it?”
She eyed Chase sharply. “How do you know that?”
“I get paid to know things like that.” He cupped her elbow. “Come with me.”
After collecting her wrap from the cloakroom, he drew her toward the wide-flung doors exiting onto the portico. A stunning view of beach and sea spread like a carpet beneath the bluff on which the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club perched. A setting crescent moon dipped toward the Pacific Ocean, gilding the waves in silver.
He escorted her around the building toward the valet stand. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“You need tea, toast and quiet. That’s what I plan to provide.”
“What I need is to go home,” she insisted gently.
And yet, somehow she found herself ensconced in the cherry-red Ferrari Fiorano Chase had rented. With the windows open, the chilly air helped clear her head. The instant he hit the freeway, he headed north, instead of south.
“Where are we going?” she asked, though at this point she wasn’t sure she cared anymore.
“To get you something to eat.”
Emma surrendered to the inevitable. She had a feeling that when it came to Chase there wasn’t another option. Five minutes later he pulled in to a circular drive protected by an electronic gate and lined with palm trees. The instant he killed the engine, he helped her out of the car and escorted her to the front door of the beachfront condo.
“Is this yours?” she asked, impressed.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s a rental.”
She wandered deeper into the condo. “This is gorgeous.”
“I didn’t bring you here so you could tour the place.” He ushered her into the main living area, a huge room banked with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean. Stripping off his tux jacket, he slung it across the back of a chair. “Sit and relax. Tea and toast coming up.”
As much as she wanted to insist that Chase take her home, she didn’t have the energy. She sank onto the couch and leaned against soft, thick cushions that molded themselves around her like a pair of warm arms. Despite all her attempts to remain alert, her eyes drifted closed. It wasn’t until she heard the rattle of glassware that she opened her eyes again.
She glanced around, disoriented. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Just for a minute.” He set a cup and saucer on a table at her elbow, followed by a plate with several slices of lightly buttered toast, cut into manageable bite-sized pieces. Pale greenish tea steamed gently from the clear glass cup. “Whoever stocks this place is big on herbal teas. This one’s chamomile and peppermint. According to the package, it’s guaranteed to relax and soothe.”
“Thank you. Just what I wanted.” Before she could take so much as a sip of tea her BlackBerry rang. She pulled it out of her purse and checked the caller ID. “Excuse me. I should take this. It’s my dad.”
The conversation was brief. But then, when it came to her father that was often the case. “Where are you?” he asked without preamble.
“With Chase Larson.” She spared him a brief glance. “He offered to give me a ride home.”
“Thought you were going with Kathleen.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Fine. Saw her here and I didn’t see you, so I wondered.”
She smiled, softening. “Thanks for worrying, Dad.”
“Of course I worry,” he retorted brusquely. “You’re my little girl, even if you are all grown up. Good night, sweetheart. Don’t stay out too late.”
“‘Night, Dad.” She disconnected the call and dropped the BlackBerry on the table beside her tea and toast. She caught Chase’s undisguised amusement and lifted an eyebrow. “What?”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry. It was identical to her own. “I use the same ringtone, too,” he said. “Great minds.”
“I guess we’ll have to be careful not to get them mixed up.” She buried her nose in the delicate cup, inhaling the mild aroma. Then she forced herself to look at Chase. “Why are you doing this? I mean, why am I here? Why are you feeding me tea and toast instead of taking me home?”
He allowed his expression to say it all. “You know why.”
She shook her head. “There’s no point, Chase. You might be here long enough to put Rafe’s deal together, but then that’ll be the end of it. We live on opposite sides of the country. We want different things in life.”
“How do you know that?”
She sighed and reached for a square of toast, nibbling on it. “Because I’ve met men like you before.”
His eyes narrowed, the grayish-blue as turbulent as a stormy sea. “Men like me,” he repeated softly, a disturbing tension rippling through his voice. “Would you care to explain what you mean by that?”
She took her time, finishing the slice of toast and washing it down with a sip of tea. She wanted to moan in pleasure, but didn’t dare. Not when the gaze he turned on her still contained a whisper of desire mingled with a hint of intimidation. “Driven men. Men who put business ahead of everything else in their life. Men who live large and take whatever they want.”
Amusement replaced his tension and, to her alarm, the whisper of desire became a shout. “What’s wrong with taking what I want, especially if it gives you as much pleasure as it gives me?”
“Nothing. It makes—made—for an incredible night. But that’s over now. I’ve returned to my life. You’ve returned to yours.”
“And yet, here we are together again.” He joined her on the couch, sitting far too close. “As long as I’m here, why not enjoy another incredible night or two?”
How did she answer that, explain the conflict over wanting a man so closely connected to Rafe Cameron? How did she explain she didn’t want another incredible night? That getting over the first incredible night had been next to impossible? That if they spent another night together she might lose the final vestige of protection standing between her heart and her common sense?
She couldn’t afford to fall for a man like Chase. She’d watched what living with a man like him—her father, to be exact—had done to her mother. It had destroyed her. Emma had taken the lesson to heart. What she and Chase experienced in November had been a lit match. Taking the next step might turn the affair into a dangerous wildfire, one that could consume and destroy instead of pleasure and warm.
She smiled, fighting to keep the moment light and easygoing. “Thanks so much for taking care of me, but it’s time for me to go home. It’s long past my bedtime.”
“No problem.”
Before she could guess his intention, he stood and swung her into his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded in alarm.
“Since it’s long past your bedtime, I’ll see to it you turn in. Now.” He carried her down a hallway and into a huge bedroom with views as spectacular as the living area. He released her so she dropped the few feet to the mattress. She bounced once before falling backward into the welcome embrace of the down-filled comforter. “And I’m turning in with you.”
Two
She lay on the silk duvet in glorious disarray, outrage flashing across her gorgeous, Sleeping Beauty face. Between the breeze from the drive and her tumble onto his bed, her hair had escaped its intricate knot and long, loose curls fanned out around her head. Her eyes in the dimness of the room were hard to read. Her expression was not.
Color bloomed in her too-pale cheeks while indignation animated her face. “Have you lost your mind?”
He snagged the ends of his bow tie and yanked. “Not that I’m aware of.” His shirt studs and cuff links followed and he dropped them carelessly onto the bedside table, followed by his BlackBerry. “I’ve wanted you back in my bed from the moment you left it.”
She sat up. The light filtering from the hallway cut across the upper portion of her face, highlighting the incredible power of her eyes. The odd forget-me-not blue, a shade just shy of lavender, had haunted him for two endless months. Well, not any longer. Whatever it took, he’d find a way get her out of his system so he could continue his life without the memory of their time together distracting him.
“You can’t believe I’m going to simply fall in bed with you.”
“That’s precisely what you did last time and what you’re going to do right now.” He stripped off his cummerbund and shirt, followed by his shoes. His hand dropped to the fastening of his trousers. “You feel it, Emma. Don’t pretend you don’t. It’s gotten so strong that it hurts to breathe. I can’t think about anything but you, about having you under me, being inside of you.”
Her breath quickened and those eyes, those amazing eyes, darkened with raw passion. “I’m not some cheap one-night stand, damn it. I won’t sleep with you tonight and have you walk away tomorrow.”
Humor had his mouth curling upward. “I believe you were the one to walk away last time. And considering you don’t have a car, I’m hoping you’ll still be here when I wake up.”
She waved that aside. “This is a mistake. You’re part of Rafe Cameron’s entourage.” She inched toward the edge of the mattress. “I can’t be seen fraternizing with the enemy.”
That stopped him. Granted, there was no love lost between Rafe and Ronald Worth. But why would Emma consider Rafe the enemy? “Do you oppose the sale?” he asked softly. “Are you trying to stop it from happening?”
She led with her chin. “I’m not convinced your brother is the best person to run Worth Industries. There are too many questions about his future intentions that are still outstanding. But since it’s not my decision, there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”
“No, there isn’t,” he stated. Okay, warned her.
“But that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you. Not now that I know you’re Rafe’s brother.”
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
Her eyes narrowed in clear assessment. “How can I be certain you’re not seducing me so I won’t cause trouble?”
