by Joanne Rock
Doing her best to dial back into the conversation, Caroline learned that Malcolm’s ill health had made him decide to give the relationship with his estranged son one last try. Maresa assured her that Quinn, Cameron and Ian had all known about their uncle, but not one of them had ever met him since he’d been cut out of Malcolm’s life when their father was just a teen.
There were McNeills all over Wyoming, successful ranchers who led a much different lifestyle than the real estate moguls, their East Coast relatives. Even the business news media failed to recall Malcolm’s elder son when they wrote about him, a fact that explained why Caroline had never heard about those relations before.
As the evening came to a close and the men shook hands, Caroline thanked and hugged Maresa, a woman she would gladly view as a friend and ally down the road. Assuming, of course, Caroline remained a McNeill. Her gaze sought her husband’s while they said their good-nights, wishing she could discern some small hint of the love Maresa had mentioned seeing in Damon.
When the door to the library closed behind Cameron and Maresa, who insisted they’d find their own way out, Caroline couldn’t deny the pleasant shiver she felt as her husband wrapped two arms around her from behind and drew her back against his chest.
“You look so beautiful.” His breath warmed her ear when he spoke. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you all night.”
Awareness stirred. Her pulse quickened at the feel of his whisker-roughened jaw against her neck as he bent to kiss her there. And yes, maybe she was far too willing to let go of the fears that had plagued her all evening. She needed this chance to be with him. To search for some hint of the love she wanted to feel in her marriage again.
“You appeared to be deep in conversation with your brother,” she accused lightly, a secret thrill racing through her that he’d noticed the extra care she’d taken with her appearance.
“Not from the moment you set foot in the room.” His hands skimmed her sides, lingering on her waist. “All I could think about was how soon I could get you out of this dress.”
The fitted black dress was deceptively modest with a Nehru neckline that kept the bodice well covered. It was sleeveless, however, with a sexy cutout along one shoulder so that from the back it was decidedly racier. The asymmetrical crepe hem was knee-length on one side and thigh-grazing on the other. Silver snaps up one side gave it a rock n’ roll edge.
And yes, she’d worn it with Damon in mind. They’d purchased it together from a design house in Italy on their honeymoon, and he’d liked it then, too. She’d brought it to New York with her, hoping it would bring them some of the romance and happiness of that time. Sure enough, the garment had worked some of its magic already.
“I seemed to recall you liked the snaps when we picked it out.” She gripped his hand and steered it south along one hip where the silver snaps began.
His fingers brushed her bare thigh where the fabric ended, and she could feel his appreciation for the outfit pressing against her. She rolled her hips against him, only too glad to let the heat of this moment burn away everything else. She didn’t know how much time she had left with Damon. She would damned well store up every moment of pleasure she could.
“I want you. Now.” He flicked open a snap and she felt the cool rush of air against her thighs where the fabric slid open, almost to her panties.
“What if someone comes in?” She didn’t know if the staff would be cleaning soon.
Then again, the feel of Damon’s strong hand palming the front of her leg made her knees too weak to walk anywhere. Desire rushed through her. Hard.
“There’s a private card room in back.” He spun her around, taking her hand to close the distance to an entrance she hadn’t noticed before, an opening disguised by one of the decorative lacquer panels. “This door locks.”
They entered and he flipped on a light switch that illuminated a wine rack in the back of a circular red room with a long, mahogany bar. At the center sat a leather-topped poker table with five club chairs. The sound of a bolt sliding into place sent a ribbon of anticipation tickling its way up her spine.
Turning to face Damon, she watched his blue eyes darken to midnight. There was a naked hunger in his gaze that, for a moment, she swore had to be more than just physical need. It had to be.
They both craved this with a passion that went beyond sex.
Then, his hands were on her again and her brain switched off. He wrenched open the rest of the snaps on the dress in one easy swipe, baring her body. She’d worn red silk panties but no bra, her B-cups supported enough by the dress.
And now they were well supported by her husband’s hands. His fingers roamed her curves, smoothing around the nipples and then gently plucking them, kissing each one in turn. A moan simmered from her and she pressed herself to him, arching up on her toes to position the V of her thighs closer to the hard heat of the ridge in his trousers.
His answering growl gave her another private thrill, stroking her feminine ego along with the fire inside. She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to be even closer. He lifted her up against him, steering her hips where she wanted them most, snug to his arousal.
He only left her there for a moment though, until he deposited her onto the heavy poker table, laying her on her back so her legs dangled off one side. The cool leather felt good against her back while she admired the view. He wrenched off his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles she loved to touch. Then his hands moved lower, working fast but carefully as he unbuckled the belt and undid the buttons that kept him from her. She thought to repay him in kind, slipping a hand into her panties to give him access, but he halted her with an iron grip that gentled almost instantly.
“I’d like to.” He whispered the word against her stomach before he dragged the silk down a few inches with his teeth.
More shivers danced over her. She tossed her head from one side to the other, ready for release, her hair tangling beneath her for a moment before he cupped her sex and touched her.
There.
The spasms were fast and hard, the orgasm a shock of sudden pleasure she hadn’t been ready for. Her nails scratched against the table and he helped her ride the waves. When she had almost caught her breath, he entered her.
Fully.
Lost and clinging to him, she said his name like a mantra. Wrapping her arms around him, she could only hold on, the pleasure so intense. She kissed his face, savored the stubble-rough jaw and finally locked her ankles around him to hold him deep inside her.
He moved faster. Slower. He unwound her arms long enough to kiss her breasts again. When he took her mouth, he kissed her with devastating softness. Sweetness. Thoroughness.
All the while, he built a steady rhythm inside her that stole her breath.
When the second orgasm shook her, she saw stars behind her eyes. She hugged him tighter, feeling his release in the tensing of every muscle. Sensation drenched her, tugging her deeper into love.
So much so, she realized as consciousness slowly returned, that the mantra she’d been repeating against his skin all that time wasn’t just idle sweet words.
It was: I love you. I love you.
The echo of the sentiment still hung in the small room, as if the words circled above their heads now that she’d said them aloud. Maybe hearing what Maresa had said, that Damon loved her, had given her the courage to say it tonight.
To hope he would say it back.
A year ago, it would have been perfectly normal for her to expect to hear it in return. But now, the room remained unnaturally silent except for their breathing.
Had she really said that?
Wrenching open her eyes, she peered up at him in the dimness only to see his gaze dart away as fast as hers alighted on him.
Her heart deflated along with all the hope she’d been feeling. Damon didn’t love her. He was only with her to hol
d his family together.
They didn’t speak about it as they dressed in silence, even though Damon tenderly kissed her temple and retrieved her clothes for her, even though he kept an arm around her as they walked to the elevator and rode it upstairs to their bedroom suites.
She would stay with him through the board meeting. Make sure she did everything in her power to help him win Transparent away from her father. But after that, she would have to walk away from this man who didn’t trust her enough to love her anymore.
Twelve
Three days later, Damon understood in no uncertain terms that he’d screwed up irrevocably. As in, there was no going back. He’d wrecked things with Caroline beyond repair. His chest ached with the knowledge as he watched her from the railing of the second-story patio of the house in Los Altos Hills. They’d flown back from Manhattan the day before to be in Silicon Valley for the Transparent board meeting today. Now, she jogged toward him as dawn broke to the east, her golden hair catching the slanting sunlight while Wade, the bodyguard, kept tabs on her from a mountain bike.
She’d told Damon over dinner last night that she was working on her endurance so she could start pushing Lucas in a baby stroller while she jogged. And that had been about as much conversation as they’d shared since his colossal misstep with her that night in New York in the card room.
I love you, she’d told him.
And what did he say in response?
Nada. Zero. Zip.
He’d frozen up like a kid with his first girlfriend instead of a man intent on winning back his wife. He’d felt himself lock down at the notion of putting his heart in the line of fire again after the way she’d withheld Lucas from him when she returned. She’d believed the worst of him, thinking he didn’t care that she’d disappeared.
“Dude?” His brother Gabe called to him from a seat at the patio table where he was shoveling down his second plate of eggs. He’d flown in from Martinique with his nine-month-old son so he could attend the board meeting. Jager was in the air now, scheduled to arrive before the ten o’clock start time. “Have you heard a word I’ve said over there?”
Damon forced himself to drag his gaze away from his wife. If he hadn’t thought of a way to fix his mistake by now, chances were good he never would. There were some moments in life when a man didn’t get a second chance, and he would have to live with that. Too bad the realization crushed the air out of his lungs until he could hardly draw a breath. Why hadn’t he been able to simply return the words that might have kept her by his side forever?
He must still love her deeply or he wouldn’t have felt like he was free-falling into an abyss these past two days. The problem was, when she’d said those sweet words he wanted more than anything, he hadn’t been certain they were true. How could she know how she felt when she didn’t even remember their whole past? When she wasn’t 100 percent certain if she’d walked out on him or if she’d truly been forcefully taken from their home?
She’d turned to her father when she was pregnant with his child. Hadn’t she felt any of that love for Damon then? He stalked back toward the table where Gabe sat with his son Jason squirming on his lap. The kid was already a handful, crawling all over the place, climbing anything and everything, with a willful disposition tempered by the cutest grin imaginable.
“Honestly?” Damon tried and failed to remember a single thing his brother had been saying to him as he gladly plucked baby Jason off Gabe’s lap so the guy could finish his eggs in peace. “I’m more than a little distracted today.”
He set his wiggly nephew down on the rug in the middle of the patio deck so the kid had some room to scoot. Would Lucas look like this in another seven months? He didn’t want to miss another day of his son’s life, yet if he didn’t fix things with Caroline...
He couldn’t even fathom the future.
“Yeah. No kidding. And I’m trying to adjust to the time change when I’ve barely slept for days after the latest nanny quit, but I’m still making an effort to converse like a normal human being.” Draining the last swig of orange juice in his glass, Gabe scraped his chair back from the wrought iron table. “I’ve been trying to tell you that you’re an idiot to delay talking to her.”
“And tell her what?” Damon sidestepped Jason’s path as he crawled like his diaper was on fire toward some red blocks that Gabe had brought out of the nursery with him. “The truth? That I didn’t trust her enough to believe she loved me?” He shook his head. “That’s only going to make her pack her bags faster.”
He’d tried to speak to Caroline’s therapist back in Vancouver, to solicit the woman’s advice for talking to her, but the doctor had held firm that she wouldn’t discuss any issues that could compromise Caroline’s privacy.
“No.” Gabe rose from his chair, his white button-down and tan cargo shorts about as formal as the guy ever dressed outside of a meeting like the one they’d have to attend today. His work at the Birdsong Hotel definitely ran to the informal. But there was nothing casual or relaxed about his expression now as he stalked toward Damon. “First thing you do is let her know you love her. Fix that screw-up before anything else, because I guarantee you, that’s killing her.”
Gabe stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, watching over Jason as the baby tried to eat one of the fat red blocks. Damon was grateful for the distraction from the topic since the accusation his brother had just leveled had found its mark.
“I think she’s angry more than anything.” He knew because she’d hardly spoken to him. But she was harder to read now than before her disappearance. His wife was quieter. In the past, if she was upset with him, she would have told him why in no uncertain terms.
And since that night in New York, he’d buried himself in work, preparing for his appointment with the Transparent investors. With a wince of guilt, he realized how quickly he’d fallen into that old pattern. Back when she’d gone to London to make amends with her father, he’d been upset and had retreated to his office on the West Coast. He had regretted not talking to her more rationally then, yet now he followed the same path. Avoidance.
“Is that how you’d feel if someone you loved left you hanging when you put your heart on the line? Angry?” Gabe shook his head. “I’m not saying I have the best instincts where women are concerned, though. Maybe I was never lucky enough to find a really good one.” He scooped Jason off the floor, lifting the baby high over his head long enough to make the kid smile. Then he swooped him down low, while the boy squealed happily. “All I know is you don’t just sit back and watch while a woman like Caroline walks away.”
His brother started to leave, shaking Damon out of his thoughts.
“Gabe.” He appreciated his younger sibling’s insights, especially now when Jager was so happy with his own wife that Damon would never ask him about this. “What if she eventually remembers what happened that day she disappeared? What if she wakes up one day and recalls that she left me because she wanted it to be over?” He had played the scenarios over and over in his head, grappling with those fears that he wasn’t a good husband. But how would he ever be a better one if he didn’t change? “Maybe she didn’t run into trouble with the guys who abducted her until she had set up a life apart from me.”
Gabe stalked back toward him, his expression stark. In contrast, Jason kicked and drooled, gumming one finger while he grinned.
“Wake up, brother.” Gabe spoke the words just inches from Damon’s face before he leaned back. “None of that matters. Or if it does, count yourself lucky you got another chance with someone who loves you right now. Today. That’s a whole lot more than most people get.”
There was a wealth of feeling behind the words, making Damon wonder what kinds of hell his brother had dealt with that he knew nothing about.
That was a conversation for another day, though. Right now, Damon needed to head into the office for the professional battle of his life. With any l
uck, the police would be there afterward to ask his father-in-law all the questions about their investigation he’d avoided while he was overseas.
It was probably too much to hope that Stephan Degraff would be dragged off to jail then and there for giving false statements to the police. But if it came to seeing Stephan behind bars or keeping Caroline, Damon knew what he would choose.
Because his brother was right. Damon might not deserve a second chance with her, but since he’d been fortunate enough to get one, he needed to try and convince her they were worth it.
He just hoped it wasn’t too late.
* * *
Caroline paced outside the penthouse boardroom of the Transparent building later that morning, trying to time her entrance to the most important business meeting of her husband’s life.
Her husband. For now.
She stopped short, her gaze moving from the stunning view of the Santa Cruz Mountains outside the reception area windows down to the wedding band set on her fingers. Pausing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Caroline indulged herself for a moment, staring at the diamond, tilting it this way and that to catch the best light and refract it so that little rainbow squares danced across the polished bamboo floors.
Damon needed her help today, even if he didn’t know it. He’d allowed her to ride into the office with him and his brother, Gabe, although he’d insisted she wait outside the meeting with her bodyguards. They’d brought two, knowing that her father would be in attendance. But Damon had asked her not to sit in on the contentious conference, even though her former job title would have given her every right to do so.
She understood that he might see her as a distraction today when he needed to be on top of his game to outmaneuver her father. What Damon didn’t understand was that he had no chance of beating Stephan Degraff without her help. Her father was hellbent on revenge. She saw that now. Stephan would do anything to thwart Damon if only for the sake of proving to her that Damon wasn’t worth her time.