Runaway Heir

by Cardello, Ruth

  “I’m about to punch you in the nuts.”

  “Hey, now. That’s not something to joke about.” He frowned.

  She sighed and shook her head. She wouldn’t actually do it, but it had felt good to say.

  He glanced down at his erection. “Now you’re going to have to apologize to him. He thinks you hate him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’ll get over it.”

  That sexy grin was back. “You could kiss him and make up.”

  She glared at him.

  He laughed. “Maybe later.”

  “Maybe.” A reluctant smile pulled at her lips. It was hard to feel anything but good when Bryant looked at her that way.

  He nuzzled her neck. “I’m glad I came back.”

  Her cheeks flushed as she remembered how nearly all of this had happened on the stairs. “Me too.”

  “I left because you asked me to. I respect you. But as soon as I heard . . .”

  She tensed. “Heard what?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

  Pulling a sheet up over her, she scooted into a seated position. “It matters to me. What did you hear that made you come back?”

  “I’m sure it’s not a problem.”

  “What?”

  “In fact, now I feel a little silly.”

  Silly was not at all how Nicolette felt. “What did you hear?”

  “That Jordan was here.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? Where did you hear that?”

  Not covering himself at all, he sat up as well. “Honesty is always the best policy, but I also believe that there are optimal times to say some things.”

  Nothing he’d said had made her feel better. Someone had told him that Jordan was with her, so he’d run back to . . . what . . . fuck her first? And who would have known Jordan was there? Spencer? He didn’t know Bryant, did he?

  Nicolette stood and took the blanket from the bed with her. “Who told you he was here?”

  “Your grandmother.”

  “Delinda? You went to see my family?”

  “Technically she came to see me.”

  “I’m going to kill her.” Nicolette paced the room, wrapping the blanket tighter around her as she did. “Did she threaten you?”

  Bryant rose out of the bed to stand beside Nicolette. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “She doesn’t want us together, so she told you I’m seeing Jordan?” Bile rose in her throat. “That’s it, isn’t it? But instead of driving you away . . . you came here because . . .” Her eyes narrowed. “Why did you come?”

  He grimaced and took a moment to choose his words. “She didn’t threaten me. I came because I didn’t like the idea of you and Jordan—”

  Her hands went to her hips. “I told you we are just friends.”

  “And then he came here.”

  “So that means something would definitely happen between us. Is that it? All a man has to do with me is show up?” Something he’d said earlier came back to her, and her temper flared even more. Her hands fisted. That’s all Bryant had done. “I’m an idiot.” She stormed out into the hallway.

  He followed her. “Nicolette—”

  A battle was waging within her. Part of her wanted to believe that good things were possible and that Bryant was there because he cared about her. Seeing her clothing strewn all over from the door up the steps didn’t make her feel any better. She could have waited, talked to him, found out why he was there instead of . . . No, I said I wouldn’t beat myself up like this anymore.

  He followed her, making it about halfway down the stairs before stopping. Not that she could blame him. She was swearing as she picked up her clothing. I’m an adult. If I want to fuck someone on the stairs, I will. And if that says something about me—then I can’t do anything about that.

  Delinda’s voice echoed in her head. “How could I be expected to condone this?”

  You don’t have to, Delinda. Your opinion of me no longer matters. Shoes in hand, Nicolette glared at the naked man who looked at a loss for what to say. When their eyes met, he smiled, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Their connection affected him in a way that he didn’t try to hide.

  I don’t even know why I’m angry with him.

  And then she did.

  I’m not ready to believe in anything this good yet. I’m going to destroy it before I even know what it could have been. I need more time. “Go back to New York, Bryant. This was a mistake.”

  In his full naked glory, Bryant took another step down the stairs. “It wasn’t. Talk to me, Nicolette. What are you worried about?”

  Her body quivered. It was ready for round two.

  Stop it, stupid body.

  He took another step, his gaze holding hers as he did. In a blanket, clutching her clothing to the front of her, she felt powerless to do more than wait for him. Right or wrong, the pull of him consumed her.

  “Who the fuck are you?” a voice boomed from behind Nicolette.

  “Bryant Taunton, sir.”

  She spun, too, and felt her food start to travel back up from her stomach. “Dad?”

  In a tight voice, Dereck Westerly said, “I’ll talk to you in a minute, Nicolette. Right now I’m wondering how long it’ll take that naked prick to realize he should start running.”

  “Oh shit,” Bryant said and grabbed a small rug from the floor, using it to cover himself. “This isn’t how it looks.”

  “What are you doing here, Dad?” Nicolette asked, the embarrassment she felt outshone by awe that he was there. She’d dreaded Delinda’s eventual arrival, but she’d long ago stopped thinking that her father would chase after her if she ran.

  “I came to see you.” Dereck shot death looks at the man behind his daughter. “I did not come to see that. Young man, if you don’t want to swallow my fist, I’d suggest you go find your clothing.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Bryant said, making his retreat to his pants. Only his pants. His shirt and shoes were too close to her father.

  Once he was gone, Dereck’s attention returned to Nicolette. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah.” Not really. In all the variations of how she’d dreamed her father might one day show up and want to see her, she’d never imagined this one. She could tell herself a thousand times over that his opinion of her didn’t matter, but it did.

  She was still trying to find her voice when her father added, “He didn’t—”

  “No, he’s a good guy, Dad. I’m the one who’s fucked-up.” Tears began to pour down her cheeks.

  “Oh, baby.” Her father pulled her to his suited chest—blanket, pile of clothing, and all. “I’m so sorry.”

  More tears poured out, and she let them fall. “What are you sorry for?”

  “Everything.” He hugged her tighter, then stepped back. “Go get dressed. There are some things we should talk about.”

  She sniffed, still too shocked to move.

  Bryant returned, bare chested. A less confident man would have stayed out of sight. He walked down the stairs and right up to her father as if he would be greeted with a handshake. “Mr. Westerly.”

  Nicolette watched a vein pulse at her father’s temple. She turned to Bryant. “You should go.”

  “Yes, you should,” her father said in a tone that could kill.

  “I’m just going to grab my shirt.” Bryant said, picking it up off the floor only a foot or so from her father. “And my socks.” He grabbed those from near the bottom of the banister. “Oh, and my shoes.”

  “Get the fuck out,” her father growled.

  Bryant smiled at him like a man who didn’t get the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m really glad you’re here, Mr. Westerly.” With a boldness that took Nicolette completely by surprise, he kissed her. One deep, toe-curling, quick kiss. Then he said, “I’ll call you.” And walked out the front door.

  In the silence that followed, the enormity of the scene her father had walked in on sank in, and Nicolette’s cheeks
flamed. “I’ll be right back.”

  Her father nodded.

  She made it all the way to the top of the stairs before turning, half expecting her father to be gone. “Please don’t leave, Daddy.” Even to herself, her voice sounded like a plea from a much younger her.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She turned and hastily made her way back into her bedroom. She threw on her clothing but paused for a moment beside the tousled bed. She didn’t understand Bryant any more than she understood herself when she was around him. How could she feel so good and so bad at the same time?

  He’d actually looked happy about her father’s arrival. It didn’t make any sense.

  What kind of man came to see her after meeting with her grandmother? He wasn’t the first she had confronted, but the others had run for the hills. Delinda was a force not many dared to tangle with.

  Was Bryant there because he cared about Nicolette more than he cared what her grandmother might do? Or was it what Rachelle had suggested? Is he using me to get back at her?

  Flashes of their romp came back to her, warming her from head to toe. She wanted to believe in him and in her newfound positive attitude.

  He said he’d call me.

  Isn’t that what a man says when he doesn’t plan to?

  It wasn’t as if he could have stayed.

  Dad.

  Putting her questions about Bryant aside, Nicolette brushed out her hair, made sure her clothing was all in place, and rushed back out into the hallway.

  Her father was downstairs.

  He’d come for her.

  She blinked back fresh tears. She’d messed up in London and probably ruined whatever chance she might have had with Bryant.

  But somehow Iowa was delivering something she’d stopped praying would happen. Her father had come for her.

  And he wanted to talk.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dressed again, Bryant sat in his car in the driveway of the bed-and-breakfast. Two things remained certain: sex with Nicolette was amazing, and he should have introduced himself to Dereck Westerly in London, because a naked boner didn’t make the best first impression.

  He dialed Lon. Not that he expected to receive much encouragement from him, but Lon only worried about something when he cared. He deserved to know Bryant had just made up his mind—Nicolette was definitely the one.

  Lon picked up on the first ring. “Hey, we were just talking about you.”

  “We?”

  “Me and your father. He was pretty pissed that you stood us up, but I explained that you’re chasing booty. What man can argue with that?”

  “Tell me you’re joking. You’re not actually with my father.”

  “Sure am. Want to say hello?”

  “What the fuck are you doing, Lon? I thought you were joking when you said you texted him.”

  “I am a ballbuster, but no, I really did, and he really came. I showed him around your office. He was impressed.”

  “Enjoy your time together.”

  “You’re heartless, Bryant.”

  “Ask my father where I got that from.”

  “Hang on,” Lon said in a mock serious tone. “Sir? Where did Bryant learn to be such a pussy? Oh, he was born that way? Your father said you were always like that.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “He wants to talk to you. Are you okay with that? I don’t want to make you cry or any shit like that.”

  Before Bryant had a chance to tell Lon off again, his father’s voice came across the line. “Tell me, is dating a Westerly your newest attempt to piss me off? Why are you hanging out with that trash?”

  “This conversation is over. Tell Lon I said thank you. Good talk.”

  “Don’t be a little bitch. Westerlys are bad news, and you know it. They ruined my father. They tried to ruin me. If you think they won’t come for you, I’ve overestimated your intelligence, and my estimation of it was already pretty low.”

  Lon was back. “Holy shit, sorry, Bryant. I get it now. Mr. Taunton, we need to talk. You’ve got serious parenting issues.” After a brief pause, Lon added, “Easy, old man, I don’t fight people twice my age. Ouch. That’s rude. What happened? You were so normal until a minute ago. Westerlys suck. Got it. Stole your money. Yep. Delinda’s Satan incarnate. That’s a bit harsh, but I can see why you’d think that. No, I’m not trying to be funny—it comes naturally. Bryant, your father is going to have a stroke if he doesn’t calm down. He wants to talk to you again. Hold on. I’ve got this.” Bryant heard his father swearing in the background. “You’re not helping your cause, Mr. Taunton. Do you want to have a relationship with your son? You don’t care? Cold. But not really true or you wouldn’t be here. He needs to stay away from the Westerlys? Hey, I told him that like five times already. If he won’t listen to his best friend, he’s not going to listen to a father he doesn’t even talk to.” There was the sound of a door slamming. “So your dad just left. I don’t think I’m as good at the whole reconciliation thing as you are.”

  Bryant groaned and laid his head on the steering wheel of his car. The only consolation was that, no matter what Lon did, it wasn’t as if he could make things worse between him and his father. “Thanks for trying in your own special way, but next time—don’t.”

  “Yeah,” Lon said with a sigh. “So how’s Iowa?”

  “Good. Great. Fantastic.” Bryant remembered he was still sitting in his car outside the bed-and-breakfast, and said, “Confusing.”

  “Did you see your true love again?”

  Bryant glanced at the window of her bedroom, and the front of his trousers tented. “I did.”

  With a chuckle, Lon asked, “Did she ask you to leave again?”

  Bryant frowned. “She did.”

  “I don’t want to be a cold slap of reality, but I’m sensing a pattern here. You go see her. She tells you to leave. You go back. She tells you to leave again. What does that usually mean? Let me think about it for a second. Hold on . . . she’s not that into you, dude.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure she is.” Memories of how she’d nearly begged him for round two had him shifting uncomfortably as his dick began to throb.

  “No. No. That’s how you become a stalker. Strike three. You’re out. Come back to New York. Trust me. I hate to do this, but I’ll even share Tamara and Lynn. Normally, that’s my private stock, but I’m worried about you.”

  Never really sure how much of what Lon said was serious, Bryant ignored his offer and said, “She was happy to see me. I’d still be with her, but her father showed up.”

  “No shit.”

  “Yeah. I guess my talk with Delinda worked.”

  “Wow. Good for her. Good for you.”

  “They’re in the house talking right now.”

  “And where are you?”

  “In the driveway. In my rental car.”

  “After she asked you to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just hanging around. Like a stalker.”

  Bryant started the car. “They do need time alone to work things out.”

  “And she asked you to leave.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come back to New York.”

  Pulling out onto the street, Bryant started to drive toward the airport. “I probably should.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  Nicolette filled his senses. The scent of her was still on him. The taste of her on his lips. As he drove, he fought to concentrate on the road rather than the images of her lying on the bed waiting for him. He could still feel her tight, wet heaven. Still hear her cry out in pleasure, swear like a sailor during her orgasm. “I think I’m in love, Lon.”

  “But you’re driving away, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  After hanging up with Lon, Bryant contacted his pilot. Although Bryant had told him to be prepared to stay a few days, he would be at the airport in minutes—the perk of having a pilot on a generous salary was how readily he agre
ed to meet him.

  Leaving MacAuley was harder than it had been the first time, but it would have been selfish to stay. Nicolette needed time with her father. Had he known that Dereck would be heading to Iowa that day, he would have waited . . .

  Or maybe not.

  Although Bryant wasn’t normally a jealous man, he wouldn’t have been able to stay, knowing that Jordan was at the same bed-and-breakfast.

  At the same bed-and-breakfast—that part hadn’t changed.

  Bryant slammed on his brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. The arrival of Nicolette’s father didn’t change the fact that Jordan was still going to be sleeping under the same roof as Nicolette.

  Sharing breakfast over the same table.

  Possibly exploring the town with her.

  Not going to happen.

  A car pulled up behind Bryant’s. Shit, the sheriff. Great. Bryant lowered his window.

  “Problem with your car?” the uniformed man asked.

  “Thought there was, but everything looks fine, thanks, Officer,” Bryant said.

  “You that guy from Boston?”

  “New York.”

  “I thought I heard there was a guy here from Boston.”

  Rub it in, buddy. “I believe there is, but I am not he.”

  “What are you doing in these parts?”

  “I came to see a friend.”

  The sheriff tipped his hat back. “Anyone I’d know?”

  Lon, if I actually get arrested for stalking, your ass is bailing me out. “My friend is staying at Paisley’s bed-and-breakfast. She’s not from around here, either.”

  “Miss Westerly. Haven’t met her yet, but I hear good things about her. Who knows, she might even save my job.”

  “Save your job?”

  “If this town gets annexed into McGregor, I’ll be applying to their department. Never can tell if they’ll honor my time in or give my job to someone’s cousin.” He tapped his thumb against the gun on his belt. “Wait, are you that guy who came to see the Miller factory? Taunton, right?”

  “That’s me.”

  “So what did you think of it?”

  “It didn’t actually work out for me to see the place.”

  “That’s a shame. It isn’t in bad shape at all. We sure could use a business relocating out here.”