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“Come in.” She led the way through the garage and into the kitchen. Even though she kept her back to the curved archway leading to the foyer her heart thumped harder, and the sensitive areas of her body tingled with awareness for the man hovering a few feet away.
She concentrated on keeping her hand steady so she wouldn’t scatter the coffee grounds across the granite countertop and then poured water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. Pressing her palm against her nervous stomach, she tried to ignore the tremor running through her. “The coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”
“How much do you owe?” Sawyer’s tone sounded level, almost impersonal, but the way he looked at her wasn’t. His eyes stroked over her, and her skin reacted as if he’d touched her. Intimacy stood between them like a living, breathing being, connecting them in a way they hadn’t been linked before.
Don’t fool yourself, Lynn. The encounter in the foyer ten days ago had nothing to do with making love and everything to do with forgetting. The regret on both sides proved it shouldn’t and wouldn’t be repeated. So why couldn’t she get it out of her mind? And why, when he looked at her in that slow, thorough way did her awakened body hum with the memory of the way he’d caressed her and with the deep-seated need for him to do so again?
My God, what must he think of her? Had she become the clichéd merry widow? Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. She staggered back a step and retreated to the sunny bay window overlooking her tiny backyard in an effort to clear the unsuitable thoughts from her mind. She fussed with her multitude of plants, polishing dust off this one and plucking a dead bud from another, but Sawyer’s spicy scent pursued her relentlessly.
“How much, Lynn?” he repeated.
“Settling the estate really isn’t your problem, Sawyer.”
He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. His biceps bulged and a muscle jerked in the tense line of his jaw. “It’s my problem if you have to sell part of the company to cover your debts.”
“Actually, I want to sell Brett’s share back to you.”
He frowned and shoved a hand through his hair. “I can’t raise the capital to buy Brett’s share right now. The company’s having a few difficulties.”
A chill chased down her spine. Those shares were all she had. If the company folded they’d be worthless. “But I need the money to start over once the house sells.”
“And I need you to be patient. Give me a chance to turn the company around. You’d only get a fraction of the value if you sold now. Where do you plan to move?”
Lynn pressed her fingers against the steady throb building behind her left temple. “My aunt said I could stay with her until I get back on my feet.”
“In Florida? If you’re looking for a rent-free place to stay, then move in with me. I have the space.”
His offer tempted and repelled her simultaneously. She loved this small college town with its steep hills, curvy roads and friendly atmosphere, and Sawyer’s spacious home in the historic section had a character and grace that her newer one lacked. When he finished the renovations his house would be gorgeous. She loved the high-ceilinged rooms and tall windows which overlooked a huge yard.
But Sawyer had made her lose control, and she’d just spent four years of her life in a relationship that rendered her powerless. If she lived with him she ran the risk of repeating her mistakes. “Thanks, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Are you looking for a job?”
“Yes.” She’d been job hunting for the past three days, but the university students had left town for the summer, and the business owners had cut staff to accommodate reduced trade.
“Come to work for me.”
With her stomach churning, she gazed out the window. The last thing she wanted to do was face Sawyer every day and be reminded that she’d thrown herself at him like a woman starved for affection. “I don’t know anything about computer software development.”
Sawyer moved closer until he stood directly behind her, his reflection showing in the glass. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. The heat of his touch permeated her thin sweater, warming her skin. She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to his. In his eyes she saw sympathy, frustration and heat. He hadn’t forgotten what happened any more than she had. There beneath the civilized veneer lay the awareness of what they’d done. Tension spiraled in her belly.
“Lynn, I can give you enough money to cover your immediate expenses, or I can offer you a job. Your choice. But I don’t want you to leave Chapel Hill until I’m certain you’re not carrying Brett’s child…or mine.”
Sawyer’s baby. Her pulse skipped a beat. She took a calming breath. It would be one thing to move to Florida alone or with Brett’s baby. It would be another to take Sawyer’s baby away from him. She could never be responsible for denying a child its father’s love.
Don’t panic about things that haven’t happened yet. You may not be pregnant. The odds for conceiving the first month after getting off the Pill are slim.
“Thank you, but I’d rather earn the money legitimately.” She forced herself to look into his eyes and stretched her lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace, but she couldn’t do any better with the worry building inside her. Stepping away, she put enough distance between them that she couldn’t feel his body heat and wouldn’t be close enough to give in to the temptation to lean on him and draw from his strength. It was time she stood on her own feet again.
“I want to help.” His voice hardened.
She took a deep breath and faced him. “And I want a real job, not one fabricated out of pity.”
“This is a real job. Opal, my administrative assistant, needs help. Brett’s assistant quit months ago, and Opal’s been juggling her workload and Nina’s, too.”
Lynn’s breath caught and nausea rose in her throat. Nina. Brett’s lover. Her husband went through assistants like most men went through socks. Because he’d instructed her not to call him at work unless there was an emergency, she hadn’t even known his latest assistant’s name. Did Sawyer know about the affair? Would he lie to protect his brother?
With her heart and head reeling she tried to come up with a logical response. “I have no training.”
“You’ll learn.” The set of Sawyer’s jaw promised an argument if she refused his offer—an argument she couldn’t contemplate right now.
“I’ll think about it. Now, please have a seat at the table. I have something to show you. I have to get it from the bedroom upstairs.”
His gaze locked with hers and then shifted to the archway beyond her shoulder—the one leading to the foyer and the stairs. Heat flashed in his eyes.
Her breath caught and her heart pounded. Warmth flushed her skin. She turned away, but not before regret tightened Sawyer’s features. “I’ll get the box.”
After bracing himself, Sawyer lifted the lid of the cheap wooden box on the table in front of him. Gold, silver and other precious metals lay jumbled together without regard for the scratches the heirlooms might receive.
“Did you pack these?”
Lynn hovered near the coffeepot. Her gaze danced to his and then away again, never holding for more than a split second. Pink climbed from her neck to spread across her cheeks. Her nipples peaked, proving she remembered what happened on the other side of that archway, the same way he did. His pulse leaped. Her quick glances told him she wanted to ignore the passion between them, and if he were half as smart as the business magazines said he was, he’d let her.
“I didn’t even know Brett had this treasure chest until I searched for the will. I found the box buried in the back of the closet, but I saw your name on a couple of items and thought you might be interested. I’d hate to sell something that holds sentimental value for you.”
She flitted from one side of the blinding-white kitchen to the other and back again—probably afraid he’d jump her if she remained stationary. She fiddled with her plants and straightened the already straight row of canisters. He cursed himself. His loss of control had made her a nervous wreck.
“You never found a will?”
“No. The attorney checked the courthouse, the bank and every other logical place where a will could be stored, just in case Brett had done one of those home kits. He found nothing, and I’ve already searched the house twice.”
Another detail his brother had neglected. It infuriated Sawyer that Brett had been so careless with Lynn. If a man loved a woman, he looked out for her, provided for her…and any children they might have.
Shutting down the disturbing thought, he carefully withdrew a gold watch and chain from the tangled mess in the box and traced his finger over the name engraved in the metal. Warm memories swamped him—memories of looking at this watch with his own father and anticipating the day when he would be entrusted with the heirloom. “This pocket watch belonged to my great-grandfather, the first Sawyer Riggan.”
She set a mug of steaming coffee in front of him and darted back to the other side of the room. “Why did Brett have it?”
“He asked for it.” And God help him, he’d tried to give Brett everything he wanted after their parents’ deaths.
“But why give it to him if it was intended for you?”
“I owed him.” Owed him a debt he could never repay.
“Owed him what?”
Hadn’t Brett told her? “I killed our parents.”
Her brow pleated. “Your parents died in a car accident.”
“With me at the wheel.”
Sympathy softened her eyes. “I thought a drunk driver ran a stop light.”
“He did, but if I hadn’t shot off as soon as the light turned green, if I’d looked twice before accelerating into the intersection instead of being the lead-foot my dad always accused me of being—”
She returned to the table, slid into the chair at a right angle to his and laid her soft hand over his clenched fist. His words dried up. “Sawyer, the accident wasn’t your fault. Brett showed me the newspaper article. The other driver didn’t have on his headlights. You couldn’t possibly have seen him.”
Her touch burned his skin. He sucked in a deep breath. She snatched her hand back and tucked it into her lap as if she regretted the gesture, but the imprint of her fingers lingered.
Since Brett’s death Lynn had quit wearing her heavy perfume, and God help him, he could smell her. Her light honeysuckle scent was ten times more potent than perfume anyday. She’d also quit teasing her hair into that just-out-of-bed, sex-kitten style. Today she’d brushed it in a satiny wave over her shoulders. His hands itched to tumble her hair into the same disarray it had been when he’d made love to her on the stairs. Not made love, he corrected, had sex. Making love implied he had lingering feelings for Lynn from their earlier relationship, and he didn’t.
Clearing his throat, he refocused on the jewelry box, digging around until he uncovered his mother and father’s wedding bands. He closed his fingers around them, feeling the loss of his parents as if it had been yesterday instead of ten years ago, and then his mother’s last words rang in his ears. Take care of Brett. Whatever you do, don’t let them separate our family.
He opened his hand to study the intricately carved bands and traced the pattern on his mother’s ring.
Lynn leaned closer. “They’re lovely. The engraving is quite unusual.”
“Brett said you refused to wear Mom’s wedding band.”
Lynn’s brows arched in surprise. “I never saw the rings before this week.”
He lifted the smaller band. “He didn’t offer this to you?”
Pain clouded her sky-blue eyes and she looked away. “No. Maybe he wanted to keep the set together. You know Brett chose not to wear a wedding band.”
It didn’t make sense. Brett had begged for the pocket watch and the rings, and yet it would seem his brother had never used any of the pieces.
A delicate silver locket caught Sawyer’s attention. He set the rings back in the box and picked up the locket, flicking it open to reveal two tiny pictures, one of him as an infant and the other of Brett as a three-year-old. “This belonged to my mother. She always planned to give it to her granddaughter, if there was one someday.”
His gaze met hers and then traveled slowly over her breasts to her flat belly. His child—his daughter—could be growing inside Lynn. His chest tightened, and he lifted his gaze to hers once more. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her lipstick was long gone. The need to lean across the distance and touch his mouth to the softness of hers blindsided him. He sucked in a slow breath and sat back in his chair.
Neither of them spoke of the baby she might be carrying, but the knowledge and the tension stretched between them. He couldn’t explain the mixture of emotions clogging his throat. Fear? Excitement? Dread? Anticipation?
Lynn’s fingers curled on the edge of the tabletop until her knuckles turned white, and then she stood and carried her cup to the sink. “If you ever have a daughter, I’m sure she’d be proud to wear the locket. It’s lovely.”
The other items in the box held less value, but Sawyer found a favorite pocket knife he thought he’d lost in high school and the ID bracelet his ex-fiancée had given him. Why did Brett have these? And why had he tossed each piece in a cheap box like yard-sale junk?
Lynn paused behind his shoulder. “These are your memories, Sawyer. They should stay in your family.”
“The Riggan family will end with me—unless you’re carrying the next generation. When will you know if you’re pregnant?”
Eyes wide, she stared at him and then her gaze darted away. Her face paled as quickly as it had flushed. “In a week or so, but let’s not borrow trouble.”
“You’ll tell me as soon as you know.” It wasn’t a question.
She hesitated and his heart stuttered. “Yes.”
“Do you want a baby?”
Worry clouded her eyes. She took a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted children, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And not knowing who—” She bit her lip and tucked her chin.
“I’ll stand by you, Lynn—no matter whose child it is.”
“Um…thank you.” She didn’t look reassured.
The doorbell rang. She frowned and turned.
“That should be dinner. I called the Chinese place while you were upstairs.” Sawyer rose and strode past her to the front door. She remained in the kitchen while he paid and tipped the delivery man and returned. He set the bag on the counter and opened it. Tantalizing aromas filled the room.
“You didn’t have to buy dinner.” Lynn inhaled deeply and then licked her lips.
Hunger for Lynn replaced his need for food. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself why he’d called the restaurant. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”
Her spine stiffened. “That’s not your concern.”
“I’m making it mine.”
Three
A polished woman in her fifties guarded the closed door with Sawyer Riggan, CEO, engraved on the name-plate.
Lynn swallowed her nervousness and crossed the threshold of the office. “Excuse me. I’m Lynn Riggan. I’d like to see Sawyer.”
The woman’s frank appraisal made Lynn want to fidget. She clutched her purse tighter when what she really wanted to do was smooth her French twist and straighten the skirt of her fitted emerald-green dress. She shifted her weight in her three-inch heels, hating the clothes Brett had chosen for her, but until she could afford to replace them she was stuck.
The woman rose. “I’m Opal Pugh, Sawyer’s assistant. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Riggan.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Opal.” This was the woman Brett had referred to as Sawyer’s dragon lady.
“I’ll see if Sawyer’s free.” Opal tapped on Sawyer’s door before disappearing inside.
Lynn hated depending on Sawyer for a job, but everywhere she’d gone the answers had been the same. Not hiring. Twisting the strap of her purse, she examined the tastefully decorated office. Thick steel-gray carpeting covered the floor. An oak coffee table gleamed in front of a burgundy-damask-covered loveseat and chairs, and the landscapes on the wall looked like originals.
Before she could step nearer to read the artists’ signatures, the door opened and her stomach dropped. Opal motioned her forward. “He’ll see you now.”
Lynn’s legs trembled as she closed the distance. She wished she could blame her fluttery nerves and agitated stomach solely on her dismal financial situation, but the man rising from behind the wide oak desk in front of her contributed more than a little. Sawyer seemed larger than life here on his own turf—every inch a mastermind who’d taken an idea and turned it into an internationally renowned company. He’d shed his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. The loosened knot of his tie and opened top two buttons of his shirt revealed a glimpse of his dark chest hair.
“Good morning, Lynn.” His baritone voice sounded deeper than usual. It skipped down her spine like a caress. His intense blue eyes glided over her slowly, thoroughly assessing her.
“Good morning.” Her dry mouth made it difficult to form the words. She cursed the heat flaring in her face and other places she’d rather not acknowledge and tugged at her dress. She’d always tried to ignore her clingy clothing, but after her steamy dreams last night—dreams featuring Sawyer—her skin was hypersensitive to the brush of the fabric against her breasts, hips and thighs.
With a subtle lift of his square chin, he motioned for Opal to leave them. The door closed and the room suddenly seemed smaller, more intimate. Airless. She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided to take you up on the job offer…if it’s still open.”
“Certainly. Welcome aboard.” Leaning across the desk, he offered his hand.
If she could have thought of a polite way to avoid the handshake, she would have. Instead, his long fingers closed around hers. She tried to focus on something besides the memory of how those warm, long-fingered hands had cradled her bottom while he thrust deep inside her, first in her foyer and then again in her dreams last night.
A hint of his spicy aftershave teased her senses, and an image of his passion-glazed eyes flashed in her brain. Her heart jolted into a faster rhythm, and her cheeks weren’t the only parts of her that were growing warm. Brett had accused her of being a prude, but her thoughts certainly weren’t prudish now.
