by A. C. Arthur
“No.” Tamika walked around the bed but stopped short of going closer to the window for fear of whatever Pierce was seeing as he stared out onto the street. “Why?”
“These shades are still up. She could see out the window directly across the street.”
“What does that mean?” Roark asked. “She wasn’t sitting at the window when the fire started?”
“No. But what if he was? What if he starts the fire and then sticks around to watch? Witnessing his handiwork and getting off from it.” When nobody responded, Pierce turned away from the window. “I need to study those photos from Hyde Park again. And I’m gonna take a few pics before I leave here today, which we need to get ready to do before we’re caught.”
“Caught? This is my mother’s house. I have a right to be here,” she snapped.
“Not if you’re gonna be considered a suspect,” Pierce pointed out.
She paused, recalling Roark saying the police in London thought he and his siblings were suspects in their mother’s murder.
“You wanted to get your clothes.” Roark was standing right beside her now. Tamika wasn’t sure when he’d moved, but his hand softly touching her elbow was as odd as it was comforting. “We can do that while he’s taking pictures and then we’ll leave. Do you want to go to the hospital to see how your mother’s doing?” He was talking softly, in a gentler way than was normal for him, and damn her, she liked it.
“Yeah, sure. I was staying in the room down this way.” Tamika walked out of the room, knowing Roark was close behind her.
She couldn’t help but still look down at the burned floors and walls, but then she stopped when she saw blood. There was a narrow table against the wall; a brass mirror used to hang above it but was now broken and on the floor. “This must be where Tuppence fell with my mother. Wait, Pierce said the firefighters mentioned Tuppence must’ve been dragging my mom. I know my mom was very resistant about getting out of bed, but if the bedroom was on fire, she wouldn’t have been stubborn enough to stay there. Unless—”
“She was drugged.” Roark finished the sentence.
Or rather, he said what he thought she was going to say. Only, he had no idea that she was thinking her mother would’ve gotten up out of that bed when the fire started…unless she’d wanted to stay there and die. If Sandra died, she could be with her husband and they’d both be dead.
The breath whooshed out of Tamika in that moment, and she leaned back against the wall to keep from falling. Roark’s arms were immediately around her, pulling her close to his chest. She didn’t know what else to do, and what she was thinking was pretty heavy. It was also scary as hell to think her mother had loved her father so much that now she wanted to die to be with him. Tamika wrapped her arms around Roark and held on—for how long, she had no idea, but she had no intention of letting go until all the hurt and fear swirling around inside her like a hurricane was still.
“My mother loved maple-glazed pork loin. She cooked it every Christmas. And my Aunt Birdie demanded ham instead.” Roark laughed at the memory, while at the same time wondering how they were going to make it through this Christmas coming.
“I’m ridin’ with Aunt Birdie. Give me the Christmas ham all day and night.” She forked another chunk of the haddock she was having for lunch into her mouth, and Roark tried not to stare.
“What else does your family do together?”
They’d been to the hospital to see her mother, but the doctor hadn’t been available for them to speak to. Tuppence was still in critical condition, and to keep her calm, they weren’t letting any visitors in her room.
They’d come back to the area, close to the cottage, because when Roark had sent him a text, Geoff had recommended this pub. Tamika hadn’t seemed to mind being close to the cottage without actually returning there, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about her family since this morning.
“Not as much as my mother would’ve liked. It was just us here in the UK—my parents when they were alive and my siblings. My father passed away when I was younger, and Aunt Birdie’s in and out. If there’s a cruise, she’d rather be on a boat, but when there’s a big family gathering, she’ll appear for that. Most of the Donovans are still in the US.”
“You ever thought about moving there?”
Roark shook his head. This was his home. “Why didn’t you move here with your mother?”
She chewed another bite of food and then lifted her glass of water to take a long drink. He enjoyed watching her eat. There was no real reason behind it; in fact, it seemed like such a normal event. The two of them sharing a meal because they’d both skipped breakfast and were now hungry. He shouldn’t have thought anything odd about sitting across the table from her, yet watching her chew and smile as she enjoyed her food seemed sort of special. “For one, I didn’t know she was moving here.” She looked like that fact might still be a sore spot for her. “Then again, if she’d told me, I probably wouldn’t have come. I have a life in Virginia. Or at least I did.”
He wondered what that life had been like. “You don’t anymore?”
“To tell the truth, I don’t know. I lost my job,” she said with a heavy sigh.
“Oh.” He hadn’t expected that. “What happened?”
“My boss said I was obsessed with my father’s death. How can somebody be obsessed with their parent’s death? I mean, that’s huge, right? It takes a toll on you until you can’t think of anything else.”
Roark knew exactly what she was saying and could understand every word. As a son, he’d been rustling with the same things. As a CEO, he knew business had to come first. “Maybe you needed to take a break from your work anyway. It could be that the line of work you’re in coupled with the circumstances of your father’s death are just too much to deal with right now.”
Her eyes widened at that suggestion. “I can multi-task.”
“Didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“You implied it,” she shot back.
He forked his last piece of pork, stuck it in his mouth and chewed. When he was done, he picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “We don’t have to be enemies or go back and forth each time we’re alone.”
She wiped her hands with her napkin. “I know. It’s funny how we slip into that back and forth so easily, though. Almost like we’ve known each other a very long time and it’s what our relationship thrives on.”
“We have a relationship?” He hadn’t meant to sound alarmed. Her words had seemed so deep, so meaningful. Up to this point he’d just been thinking of her as Tamika, the woman whose father knew his mother.
“Not in the traditional sense, but yeah, I think we do. I mean, I did crash at your place last night, and I’m probably gonna be staying there again tonight. So that makes us something.” She wasn’t wrong.
“Roommates,” he said for lack of a better term.
“You just have to put a name on it, don’t you? You’re so strait-laced and organized. Everything has a meaning, a spot in your world, a purpose.” She propped her elbows on the table and leaned her chin on a fist. The look on her face was so naturally pretty he almost forgot what they were talking about.
“Things should have a purpose. That’s how life works.”
“Life also works on spontaneity. Fate is unpredictable and yet can change the world as we know it.”
Roark only stared at her. “I don’t believe in fate.”
She chuckled. “Of course you don’t. Do you believe in lust at first sight?”
Busted. “I didn’t used to. Attraction is a general effect. Sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn’t.” Roark knew that was a thin explanation, but she’d caught him off guard, so that was all he had.
“Attraction can be mind-blowing. Or it can be deadly.” The last word had been spoken so quietly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. But that could’ve also been because he was more concerned with her previous words.
“Are you attracted to me, Tamika?”
“Well, there w
e go with the candid and sometimes abrupt questions.”
“You started it this time. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
She took another drink of water and shook her head. “Not at all. And to answer your question, yes. I’m really attracted to you. When did you decide you were okay with being attracted to me?”
The question was so spot on he didn’t even bother to refute it. “About two hours ago.”
Her laughter came in a quick burst, the smile stretching across her face and lighting up her eyes. “You’re brutally honest, Roark.”
“And you’re a big surprise.” He cleared his throat, because to his ears that sounded weird. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting anything like this. When I came to Painswick, I just figured I’d get the meeting over with and then I’d spend some time walking in the gardens and sitting in the rooms my mother liked so much. I didn’t think there’d be a woman like you.”
“Well, I’m not going to ask if that’s a good or bad thing, because you don’t know yet. Neither of us will know until after we get the sex out of the way.”
And she called him blunt. “We’re going to have sex?” He felt like a teenage virgin asking that question, but the forty-year-old man wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting mixed signals.
“Absolutely.”
“When?” Way to go, Roark. That sounded pretty desperate.
She shrugged again. “Probably tonight. I’ve been on a hiatus from sex, but I’m thinking it’s time to put a stop to that. How about you? When’s the last time you’ve slept with someone?”
“Six months ago. Two dates and then sex. No calls from either side after that.”
“Wow. Was that a pre-made agreement, or did you just not like the sex?”
He wasn’t going to sit here and discuss his past sex life with this woman.
Last night and again this morning, he’d insisted he wasn’t going to have sex with her, and now his dick was already pressing painfully against the zipper in his jeans. She wasn’t helping matters by looking at him like she was ready to jump across the table and ride them both into an orgasmic haven. “It just didn’t work out. Sometimes that happens.”
“I agree,” she said with a quick nod. “But I’m betting that won’t happen this time.”
“That’s a bet I think you’d win.” He signaled the server for their check.
The twenty-five-minute ride back to Dynasty Manor would have to suffice as Roark’s contemplation time. Was he really going to have sex with this woman he’d just met yesterday? A woman whom he had nothing in common with and who might be part of a very dark time for his family?
All things considered; he probably could’ve made a better decision. Perhaps they should wait until after they got to the bottom of whatever was going on with their parents and these fires. Go on a few dates, spend some time together that didn’t consist of reviewing scenes of a fire or sitting in a hospital waiting room? Decide how much they liked each other as people before they figured out if the sex was going to be good or not. All of those things should be considered, right?
His body vehemently disagreed.
As she sat just an arm’s length away from him in the car, the heat that had been on a low simmer between them since yesterday morning was kicked up a notch. That was most definitely due to the conversation they’d had in the pub. The very candid conversation about wanting to sleep with each other. Roark had never moved this fast with a woman before, but it was something he knew his brother would be rooting for him to do at this very moment. Ridge was the go-all-out guy, the one who didn’t give a damn about normal rules of dating or living his life for that matter. Roark was the conventional one, the one who’d dated a woman for an entire year before proposing and marrying her. He was also the one who’d been divorced after three and a half short years and who’d had nothing to show for that time but a divorce decree he kept in a file cabinet in his home office.
“Are you nervous?” She’d stretched a hand over the console between them, resting it on his thigh just as he turned a corner. He didn’t jump like a nervous kid, but the touch did send a heated jolt straight to his dick, which had been hard since leaving the restaurant.
“I’ve had sex before, Tamika. Just as I’m sure you have.”
“I did and I liked it. How about you? Do you like sex, Roark, or do you just do it because it’s the thing to do at the time?”
This woman had some type of beam directly to his thoughts, and he wanted to know how she was pulling it off. “You really think I’m that rigid?”
Her response was to laugh, and Roark shook his head because despite what she was laughing at, he adored the sound. There were a few things he really liked about Tamika, things he’d noted more than once during their short acquaintance. She was tenacious, which initially he’d thought would be a problem, because he hadn’t considered the reason she’d tracked him down had any merit. Loyalty, which was a huge thing for Roark, was obviously a big thing for her as well. No matter how many times he asked, or even when Pierce had hinted at it earlier today at the cottage, she held firm that her father hadn’t been cheating on her mother. Some might see that as naïveté or flat-out denial, but Roark saw it as her dedication to the man she’d known and loved. Similar to the way he remained committed to his parents and their legacy. And then there was her laugh and her smile—they both came quick and it genuinely and equally touched him in a way he’d never experienced before.
“I don’t generally talk about sex as much as we’re doing,” he admitted. “It seems a little odd.”
“I think it’s best to talk about sex. State what you like and don’t like so you’ll be sure to get what you want.”
“Have you ever not gotten what you wanted out of sex?”
Her instant silence was as big a tell as if she’d immediately poured out the detail of a horrific sexual escapade. When he looked over at her, it was to see that she was staring out the window. They were closer to the manor now, the car moving down the cobblestone roads just outside the property. While the hills and countryside were the backdrop, nestled in this area were what could be called quaint little stores and houses with thick wood doors and matching window boxes full of flowers. “I haven’t always gotten what I want out of a lot of things. And eventually, I learned I needed to speak up for myself more.”
“I can’t imagine you ever not speaking up for yourself.” But obviously there’d been a time, and his callous remark had probably just ensured she’d never tell him of that time.
He wisely remained silent for the duration of the ride, and she continued to stare out the window, lost deep in the thoughts of whatever had happened that had caused her to change. Roark hadn’t considered how much he’d want to know more about this woman, but by the time they pulled up in front of the clubhouse, he’d decided she was definitely more intriguing than he’d first thought.
He stepped out of the car and wasn’t the least bit surprised that she hadn’t waited for him to come around and open the door for her. They were both walking up the front steps when the door opened and Geoff stepped out.
“They wanted to wait, sir, and I thought it best they not wait at the manor, as there are many eyes and ears there.”
For a moment, Roark had no idea what the guy was talking about, but then he followed Geoff’s gaze to the parking spaces at the side of the house and frowned. An official MPD vehicle was in the first spot.
Tamika obviously followed Geoff’s gaze as well and sighed. “I was wondering when they’d show up. I mean, they weren’t at the hospital last night, and they should’ve been.”
But they shouldn’t have been here. They shouldn’t have known that she was staying with him, unless they’d been watching them.
Roark gave Geoff a nod. “You did the right thing. We’ll speak with them. Call Ed Burrows and let him know they’re here.” He didn’t bother to tell Geoff that Ed was his attorney, since the concierge knew everything there was to know about him already.
“Yes, s
ir. I put them in the parlor and gave them drinks—water, of course. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.” Geoff spoke as he turned and went back into the house. Roark let Tamika go in ahead of him. “They’re determined to talk then.”
“Determined to accuse me is probably more like it.” Her tone was somber and Roark didn’t like it.
There were two of them, both sitting on a floral-print couch in a room that had far too much floral print for Roark’s taste. They both wore stoic black suits, white shirts, slim ties and a look of skepticism and mild contempt the moment Roark and Tamika walked in.
“Mr. Donovan, we meet again.” Donald Gibbons stood and met Roark’s gaze.
“Forgive me if I skip the formalities and ask why you’re here. I believe the last time we spoke, I directed you to my attorney with any further questions.” Roark had no intention of making this easy for either of the policemen. He didn’t like that they’d come here, nor did he like the way they were looking from him to Tamika as if they already had everything figured out.
“I’m Detective Horace Pennington from the Metropolitan Police Department. I was on the scene at yesterday’s fire. I believe that was at the home owned by your mother, Ms. Rayder.” The shorter of the two, Pennington was going bald in the center and had bushy eyebrows. Under Roark’s severe gaze, the man smoothed down his tie and cleared his throat.
Roark directed Tamika to a spot on the loveseat across from where the detectives sat. Gibbons returned to his seat and Roark sat down beside Tamika. They might’ve looked like old friends having a visit. And cows might fly.