The Heir

by Joanne Rock

  Jonah stepped in last with his glass, simply saying, “Always.”

  Shorthand for a whole hell of a lot since they’d made that toast around a long-ago campfire.

  Desmond drank deep, finishing his bourbon, musing over the toasts while Gage cranked up a Bluetooth speaker to blast “The Boys Are Back in Town” while they filed out of the dorm room to join the anniversary gala in the main reception hall. Something about Gage’s words—Best father I ever had—circled around Desmond’s brain.

  Alonzo had been like a dad in a lot of ways, making sure all of them got through the shock and grief of losing their friend. Because of Alonzo Salazar, Desmond was a successful man today. And, thanks to that success, he’d been able to contribute a lot to the shelters he’d worked with. Didn’t that mean Desmond actually had a damned good role model for fatherhood after all?

  The possibility cracked open a whole new world for him.

  He just hoped Nicole would agree.

  Because as soon as the formal part of the Dowdon School event finished—once Desmond put in his appearance to support Mesa Falls and his friends—he was getting in a car and driving north to San Jose. He wasn’t going to let another day go by without seeing the woman he loved and missed and needed more than air.

  * * *

  Pencil scratching softly over her sketch pad, Nicole sat cross-legged on her bed to flesh out some ideas for a local agricultural client who needed graphics for their farm’s website. Her bedside clock said it was 11:00 p.m., long after her evening call with Matthew from his boarding school, but sometimes she worked best at this hour.

  Or maybe she’d just decided to work since it was the night of the Dowdon School anniversary gala and she needed to prevent herself from watching the Twitter feed showing photos of the guests.

  She pressed harder, determined at least not to refresh the page on her laptop the way she might have already done a few times like a pathetic, heartbroken fool. Why did Desmond have to look so handsome in a tuxedo? The man looked like he’d been born wearing Hugo Boss, the custom fit tailored exactly to his mouthwatering physique. A body she’d never get to see again.

  One she’d never hold again, or take comfort from—

  The doorbell chimed, halting her pencil along with thoughts that weren’t helping her emotional recovery from the man she couldn’t have. Who would be ringing the bell at this hour? She’d thought the reporters had all dispersed days ago.

  Sliding from the bed, she slipped a long, comfy cardigan over her soft camisole and pajama pants, comfort wear for her broken heart. She padded toward the door in the dark, not wanting whoever was outside to see her looking through the peephole...

  Desmond.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, but maybe she’d already emitted a sound, because his deep voice resonated through the door.

  “Nicole?” A muffled sound against the door. Like maybe he’d touched it or leaned against it. “I’m sorry it’s late. I saw your lights were on, and I really need to talk to you.”

  Her heart started a frantic rhythm, as if it could leap through the door to get to the man on the other side. But her heart was not in charge tonight, damn it. She squeezed her eyes closed and told herself it would be wrong not to answer the door because she was afraid of...everything. Of somehow revealing what she felt for him. Of losing her self-respect if she flung herself against him.

  He was still wearing the tuxedo from the gala. Glancing down at her camisole—the same one she’d been wearing when she’d picked up that video call the first time she’d seen him—she yanked the sides of her sweater closer together before releasing her hair from a lopsided ponytail. Then, cursing herself for caring, she was tempted to put it back up again, but she ended up tugging open the door instead.

  He went still on her front step, his gray eyes fixing on her face.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, locked in silent perusal. But belatedly remembering her manners, she scuttled back a step to make room for him to enter.

  “Did you want to come in?” She found the hair tie in her sweater pocket and played with it, stretching it between her fingers. “It’s cool out there.”

  “You’re right. Thank you.” Appearing to give himself a shake, he stepped over the threshold of her house, effectively ruining her living room for her forever since she’d never be able to see the spot without him in it.

  He seemed larger than life here, his shoulders and height more suited to a Montana ranch than her simple bungalow. She didn’t invite him any deeper into the house at first, but then, realizing she was being churlish, she waved him toward the kitchen. He silently followed.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” She switched the burner on under the teakettle, then realized she still carried her sketch pad.

  She slid it onto the round table just big enough for two.

  “No. Thank you. Don’t go to any trouble on my account when I’ve interrupted your evening.” He glanced down at the spiral-bound paper. “Is this your work?”

  Pulling a mug from the cupboard to give her something to do, she felt her throat go dry at the sight of his strong hands smoothing over the border of the paper. A visceral memory of his palms stroking her nearly made her shiver.

  Having him here in her kitchen was too much. The space was too small, and he was such a presence. She could smell a hint of his aftershave if she got close enough.

  “It is.” She shifted her attention to the drawings she’d made of wildflower varieties. “I’m doing design work for a local flower farm. I’ve been enjoying the job since plants were one of the first things I ever drew, back when my father was gardening at your school.”

  She had happy memories there, growing closer to her dad in the months after her mother had left. She’d had a good conversation with her dad a few days ago, the first she could remember him talking about Lana for any length of time since her death. Her father had wanted to know everything Nicole had learned about Matthew’s dad, and she considered that a good sign for his grieving.

  “They’re so lifelike,” Desmond said as he studied the images. “You’re obviously very talented.”

  “Thank you.” She scooped a blend of chamomile and lavender tea into a strainer basket inside her mug, thinking there was a lot they didn’t know about each other. He’d never seen her work. She’d never set foot in his casino resort, where he spent his primary professional time. But there was no reason for them to learn more about one another when they weren’t part of each other’s lives. “Please. Have a seat. Tell me why you’re here.”

  His hand fisted and he tapped the counter lightly with his knuckles before he moved to the café-style table and took a seat while Nicole poured her tea.

  “I’ve missed you, Nicole.”

  The words surprised her so much she nearly sloshed the hot water over the side of the cup as she settled it on the table. Biting the inside of her cheek against the emotions he stirred inside her, she met his eyes across the table.

  “That surprises me when you were very clear about the boundaries of our relationship. Or do you mean you miss the physical aspect? Which isn’t really the same as missing me.” She hadn’t realized how much hurt she’d harbored about that—about his ability to pull away from her the morning after their incredible night together at his house.

  “I miss you.” His focus zeroed in on her, as if he’d thought about it a great deal. “It was stupid of me to try and dictate how our relationship should move forward instead of just enjoying the privilege of getting to know you. Getting close to you.”

  The warmth in his gaze was too much, and she wasn’t ready for it when she didn’t understand what he wanted or why he was really here. She took her time lifting the herbs from the tea and settling the metal strainer in a finger bowl she kept on the table for that purpose.

  When she finished, she could only lift the cup to her lips
and wait for him to continue. Her throat was dry at the possibility that he’d missed her. She’d missed him so much. Not just his touch, either, but his voice, his thoughts, his concern for her that had felt genuine in spite of everything. He’d tried to sit with her in a jailhouse ladies’ room when she hadn’t felt well. If that wasn’t thoughtful, she didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  “But that wasn’t the worst thing I did.” He dragged his chair closer to hers. Right next to hers. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve regretted my unwise proposal. Not that I didn’t want to be in your world every day and take care of you and Matthew forever, because I did. What I regret is that I let you think for a minute I only asked you so that I could provide legal benefits that I would have found a way to provide anyhow.”

  Blinking through the maze of words, she set her mug down, the scents of lavender and chamomile not strong enough to mask the sandalwood aftershave that strengthened in the steam from her cup.

  “I’m sure I did not misunderstand you when you asked,” she said carefully, wondering if he could have really meant the part about wanting to be in her world every day. That had sounded decidedly good.

  More romantic than practical. More caring than dutiful.

  “You didn’t misunderstand.” He reached to shift the mug farther away, then took both her hands in his, his warmth enveloping her. “I was the one who didn’t comprehend anything. I was the one telling myself that I could keep you with me if I trotted out some lame arrangement that would provide you a material benefit instead of just admitting—to myself and to you—that I love you.”

  Fourteen

  Nicole searched Desmond’s face, knowing now she must have dreamed it all.

  Of course she was dreaming. She must have fallen asleep drawing and somehow conjured the most hopeful longings of her heart to have the man she craved show up in her kitchen—wearing a tuxedo, no less—and saying words she secretly yearned to hear.

  Desmond Pierce was a business tycoon who circulated in a totally different world from the one she inhabited, where her sole financial splurge was good tea. Glancing down at his hand clasping hers, a part of the dream she wanted to be real almost as much as the words he’d just spoken to her, Nicole swallowed hard and forced herself to blink. To wake up from imaginings that were all the more cruel for how impossible they were in reality.

  “Nicole?” That sexy, deep voice of his tripped over her skin like a caress. His free hand slid under her hair to wrap around the back of her neck, cradle her head. “Say something, sweetheart. Did you hear what I said? Do you think there is any chance, in time, you might return those feelings?”

  The sensation of his fingers in her hair couldn’t possibly have been fabricated by her tired imaginings. The effect on her body was sweetly wicked, stirring things only this man had ever made her feel.

  “Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” She took his hand, the one that still held hers, and brought it to her cheek, needing reassurance that her heart hadn’t tricked her. “Did you really just say—”

  “I. Love. You.” Gray eyes bored into hers with an intensity she couldn’t mistake. A heat and tenderness that were so much better than any pale fantasy. “Just give me a chance to be in your life and I’ll show you how much.”

  Her heart surged with happiness, emotions thick in her throat. If only she could be trust what she was feeling. She needed to understand.

  “I have feelings for you.” She’d known that she loved him that last night they’d spent together. That’s why the cool morning after had hurt so much. “But you said you couldn’t—that you’d never be a father.”

  Cold reality sliced back into her chest.

  “I couldn’t have been more wrong about that.” He lowered his hands to stroke over her shoulders. Her arms. “I thought I had the worst possible father—I did, actually. But I thought I’d never have anything to offer a child after what I went through, and I didn’t want to taint someone with that.”

  He hadn’t told her much about his youth, but the torture in his voice communicated a world of pain. She was grateful for the glimpse inside him, even if he shut it down quickly.

  “I’m sorry. Every child deserves to be safe and loved.” She slid her hand beneath his jacket to stroke his chest through the tuxedo shirt. “But you have so much more to offer a family than the legacy of the monster who raised you.”

  “I know that now.” He covered her hand with his, then lifted it to his lips to kiss the back. Then he flipped it to kiss the palm. “While I was at the gala tonight with my partners, feeling like my world had ended because you were gone, someone raised a toast to Alonzo. And we got talking about what he did for us. How much he taught us. It was like someone flipped a switch and lit up a neon sign to remind me I could look outside my gene pool for inspiration. That I had a damned good father figure and that I could be one, too.”

  The last of her reservations dissolved at the certainty in his voice, relief and joy for herself second only to her happiness for him. She was so glad he’d seen the same thing in himself that she’d long known about him. He was a strong, honorable man with a huge, generous heart.

  That he wanted to share it with her, and with Matthew, humbled her.

  “I know you’re going to love him and he’s going to love you. You’ll find your way together. I can’t wait for you two to meet.” She trailed her fingers over his lips, happy tears pricking her eyes. “And nothing would make me happier than to have you in my life. You’re already in my heart.”

  He swept her off her seat and into his lap before she’d even seen him moving. Settled on his broad, splayed thighs, she wrapped her arms around his neck as his lips met hers.

  He kissed her breathless, his heart beating a fast, erratic rhythm where her breasts pressed against his chest. That simple sign of emotion, of how much this moment meant to him, sent an added thrill through her.

  When he edged back, his forehead tipped close, his sandalwood scent bringing back sensual memories.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you every second since I walked through that door.” His lips trailed along her temple, then down her cheekbone. “I can’t believe you’re wearing the camisole that has haunted my every daydream since you picked up that video call.”

  Pleasure curled through her as it sank home that this incredible man loved her. That she had his heart as much as he had hers. That they would build a future together with Mattie.

  “It seems fortuitous that you arrived at bedtime.” The need to be with him, to wrap herself around him and feel how very real their future could be together, was a sudden imperative. “And as much as I really like you in a tuxedo, you’re probably overdressed.”

  She felt his body react to that, and everything feminine inside her fluttered. He was already peeling away the cardigan from her shoulders.

  “You like the tux?” His palm slipped under the strap of her camisole, skimming it aside. His voice was low and full of promise. “You’d be surprised how good I can make you feel while still wearing it.”

  Her mouth went dry. The fringe benefits from loving this man were going to be incredible. A sudden heat wave made her squirm in his lap, a move that had him bolting out of the chair with her in his arms.

  “Your clothes have to go, however,” he growled in her ear as he carried her through the living room to her bedroom. “That’s a given.”

  He stole her breath as he settled her on her bed, his palms already tugging her pajama pants down her hips. His words continued to huff against her ear, a seduction that only heightened the way he touched her. “I might have you unfasten my cuffs, though. I’m going to need my hands for this.”

  A lightning bolt of sensation darted right though her, her only response a breathy moan as he kissed his way down her body. “I promise you, when I’m done, you’ll be sure it’s no dream.”

  And he was as good as his word, beca
use he absolutely made her a believer.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Squinting into the sunlight streaming through the tall pine trees along the edge of Gage’s yard during a summer barbecue, Desmond tried to catch sight of Matthew on horseback with Marcus Salazar. Contentment rolled through him in waves. Life was good for him and Nicole and Matthew. And having his friends here for vacation only added to the fullness of his life.

  Gage and Elena had decided to spend the summer at Mesa Falls after their honeymoon and ended up talking all the other owners and their significant others into doing the same. For the last two weeks, even Alonzo Salazar’s sons had joined them, Marcus and Devon both accepting Weston’s idea that they make it an annual trip with their families.

  Now, Gage was in his element, grilling steaks near his pool while everyone else watched Jonah’s baby daughter, Katja, take a few wobbly steps. The kid was adorable, and seeing Jonah as a dad gave Desmond more hope for his own parenting skills. Matthew had given him some confidence by making it easy on him the first time he’d met him, effectively interviewing Desmond for hours about his life, his job, his intentions toward Nicole, and all that had been before Matthew asked a single question about his biological father. The meeting had been scarier than the toughest job interview of his life, but he must have done okay, because Matthew had shaken his hand and welcomed him to the family before walking away to play video games.

  Desmond couldn’t love the kid more. Not just because he was Zach’s son, but because he was an amazing individual, uniquely special in his own way.

  He’d been even more grateful earlier in the summer when Matthew had agreed to Desmond’s proposal—laid out in businesslike terms, because Matthew preferred to have all the facts—to adopt him once he married Nicole. But the thoughtful genius with dark eyes who shared more in common with Zach the more Desmond got to know him, had only further cemented their excellent bond that day by suggesting they make that date as soon as possible.