by Cat Schield
“What a beautiful ring,” Bunny exclaimed, giving Elizabeth’s hand a little turn so she could admire the diamond. She shot Roark a questioning look. “A family heirloom?”
“Only the diamond. It came from my grandmother’s wedding ring. Elizabeth is a modern woman,” he said, bestowing a wry smile on her. “I knew she would prefer a modern setting.”
“A blend of old and new.” Bunny nodded in complete understanding. “It’s perfect.”
As the conversation shifted to the inevitable questions of whether they’d set a wedding date and where they intended to marry, Elizabeth dodged specifics as best she could and smiled up at Roark, all the while hiding her dismay at the deception she’d allowed herself to become entangled in.
Roark must have sensed her disquiet because he gave her a gentle squeeze and kissed her cheek. “You’re doing great,” he murmured.
A second earlier she’d been ready to break free and run screaming from the room. With his words, some of her anxiety eased. And permitted her to notice a disastrous sensation. Delight. She hummed with it. Deep inside her, where an abundance of foolish inclinations frolicked, she was giddy over Roark’s attentiveness and swamped with the longing to feel his strong hands roam over her body.
Her mind rebelled. This was the exact sort of thing she needed to guard against. Easier said than done.
After the party, when all the guests had departed and the catering crew had cleaned up and left, Elizabeth stood in the middle of the living room and told her racing heart to slow down. Every fond glance Roark had sent her way for the benefit of the board members had carried a sensual promise with it. Even from the opposite end of the room, she’d been caressed by his intent.
“Alone at last,” he said, coming up behind her. His fingertips drew a line of goose bumps down her arm. His breath slipped warm and provocative against her neck.
“I think the party was a success.” Was that her voice sounding all breathy and turned on?
“We achieved what we set out to do. The Waverly’s board knows that beauty has tamed the beast.”
Despite the way his fingers wandered along her waist with turbulent results, Elizabeth managed a chuckle. “I think I’d characterize you more like the big bad wolf.”
He spun her around so abruptly, her mouth dropped open in a startled huff.
“Prepare to be gobbled up.”
And his lips captured hers, robbing her of breath, torching her senses. It was magic.
A wave of longing crashed into her, drowning all thought. Thank goodness his strong arm banded her body to his powerful frame or the weakness that attacked her knees would have left her puddled at his feet. She opened to his questing tongue and groaned at the sexy slide of his free hand over her butt. He kneaded her curves and lifted her against his hungry erection. Where moments earlier there’d been an unsatisfied ache between her thighs, a raging storm of desire shot from her heart to her loins. In the grip of fierce anticipation, she clutched his shoulders as he broke off the kiss.
His smooth lips drew a line of fire down her neck. “Sweetheart, you taste like heaven.”
The intensity of his rough murmur thrilled her. From his playboy reputation she’d expected a masterful display of his seductive powers, not this hungry assault. His raw sensuality seeped beneath her skin, awakening the sort of primitive urges she swore she’d never give in to again.
In a flash all her past romantic disappointments came back to her. Her days of making poor choices were behind her. She had a plan. Career. Motherhood.
Elizabeth’s willpower thrashed against the whirlpool of carnal sensation sucking her downward. With a deep breath she put her hands against Roark’s chest and pressed. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. I really should be going.”
And to her amazement, Roark let her go without a single protest. She chastised herself for being disappointed. No more getting involved with boys, especially the naughty ones. And Roark was as naughty as they got.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” he said, catching her hand as she turned to go.
With his thumb stroking the erratic pulse in her wrist, she nodded. “Somewhere we can be seen together.”
The suggestion was only half because they were supposed to be taking their engagement public. Now that she’d discovered the powerful chemistry between them, she had limited confidence in her ability to fend off his kisses. Worse, she couldn’t count on her ability to keep her hands off him.
Even now, blood pounded hot and insistent through her veins, persuading her to put down her purse and garment bag and shove him down into the nearby nest of pillows.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
With a nod, she fled.
The cool night air did little to reduce the simmering emotions Roark’s kiss had aroused. What was she thinking kissing him like that? This was supposed to be a business arrangement.
Elizabeth stepped to the curb to hail a taxi and caught a movement to her left. The rear door of a limo opened and Sabeen emerged. She caught Elizabeth’s gaze on her and let her coat fall open to reveal her low-cut evening gown.
After a heated exchange with Roark, Darius had dragged his sister away from the party an hour ago. Why had she come back?
“I am surprised that you are leaving so early,” Sabeen called, striding forward. “From the way you looked at Roark all evening, I didn’t think you’d leave his bed before dawn.”
The implication being that Elizabeth must not be able to keep her man happy if he was willing to let her go before midnight.
“I have an early morning.” And now she was making excuses. “Did you forget something at the loft?”
“I didn’t get a chance to thank Roark properly for returning my little brother to me unharmed.”
Elizabeth had no trouble reading the sort of “proper” thank you Sabeen had in mind. At that moment, she felt sorry for the younger woman. No matter how beautiful or how hard she threw herself at Roark, he was never going to see her as anything but the daughter of his former friend and tutor.
“I’m sure he knows how much you appreciate his help, but go on up and thank him now. I know he’ll enjoy seeing you. He told me you and your brother are like family.”
She hadn’t given Sabeen the sort of reaction the younger woman was hoping for. It was hard to be jealous when she was only pretending to be engaged to Roark, and she knew he wouldn’t jeopardize the future of Waverly’s for an indiscretion.
“And I will still be in his life, long after he tires of you.”
Elizabeth didn’t doubt that a bit. “Good evening, Sabeen.”
Four
At three in the afternoon, only seven climbers scaled the rock wall at the Hartz Sports Club. With one of the most challenging climbing walls in the country and the largest in Manhattan, the facility was usually more crowded.
“You’ve been practicing while I’ve been gone,” Roark called across to Vance, splitting his attention between his half brother and the difficult route he’d chosen.
“I wasn’t going to let you embarrass me again,” Vance returned, keeping his eyes on the wall in front of him.
“You should come with me to Pakistan and climb the Trango Towers.”
Vance snorted. “I’m pretty sure I’m not ready for anything like that.”
“How about something closer to home? There’s Shiprock in New Mexico.”
“Maybe when this business with Rothschild and the stolen statue goes away we can talk about it.”
Roark nodded, sobering. For most of his life, the only family he’d known had been his mother. Then four years earlier, Vance had approached him with a tale of being his half brother. At first Roark had been skeptical. The story Vance had told him about finding a letter from his father that directed him to track down his half brother had seemed too far-fetched to be true.
With his mother’s reclusive lifestyle, Roark had a hard time imagining her taking a lover. But Vance’s story that they’d met when Edward Waverly ha
d come to see her about a coin collection she wanted to sell made sense. Throughout Roark’s childhood his mother had deflected all his questions about his father, leaving Roark to indulge his active imagination. He could see how his mother might have fallen in love with the charismatic Waverly.
But why had it ended?
Perhaps Edward had abandoned her after discovering she was pregnant. Perhaps she had broken things off because she knew she could never have been the sort of society wife a man like Edward would have wanted. Perhaps they’d just fallen out of love.
Roark turned his thoughts from the past to the present. “What are you and Ann planning to do about Rothschild?”
Vance stretched his left arm until his fingertips could just curve around his next hold. “We have to keep our stock price from dropping any lower. Otherwise we won’t need to worry about board members selling to him—he will be able to pick up all the shares he wants on the open market.”
“And the quickest way to stabilize the stock price is to clear up this mess about the Gold Heart statue.”
Roark’s thoughts ran over the questions raised by the FBI agents. He had no worries that Rothschild’s machinations would land him in jail. He’d been nowhere near the palace on the night the Gold Heart statue disappeared. Of course, he couldn’t prove that since his activities the evening in question were not the sort he wanted law officials poking into.
“That may present a bit of a challenge,” Roark said. “The statue may bring in well over 200 million. With the theft of Rayas’s Gold Heart statue the owner of our statue has grown quite paranoid about security.”
“And you’re sure it’s neither stolen nor a fake?”
“I’m staking my reputation that it’s not.”
“You’re staking the reputation of Waverly’s that it’s not.”
“No, I’m not. Originally there were three statues created by the king of Rayas for his three daughters. Each one is marked with its own unique stamp and I have a document that distinguishes which statue belonged to which daughter. Currently, one statue resides with a branch of Rayas’s royal family. The one the FBI believes I stole belongs to the current king. The last one disappeared over a century ago. Stolen or sold, no one knows, and the family has since died off. It ended up in Dubai and became part of a collection of a hundred other artifacts belonging to a wealthy sheikh who died recently. His son has little interest in anything old. He prefers cutting-edge technology, young beautiful women and expensive cars and real estate. Selling the collection is going to fund his dream of building the finest resort in Dubai.”
“So when the statue arrives, you can prove both its authenticity and its ownership?”
“Exactly.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about.”
“Not a single thing.”
Roark pondered the break-in that had happened in his Dubai apartment while he’d been in Colombia. The thief had disabled a state-of-the-art safe and stolen all the documentation Roark had on the Gold Heart statue including the statue’s provenance. He’d made copies, but doubted these would satisfy the FBI experts.
He’d often been in situations where he needed others to trust him. Dealing in antiquities was the sort of business that came with a lot of questions. Black marketers thrived and the technology that should have made it easier to tell real from fake also made it easier to create replicas that appeared authentic.
For the next twenty minutes the men climbed in silence, each occupied with their own thoughts. As their hour ran down, Roark returned to the floor and unfastened his harness. As usual, climbing left his mind clear. When your life depended on the security of your next hand- or foothold, it was hard to clutter your thoughts with worrying about things you couldn’t control.
“Your fiancée certainly made a splash with the board the other night,” Vance said as he stored his gear.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Elizabeth had charmed everyone. A dozen people had informed Roark how lucky he was to have found such an exceptional woman.
“I had no idea that you’d gotten so serious with someone of late,” Vance continued, his tone neutral. “How long have you two been together?”
“Not as long as you might think.”
Vance must have heard something in Roark’s tone because he glanced his way, eyes sharp. “She must have been worried when you disappeared for three months.”
“It definitely tested our relationship, but she understands my need to be gone a fair amount.”
“A fair amount?” Vance echoed, eyebrows raised. “It seems to me that you’ve been in New York a total of twenty days in the last year.”
“Sounds about right.” Roark focused on storing his gear. “But Elizabeth is very committed to her career. I’m convinced she didn’t miss me at all.”
“Quite a love match then.” A thread of sarcasm wove through Vance’s voice. Ever since falling for Charlotte, he’d become a champion of committed relationships.
“Exactly.”
“Tell me how you came to be engaged.” Vance drank deeply from his bottle of water, giving Roark a chance to decide what exactly he was going to tell his brother.
Deceiving Vance left him with a heavy conscience and a bitter taste in his mouth. Past experience had taught him to trust no one. That mantra had kept him alive more times than he could count. But Vance wasn’t a shady antiquities dealer with questionable associates. He was a well-respected businessman and Roark’s brother. Having family to guard his back was changing Roark from a solo operator into a team player, and adapting to the new dynamic wasn’t easy.
“We’re not really engaged,” Roark admitted, deciding that being truthful with Vance was best. “Cromwell approached me at the wine auction and told me Rothschild is after him to sell his shares and convince everyone else to do so, as well. He believes you, Ann and I are the future of Waverly’s. But with the near scandal surrounding Ann’s alleged relationship with Rothschild and my wild ways where women are concerned, he wasn’t feeling confident about our judgment.”
“That old man should talk. He’s got more than a few skeletons in his closet.”
As much as he would have loved to hear more about Vance’s allegations, Roark stayed focused on his story. “Anyway, he thought if my love life settled down, I would demonstrate an ability to behave responsibly.”
“So, you got engaged?”
“Elizabeth agreed to act as my fiancée until the situation at Waverly’s stabilizes.”
For a moment Vance looked mildly stunned, then he shook his head. “Did it occur to you that this is exactly the sort of thing that gets you into trouble?”
“Yes. But what else would you have me do? Waverly’s is going to end up in Rothschild’s hands if we can’t keep our board members from selling. And you have to admit that the buzz about the Gold Heart statue being a fake or stolen has died down with the announcement of my engagement.”
“Agreed.” Vance scrutinized him a moment longer. “And speaking of you being the future of Waverly’s, have you given any more thought to my proposition?”
“That I officially join Waverly’s management and go public with our connection?” Roark shook his head. “It’s not a good time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. With Uncle Rutherford off doing who knows what, Waverly’s needs you. Besides, you have the same rights to the company that I do.”
“You seem to forget I’m the illegitimate son,” Roark pointed out. “The black sheep of the family, if you will.”
“I’m sure if my father had had his way, he would have married your mother.” Vance picked up his gym bag. “He loved her.”
“You don’t know that.” Not once had his mother named Edward Waverly in her journals. When she wrote of her lover, she talked about his thick brown hair and the unhappiness she’d glimpsed inside him. “And there’s no proof he was my father.” Despite the rumors, Roark never bought an artifact without authenticating its provenance. He was damn well not going to claim
to be Edward Waverly’s son without a declaration from his mother that it was true.
“The DNA test—”
“Proves we’re related. We could be cousins.” Roark knew his statement was ridiculous before Vance shot him a wry smile.
“You think you’re Rutherford’s son?”
“I don’t know.” Roark tempered his impatience. “And that’s why I’m not keen on a public announcement.”
“Fine. But I think if you come forward as a Waverly, it would go a long way toward bolstering our stock.”
“Let’s see how things progress with my engagement and I’ll let you know.”
* * *
Elizabeth swayed on her feet, half asleep as she waited for the elevator door to open. At seven o’clock on a Friday evening, the office housing Josie Summers’s Event Planning was abandoned. Most of her coworkers were working events. The rest had left around five, eager to head home or swing by their favorite bar for happy hour.
Today had been a particularly difficult day. Not only because her newest client was a demanding perfectionist and unable to make a decision, but because she’d had a frustrating conversation with her mother about plans for Thanksgiving. With the number of parties booked around the holiday, Elizabeth couldn’t get away from New York and she’d been unable to convince her parents to leave Portland and come for a visit.
Elizabeth really could have used her parents’ support. A year ago she’d lost her sister, brother-in-law and niece. The ache of the loss rarely left her, but the pain had eased over the past twelve months. She no longer had days where it was nearly impossible to get out of bed in the morning, but not a day went by when she didn’t see or hear something and pick up the phone to dial her sister. And now, it looked like she’d be spending Thanksgiving and the anniversary of their death alone.