The Rival

by Joanne Rock

  She shrugged in a way that shifted the neckline of her sweater closer to the edge of one shoulder.

  “It depends how much progress I make in finding answers about your dad and the book.” Spinning to face him, she seemed to notice his careful regard, and her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “If I think that staying here over the holidays will give me opportunities to speak to any of the owners privately, then I will stick around.”

  He wanted to reassure her. To give her some concrete findings from April’s investigation that would ease Regina’s fierce desire for the truth.

  But what if giving her those answers meant she would turn on him? Would she sue his father’s estate for defamation or drag the Salazar name through the tabloids?

  When he didn’t reply right away, she leaned past him to retrieve a package of ornament hooks. “What about you?” she asked. “What are you doing for the holidays?”

  “My mother is getting married on Christmas Eve.” Tension pulled his shoulders tight, the way it had all week when he thought about the wedding. Because his meeting with the PI—her warning that Alonzo hiding his money could indicate illegal activity—made Devon worry how soon something would leak about his father’s hidden life. “I’m flying to Connecticut to be with her right after the launch party.”

  “That should be fun, right?” Regina’s jingle bell necklace chimed softly as she moved to decorate the left side of the tree.

  His gaze followed her movements as the tree’s golden glow lit up her features. Thinking about the wedding forced him to consider what his life would be like once he left Mesa Falls and Regina behind. And the vision made him feel suddenly empty.

  “It would be more fun with a date.” He articulated the idea the moment it came into his head. Because why not? He’d started this relationship to keep an eye on her.

  Just because it had grown into more than that didn’t mean that the need to keep her closer had dissipated. Far from it. If she had any inclination to drag his father’s book back into the public spotlight for some sort of payback scheme, he’d prefer to know about it sooner rather than later.

  “Are you asking me to attend the wedding with you?” She frowned, clearly surprised.

  Because she was ready for their time together to end? Or because she hadn’t expected this relationship to continue after he left Montana?

  “I am.” He stepped closer, breathing her in. “I can already tell I’m not going to be able to walk away after the launch event.”

  She licked her lips. “Can I think it over?”

  “Of course.” He wasn’t going to press her, especially since the wedding would mean spending Christmas together. “I need to fly out right after the launch party for some pre-wedding festivities. But my mother gets married on Christmas Eve, so you could wait and join me the next day.”

  She gave a thoughtful nod, lips pressed in a flat line. “Do you like the guy she’s marrying?”

  “I don’t know him that well,” he admitted. That was partly his fault for not making more of an effort, but also because his grandfather had claimed all the family’s face time with the groom-to-be in order to strengthen Radcliffe ties with the international banker. “But I think having someone marry your mother is like someone marrying a daughter—no one will ever be good enough for her in my eyes.”

  Regina bent to decorate a lower branch. “That’s a touching sentiment from a son.” Her expression turned strained as she straightened. “Or a father, for that matter.” She busied herself, adjusting things she’d already tidied. “Did you spend much time with your father as a kid?”

  “No.” His role model had been his cold and distant grandfather, who’d made sure Devon knew he would never be good enough because he wasn’t a Radcliffe. “I visited the West Coast a couple times to see him, but mostly my mother insisted he come back East if he wanted a relationship with me.”

  As a teacher—even in an elite private boarding school—Alonzo had never had much money when Devon was younger. Later in life, when Devon was in his late teens, his father had had noticeably more disposable income. Now Devon knew that was thanks to Hollywood Newlyweds.

  “What was he like?” She wandered over to the side table, where Devon had put out the offerings from the chef to accompany the champagne.

  Plucking a dark salted caramel from a small silver tray, she nibbled on it as she watched him.

  “An inspiring teacher.” Devon had heard it over and over again throughout his life, and especially after the funeral, when former students began sending condolences. “He wasn’t an involved father to my brother or me, and he didn’t place any importance on marriage as an institution, which hurt more than one of the women he loved.” He watched Regina’s tongue sweep away a tiny spot of caramel on her upper lip, the movement igniting a fresh blaze of desire for her. “But he made a difference in the lives of his students and that meant something to him.”

  He forced himself to focus on decorating the tree to keep from touching her. Tasting her.

  He’d been so damned determined to let this night move more slowly. To allow her to dictate how things went. But he’d forgotten the potent power of Regina’s appeal.

  “I read about that boarding school online.” She retrieved a Santa dressed in chaps and spurs from the box and went back to the tree, her curves drawing Devon’s eye as she moved past. “Dowdon isn’t all that far from Hollywood in miles, but it might as well be on the other side of the globe for how much the community differs from the social scene portrayed in his book.”

  Devon had thought the same thing. “One of the school’s biggest selling points is the remote location in a national forest, close to a protected wilderness area.”

  As a kid, he’d thought it sounded idyllic. His father lived on the campus, and was part of the horse program, which offered a mount to every student for the duration of their time at Dowdon. Learning to ride, caring for an animal and competing in horsemanship activities were all central to the experience.

  “I wonder if he could have met my mother somehow.” Regina’s silver-gray gaze locked with Devon’s. “He obviously knew a great deal about her private life.”

  Devon heard the resentment leak into her voice, and hoped to reroute the conversation before it turned more divisive.

  “What’s your mom like?” he asked to distract her. “I remember some of her films.”

  For a few years, Tabitha Barnes had been the queen of romantic comedies, but she’d stopped making movies after her affair began dominating headlines.

  “Bubbly. Sweet.” Regina seemed to take the question seriously, a slow smile spreading over her features. “Not all that different from the characters she played during her filmmaking heyday. Davis—the man I believed to be my dad for the first fifteen years—fell in love with her when he was making his directorial debut. He starred in the picture that was her breakout movie, and he directed it, too.”

  Devon thought he detected a begrudging pride in those words, and he recalled that talk about Davis Cameron hurt her most. No doubt because the man had cut ties so completely.

  “It was unnecessarily cruel of him to push you out of his life.” How could a grown man purposely distance himself from a daughter he’d raised as his own? From what Devon could gather, Regina had been close to Davis Cameron—perhaps even closer than she was to her mother. “In all the years since he ended things with your mom, has he ever contacted you?”

  “Never.” The answer sounded like it came from a ripped-raw place, but she cleared her throat and moved purposely back toward the box of ornaments. “At least he’s been consistent about not talking to the media, either. There was a small amount of comfort in the fact that he never commented on the situation.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up,” Devon told her sincerely, intercepting her before she could pull more ornaments from the box. “I can’t imagine how painful it was for you to
have your world turned upside down by that damned book. But I’m confident we’ll hear from April soon with some more definitive answers.”

  He took her hand in his, folding her fingers into his palm.

  “The mystery behind Hollywood Newlyweds has dominated my life for years.” She shook her head and huffed out a sigh, sounding upset. “And I’m not very good at putting the frustrations out of my mind once I start thinking about it. The resentment just festers.”

  He drew her closer, wishing he could absorb the hurt and take away that pain. His father had no business tearing apart her family or making them the center of public speculation for years. Devon wanted to make amends.

  And right now, he had an idea how he could help, at least temporarily.

  “Maybe you should let me distract you.” He lowered his lips to her ear to speak softly against her skin. “Give you something else to think about.”

  Already, his heart hammered with wanting her. When she sucked in a sharp breath, the need for her multiplied exponentially.

  “I thought you said I was too prickly and defensive,” she reminded him, arching a dark eyebrow as she gazed up at him. “Are you sure you want to tangle with me?”

  There was a light, teasing note in her voice, but Devon suspected she’d put it there to mask a moment of insecurity and doubt. Not that he’d let her see he recognized it for what it was.

  A vulnerability.

  So he skimmed his hands around her shoulders and sifted through the silky dark hair.

  “It would be the greatest pleasure I can imagine.”

  Nine

  Every day that Regina had been without Devon felt like years, making her question how she’d stayed away from him for this long.

  Winding her arms around his neck, she sighed into him, letting go of all the excellent reasons she had for not trusting him. Tonight, he’d showed her a new level of caring, a kindness even more compelling than the red-hot attraction between them.

  She lost herself in his kiss, his tongue sweeping over hers in a way that made her forget everything but him. How was that even possible?

  But she didn’t want to ruminate or overanalyze. Right now, when she had the chance to forget all the old wounds, to shut out everything else but this moment with Devon Salazar, she would embrace it.

  His hands skimmed her curves, stirring pleasure. She arched closer, remembering how he could make her feel. How good they were together.

  She broke the kiss, determined to make her desires clear. Breathing hard, she stared up into his green eyes that were so intent. So hungry.

  “I’ll take all the distraction you can give,” she whispered, her voice a husky rasp of sound, before she turned and led him toward the bedroom she remembered well.

  He caught up to her in a half step, plucking her off her feet and lifting her in his arms like a groom carrying a new bride over the threshold. Squealing in surprise, she shoved aside the romantic thought. His hold on her gave her the chance to appreciate his broad chest, though. She ran her hand over one muscular shoulder.

  He entered the master suite, kicking the door shut with his foot, his focus on the bed in the center of the room. Her focus was all for him as she trailed kisses along the underside of his neck. She traced with her tongue, for only a moment, the place where his pulse leaped, before he set her on the bed with a bounce.

  She toed off her shoes while he raked his shirt up and off, his movements visible in the light from sconces on either side of the mantel. He was built like a swimmer, tall with wide shoulders and a body that tapered to lean hips. Her gaze dipped lower as he flicked open the fastening on his jeans. She couldn’t concentrate on her own undressing in her desire to watch him. The narrow line of dark hair disappearing under the cotton of his boxers tempted her to touch him there. But when she reached for him, he caught her wrist in a surprisingly strong hold.

  “I really like what you’re thinking.” He loosened his grip as he pushed her back on the mattress, her head sinking into a down pillow. The jingle bells on her necklace slid along her neck to fall onto the bed behind her. “But it’s supposed to be me who distracts you. Not the other way around.”

  “How do you know what I was thinking?” She tugged the bow from her hair, then smoothed her hands over his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin.

  “I didn’t. I only knew I liked it.” He lowered himself enough to kiss the patch of flesh bared by her sweater, taking his time to taste the lowest point of the V-neck. “There was something a little bit wicked in the way you were looking at me.”

  He nuzzled her sweater off one shoulder, then clamped his teeth on one black silk bra strap, dragging it down. An ache started between her thighs as he let go of the silk and reared back on his knees to look at her.

  Their eyes met. Held.

  Was there more between them than heat and hunger?

  A moment later, he peeled off her sweater and bra, letting them fall to one side of the bed. He cupped her breasts, tasting each one in turn, teasing the taut peaks. When he drew one into his mouth, suckling, the hunger for him grew unbearably. She arched her hips into him, needing more. Now.

  He slid her skirt over her curves, and the rush of lust made her dizzy. His hands skimmed her inner thighs before dragging her panties down and off. She twisted the fabric of the duvet between her fingers, muttering wordless pleas for more.

  By the time his lips covered her sex, she was so close to release she had all she could do to hold on another moment, allowing the intense, heady pleasure to build more as his tongue traced her.

  She let go of the duvet as his shoulder dipped beneath her thigh, positioning her where he wanted her. The stubble on his jaw rubbing lightly against her thigh proved the tipping point, the feeling so exquisitely sensual she went hurtling into a lush, endless orgasm.

  Ripples of pleasure pulsed through her, over and over. She let the sensations have their way with her as her whole body seized with bliss. While she gathered her breath, Devon moved over her, standing to shed the rest of his clothes. She soaked in the sight of him, her heart pounding madly while he found a condom and rolled it into place.

  He stretched out over her just long enough for her to feel the thrill of anticipation all over again. When he entered her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Holding him there. Moving with him in a rhythm all their own.

  She streaked her fingers through his hair, kissing everywhere she could reach. Nibbling. Biting gently. Then he took over the kiss, his hips and tongue moving in a tantalizing sync.

  They rolled over once. Trading the top position, letting each other lead the way. It was all delicious. Exciting. So much more than she’d ever experienced before in a relationship.

  Devon’s breath went ragged and she closed her eyes, feeling how close he was in the tension along his shoulders. His hips rocked hard into her, the pressure stroking a place inside her that unleased a fresh wave of release. Pleasure uncoiled, and her body quivered from it. She knew the movement pushed him over the edge, too, his spine arching, his breathing turning harsh.

  After long moments, they collapsed side by side, limbs tangled. She tipped her forehead into his chest, feeling the comforting thunder of his heartbeat before it slowed by degrees. Eventually, her skin cooled. Her inhalations slowed along with her pulse. But through it all, Devon’s arms remained wrapped around her, holding her close.

  A long, shuddering sigh left her, and she knew she could gladly remain tucked against him the whole night through.

  As long as she didn’t let herself think about what had brought them to this moment. His promise to distract her. Her willingness—gratitude, even—for his ability to give her that.

  Devon stroked her hair from her face, his touch soothing her before her anxieties could ratchet up again. She told herself she could remain here another minute to soak up the sensation that felt close to...tenderne
ss.

  It was wholly unexpected.

  And simultaneously undeniable.

  She sat up, knowing she didn’t dare indulge something that could come back to bite her in the long run. Devon straightened beside her, his expression puzzled. But before he could ask her anything, his cell phone vibrated on the nightstand table.

  Once. Twice.

  She felt relieved when he turned to glance at it. But some of the relief faded as he punched a button on the screen.

  “It’s April,” he informed Regina a moment before speaking into the device. “Salazar here. April, I’m going to put you on speaker so Regina can hear whatever news you have to share.”

  * * *

  Devon didn’t normally make impulsive decisions. But he needed Regina to start trusting him if he wanted to get to the bottom of his father’s secrets. Sharing the PI’s findings with her seemed like a way to show her he was serious about uncovering the truth. And that he was as much in the dark about his dad’s motives as she was.

  The surprise in her silver-gray eyes as she sat up in bed told him that she hadn’t expected this kind of primary access to the private investigator. He hoped it was a step in the right direction to winning Regina over. Because as his gaze fell to her bare shoulders visible above the duvet she held to her chest, he felt a surge of protectiveness toward her. A need to make sure nothing else hurt her.

  Now April’s voice sounded through the speaker on his cell phone as he held it between them.

  “I’m still searching for answers about how Alonzo got access to Tabitha Barnes’s story in the first place,” April told them. “But I have one more interview with her yoga instructor tomorrow before I fly back to Montana.”

  Devon studied Regina’s profile as she listened. Her shoulders were tense. She chewed her lip, still pink from his kiss.

  “Maybe that will yield something,” he remarked, if only to reassure Regina. “Any other news?”

  “Yes, actually.” April’s cool, professional tone gave nothing away. “I discovered Alonzo’s destination for many of his secret trips.”