“Did you check the drawers yet?”
RJ looked up from the bottle opener. “What drawers?”
“The one mentioned in your dad’s letter.” Maybe that was too personal. He probably wanted to search for the item alone.
He looked back down at the bottle. “I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I still hardly believe he’s gone.”
“I can’t imagine what a shock it must have been.”
“I keep expecting him to walk around the corner and say it was all an elaborate hoax.” He gestured toward a wing-backed red chair in the great room adjoining the kitchen. “That was his favorite chair. I feel like he’s going to get up out of it and rib me for not catching any fish yet this year.”
The cork popped out with force, almost making Brooke jump. “I know he’s proud of you for how you’re handling things.”
RJ nodded. “He’s got to be watching from somewhere.”
She fought an urge to glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure she wanted RJ’s dad watching the things she hoped to get up to with him tonight. Then again, maybe she should think more about how this would look to all the other people around them. What would RJ’s siblings think of her spending the weekend with him? She worked closely with his brother Matthew in the office—would she be able to look him in the eye on Monday? And what about his mom? Would she see sleeping with his assistant as somehow beneath a Kincaid?
Of course Elizabeth Kincaid had much bigger problems to worry about right now. Partly due to information that she, Brooke Nichols, had provided to the police. She really needed to get that off her chest. Maybe now was a good time. She could casually say she’d seen his mom in the building and then… No. Better to say the police had interviewed her and she just happened to mention—
“I’m glad you’re here with me.” RJ’s soft voice jolted her from her fevered ruminations. He handed her a cool glass of clear white wine and she took a hasty sip. The moment for telling him had passed. Now he was getting romantic and she’d ruin it all if she said anything. “I’ve been wanting to come up here for a while, but didn’t know how I’d feel.”
“How do you feel?” She squeezed her guilt back down. He wanted a relaxing weekend, not more to worry about. It was probably better if she didn’t mention it until they were back in the everyday world of Charleston.
“Okay. It’s as beautiful as ever, peaceful and a perfect escape from reality.”
“Can you ever really escape from reality?” Somehow it kept sneaking back into her consciousness.
“Sure.” He smiled. “You file it away in a drawer.”
“The third drawer down, perhaps?”
“Maybe that one, maybe another. Maybe more than one.” He raised a brow. “Then you lock it and lose the key until some later date.”
“That does not sound like the RJ I know.”
He laughed. “It doesn’t, does it? Maybe I’m trying to change.”
“I don’t think you should change.” She said it in earnest, then wondered if she’d revealed too much about herself. “You’re up-front and honest. You tackle things head-on and don’t beat around the bush or try to people-please.”
“And you’ve been the victim, more often than not.”
“I’d much rather have you tell me what you think than have to guess it.”
“I suppose that’s one thing I got from my dad.” His expression darkened. “Or I thought I did. He was blunt and truthful, and I never doubted a word he said.” He swirled his glass of wine and peered into its depths. “Now I can see I should have been wary of all the things he left unsaid. Maybe you can never really know anyone.”
“I don’t suppose you can, but most people don’t have secret families, so I don’t think you could have seen it coming.” It was hard to know what to say without overstepping the mark.
“No? My mom knew about them, and she kept quiet, too.”
“She was probably trying to protect you from pain.”
“Instead, she accidentally set herself up as a possible murderer.” He shook his head and took a swig from his wine. “There’s no justice in this world.”
Brooke’s stomach clenched. She hated to see RJ sounding so bitter. He was usually the most upbeat and positive person she knew. “There will be justice, but it might take some time.”
“I wish I believed you. How can there be justice in a world where the Kincaid Group, the company I’ve devoted my working life to, is now forty-five percent owned by a half brother—” he said the word with a growl “—that I never knew existed.” He looked up at her, eyes cold. “And who despises my entire family and the company he’s just been handed.”
Brooke put her wineglass down on the island. “It’s all very strange and hard to understand right now.” How could his father have been so cruel as to take away the company RJ saw as his birthright and hand it to an unknown rival?
“You know what?” RJ’s voice was low with anger. “I do want to see what’s in that third drawer. I want to see exactly what Dad wrote that would help me to understand why he stopped seeing me as his eldest son and heir.” He slammed open the third drawer down on one side of the kitchen island. “Napkins and napkin rings. Can you see the significance?”
Brooke swallowed. She wanted to laugh, just to ease the tension, but it wasn’t funny. “Did he have a desk?”
“Yes, there’s a study.” He strode from the room. Brooke glanced at the oven and saw the ribs still needed a few minutes. Always the trusty assistant, she followed him.
RJ marched into a bright study with cathedral ceilings and a leather-topped desk. “Ha. Two rows of three drawers.” He pulled open one bottom drawer and rifled through the interior. “Bullet casings, ballpoint pens, paper clips, a broken golf tee.” He slammed it and pulled open the other. “Reginald Kincaid letterhead and matching envelopes.” He lifted the papers. “What’s this?” He pulled out a manila envelope. “It has his name on the front. Or my name—since according to my birth certificate I’m Reginald Kincaid, as well.” The envelope was sealed. Thick too, like it had a wad of papers, or even an object. “It’s heavy.”
“Are you going to open it?”
RJ hesitated, weighing it in his hand. The oven timer beeped in the kitchen.
Four
“I’ll go check the ribs.” Brooke seemed relieved at the excuse to leave him alone. Once she’d gone, RJ glanced down at the envelope in his hands. The writing was his father’s familiar script, neat and commanding. He slid a finger under the sealed flap and ripped the paper carefully, aware he was frowning.
Then he lowered the open envelope to the desktop and eased the contents out onto the desk. Papers, mostly, a pair of cuff links, a ring he’d never seen his dad wear and some old photographs.
“They’re done. I’ll just toss the salad,” called Brooke from the kitchen.
“Great.” What was this envelope of things supposed to mean? He picked up the ring and looked at the design. Gold with a flat top, it was shaped almost like a class ring. As he stared at the shield he realized it was probably from his dad’s time in special forces. He recognized the bird holding a lightning bolt. The ring was worn, the gold scratched by use, but he didn’t remember ever seeing it on his dad’s finger. A relic from another lifetime, the lifetime in which Angela had been the woman he loved—and unbeknownst to him, the mother of his firstborn son.
“It’s ready.” Brooke’s voice tugged him back to the present.
There was a lovely woman waiting for him in the other room, and painful memories could wait. He pushed the items back into the envelope and slid them into the same drawer. “Coming.”
Brooke looked so beautiful standing silhouetted against the last rays of light. Her lush body beckoned to him, promising an evening filled with pleasure. Much better to tuck all th
at other stuff away in a drawer for now.
“Looks delicious.” He stared directly at her as he said it.
A pretty smile played around her pink mouth. “It sure does. Where do you want to eat?”
“There’s a table on the deck.” He served the ribs onto two plates, and Brooke spooned out the salad and noodles. He grabbed cutlery from a drawer, picked up the wine and glasses with one hand, and Brooke brought the plates. The last rays of sun lit the polished wood table and chairs in a fiery reddish gold. He lit the decorative hurricane lamps with the BBQ lighter, and topped up their wine.
“Okay, this really is paradise.” Brooke couldn’t stop staring at the view. “This must be the only house for miles around.”
“There are cabins and people out there, they’re just hidden by the trees.”
“The trees are kind to cloak everyone in peace and privacy.” Her sweet smile made his chest fill with emotion.
“They’re in charge around here. Dad always said that coming up to the mountains put everything into perspective. Problems shrink away and so does the human ego.”
Brooke laughed. “I can’t picture your father saying that.”
“He could be quite introspective when the mood caught him.” He could tell Brooke was rather intrigued by the new side of him she’d seen lately. Usually he didn’t think too much about the impression he made on people, but right now it pleased him to show Brooke he wasn’t just a hard-partying playboy. “It’s easy to see why, now we know his life was a lot more complicated than any of us imagined.” He took a bite of his food.
Being out here in the mountains brought a sense of equanimity that dulled the pain of recent events. He could think and talk about his dad calmly. Brooke’s peaceful presence helped. He couldn’t imagine her getting upset about anything. She was always the voice of reason in the office, ready to pour oil on troubled waters. “Did I ever thank you for taking me by the scruff of the neck and getting me out of trouble the other day?”
“When I marched you to your office and plied you with liquor?” Her pretty green eyes sparkled.
“Yes, that. A wise executive move.”
“More an act of desperation. Still, I’d like to be an executive one day.”
“You’d be good. You have an instinct for how to deal with people—getting them to deliver weekly updates so we know where everyone stands, for example.”
“I got the idea from a management video I watched.”
“I had no idea such bold ambition burned in your chest.” RJ took a swig of wine. Brooke probably was wasted as his assistant, much as it pained him to admit it. HR had recently informed him that she’d submitted her application for a management role in the Events department and he’d told them he couldn’t spare her right now. He needed an assistant he could trust with all that was going on in the wake of his father’s death. Still, holding her back for his own reasons was selfish. He’d have to look around the company for the right role for her.
Brooke’s sparkle had dimmed slightly. “I hope I didn’t overstep the mark. I do really enjoy working with you.”
“Of course you’re looking to the future. I’m glad to hear you have big plans. You have a lot to offer the business world.” He was relieved to see her lips curve into a smile again. “We’ll have to talk about your future when things settle down.”
She nodded. He felt a twinge of guilt that he didn’t want to talk about her future right now, but frankly that was too big, complicated and potentially disturbing a subject for what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend in the mountains.
They chatted more innocuously about Charleston and their favorite music while the sun set and plunged them into the familiar velvety darkness. They swept the plates and glasses back inside. “Should we wash the dishes?” Brooke glanced at them where they lay on the counter. RJ had already disappeared into the next room.
“Don’t worry about them. Come relax.”
Brooke shrugged and followed him into the living room. It was hard to remember she was his guest, not his assistant right now. She hated leaving loose ends but maybe that was part of becoming the kind of person who managed others, rather than one who did everything themselves. RJ had changed the conversation rather deftly after her mention that she’d like to go into management, but maybe he just didn’t want to be reminded of the office when he was trying to relax.
RJ leaned over a sleek device, and suddenly the room filled with music. Ella Fitzgerald, mellow and sultry. He looked up and smiled. “I thought we should dance.”
Excitement stirred in her chest, along with a flutter of nerves. “Sure.”
Dancing would get them close. Closeness would get them… RJ wound his arms around her waist. She could feel the heat of his body through his thin shirt. His back muscles moved under her hands as they swayed to the music. He pulled her against him and soon the rise and fall of her breath matched his. Or was it the other way around?
The song ended and another started, while they moved slowly around the big room. Dancing this way with RJ felt oddly natural, unhurried and relaxing. Arousal crept through her like wine, making her giddy but happy. They didn’t even kiss until the third song started. RJ’s lips brushed hers. Their mouths melded together slowly, tongues meeting and mingling.
Her chest pressed against his, her nipples tightening against his hard muscle. Their hips swayed in rhythm and his hands roamed over her back. By the fifth song the kiss deepened to the point where their feet stopped moving. She felt RJ’s fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt, then sliding over her skin. She shivered with pleasure and let her fingers roam into his waistband.
Soon they were plucking at each other’s shirt buttons and pressing bare skin to bare skin. The music wrapped around them as RJ guided her onto the sofa and together they eased off her jeans. Her body throbbed with desire that gave urgency to her movements. The zipper of his pants got stuck as she tried to undo it and she found herself struggling with desperation that would be funny if she wasn’t so…desperate!
RJ took over and together they shed his pants then wrapped themselves into each other on the wide surface of the sofa. RJ’s big body fit perfectly around hers. His muscled arms held her close and his strong legs and hard abs made her pulse quicken.
Was she really lying semi-naked on a sofa with RJ Kincaid? Perhaps this was one of her more elaborate fantasies getting out of hand?
But his hot breath on her neck felt so real. So did the broad fingers slipping inside her delicate panties, and the lips closing over her nipples through the lace of her bra. Brooke gasped when he sucked on her nipple and sensation shot through her. She pushed her fingers into his thick hair and gave herself over to the sensation, arching her back and pressing her pelvis against him.
They both still wore their underwear, but she could feel RJ’s intense arousal through his cotton boxers, and soon found her hands pushing down the elastic waistband and reaching for his erection. She shivered when she discovered how hard he was, how ready.
“Let’s go into the bedroom.” RJ’s voice was thick with need. Without waiting for her response he picked her up in his strong arms and carried her across the room. Supported by his strong body, Brooke felt weightless and desirable. RJ swept her into his bedroom, and laid her gently on the soft duvet.
“You’re so beautiful.” His gaze roamed over her body, making her skin tingle with excitement. He caressed her skin, starting at her shoulder and trailing his fingertips over her lacy bra and along her waist. When he reached her skimpy panties he hooked a finger into each side and slid them slowly over her legs, devouring her with his gaze as he pulled them down to her toes.
Excitement built in her chest as she waited for him to finish. Then he rose back over her and she leaned forward while he unhooked her bra and released her breasts. He kissed each freshly bared nipple
and cooled it with a flash of his tongue. Breath coming faster, she pushed his boxers down over his thighs.
At last they were both naked. RJ climbed over her, kissing her face and murmuring how pretty her eyes were, and how soft her hair. The simple compliments made her feel like a goddess. She let her fingers roam over the thick, roping muscles of his arms and back and wished she could find words to admire them, but words deserted her as sensation overtook her body.
He entered her very gently, kissing her as he sank deep. Brooke arched against him, relishing the feel of him inside her, his powerful arms wrapped around her. The weight of his body settled over her, pushing her into the mattress as she clung to him.
“Oh, RJ.” The words slipped from her mouth as she brushed his rough cheek with her lips. She’d waited years for this moment. She could feel him inside her, hard, yet so gentle as he moved with her.
A shiver of pleasure crept over her as he slid deeper, and she felt herself opening up to him. She snuck a peek at his face, and their eyes met in a single, electric moment. The expression on his face was almost pained, so intense, his blue eyes stormy with emotion.
Brooke felt her heart swell with feeling for this man. So strong and capable, he led the company with such energy and pride, and at this moment his entire being focused on her. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their protective warmth, while he moved with precision and passion.
“You’re an amazing woman, Brooke.” His whispered words stirred something deep inside her. He shifted slightly, sending arrows of pleasure darting through her. Was she amazing? She certainly felt special right now.
Or were they both just caught up in the moment? Or in the madness that had brought her into his arms that night in his office.
A ripple of fear made her hold him tighter. “I’m not amazing.” She couldn’t bear for him to be making love to some imaginary woman who had nothing to do with the real Brooke Nichols. “I’m just…me.”
Behind Boardroom Doors Page 6