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“I need hard copies of the press releases for the past five years, a current financial statement and a list of KCL’s officers and division heads within the hour. That’s all for now.”
She pivoted sharply and headed for the doorway, but then stopped and faced him again without speaking.
“Spit it out, Tara.”
“When are you moving in?”
Ah, yes, the other part of this ridiculous farce. Why had she demanded sex and cohabitation? What did she expect to gain if not a rich husband? He didn’t buy her too-busy-to-date story. A woman who looked like Tara wouldn’t lack dates or sexual partners if she wanted them.
But this time the scheming witch would fail.
“Tonight.” Damned if the hunger for her didn’t hit him hard in the gut. He desired her and he resented the hell out of her ability to yank his strings. “I want my own bedroom.”
“But—”
“You’ll get laid, Tara. But I won’t sleep in your bed, hold you afterward or pretend we’re a happy couple. I’m living under your roof because you’ve given me no choice. Don’t forget that. Not for one second. I certainly won’t.”
She paled, nodded and quickly left him, driving home the fact that he really was a chip off the old block.
A real son of a bitch.
The voices in the KCL cafeteria petered out as soon as Tara entered. Heads turned and she found herself under the scrutiny of more than a hundred pairs of eyes.
She recognized a few familiar faces scattered among a sea of new ones and forced a smile. The buzz of conversation suddenly resumed. Apparently the employees who’d tapped into the gossip grapevine felt duty-bound to update those who hadn’t.
Mitch’s words replayed in her head. You and Tara disappeared on the same day.
She hadn’t known. She’d deliberately sought a job outside the travel industry and had skipped the business and travel sections of the newspaper so she wouldn’t hear talk about the Kincaids. She hadn’t even read Everett’s obituary. And now she and Rand were returning to KCL on the same day and working together. Tongues would wag for sure—especially if word of their living arrangements leaked out. That was one part of the plan she hadn’t thought through.
Chilling doubt crept over her. Had she made a mistake?
No. When she’d been with Rand, he’d made her feel special, as though he couldn’t get enough of her or wait to see her again. She’d felt the same way about him. He’d been a part of her life that had been carefree, happy and fun. Her life was none of those things now. She was tired of being alone and she wanted to feel connected again.
She only hoped those old feelings were still there, waiting to be nurtured back to life. From the quiver of awareness she experienced each time he was near, she had to believe that was the case. And today for the first time in ages she’d awoken looking forward to the day instead of counting the hours until it ended.
She crossed the bright and spacious cafeteria, and headed toward the food line. Kincaid’s had always pampered its employees with first-rate amenities. Tara had loved working here.
Despite rumors from the business community to the contrary, she’d always believed Everett Kincaid to be a decent guy. Her former boss had offered her the gentle affection she’d never received from her own absentee father. When her mother was diagnosed it had seemed natural to seek Everett’s advice. He’d offered a solution. Move in. Let him take care of everything. But the idea of sleeping with him when she still loved his son …
She pushed down the icky feeling and reminded herself Everett had been lonely and looking for companionship and a woman who didn’t have her sights set on being the next Mrs. Everett Kincaid. Tara had been a logical choice. They worked well together and respected each other. And Tara had needed the kind of financial help only someone with Everett’s deep pockets could afford.
But Tara ultimately hadn’t had the stomach to accept his offer, and she hated herself for being weak when her mother needed her. Weak where Rand had been strong.
The hum of conversation died again as Tara picked up a tray and silverware. She glanced over her shoulder toward the entrance and saw Rand. Almost as one the other employees’ gazes bounced from him to her and back again, like spectators of a tennis match waiting to see the next shot.
He spotted her and stalked in her direction. Tara’s appetite fled, but she went through the motions of ordering shrimp scampi, grilled asparagus and rice pilaf even though her antennae were attuned to his approach. She calmly said hello to a few of the familiar line staff as if her heart weren’t beating at twice its normal rate.
“My desk is gone,” Rand said from close behind her—too close for a boss-employee relationship. She could feel his body heat and smell his crisp Lacoste cologne. Her mouth dried.
Conscious of their audience, she neutralized her expression, put a few inches between them then turned and met his gaze. “I had your office emptied while you were conducting interviews. Your new desk, along with everything else you requested, will be delivered at two. IT has your laptop.”
“Good.”
She gaped at him. Years of bottling up her emotions bubbled over. “Good? I worked miracles and all you can say is good?”
One dark eyebrow lifted at her vehemence. Okay, so maybe she’d been soft-spoken and eager to please when they’d dated before, and according to her mother, Tara had always had a tendency to avoid conflict and confrontation. But Tara wasn’t the same starry-eyed girl Rand used to know—the one who’d been overawed at being pulled from the reservations center downstairs and moved to the executive suite on the top floor. Wrangling with her mother’s multitude of doctors had given her a backbone.
“Thank you for being so efficient, Ms. Anthony,” he said in a voice heavily laden with sarcasm.
She turned her back on him, but out of sight didn’t mean out of mind in this case. Rand shadowed her through the line, his presence following her like a heat lamp.
When they reached the cashier he extended his arm past her, offering his company ID, which acted as both identification and debit card. “Put both meals on my account.”
“You don’t have to buy my lunch,” Tara protested.
“I’m buying. Deal with it.”
The cashier swiped his card without arguing.
Rand followed Tara to an empty table and sat beside her—close beside her. A prickle of uneasiness crept up her neck. “What are you doing?”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For everyone to see us together? Did it wound your pride when I dumped you, Tara?”
She searched his hard face for a remnant of the charmer she’d fallen for but found none. Back then she’d heard him described as gorgeous yet soulless, but she hadn’t believed it for one minute. She’d seen his love for Nadia and Mitch and felt his passion for her in bed.
Had he changed that much? Probably not. The Rand she remembered hadn’t been under as much stress as he was now. He’d recently lost his father, moved clear across the country and taken over KCL. Anyone would be cranky under those circumstances. She’d cut him a little slack.
“No one knew about our affair then, Rand, and no one has to know now.”
“People knew. My father knew. And I’m sure human resources will spread the news that you and I both listed the same home address.”
Another oversight. She hadn’t thought about HR. “Your father had ways of finding out all kinds of information.”
“He had spies.”
“Oh, please. You didn’t used to be so melodramatic. Everett was a nice guy. People talked to him and he listened. Everyone except his competitors loved him.”
“They loved him because he bought their affection,” he said bitterly.
“That’s not true. They loved him because he cared. KCL is a perfect example. Headquarters has trained chefs to prepare four-star-restaurant-quality foods at below cost prices, onsite child care, a medical center and a gym with personal trainers and dieticians on staff. And most of the company’s employees could never afford to take a cruise on any of KCL’s ships if it weren’t for Everett’s policy of deeply discounting employee rates.”
She unrolled her cloth napkin and placed her silverware beside her plate even though the idea of eating repulsed her at the moment. Rand’s proximity kept her nerves and her stomach tied in knots.
“Your father’s ideology of a strong connection between work, family life and vacation time results in tight friendships with co-workers and a supportive community atmosphere. People like working here. They liked working for him.”
With pity in his eyes, Rand shook his head. “He had you completely fooled. My father never did anything out of the goodness of his heart. There was always an ulterior motive and a price tag attached.
“FYI, Tara, it’s cheaper to provide all the goods and services you mentioned, thereby keeping morale high and turnover and absenteeism low, than it is to repeatedly train new employees or waste money hiring temps who don’t know the job.”
What he said made a sick kind of sense. “You’ve become very cynical.”
“Not cynical. Realistic. I was CEO of Wayfarer Cruise Lines for five years. I know what I’m talking about because I implemented the same programs myself and reaped the same rewards. Trust me, it’s all about the bottom line.” He picked up his knife and cut into his thick, juicy, medium-rare steak. “I knew my father. Better than you apparently.”
If she believed Rand’s account that Everett always had an eye toward benefiting himself, then she would have to seriously consider what Rand had said that morning when he’d caught her fleeing Everett’s suite. Rand had claimed Everett was using her as a pawn in a game against his oldest son.
But she couldn’t swallow that harsh tale because it would mean she’d completely misjudged the man she’d worked for, a man she’d admired and respected. A man she’d almost slept with. Never mind that Everett’s proposition had totally shocked her. She was convinced he’d offered his protection and financial assistance because he genuinely cared for her and needed a full-time hostess. And he’d promised to pay for her mother to have the best oncologists available because he didn’t want Tara to worry.
Right?
But a small part of her wanted to believe Rand, because it made Tara’s inability to become Everett’s mistress a smidgeon easier to swallow.
“This is your room.”
Rand followed Tara into a decent-sized square room and set the two suitcases he’d brought in beside the queen-size bed. Not bad. More homey than a hotel, but nothing like his luxurious high-rise condo or the palatial Kincaid Manor. The double window was a plus.
Tara crossed the room and hung the garment bag she’d carried in from his Porsche in the closet. “This is the biggest bedroom. You can redecorate with more masculine colors if you want. With only Mom and me here, I’m afraid everything is pretty feminine.”
He wouldn’t be here long enough for the Monet decor to bother him. He hoped that once Tara realized she wasn’t going to snag him she’d give up on her absurd scheme and let him get his own place. “Your father wasn’t around?”
“He disappeared when I was seven.”
Surprised, he looked at her. “You never told me that.”
She stared at the beige carpet. “I, um, guess I didn’t want to bore you. And you really never asked about my family.”
An intentional oversight. Their relationship had been action-packed and tightly focused on their strong sexual attraction. He’d always been careful about revealing anything that Tara might inadvertently share with his father, and that meant avoiding personal topics. “Your parents were divorced?”
He wished his had been. And then maybe his father wouldn’t have driven his mother to drink and suicide. Her death had been ruled an accident. But Rand knew better. He knew, and he should have found a way to prevent it.
“It’s hard to divorce a man who’s not here.”
“He’s dead?”
She shrugged and turned away to fluff a pillow. “I don’t know. When I say he disappeared, I mean he literally disappeared. He left for work one morning and never came back. No one ever found his body or his car, and we never heard from him again. Mom and I moved into this house with my grandparents. It’s where my mother lived when she met my father.”
Sympathy slipped under his skin. He hardened himself to the unwanted emotion. Was Tara telling the truth or yanking his chain? He didn’t know what to believe anymore. He’d believed her when she said she loved him. But then she’d turned to Everett days later, proving to Rand that his judgment concerning Tara was faulty.
He shook off the sting of betrayal.
“We stayed because Mom wanted him to be able to find us.”
He stared in disbelief. “She thought he’d come back after twenty-odd years?”
She shrugged. “If he’d been injured or had amnesia or something, he might.”
“Do you believe that?”
Her gaze broke away. She smoothed a hand over the bedspread. “I don’t know. But Mom asked me to keep the house just in case, so I will.”
He couldn’t argue with illogical logic. “Bathroom?”
“Through there.” She pointed to a door.
“Internet hookup?”
“Anywhere in the house. I installed a wireless network when I moved in. My mother was—wasn’t well. I needed to be able to work wherever she needed me.” The strong emotional undercurrents in her voice warned him to change the topic or get embroiled in an emotional tar pit he’d rather avoid.
Five years ago he’d been enthralled by Tara, now he felt entrapped. Last time he’d wined and dined her and swept her off her feet. This time he wasn’t going to waste the effort. “Your room?”
“Across the hall.”
“Show me.”
She pivoted and crossed the caramel-colored carpet. Rand followed a few steps behind. His gaze dropped to her butt. She’d lost weight since they were together. He’d enjoyed her generous curves before, but this leaner version had its own appeal. Not that it mattered how attractively she baited her trap. He wasn’t biting her hook.
A maple queen-size four-poster bed took up most of the space. His blood heated and need clenched like a fist in his groin. He didn’t want to want her, dammit. But, to borrow a cliché, he’d made his bed and he’d have to lie in it. With Tara.
Consider it a job.
He’d had worse jobs than pleasuring an attractive woman. His father had made sure of that by making Rand work his way up from the bottom of the cruise line ranks. Not so for Mitch or Nadia. His siblings had never had to work in the bowels of a KCL ship or spend months sleeping in a window-less cabin.
Looking uneasy, Tara hugged herself and faced him.
Might as well get started.
He grasped her upper arms, hauled her close and slammed his mouth over hers. The initial contact with her warm, silky lips hit him like a runaway barge, rocking him off balance. And then the familiar taste, scent and softness of her flooded him with heat, desire and memories. He ruthlessly suppressed all three and focused on the mechanics of the embrace.
He sliced his tongue through her lips, taking, pillaging, trying to force a response and get the task done as quickly as possible.
Tara stood woodenly in his arms for several seconds while his tongue twined with the slickness of hers, then she shuddered and shoved against his chest. He let her go and she backed away, covering her lips with two fingers.
What exactly did she want from him? She’d said sex. For a year. He’d give her exactly what she demanded. Nothing more. Nothing less. If she didn’t like it, that was her problem.
He reached for his tie, loosened it then started on his shirt buttons.
Her wide gaze fastened on his chest. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“I’m going to do you. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
She bit her lip. “Maybe we should wait.”
He paused in the act of yanking his shirttail free. “Until after dinner?”
“Until we’ve … become reacquainted.”
Her nipples tented her dress in little peaks, her breaths came quick and shallow, and the pulse in her neck fluttered wildly. Desire pinked her cheeks.
“You want me—whether or not you’re willing to admit it.” And as much as he hated it, he wanted her. Physically.
