A Covert Conquest

by Ravenna Tate

  He poured a generous amount of tequila into a pitcher and began to add other ingredients. “Some women have so little self-respect that they will put up with any kind of treatment just to have a man around.”

  She made a sound of disgust. “Not me. I’d rather be alone.”

  He gave her a droll look. “I’m having trouble believing you aren’t constantly asked out.”

  Heat crept up her neck and face, but she forced her gaze to stay on his face. “I am asked a lot. I don’t accept a great deal.”

  “Good for you. You should have high standards. All women should. All men should, too, for that matter.”

  He frowned and glanced down at the pitcher as if thrown off balance by what he’d just said. This was as good a time as any to clarify what she’d meant earlier.

  “When I said before that I compared all men to Harry, I didn’t mean I’d never consider a long-term relationship again.”

  He stirred the contents, keeping his focus on the pitcher. “What did you mean then?”

  “I … this is more difficult to define than I thought it would be. I guess I meant I haven’t found anyone who makes me feel the way he did.”

  “How did he make you feel?”

  She glanced away so she could think for a second. No one had ever asked her that before. How was it possible to put into a few words what her relationship with Harry had been like? He was the only man she’d ever kissed, the only one she’d ever had sex with, and the only one she’d ever loved.

  “Comfortable, secure, safe, loved, wanted, and cherished. He made me feel good about the person I am.”

  Barclay stopped stirring and gave her a poignant look that tugged at her heart. Was it possible this man who went through women like water wasn’t happy in the life he’d chosen? Her assumption up to this second had been he was perfectly content, but now, she wasn’t so sure.

  “You’ve just described the relationship everyone wants.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful, with no trace of sarcasm or humor. “You’re a very lucky woman to have found that even once in your lifetime.”

  “I know.”

  She swallowed hard at the look on his face, a combination of regret and longing. This conversation hadn’t gone even close to the direction she’d assumed it would, and she suddenly realized she was right. He wasn’t happy at all.

  She had to ask. If it backfired, so be it, but she had to know.

  “What about you? Is that what you want?”

  He held her gaze for a few seconds, then turned and took two glasses out of the cupboard. He wet the ridges, dipped them in salt he’d already sprinkled onto a plate, and then poured them each a drink. When he handed hers over the counter, their fingers brushed, and that same jolt of electricity shot up her arm that she’d felt earlier when he’d brushed the hair off her face.

  “It wasn’t what I’ve wanted for a long time, but I guess you probably know that about me. The problem is, the older I get, the more I realize two things.”

  “What are they?”

  “I’m not going to live forever, and I don’t want to die a lonely old man.”

  Her heart pounded in her ears. Could he hear it? Surely it was loud enough to be heard across town.

  “So do something about it.”

  “Like what?” His gaze was so intense she felt an urge to look away again.

  “Change your ways. Live the life you want to live.”

  “That easily?”

  “Yes, that easily.”

  He held her gaze for a long time. Somewhere in the apartment a clock gently chimed, but her focus stayed on Barclay. Finally, his features softened, and then he clinked his glass gently against hers. “To doing something about it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Barclay’s hands shook while he grilled veggies and chicken. He’d made this dish before so it was automatic, which is why he’d chosen it at the last minute. A ten minute conversation and a pair of huge blue eyes had just turned his entire world on its head.

  He’d asked Rissa to tell him about her life before they were all forced underground, indicating he didn’t expect her to talk about Harry if it made her uncomfortable. While she chatted away about life in Dallas, tossing out names and events he knew he’d never remember, his mind swirled with everything they’d said to each other earlier.

  “So do something about it.”

  He hadn’t grown up with sisters or close female cousins. His parents lived separate lives filled with charity events for his mother and long hours at the office for his father. His brothers had been jocks, much to the consternation of his father. Barclay was the only one always more interested in computers than footballs.

  A whole new world of dating opened up to him in college when he discovered that girls were interested in men, period, regardless of whether they had been the quarterback in high school or could bench three-fifty. He took advantage of the good looks he knew he’d been born with, and cultivated the art of seduction through words and gestures. Once he took over the family business, the women came to him.

  “That smells great. What is it?”

  Rissa’s sweet, lilting voice pulled him out of his reveries, but he had to glance around at the jars of spices scattered on the countertop to answer her question. “Cumin.”

  “I like it. It’s so exotic.”

  Once she returned to telling him the names and adventures of every friend she’d had since grade school, he zoned out again, his mind drifting to his current dating life. He normally had a different woman on his arm every weekend. All the Weathermen had been like that once. Some still were, but when you got them one-on-one, every one except Blaine Parker admitted they were miserable now.

  Barclay suspected Blaine was holding out simply to be … well, Blaine. He’d cave one day, too, after the rest of them did. It was a matter of finding the right woman.

  It wasn’t fun being over forty and dating around like you were a horny teen. It was pathetic at best, irresponsible at worst. They each wanted what Ace and the others who had found true love now had. Only Blaine was the holdout.

  “Are you sure I can’t help?”

  He smiled at her. “I’m enjoying the sound of your voice. Please keep talking.”

  The absolute delight on her face sent a wave of guilt coursing through him, but the truth was that he did need her voice right now. It was easy to listen to, and had a quality to it that he found soothing and warm.

  How did one find the right woman? What exactly did that mean? Was it a matter of simply deciding you were done playing around, or had each of them heard that siren song he now heard in Rissa’s voice? Was that what had made Ace, Emmett, Dominic, Kane, Damien, and Addison realize they’d found their soul mate, or was it all random?

  “At least let me toss your salad or something. I’m really good with mixing lettuce and celery around in a bowl.”

  If he’d had liquid in his mouth he’d have choked on it. “Ah, Rissa, do you know what that means?”

  She looked genuinely confused, and he suddenly realized how sheltered her life had been.

  “To toss someone’s salad means to lick in or around the asshole.”

  He watched her blush. It had been a while since he’d seen a woman flush so often, and he found it endearing.

  “Well, I’m not sure that’s in my job description, Mr. Hampton.”

  Oh, and she’s witty, too. Bonus! “Really? We’ll have to check with HR and do something about that.”

  Her quick laugh filled the kitchen with humor as he slid the salad bowl and tongs toward her. “Here you go. Toss away.”

  “Not sure I can now with that image in my head.”

  “Feel free to remove anything that resembles an anus.”

  “Oh, good. Thanks.” She laughed softly as she took care of putting the finishing touches on the salad, and they carried the food to the dining room. He returned to the kitchen for their drinks, then removed a lighter from a drawer in the sideboard and lit the tapers in the center of the tabl
e.

  “This is nice,” she said, settling down in a chair across from him. “Very cozy.” She glanced around the room. “I always picture a dining room as larger.”

  “I don’t enjoy giving large parties, so I had this one designed this way on purpose. I hope you like the food.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  Once she tasted it, she told him it was delicious. While they ate their dinner and drank more margaritas, she continued telling him about her life on the surface. When it was apparent she’d run out of steam, he couldn’t help notice she hadn’t mentioned Harry once. They’d all lost family members and good friends before the mass move underground, but he couldn’t imagine having lost someone that close. She’d known him all her life. He’d been lucky in that his entire family made it underground in time.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What was Houston like?”

  “Did you ever visit it?”

  “A few times. Who knows? We might have seen each other and not realized it.”

  He doubted it. Private schools and a carefully orchestrated social life had left him with almost no time to get to know anyone outside his parents’ circle of friends. “We might have.”

  “Do you have family here like I do?”

  “Yes. All of them. Two of my three brothers are married with kids, so I have three nieces and four nephews. My youngest brother is engaged, but they haven’t set a date.”

  “Which one are you? Oldest?”

  He grinned. “How did you guess?”

  “You seem like a first child. I’m in the middle. Do I seem like a middle child to you?”

  “I’m not sure what a middle child is supposed to be like.”

  “We’re supposed to feel neglected and like there’s nothing special about us. The oldest one is the smart one, the responsible one. The youngest is the baby.”

  “I’m not sure psychologists get everything right.”

  She poured herself another drink and nodded toward his glass. “Would you like more?”

  “Yes, please.” What the hell. If she was going to get drunk in his apartment, he might as well join her.

  “I’m not sure they do either.”

  He stopped in the motion of bringing his glass to his lips. “You’re not sure who does what?”

  “Psychologists. I’m not sure they get it right all the time either.”

  Her voice had a faraway quality to it that made him wonder if she’d sought help over Harry’s death. He’d have had to do that if he’d lost a fiancée in the storm above ground. No doubt about it.

  “What prompts you to say so?”

  “One of them told me I needed to put Harry’s death in perspective because I didn’t lose my family.”

  Barclay stared at her, then threw caution to the wind and reached across the table to take her hand. It was cool, but he wasn’t surprised by that. This woman held a lot in check. He saw that now. “A shrink said that to you?”

  She nodded, blinking. Her eyes were almost moist. He could see how hard she was trying not to cry, and his heart went out to her. It was fine with him if she cried. She likely needed to.

  “She told me it was tragic that he’d died in the flood but so had a lot of other people. And she told me I needed to grieve for him and move on. That I should be grateful I had my entire family here with me still.”

  “What an asshole.”

  The corners of her mouth turned up. “Yeah. I thought so, too, but unfortunately it turned me off from seeking more therapy with any of them.”

  “I’m not going to encourage or discourage you from seeing someone, but I do know a few people right here in SouthCentral that aren’t jerks, if you decide to give it another try.”

  Her smile was full of relief. “Thank you. I would like that. I think I need to.”

  He stroked her palm, and when she didn’t pull her hand away, hope began to build. He wanted to push the emotion away and stop this, but he couldn’t. This girl had captivated him, and he was powerless in her presence.

  “Why do you say that? Why do you think need to?”

  She gazed at him with dry eyes now, filled with clarify and purpose. “Because I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to start living again. I don’t want to dishonor his memory, but he’d want me to be happy and I’m not. I don’t mean in my work. I love my work. I mean…”

  He sighed because he knew exactly what she meant. “You mean you’re lonely, right? Your days are filled with meaningful things to do, but then at night, when the fake sun goes down, the dark creeps in and you wish you could change everything about your life, but you don’t know how or where to start.”

  She stared at him as if he had lobsters crawling on his face. “How did you do that?” she whispered. “How did you reach into my head and nail it, just like that?”

  “Because I feel the same way, Rissa.”

  “But … forgive me, but you’re in the tabloids constantly. You’re never without a date.”

  “It’s a ruse. I don’t want to be that person any longer.”

  She looked really uncomfortable, glanced at the pitcher, which was nearly empty, and pulled her hand out of his grasp. Then she pushed her margarita glass away. “Guess we’ve both had enough to drink.”

  “I’m not drunk. And I’m sorry if you feel I’ve said too much. You’re very easy to be with and talk to.”

  “You talk to people all the time, Barclay.”

  He took her hand again, unable to stop himself. He wanted this woman, and he knew she wanted him, too. He could feel it in the air, hanging between them, and it wasn’t the tequila talking. “Yes, I do, but there’s something about you that has me spellbound, Rissa.”

  She definitely wasn’t drunk, but then neither was he, and as she pulled her hand away again and rose, he realized he needed to tell her that.

  “Barclay, don’t misunderstand me. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work on this project with you, but I have no intentions of becoming your next conquest. I think we need to make some coffee or drink some water, or something. Then we should get back to work.”

  She picked up the pitcher and their glasses, and he followed her into the kitchen. “I’m not drunk.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Rissa, you want me as much as I want you.”

  He saw her back stiffen, and then watched her place the pitcher and glasses on the counter, but she didn’t turn to face him.

  “You do, don’t you?” He spoke softly now, not wanting to frighten her.

  “Not the point.”

  “It’s exactly the point.”

  “I’m not going to do this.” Her voice shook, but not from fear. She was as aroused as he was.

  “Why not?”

  “I told you.”

  “I don’t want to conquer you. I just want to make love to you.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “You’re worked for me almost a year. I do know you.”

  She finally turned to face him, and his damn dick was so hard now it was painful. The look on her face made him want to hold her for the rest of his life.

  “The last man I had sex with was Harry. That was over seven years ago.”

  He hadn’t expected that. Barclay’s feet finally worked, and he moved toward her slowly. When he reached where she stood, he resisted the urge to simply pull her into his arms. Instead he placed a hand on each shoulder, and the shaky intake of her breath tugged at his heart. She blinked against wet eyes again, and he hoped like hell it wasn’t because she suddenly wished she was anywhere but here.

  “Then I will be very, very careful.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long time, and he forced himself to hold her gaze and wait.

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “Considering you won’t be walking very well, we’ll likely be working from this apartment.”

  The corners of her mouth turned up, and he sent up a silent prayer that he hadn’t said the wrong thing.

  “Wha
t about my new office?”

  Soft laughter bubbled up more from nervous relief than humor. “I’ll have them move it Tuesday instead.”

  Her expression grew serious. “If you use me, I’ll quit.”

  Barclay moved one hand to her face and brushed a finger along her cheek. “I have no intention of using you, Rissa.”

  “This is very sudden.”

  “Not for me it isn’t.”

  “Why haven’t you approached me before now? What makes this different from the way you’ve lived your life for years?”

  “I’ve been an ass for years.”

  “And just like that, now you’re not?”

  “No, I still am, but I’m ready to change. You make me want to be a better person.”

  “How do I know you’re not just trying to seduce me, and tomorrow you’ll be saying something entirely different?”

  “That’s a fair question.” He leaned close and kissed her left cheek. Her soft moan spurred him on. “I am trying to seduce you, but I also meant what I said.” He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck, letting his tongue linger on her skin. It was so warm, and tasted incredible. Images of licking every square inch of her body filled his head. This time, she moaned louder and moved toward his body.

  “I’m ready to change, Rissa. I don’t want to be a player any longer.”

  “You make it hard to refuse you, Barclay.”

  Her voice shook slightly, and the way she pressed her body against his now told him he’d been right. She wanted this as much as he did. His heart overflowed with joy.

  “Then say ‘yes’.” Barclay licked her neck, trailing his tongue over her jaw, stopping below her lip. She was so still he pulled away to look into her eyes. It was impossible to read the emotion in them, and he was afraid he’d gone too far.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Tell me to stop now and I will. We’ll go back to work and I’ll never mention this again.”

  She moved her head back so she could look into his eyes, and he could barely stay still as he glimpsed acquiescence fill her beautiful face. “I don’t want you to stop. Make love to me, Barclay.”