Return of the Secret Heir
Page 10
Eyes dark with need, he reached around to unzip her dress and pushed it down over her shoulders. The rush of cool air on her sensitized skin was like a caress. JT’s eyes swept over her before he groaned and sank to his knees, pressing his head against her stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
“JT,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his thick hair, unable to verbalize everything she felt. No one but him had ever looked at her body as if it were a gift.
He pressed kisses to her abdomen, to her hip, to where the lacy panties met her leg, then he pulled the fabric aside and kissed the apex of her thighs. A delicious haze descended and her fingers in his hair pulled tight. The erotic motion of his tongue was almost too much to bear, but his broad palms held her in place. Her skin was too tight for her body, as if she was expanding, growing…
When he stood, she was vibrating with need. She unzipped his trousers and let them slide away before catching the sides of his deep blue boxers and pushing them down along the same path. She circled his bare erection with a hand and air hissed out from between his teeth. The hot-satin feel of him against her palm was everything she remembered. When they’d made love on the beach again, they’d moved too fast for her to appreciate the sensations like this, and she’d regretted it when she’d lain awake in the weeks afterward. This time, she was taking her time, gathering as many memories as she could.
He held her gaze, and as she caressed him with her fingertips she began to lose herself in the clear green depths of his eyes. Somewhere inside her, the girl she’d once been was clawing her way to the surface, responding to the younger JT who still lurked in those eyes. Her JT. She stilled and whispered, “I’ve missed you.”
His eyes drifted closed for a long moment and he squeezed them tight, his entire face clenching, growing hard. When he opened them again, any trace of the boy was gone, and he was pure man, filled with nothing but desire. He grabbed both her hands, turning her so he could sink down onto the bed, gently pulling her on top of him. The feel of his body pressed against hers, the slide of their skin was nirvana itself. He grasped her bottom and positioned her to increase the friction, and she shimmied up a little to help, her breaths coming faster. Their bodies matched each other, as if his had been created to lie alongside hers, and together they became more than they could ever be apart.
With near-frenzied need, her hands stroked over his skin, touching everywhere she could reach, and in a synchronized rhythm, his hands moved in a similar pattern, caressing her sides, her hips, her back. His hands had more roughness than a businessman’s should, and the sensation pushed her closer to the edge.
Smoothly, he rolled her over and hovered in the air, hands resting near her shoulders. The absence of his touch was almost painful. “Come back to me,” she urged, grasping at him.
A slow, devilish smile spread across his face and he leaned down to kiss her hungrily, harder, deeper. The fire inside erupted into a roaring bonfire, the flames threatening to consume her as she grasped at him, pulling him to her, as he positioned himself between her knees. When he entered her, it was with a thrust too gentle. She arched beneath him, urging, wanting, needing. Heeding her call, or perhaps the demands of his own body, he moved faster, harder and she gripped his shoulders and moved with him.
The hedonistic pleasure of the slick slide of their bodies was the beginning of the end, the pressure building down deep inside, until he tipped them both over the edge in a release more intense, more explosive than anything they’d shared before, leaving her gasping for air, her limbs helplessly slumped back on the bedcovers. JT slid to the side to lay in her arms, pressed against her, his breathing labored, not moving any other muscles than those needed to fill his lungs.
She glanced over at him, and a secret smile filled her chest as she took in his sensual form sprawled across her bed. She’d never invited a man into her own bed before, even when she’d been engaged-it was something far too intimate-but JT was different. He’d always been different. Despite their having no future as a couple, at this moment he somehow belonged in her bed. She snuggled into his solid warmth.
As her body began to return to some sense of normality and the air turned cold on her skin, JT pulled her comforter from the end of the bed and wrapped it around them, gathering her close beneath it. She sighed and laid her head on his chest.
“Pia,” he said, his voice rumbling beneath her cheek, “about what I said before. No promises-”
She turned and laid a finger over his lips. “I don’t need them, JT. Neither of us wants to go there again.”
He stretched and tucked the arm that wasn’t holding her behind his head. “The problem with that is you’re pregnant.”
A powerful mix of apprehension and excitement filled her chest at his reminder of the tiny life in her womb. But she knew that wasn’t what would be going through JT’s mind. It’d be all about doing the right thing. Responsibilities and obligations.
“Actually, there’s one promise you need to make me,” she said, lifting herself to lean on an elbow and looking down at him.
His eyes were immediately wary. “What’s that?”
“I don’t want you doing the ‘right thing’ or what you think the right thing is. If we’re going to get through this, we need to be honest with each other.” She stroked a finger down his cheek. “You don’t want to marry me, JT, so please don’t ask again.”
There was a long minute of silence, when the only sounds she could hear were the cars on her street and JT’s still-heavy breathing. She bit down on the side of her lip and waited. They couldn’t waste their energy arguing over details when they needed to be on the same side.
Then he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said and pulled her against him again, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder. She relaxed into the embrace, glad they were at least on the same page about marriage.
Her cell rang and she groped for her handbag beside the bed and fumbled for the phone. Ryder Bramson’s name appeared on the screen. She flinched but years of conditioning meant she could never let a client’s call go. “I have to take this,” she said to JT. “It’s work.”
He reached for a magazine from a bedside table, obviously planning to give her some privacy. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something-she would just need to be careful with what she said.
Straightening her shoulders and slipping into professional mode, she clicked the talk button. “Hello, Mr. Bramson.”
She felt JT stiffen beside her and heard the magazine being dropped back on the table as he moved up to sit against the headboard.
Ryder Bramson’s deep, commanding voice came down the line. “Good afternoon, Ms. Baxter. I’ve had a call from a woman named Linda Adams who tells me she’s taken the lead on administering my father’s estate.”
Her heart bumped around in her chest as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. “That’s true.”
“Why the change? I was happy with you.”
She lifted a hand to circle her throat. This wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have in front of JT and not give anything away, but her apartment was small enough that wherever she went, he’d overhear. She could tell Ryder that it was a bad time and ring him when JT wasn’t around, but when would that be? Tomorrow? Ryder Bramson would want answers before then. Running out of options, she crossed the room and leaned against the window frame. If anything confidential came up, she’d refer him back to Linda Adams.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bramson,” she said, using a calm, controlled voice, “but it’s no longer possible for me to head up that case.”
“I’d like to know why,” he repeated.
Pressing a hand to her temple, she gripped the phone tightly. How much could she reasonably say with JT in the room? She concentrated, trying to get her post-lovemaking brain to function, and knew the answer-the information his lawyer could find by ringing her firm.
Glad to have a line in the sand for the phone call, she expelled a brea
th. “A conflict of interest has arisen and it’s better that I step back. Linda has taken the lead and I’m assisting her.”
“A conflict of interest? Tell me,” Ryder said, voice suddenly like steel.
Her heart stuttered like a jackhammer. “It would be better-”
“Pia, we’ve been working with you for some time on this, and been happy with your work. But if you have a conflict of interest, then I think I deserve to know what that is.” His voice lightened. “You’ve found you’re another of Warner’s long-lost children?”
She glanced at JT, sitting up against the headboard, hair rumpled, comforter strewn around his thighs, not even pretending to not listen in. Despite the seriousness of the phone call, a quivering began down low in her belly.
“No,” she said slowly, turning away, “but I have an unacceptable link to someone who claims to be one of those children.”
There was a sharply inhaled breath down the line. “You’ve met Hartley?”
She looked back at the gloriously naked man in her bed. “Yes.”
“To have handed over the case, it must be serious. You’re somehow involved, I take it?”
Involved? Try pregnant with the man’s child. “You could say that,” she said, trying not to let the irony come through in her voice.
“Then I can see why you need to step back.” He sighed with what sounded like disappointment.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hating that she’d let everyone down-the firm, Ryder Bramson, herself. It reminded her too much of her childhood where she was constantly facing her parents’ disappointment.
Then she made herself put it all behind her and stood taller against the bedroom wall. All she could do from here was ensure she didn’t make one more mistake-even a spelling mistake, as Ted Howard had helpfully pointed out-and to reassure Ryder that things weren’t as bad as he might be imagining, for the firm’s sake as well as hers.
“I promise you, Mr. Bramson,” she said, injecting her words with confidence, “the firm’s integrity has never been, nor will it be, compromised. As soon as I realized I couldn’t work with the necessary detachment, I excused myself from the case.”
There was silence for a moment before he let out a breath. “I appreciate that. Tell me something, off the record. Since you’ve come to know him, do you personally believe his claim to be Warner’s son?”
She looked at JT while she had his half brother on the phone, acutely aware she was trapped between two powerful men. All she could do was tell the truth. “Yes, I believe him. But that won’t affect the way I carry out my duties assisting Linda Adams.”
“Okay, good to know. Thanks for your work on the case and your honesty.”
She thumbed the off button and dropped the cell on her bedside table, moving slowly to give herself the extra few moments to compose herself before facing JT. She pulled a white silky robe from her cupboard and slipped her arms through the sleeves, then sat on the side of the bed.
“That was one of Warner’s sons,” she said needlessly as she looked at him.
His eyes were shuttered against her, his arms folded over his bare chest. “Can you tell me which one, or is that privileged information?”
“Ryder.” Being in the room with her during that call was probably as close as he’d ever come to either of his half brothers-to anyone on the paternal side of his family-so she waited patiently for him to process the information.
JT nodded. “The legitimate one.”
“Yes,” she said, wishing she could climb back into the bed and hold him, to find what he needed in this moment and give it to him. But JT Hartley wasn’t a man who appreciated any form of sympathy. Especially from her. He’d shared his body, but he hadn’t shared even a sliver of his heart.
“Apparently,” he said, the bitterness only faint in his voice, “it was to protect Warner’s engagement to Ryder’s mother that my mother was chased out of town.”
“Warner’s wife came from a rich family.” She didn’t like to be cynical, but the media had speculated for years that the reason Warner hadn’t divorced his wife and married his long-term mistress was the chance he’d lose too much money in the process-most of the money had come from her. A man like that wouldn’t want his financially advantageous marriage jeopardized before it had started.
He cocked his head to the side. “What do you think of Ryder?”
She thought of the tall man with the rugged features. He was straight down the line and had been nothing but courteous to her. “I think he’s a good man.”
“A good man who married to get more stock in his family company.” He arched an eyebrow. “That sounds a whole lot like his father to me.”
The media had gone crazy when Ryder’s engagement to Macy Ashley had been leaked, and the implications for Bramson Holdings became apparent-he acquired her family company and its ten-percent stock in Bramson Holdings at their wedding. Perfect timing as he headed into a battle for control of the board with his other half brother, Seth Kentrell.
“I know it appeared that way, but I’ve seen Ryder with Macy and there’s something special between them. They’re in love.” Pia’s insides had twisted tight when she met Macy at a fundraising ball and seen her obvious affection for her husband, and his for her.
JT’s eyes said he didn’t believe it, but he didn’t say the words aloud. “Have you met the other one?”
She nodded. “Seth Kentrell.” Dark hair, midnight blue eyes, always in perfect control of himself and situations around him.
“Seems he’s recently engaged, too,” JT said with cynicism. “Again it had something to do with the family business.”
“Not in the way you think. He had some delicate negotiations with April Fairchild over the ownership of a hotel. It would have been difficult for him, so soon after losing Jesse.” Seth’s brother-JT’s third half brother-who’d recently died in a car accident. Her heart cramped as she remembered being the one to break the news to Ryder about a brother he’d never met. Such a sad, senseless loss of life.
“What was Jesse like?”
“Sweet.” She climbed farther onto the bed and rested against the headboard within touching distance of JT. “He didn’t seem to want anything to do with the family business.”
“We had that in common,” he said harshly. And she knew behind the harshness were seven levels of pain that he would always hide and that thought made tears threaten at the back of her eyes.
Knowing all the brothers, she could see the perspective of each. She’d give almost anything for Ryder and Seth to just acknowledge JT-or at least allow the DNA test that would prove the connection, then acknowledge him-but it was hard to judge their choices without having walked in their shoes.
She tucked her feet up under herself and pulled the sash of her robe tighter. “Ryder and Seth are both good men stuck in an awkward position by their father. Under different circumstances, you’d probably like them both.”
JT looked across at the woman he’d just made love to. A woman who seemed like a stranger in this moment. “You think I could like two men who actively work to keep their own biological brother from what should rightfully be his? To deny that he’s even their brother?” He shook his head. “These don’t sound like good men to me.”
Restless, he stood and reached for his trousers. As he zipped them up, he ran back over the conversation she’d had with Ryder Bramson and his hands gradually stilled.
“You’ve been taken off the Bramson estate,” he said without looking up. “Because of me.”
She climbed out of the bed and began to collect her clothes from the floor. “Not removed completely, simply moved to assisting another lawyer who’s taken the lead.”
His gut clenched like a vise. Maybe he should have kept his distance. Her career could suffer because he’d involved her in his life again. Seemed he caused trouble for her no matter which decade they met in.
He rested his hands low on his hips. “They know you’re pregnant and I’m the father.”
She reached behind herself to do up her dress, but before she could find the zipper, he was there and pulled it up, holding her hair away from the teeth. “And he gave the case to someone else.”
“I handed it over,” she said as she turned around, tucking her hair behind her ears. “It was the right thing to do, if maybe a little later than I should have.”
He remembered when they’d first discussed this, the night he’d come to her apartment on his bike, full of confidence and wanting to lay ghosts to rest.
“You badly want this case, don’t you?”
“More than any other I’ve handled.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be up for a promotion if you handled the case well.”
Her mouth twisted in a bad impersonation of a smile. “Turns out, becoming pregnant by a claimant to the will isn’t anyone’s idea of handling the case well.”
Wincing, he let loose an oath. “I’m sorry, Pia.”
“Don’t sweat it.” She shrugged and walked through to the living room. “He said that if I didn’t make any more mistakes and handled the rest of my caseload flawlessly, I’d still be in the running.”
Following her out, he rested a hip on the kitchen counter. “He must think highly of you.” She shrugged self-effacingly, and his brain raced ahead. “Working from home during your first trimester, is that something that would put you out of the running?”
“He wouldn’t say so officially,” she said slowly, as she collected the bags of supplies he’d bought her, “but maybe. I’ve become less reliable to the firm in the last couple of months.”