Fortune's Heirs: Reunion

by Marie Ferrarella

  In the end, part of her celebrated the fact that he’d wanted her passionately and that the rejected kiss hadn’t been any indication of her unattractiveness.

  His body had told her just how beautiful she was.

  Still, another part of her wondered why she wasn’t enough woman to keep him for more than a night.

  The bell dinged three times.

  But maybe he was here right now, asking to come back in.

  Trying not to seem too excited, Christina whipped open the door, letting in the early-morning light.

  And there stood Mama with her new friend, Edith.

  “Rise and shine!” she said, bustling past her daughter while dragging Edith in behind her. “We were having breakfast at La Tapatia down the street when we decided to catch you before you went in to work.”

  Sure. And the sky was actually made of blue cotton candy.

  At least Derek wasn’t here. That would’ve been a definite nightmare, not to mention a slight technicality as far as the bet with her sisters went. But she and Derek weren’t really dating. Not if his quick disappearing act had anything to do with it.

  “I invited Maria to dine with me this morning,” Edith said, as if the excuse were scripted.

  A thin, nervous woman with black hair, she worked at Fortune-Rockwell as a broker’s assistant. About a month ago, Patrick had suggested that Edith check out Mama’s knitting store in Red Rock, seeing as his employee was an avid craftswoman herself. She and Mama had hit it off, scheduling breakfast every week in San Antonio.

  They’d just never stopped by Christina’s apartment before.

  “Welcome, Edith,” Christina said, not wanting to be rude. “Something to drink?”

  She’d just stay later at work to make up for the time she was away from it now.

  “No, we are all coffee-ed out,” Mama said. “I wanted Edith to see your pretty place, is all.”

  With that, she started to play tour guide, pointing out Christina’s Southwestern flair for decorating, the wooden statues of saints, the Mexican pottery and frozen sun motif in the pictures and sculptures.

  In the meantime, Christina waited, highly suspicious of this visit.

  Her worst fears were realized after Mama’s token five-minute excursion had ended.

  “You had some fine times last night,” she said, Edith following quietly in her shadow. “How did everything turn out, mi hija?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Mama?” Christina widened her eyes at her mother in exasperation.

  “I mean you and Derek were the only ones left after dinner.”

  Even Edith seemed interested. But of course she was. As sweet as she seemed, she was one of the biggest gossips at Fortune-Rockwell. Luckily, Christina had managed to avoid the yap-yap trap so far, thank goodness.

  “What?” Christina said. “Two grown people can’t stand on a sidewalk together at night?”

  “You do not like him?” Mama asked. “I do. For my bookish daughter, it will take an aggressive man to pull her out of that shell she is in.”

  “Maybe your judgment was affected by too many drinks?” Christina asked.

  “What a way to talk to your Mama.” The matron patted her dark, gray-streaked hair in patent pride. “Besides, I can hold my liquor.”

  Edith piped up. “Derek is a favorite with all the ladies, so I’m not surprised you like him, Christina.”

  Newsflash: Women liked Derek. Details at eleven.

  “Oh, yes,” Mama said. “Patrick has mentioned the parties and the socialites in New York. But we can all turn over a new leaf. Besides, he is muy guapo, yes, Christina?”

  Something Derek had said last night about never falling in love came back to haunt Christina’s doubts.

  “He’s a womanizer, all right,” Edith added, “but you just can’t help adoring the man. It’s like his smile’s a hook and, if you don’t want to get caught, you’d better get out of the way when he flashes it. All the women in administration talk about his cute butt.”

  “How many of those women has he dated?” asked Mama, all territorial-like.

  Good, because Christina was wondering the same thing.

  “Oh, he doesn’t date in the office. Not as far as I know, anyway. If he does, he keeps it quiet.”

  Gulp. Was that what Christina had been? A secret that would be notched in his memory?

  Her heart sank. She’d made a mistake, hadn’t she? What had she been thinking by sleeping with her boss in a moment of mind-scrambled yearning?

  Hadn’t she learned anything from the past about how sex and business can’t mix?

  What would she do if things fell apart at the office?

  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Mama and Edith. “I’ve got to get ready for work. And for the last time, I’m not interested in Rockwell. Do you understand?”

  Mama sighed, resigned. “Then we’ll be going.”

  She came over to squeeze Christina, reemphasizing to her daughter that there would always be family.

  Even if business failed.

  After Edith said her farewells, they left Christina to a quick shower.

  That’s when her mind started to whir.

  He’s a womanizer, all right. His smile’s a hook.

  And he hadn’t been in bed to greet her this morning.

  Dios, maybe Derek Rockwell was even laughing at his desk right now, congratulating himself on conquering the office ice queen.

  She’d taken a chance with a man who’d made no promises to her. All of the blame for her discomfort rested on her shoulders, and that made her so very angry.

  Angry at herself for losing her head.

  No more. From now on, it was business only. Even if his words were charming. Even if she couldn’t forget how his kisses branded her, revealing her passion, restoring her confidence, just for a night.

  She had to take control of the situation now.

  As Christina left her condo, her determination grew with every mile that closed between her and the office.

  There was absolutely no way she’d allow her life to fall apart because of a boss again.

  Because once had been enough.

  Chapter Nine

  At sunrise, Derek had quietly gone straight from Christina’s condo to his place near the river. There, he’d prepared his rowing equipment and taken out his frustrations on the misty water, slicing through it, obliterating it with each dip of his oars.

  But he hadn’t exorcised his demons.

  In fact, he’d been even angrier at himself after he’d showered and come into work before most people had even finished their morning cup of coffee.

  As he paced his office floor while trying to read a financial report, questions kept running through Derek’s head.

  Why hadn’t he stayed with Christina until she’d woken up? Or why hadn’t he even left her a note?

  Maybe it was because of how the dawn had bathed Christina’s body as he’d awakened. Or maybe it was because of how her gorgeous, turn-your-heart-upside-down face looked, so peaceful and happy.

  When he’d laid eyes on her first thing this morning, emotions he couldn’t identify—didn’t want to identify—had attacked him, taken him down like lightning slamming into a tree.

  And Derek had panicked, remembering the bet Christina had talked about.

  The one that told him he was expendable.

  Confused and rattled, he’d left her to slumber, needing time to be away from the temptation of her.

  Needing time to get it together.

  He was still in the process of doing just that when she showed up in his office, an hour and a half late for work.

  Not sure how to interact with her, Derek tossed the report on his desk. It gave him something to do, especially during this initial moment of morningafter awkwardness.

  “I know,” she said, “I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

  After coolly sauntering to a chair, she sat and crossed her legs. Her earth-colored skirt suit co
vered most of what Derek had enjoyed last night. And if that didn’t hint that things were definitely back to business as usual, her upswept hair practically shouted the message.

  As did her aloof attitude.

  First things first, he had to apologize for this morning, even though his mind told him it’d been the right way to handle this delicate situation.

  “Christina, before the rest of the team gets here, I want to—”

  She held up a hand, silencing him, shooting him a detached smile. “That isn’t necessary. What happened last night, stays in last night. Know what I mean?”

  A slap in the face would’ve been more comforting. At least, then, he would have known that she cared.

  “I’m going to have a hard time forgetting about our time together,” he said.

  Dammit, that hadn’t been the right combination of words at all.

  “You…what?” she asked. “I thought…”

  She stood from the chair, calmly walking toward his attached suite.

  When she saw that he wasn’t following her, she made a subtle motion with her hand.

  Come in here.

  Might as well get this over with.

  She led him to his walk-in closet, then waited in front of a row of hanging suits, arms crossed over her chest.

  As soon as Derek entered, Christina explained her rules, words tinged with a thick, emotional Spanish accent.

  “To be clear, last night can be filed under the category of Unmentionable. It was a mistake. A momentary loss of brain power.”

  It was as if a blast of freezing air had whisked through Derek’s body.

  How could she be so cold about what they’d shared?

  Or had their connection—the touching of two lost people—been completely one-sided?

  Hell, no. She’d returned every kiss, measure for measure. Derek hadn’t been imagining it.

  “A mistake?” he asked. “You know better, Christina.”

  She bunched her fists, but was still collected. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, and you…Even you don’t fish in the office pool.”

  “True. But even though this makes business somewhat more challenging, we didn’t make a mistake.”

  After he said it, he realized it was the truth. He wouldn’t take back their lovemaking for anything.

  How could she not feel the same way?

  Now his dander was up. “Do you want to pretend nothing ever happened?”

  He thought he saw a burst of pain in her gaze.

  “That would be a good idea,” she said. “We could go back to square one and—”

  Without thinking, he stepped closer to her. In reaction, she backed up, hangers clanging as she mashed into his suits.

  Her reaction baffled him. “Christina…?”

  What was going on? On the one hand, she was watching him with the same look he’d seen last night: eyes soft and willing, lips parted.

  But then again, she had a hand in front of her chest, palm out, as if posting a barrier between them.

  “This is not a good idea,” she whispered.

  She hadn’t told him to get lost. Hadn’t told him that he was overstepping his bounds.

  Were her words more of a warning to herself than to him?

  Slowly, he took her hand, massaged it with his thumb, gentling her.

  “Just tell me you still need me,” he said.

  “I will not.”

  Her breath was coming in tiny gasps as she stared at the floor. But she hadn’t told him to stop touching her. The minute she did, he’d back away, give up, admit that last night had been the world’s biggest error.

  Encouraged, he turned up the steam, using his other hand to caress the underside of her jaw.

  Her eyes fluttered shut, and her hand started to tremble.

  “Tell me last night was no fluke, Christina.”

  “I won’t do that.”

  And she meant it, she thought. Their time together had changed everything—office dynamics, the way she saw the world.

  The way she saw herself.

  It hadn’t been a negative experience. Dios, in fact, Christina wanted much, much more. Her body craved him as if he were a forbidden opiate, one that made her feel sexy, dreamy, content.

  Even now, as his fingertips danced over her throat, warming her deep inside, she wanted to cast aside all her doubts and promises from this morning. Wanted to tear off both of their clothes so they could meld together again.

  “Derek…” she said, trying to put him off, but knowing her heart wasn’t in it.

  He must have taken his whispered name as an invitation, because he pressed his lips against her forehead. A red-hot, moist sear of possession, marking her.

  “Say it, Christina.” He spoke against her skin, just as he’d done last night against her knee, her thighs.

  The memory of their joining tore her apart: the building tension, blinding heat, shuddering ecstasy.

  He’d owned her, body and soul. But at this moment, the two halves were warring with each other for dominance.

  Her body said: Derek wants Christina, and Christina wants Derek. Why fight it?

  But this isn’t based on any real emotion, said her soul. It won’t ever be love.

  Then her brain kicked in, reminding her of Edith’s words this morning: he’s just a womanizer.

  And she’d allowed him to be one by inviting him into her bedroom.

  Why did all those mixed thoughts have to remind her of William Dugan and the trouble he’d caused her?

  As Derek cupped her face in his hands, brushing her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, Christina gathered all her strength.

  All her experience.

  “It was a mistake,” she repeated, latching onto his hands with her own, removing them from her skin.

  Obviously frustrated, he clenched his jaw.

  Cold air took the place of his touch on her skin, but Christina told herself she didn’t mind. She was doing what was right. Protecting herself in so many ways he’d never understand.

  He backed up, clearing the way for her to leave the wardrobe area ahead of him.

  “I won’t mention it again,” he said stiffly.

  With every step she took away from him, her heart cracked a little, like ice forming over what was once fluid and open.

  And, when she reached the office and took a seat, waiting for the team to arrive, she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d returned to a throne.

  Whether she wanted it or not, the ice queen was back.

  By lunchtime, Twyla was crying.

  Dammit, Derek hadn’t meant to bring her to the point of tears. But she’d been so busy being precious, making an impression on their two additional team members—Adam and Ben—that she was failing to concentrate. To brainstorm different components of a “creative room” where employees could go to relax and reenergize at the same time.

  “Twyla,” he’d said to the blonde after the third time she’d made an irrelevant comment while dimpling at the male team members, “stop messing around and earn your paycheck.”

  Right off the bat, he knew she’d been more embarrassed than anything else. But it’d taken a few seconds for her tears to drop from her face, down to the notepad paper she’d come to stare at.

  “Aw, jeez,” he’d said, ticked at himself.

  Maybe he’d still been stinging from Christina’s rejection this morning and that was reflected in the demands he was putting on the team. But one thing he knew for certain was that they were going to produce another fabulous presentation, come hell, high water or even Twyla’s tears.

  Her flirting would only distract them.

  With a chastising glance at Derek—yeah, he deserved it for being so snappish—Christina had led an upset Twyla into the wardrobe suite.

  The place seemed to be a hot spot for controversy today.

  As the males—the returning Jonathan and Seth, plus the two new guys—all sat around and cleared their throats, Derek was thankful that he and Christina were stil
l able to work well together.

  Yes, they were civil and productive. But simmering underneath every verbal exchange, every glance, was the knowledge that he’d been inside her. That he’d explored every inch of her body.

  Good God, it was hard to keep his mind on anything else.

  After a few minutes, Christina and Twyla reemerged, the young assistant much too reserved.

  Had Christina seconded Derek’s opinions about keeping the flirting out of the office?

  Damn, he felt like a hypocrite. And to make matters worse, his act of wounding Twyla brought back bitter memories of his father and what he used to do to Mom and Derek with his verbal abuse.

  Well, Sir and his harshly precise lifestyle could go to the big military base down below, for all Derek was concerned.

  Maybe the old man had even ended up there.

  “I think this is a good time to break for lunch,” Derek said.

  “I’m heading for the cafeteria,” Twyla said much too quickly.

  Without wasting a second, she darted out of the room, followed by the guys.

  As Christina gathered some papers, Derek couldn’t help thinking she was staying behind for a good reason.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Let me have it.”

  Pausing, she glanced up at him, all traces of the passionate woman he’d known last night gone.

  “Twyla’s still inexperienced and kind of hormonal, but she’s a good worker. She didn’t mean to put a kink in your well-oiled machine of corporate progress.”

  Why was there an echo beneath every one of her words?

  We made a mistake, a mistake, a mistake…

  “I need everyone on track,” he said, ignoring the reminders.

  She finished putting away her papers. “Why? Do you have something to prove?”

  “To who?”

  He came around to the front of his desk, his body vibrating like a damned divining rod in her presence.

  She put her hands on her hips, as if girding herself against him. “Jack, that’s who. Just because you two are vying for the position of Number One Son with Patrick, don’t drag the rest of us into it.”

  “That’s bull,” he said, knowing she was all too right.

  “Is it?”

  He really didn’t need a lecture, especially from a woman who’d messed with his mind enough already.