Heiress Recon

by Carla Cassidy

  She opened to him, her tongue touching his as her fingers dug into the top of his shoulders. He was lost, lost in the simmering desire he’d had for her since he’d first seen her in that little black dress, lost to the surge of want that flamed through his veins.

  His hands moved down her back and halted just below her waist where he could feel the slight flare of her hips. She pressed closer against him, and he knew there was no way she couldn’t tell that he was aroused.

  Her hands moved up once again to caress the back of his neck, and still the kiss continued, increasing his hunger for more.

  He might not like the way she lived her life and he might think her values were skewed. But he loved how kissing her made the blood pound in his head, how the molded length of her against him made him not care what choices she made in her life.

  He wanted to lower her to the floor, tear the T-shirt off her body and feel her warm breasts against his bare chest. He wanted to get them both naked and take her right here, right now, with no thought of consequences.

  Someplace in the part of his mind that was still working he recognized that if her father was found alive, then within two weeks she’d be back to her life in California. He also recognized that as much as he knew she wasn’t the woman of his dreams, she’d made it clear that he wasn’t the man of her dreams, either.

  If they did have sex it would be just that, hot, panting, physical need quenched without strings, without regrets.

  A tinkling of music pulled him out of the moment. She dropped her hands from around his neck and sprang back from him as if he were imitation leather instead of the real thing.

  “That’s my cell phone,” she said. Her lips were slightly swollen and her eyes held the glaze of a woman just surfacing from a trance.

  “Then you’d better answer it,” he said, pleased that his voice displayed none of the tension that raged through his body.

  He watched the sway of her hips as she walked over to the table and didn’t know whether to curse or bless the interruption.

  She checked the caller ID display, then flipped open and answered. “Kent, hi. I’ve been meaning to call you.” She drifted out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

  Troy stared after her, several questions racing through his head. What might have happened if the phone hadn’t rung? Would a cold shower really make him forget how much he wanted her?

  And who in the hell was Kent?

  BRIANNA DIDN’T KNOW what had been more startling, the fact that somebody had taken a shot at her that morning or that Troy Sinclair kissed better than any man she’d ever kissed in her life.

  As she walked down the hallway toward the bedroom where she was staying, she tried to concentrate on the call and not on what had just happened in the kitchen.

  Kent Goodwell had been Brianna’s boyfriend through high school and until she’d left Kansas City for California. They always got together when she was in town for a visit, although it was no longer a love connection but rather a deep friendship.

  “I haven’t been able to call,” she said into the phone as she sat on the edge of her bed. “Things have been crazy since I got here.”

  “You okay? You sound stressed,” Kent replied.

  How well he knew her. “Oh, you know, the thing on Saturday has me a little frazzled. You are coming, aren’t you?”

  “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “And you’re adopting a dog?”

  He laughed. “You know better than that. I can’t even keep my plants alive. Are you free for dinner tonight? We’ve got some major catching up to do.”

  “Can’t. I’m swamped, Kent. Maybe after Saturday.” She hoped, prayed that her father would be home safely by then and this whole crazy ordeal would be nothing more than a bad memory.

  “Why don’t you call me if you get some free time. You know I’ll meet you anywhere at anytime.”

  She smiled with a touch of bittersweetness into the receiver. Sometimes during lonely nights in California, she regretted that Kent would always be a boy she loved, but he’d never be the man to possess her heart.

  She and Kent ended the call, and she remained seated on the bed, wondering why she hadn’t told him about her father’s kidnapping. It just hadn’t felt right to confide in him at the moment.

  Kent had been a great boyfriend for a while, but they never had the kind of magic Brianna wanted when she truly fell in love. She rubbed her lower lip and tried not to remember the magic she’d felt when Troy had kissed her.

  Brianna considered staying in her bedroom, but her dad’s laptop was in the kitchen, and one of her goals today was to look at all his files, check his e-mail and see if anything there rang a bell of alarm.

  Besides, just because she and Troy had shared a soul-stirring kiss didn’t mean she intended to avoid him. It had just been a kiss, no big deal.

  She returned to the kitchen where Troy was seated at the table and staring out the window. “That was Kent Goodwell, a high school friend of mine. We usually get together whenever I’m in town, but I told him that I was too busy to meet him for lunch right now.”

  She knew trouble was brewing the moment she gazed into Troy’s eyes. It was like looking into the center of a Midwestern storm. “Look, about what just happened,” he began. “I just want you to understand that I’m very physically attracted to you, but you aren’t my type at all.”

  She forced a small laugh to hide the stupid tinge of hurt at his words. “What are you worried about? That your kiss will make me fall head over heels in love with you and everything will get messy? I don’t do messy, Troy, and besides, you’ve made it more than clear from the moment you met me at Dad’s place that you don’t like me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like you,” he quickly backtracked. “It’s just that I know the exact kind of woman I want in my life.”

  “Really?” She sat across the table from him. “Tell me about this paragon of womanhood.”

  He scowled and his eyes turned a flat metal gray. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “No,” she quickly protested. “No, I promise I’m not. I’m truly curious.” Brianna didn’t have a clue what kind of man would eventually capture her heart, and it intrigued her that Troy seemed to have such a clear idea of exactly what he wanted in a woman.

  Besides, she didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they were no closer to finding her father, didn’t want to think about those bullets at the job site. Listening to Troy extol the virtues of a woman he hadn’t met was safer, less emotionally draining than all the other things whirling around inside her head.

  “She’ll be quiet and reserved,” he began.

  “That definitely leaves me out,” she quipped.

  He scowled once again and then continued. “She’ll be a simple woman who likes simple things, a woman who thinks of others before herself. She’ll be a teacher or maybe a social worker, and she’ll want a quiet life filled with family.” He stared out the window, and for a moment the soft expression in his eyes made Brianna wish she was that woman.

  And just that quickly Brianna was angry—with him, with the situation and most of all with herself for thinking such a ridiculous thought. The kind of woman he had described couldn’t be further away from who she was, not that she cared.

  “My father is missing, and we’re sitting here talking about your love life,” she said with exasperation. She grabbed her father’s laptop and opened it, then punched the power button. “While you think about the love of your life, I’m going to see if I can find something on here that might give us a clue about who took my father.”

  If only she could take back that kiss, she thought moments later as she began to search through her father’s files. If only the memory of Troy’s lips on hers wasn’t seared into her brain.

  For those few minutes when she’d been in his arms, when his mouth had taken complete possession of hers, she’d felt like the most important woman in his world.

  The afterno
on passed quickly as Brianna lost herself in the computer files. At least she felt as if she were doing something constructive.

  It was just after five when she stopped, and they ate a meal of sandwiches and chips. “I can’t believe how many jobs my dad has going on at the same time,” she said as she moved a potato chip from one side of her plate to the other. She wasn’t really hungry. She was discouraged.

  “Your dad is one of the most successful developers and builders in the Midwest,” Troy said.

  She sighed. “Yeah, but now I wonder if this is about the mall project or maybe something else he was working on.”

  “But we know for sure the mall development was the one your father was worried about, the one that has been the most volatile,” Troy reminded her.

  She stared out the window, where twilight had begun to tie deep purple shadows around the base of the trees and in the low-lying brush. And following twilight would be night—another night without her knowing if she’d ever see her father again, another night of not knowing if he was dead or alive.

  “You aren’t eating,” Troy said. Those gray eyes of his seemed to be looking deep inside her.

  She stared down at the sandwich on her plate, her appetite banished by the fear that lingered deep in side her. Refusing to show him her fear, not wanting even to acknowledge it herself, she cast him a sassy smile.

  “It’s not exactly up to my usual standards,” she said airily and got up from the table. She carried her plate to the trash can and dumped the contents, then placed the dish in the sink.

  She was acutely aware of Troy watching her and knew her smart remark had probably irritated him. But that was okay with her. She had a feeling the more distance she kept from Troy Sinclair, the better.

  After dinner Brianna returned to her father’s laptop, and Troy went into the living room to watch television. Once again she found herself staring out the window, where the night had deepened and the loneliness that had plagued her for the last couple of months in California returned.

  Oh, she’d had a couple of boyfriends in the last few years, but neither of them had been bring-home to-dad material. Both had been good-time guys who enjoyed having her on their arm in public, but seemed less interested in her when they were alone.

  She was a living cliché, a rich girl who lived a public life but found herself alone in bed most nights wondering what it would be like to have somebody she cared about next to her.

  By nine o’clock she felt as if her eyes were crossing with all the files she’d read on the computer. She got up from the table and stretched her arms over her head, then froze as she heard the familiar sound of Troy’s cell phone ringing from the living room.

  She raced into the living room where he was seated on the sofa. As he pulled the phone from his pocket, every nerve in her body went on alert, and adrenaline flooded her veins in such strength that she felt half-nauseous.

  Had the kidnapper called? Was there finally a ransom call? It was impossible to tell from Troy’s end of the conversation who was on the other end of the line. He stood and paced the room while he listened to the caller.

  When he finally hung up, she was at his side. “Was that Lucas or Micah? Has something happened?” She grabbed his forearm and prayed for good news.

  He shook his head. “That was Wendall Kincaid. He called to give me an update on what the authorities are doing. They’ve got a tail on James Stafford, but so far he’s done nothing suspicious. They’ve put a trace and trap on the phone line at your house, so they’ll quickly be able to identify the location of any call that comes in. They’ve also got some men watching the house.”

  “But won’t the kidnapper know? Won’t he see that there are cops everywhere?” She tightened her grip on his arm, remembering the threat that the kidnapper had made when he’d called Heather.

  Troy placed a hand over hers. “He’ll never see them. Trust me, Wendall knows what the stakes are, and he doesn’t want a mistake to be made, either.”

  Some of the tension left her but she didn’t move away from him. She liked the feel of his strong arm beneath her fingertips, the warmth that radiated from his body with the promise to heat the cold places inside her.

  She stared into his eyes and saw a flash of something dark, something delicious—a want, a hunger. She wanted to fall into it, fall into him. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted for the rest of his life. It only mattered that she be the woman he wanted for the rest of this night.

  A new tension rocked through her, and she moved her hand from his arm to his chest where she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

  “What are you doing, Brianna?” His voice was low, with a hint of danger in it.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, fighting against a shiver of pleasure at his scent, his very nearness.

  Anticipation sparked in the air and she leaned closer to him, wanting to lose herself in him.

  He took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back. “I’m not one of your Hollywood boy toys, Bree. When I take a woman to bed it means something, and we both know that if we fall into bed together tonight it will mean nothing.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m going to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She watched him walk down the hallway, and for just a moment she wished she were a simple woman with simple needs. Or at least that Troy Sinclair wasn’t such an honorable man.

  Chapter Six

  “I want to go to the meeting tonight,” Brianna said the next morning as she and Troy sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

  “Have you lost your mind?” he replied. He’d gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, having spent the night before dreaming about wild, hot sex with Brianna. “Have you forgotten that somebody tried to shoot you yesterday?”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten,” she replied with that easy flippancy that simply increased his ire. “But last night I found some notes Dad had made for the meeting, and I think I should be there in his place. Besides, yesterday we were out in the middle of nowhere. The meeting is in a community center and there will be plenty of people around. Nobody is going to hurt me with witnesses everywhere.”

  She smiled, that ridiculously charming grin that made him want to grin back at her. “Besides,” she said, “I have complete and total faith in you as my bodyguard. My father wouldn’t hire anyone second-rate.”

  “I can be your bodyguard, but I’m not a super-hero,” he replied grudgingly.

  “I just think it’s important that I be there,” she replied, all the humor gone from her pretty blue eyes. “Maybe we’ll see or hear something that will turn into a lead. And if nothing else, I need to be there to show those people that Waverlys don’t quit, that we won’t be bullied by threats.”

  He leaned back in his chair and fought the impulse to raise a hand to his forehead, where a dull ache had begun to throb. This was so not what he’d signed up for. It was supposed to have been an easy job, a couple of days of babysitting a woman he’d known he wouldn’t like.

  He hadn’t counted on Brandon Waverly being kidnapped, hadn’t figured on there being a real threat against Brianna and he sure as hell hadn’t been prepared to want her, to find himself actually liking her.

  “Brianna, I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said.

  “Thank you for your opinion but I’m still going to that meeting.”

  She had that look in her eyes, the same one she’d had when he’d left her at the Waverly house and she’d said she wasn’t going anywhere but had snuck out after dark.

  He knew that if he didn’t agree to take her, somehow, someway she’d figure out how to get to that community center under her own steam. She was smart and resourceful and as stubborn as a mule.

  “Okay, then I guess we’re going to the meeting,” he relented, his mind already racing with all the things that could go wrong.

  “Don’t look so worried,” she replied, that warm smile curving her lips onc
e again. “It’s not like I have a death wish. I just don’t think I’ll be in any danger.”

  “You realize you’re taking a risk.”

  Her smile faltered. “I know, but I think the risk is small compared to the potential of maybe learning something that might help find my father.”

  Troy found it difficult to argue with her need to do something, anything to help find Brandon. If one of his family members had been kidnapped, he’d try to move heaven and earth to find them.

  “How about I make breakfast this morning?” she offered.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Can you do that?”

  She laughed and the pleasant sound warmed him. “You’d be surprised what I can do when I set my mind to it.”

  A few minutes later he watched as she bustled around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for omelets. He reminded himself that this woman in her jeans and T-shirt, wearing little makeup and preparing to cook breakfast, wasn’t the real Bree Waverly.

  She was obviously trying to make the best of a bad situation, but when this was all over she’d go back to California, she’d be back in the tabloids and living a lifestyle he didn’t even want to understand.

  It was the kind of lifestyle Holly had wanted but had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to provide when the rumors had started about his family wealth taking a hit in the stock market. He shoved away thoughts of the young woman who had broken his heart so long ago.

  Breakfast was pleasant, and as they ate, they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Troy had grown up in a loving environment with his parents and three older sisters.

  “They tormented me to death,” he exclaimed. “I had long hair when I was younger, and they’d practice hairstyles on me.”

  Brianna laughed. “I can just see you as a little boy with blond curls and bright pink ribbons in your hair.”

  “I’m surprised I’m not scarred by the experience,” he replied with a grin.

  “Are you close to them now?” she asked.

  “Very. They’re all married and have kids, but we’re all really close.”