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Most of all she wanted to stop the aching agony that washed over her in increasingly painful waves just from seeing him again.
Instead, she picked up the brown envelope Ethan had left for her, ripping it open to tip the contents out onto the bench beside her.
And instantly felt all the colour drain from her cheeks …
CHAPTER THREE
‘HOW dare you?’ Mia stormed into Ethan’s office on the top floor of the Burton Industries building the following morning, and threw the brown envelope down on top of the impressive oak desk in front of him, spilling the contents all over the papers he had obviously been signing when she’d burst unannounced into the room.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr Black.’ Ethan’s flustered secretary had hurried into the room behind Mia. ‘She just pushed her way in here before I had a chance to stop her—’
‘It’s okay, Trish,’ Ethan assured her smoothly as he slowly placed his fountain pen down on the side of the desk. ‘As this used to be the office of Miss Burton’s father she obviously doesn’t feel that she needs an appointment to see his successor.’
Mia heard the censure in Ethan’s tone, and grudgingly admitted it was merited; after all, no matter what her personal opinion of her father might be, this was still his company.
‘I apologise.’ She turned to smile at Trish. ‘I was just in such a hurry to see Ethan that I—well, I was obviously less than polite.’
‘It was my fault entirely, Miss Burton.’ The other woman looked even more embarrassed. ‘I haven’t been here very long, and I had no idea who—I’ll make sure and show you straight in next time.’ She smiled back tentatively.
As far as Mia was concerned there wouldn’t be a next time; once she had told Ethan exactly what she thought of him she hoped never to have to see him again!
‘Let’s not go that far, Trish.’ Ethan spoke dryly to his secretary, but that narrowed silver gaze was fixed steadily on Mia. ‘I would like at least a little prior warning of the invasion!’
‘I really am sorry, Mr Black. I honestly had no idea—’
‘It’s not a problem,’ he assured her again smoothly. ‘But thanks anyway. And could you call Jeff Bailey and tell him I may be a little late for the ten o’clock board meeting?’
‘Certainly, Mr Black.’ With a last apologetic smile in Mia’s direction the other woman turned to leave.
‘Just what do you think you were doing by—’ Mia broke off in surprise as Ethan raised a silencing finger. A surprise she recovered from as soon as she heard his secretary closing the door on her way out. ‘Don’t you dare shush me, you arrogant, overbearing, pompous—’
‘My, you’re in good fighting form this morning, aren’t you?’ Ethan sat back in his high-backed black leather chair to consider her fully. Once again he was wearing one of those designer-label suits—charcoal-grey today—with a pale grey shirt and meticulously knotted tie. ‘I had a feeling I might see you here some time this morning.’
‘Then you weren’t disappointed, were you?’ Mia snapped. ‘And you would have seen me last night if I had known where to find you.’
He nodded slowly. ‘I moved apartments a couple of months ago.’
‘No doubt you could afford to on a CEO’s salary!’
His mouth tightened at the scorn in her voice. ‘No doubt.’
Mia gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Explain exactly what you thought you were doing by having someone spying on me—taking photographs of me—’ she lifted up the dozen coloured photographs that had fallen out of the brown envelope ‘—like some sort of pervert hiding in the bushes.’
‘How else was I supposed to find you?’
‘You weren’t.’ She stated the obvious.
He gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘Too late.’
‘You had no right spying on me, prying into my private life—’
‘I don’t consider locating the daughter of my stepfather to be prying into anything,’ Ethan cut in coldly.
Mia became very still. His stepfather. Much as she might have tried to forget it the previous day, that did also made him her stepbrother. Oh, God …!
Ethan took advantage of Mia’s momentary silence to take in her appearance. She was wearing a sweater in the same emerald-green as her eyes beneath a short black leather jacket, along with skin-tight low-rider denim jeans that left little to the imagination in regard to the taut roundness of her bottom and the slender length of her legs.
Not that Ethan needed to use his imagination where Mia was concerned; he knew exactly what she looked like naked. Or at least he had …
Mia was so much more slender than she’d used to be, but her skin—always the colour of ivory touched with a light rose, soft as velvet and begging to be touched—was just as appealing as it had always been. The fullness of her breasts would no longer be a snug fit in his hands, but the rounded curve of her bottom would, and he could imagine that softness as he pulled her into him and—
What the hell was he doing, fantasising about making love to Mia? Present tense, not past …
Damn it, wasn’t this situation complicated enough already, due to the limited amount of information he felt able to share with Mia, without clouding the issue by resurrecting his desire for this woman that had once been so unrelenting? A desire Mia had made it more than obvious she would never feel for him again …
Ethan stood up restlessly. And instantly realised his mistake as the pulsing of his erection told him that it wasn’t only his thoughts that had become wayward in the last few minutes!
He turned away to look out of the window rather than allowing Mia to see the evidence of his arousal. Yesterday he had been certain that he didn’t even like this new tough and forceful Mia. Now his traitorous body had decided something completely different!
Not just his body, Ethan acknowledged with a frown. He had caught a glimpse of a softer, more appealing Mia just now, when she’d apologised to Trish for her rudeness, and that glimpse, it seemed, had been enough to reawaken the desire Ethan had felt for Mia since he had looked across the room where the company party was being held and seen her in that snug-fitting red dress, her hair a glorious gold tumble down the length of her spine …
‘Who took those photographs, Ethan?’
Get a grip, Ethan, he instructed himself firmly. Stop thinking about taking Mia to bed and concentrate on the here and now. ‘I hired a private security firm six months ago,’ he revealed tautly.
‘Obviously a more efficient one than my father.’
‘Obviously,’ Ethan said.
Mia had felt physically sick yesterday as she’d looked through the photographs inside the envelope Ethan had given her.
Photographs of her opening Coffee and Cookies in the morning. Of her walking alone in the park during her lunch break. Of her loading boxes of cookies into her car for delivery. Another one of her getting into her car and driving off. The list just went sickeningly on and on!
Someone—some unknown, faceless person Ethan had hired—had been following her, taking photographs of her, and she hadn’t even realised it! ‘Did my father ask you to do this?’
‘No.’
‘Then I don’t understand …’
‘Obviously not.’ Ethan turned back to face her, eyes a glittering silver-grey. ‘You already know your father had a heart attack six months ago, Mia,’ he reminded grimly.
‘Yes …’
‘And the one thing he wanted before he died was to see you again.’
‘How sweet!’
‘Don’t, Mia.’ Ethan’s warning was icily chill, his eyes becoming like silver shards of glittering glass.
‘Don’t what?’ she taunted.
‘Don’t mock what you so obviously can’t begin to understand.’
‘Are you daring to question the love I felt for my father?’
‘Obviously in the past tense,’ Ethan recognised harshly. ‘But, whether you like it or not, whether you accept it or not,’ he added firmly, ‘William will never stop loving you.’
‘He has your mother now.’
‘Considering what a cold-hearted little witch his daughter has turned into, that’s probably as well!’ He looked at her coldly.
Mia’s cheeks flushed. ‘You know nothing about me—’
‘I know that you have only a few close female friends, that there’s no current man in your life, and that you work twelve hours a day, six days a week in your coffee-shop.’
‘Exactly how long did you have me watched, Ethan?’ Mia’s hands shook as she clenched them at her sides.
‘It took almost the whole six months and a lot of man hours to find you.’ He shrugged. ‘The fact that you used only the name of a company to buy your coffee shop was what threw us off the scent for so long.’ He looked at her reprovingly.
Mia’s mouth firmed. ‘And once you had found me?’
‘A few days.’
‘How many?’
‘Five,’ he stated flatly.
‘I want any written reports on me given to you by this “private security firm”.’ Mia was breathing unevenly, not sure if she was just furious at having her private life invaded in this way, or if it was the fact that Ethan had instigated the search that made it seem so much more of an intrusion.
Ethan shrugged broad shoulders. ‘I’ve already shredded them.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’
‘Because they weren’t relevant now that I’ve seen you again,’ Ethan dismissed impatiently, before moving to sit back behind his desk; he didn’t need a written report on Mia to remember what was in it. To know there was no current male in Mia’s life …
‘It’s relevant to me—’
‘It’s gone, Mia.’ Ethan sighed. ‘Destroyed. Unimportant.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
His mouth tightened at her obvious scepticism. ‘Perhaps because I have no reason to lie to you?’
‘Did you ever need a reason?’
‘Damn it, Mia—’
‘Have you told my father yet that you’ve found and spoken to me?’
‘Not yet, no,’ Ethan bit out tersely.
‘Why not …?’ She eyed him guardedly.
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t feel able to do that without first speaking to you.’
‘And now that you have spoken to me?’
Ethan breathed deeply. ‘I see little point in telling him anything when you’re obviously still so hostile to the idea of seeing him again.’
‘That isn’t going to change any time soon.’ Inwardly, Mia told herself she had absolutely no intention of feeling in the least bit guilty over her refusal to see or hear from her father again.
‘It might.’
‘It won’t,’ she assured him evenly. ‘Seeing you again—twice!—has been quite bad enough, thank you very much!’
‘I can’t see why. Unless I actually meant something to you five years ago …?’
‘You didn’t.’ Mia gave a decisive shake of her head. ‘You’re just a part of something that I would rather forget.’
And that had been, and always would be, the problem between the two of them, Ethan acknowledged heavily. Even if they could have overcome the hurdle of the mistrust Mia felt in regard to him, Ethan still knew that every time Mia so much as looked at him now she was reminded of her mother’s suicide five years ago. Along with the remorseless publicity that had followed because of her father’s relationship with Ethan’s mother.
What would Mia say or do if Ethan were to act on the desire that now raged through his body at the very thought of having all her restless aggression in his bed?
‘Ethan!’ Mia was obviously as irritated with his distraction as Ethan was.
He frowned his impatience. ‘You’ve become quite the little spitfire, haven’t you?’
‘And?’
‘I like it.’ He shrugged.
She seemed dumbstruck for a few seconds, and then she glared at him. ‘I have absolutely no interest in hearing what your opinion is of me now, Ethan!’
‘Are you sure about that?’
Could Ethan possibly be flirting with her? Mia questioned incredulously. After all that had happened, their chequered history, was he actually—? No, he couldn’t be. Ethan had made it perfectly clear that—spitfire apart—he didn’t even like the woman she was now. That he thought she was both cruel and selfish.
When Mia was neither of those things …
Walking away from her father—from Ethan—from the only life and home she had ever known—had been the hardest thing Mia had ever had to do. But to have stayed when she’d felt as if everyone she had ever loved and cared for was either gone or had betrayed her—her mother by dying, her father and Ethan by deceiving her—would have been even harder.
And if Ethan thought it had been easy for her to stay away after she had read about her father’s heart attack in the newspapers, then he was mistaken; if anything that had been more difficult to do than walking away initially.
Instead she had continued to follow her father’s medical progress in those newspapers, to inwardly ache at the changes she saw in him when he was photographed leaving hospital two weeks after his heart attack. Her father’s hair was iron-grey now, and there were lines on his face that certainly hadn’t been there four and a half years ago. She had been pleased to see he looked slightly less strained and ill when he’d been photographed again four weeks later, boarding a plane on his way to recuperate at his home in the South of France. Although that pleasure had been somewhat diluted by seeing a smiling Grace Burton at his side …
‘Could we get back to the reason I came here?’ she prompted testily.
‘Which was?’
