by Cat Schield
His big naked body held as much temptation relaxed in sleep as it had aroused.
And he’d worn her out with the most incredible lovemaking she’d ever experienced.
As she swung her feet to the floor, Nathan stirred and reached toward her. She scooted off the bed and glanced over her shoulder, wondering if he’d awaken. He slumbered on, face half-buried in her pillow, his muscular torso sprawled across the space she’d so recently occupied. Ignoring the voice in her head encouraging her to wake him up for one last hurrah, Emma searched the dark room for her discarded clothes.
She nearly tripped over her skirt. Her bra lay three feet away. When had she kicked off her shoes? She paused to drape Nathan’s pants across the foot of his bed. His shirt followed after she put the garment to her nose for a deep hit of the cologne he wore. The same scent emanated from her skin. She smiled, wondering if the hands he’d smoothed over every inch of her skin smelled like Donna Karan’s Cashmere Mist.
A groan gathered in her throat. Why hadn’t she honored the promises to herself and stayed out of Nathan’s bed? Who was she kidding—the instant his mouth settled on hers, stealing her breath, demanding her surrender, she’d been putty in his hands. He’d wrung impassioned moans from her throat, sexy encouragement from her lips and uncontrolled writhing from her body. Her cheeks burned hot as she thought about all the things she had let him do.
She stared at the bed, eyeing the tangled sheets that bared his back and most of one butt cheek. Shockingly, the space between her thighs tingled. She bit down on her tender, well-kissed lips, fighting temptation. How could she possibly be ready for more?
Quit stalling. Get yourself dressed and get out.
The urge to pause for one last look at the slumbering man fought with her practical side. Hadn’t she already overindulged? Emma slipped on her lingerie and skirt, zipping it on the short walk into his living room, and dangled her shoes by the straps as she made her way to the door.
As each mile of the taxi ride home took her farther away from Nathan, her body came down off a sensual high. She felt the first twinge of a withdrawal headache as she put her key in the lock. By the time she swung the door open, her nerves were showing distinct signs of exposed edges. She felt strung out and weary beyond words.
Flipping on the lights, she stared at the empty room. Adrenaline surged, banishing any fatigue. What the hell had happened to her stuff?
She advanced into her loft and stopped where her couch should have been. Her heart jumped in her chest. Next, she pushed open the door to her workroom and stared at the bare space. No equipment. No supplies and finished pieces. Half-dazed, she crossed the hall to check out her bedroom. Furniture. Clothes. Everything she owned. Gone.
Emma closed her eyes. Her fingers tightened into fists.
Nathan.
He’d lured her out for a romantic dinner with assurances that he wouldn’t persuade or bully her to move out of the loft. He’d plied her with flirtatious conversation until she’d fallen back into bed with him. Emma growled. All the while his movers had been busy clearing out her things. He must have had a good laugh at her expense tonight. What an idiot she was.
Thank goodness it was too early to call Addison. Emma wanted nothing more than to run to her best friend, borrow a pair of pajamas and curl up on her couch to whine about Nathan. Three months ago she would have done just that.
Her father’s belief that she lacked drive wasn’t a notion he’d pulled out of thin air. As a pampered and spoiled heiress, Emma was never expected to accomplish anything. As a result, she’d never taken charge of her life, just drifted through it.
But her expectations for herself had changed. And if she intended to produce $35,000 worth of jewelry, she would have to go to Nathan and demand her equipment back.
She dug her car keys out of her purse and marched out the door. At half past five o’clock in the morning, few cars were on the road as she sped through town on her way back to Nathan’s condo. She didn’t bother to call him again, not wanting him to know she was coming. By the time she pulled into his parking lot, she’d worked herself into a fine fury.
Standing outside his door, she listened to her pounding heart and some of the urgency left her. She wasn’t good at confrontation. Probably because she’d spent so much of her childhood surrounded by it. Her parents fought all the time. Fire from her mother. Ice from her father.
Nathan answered the door almost before she lifted her finger from his doorbell. Dressed in pajama bottoms, his muscular chest looming bare and magnificent before her eyes, he leaned his forearm against the doorframe and looked her up and down. “Well, hello. Did you run out for coffee and doughnuts?”
That he continued to play games with her, after taking her to dinner under false pretenses and then making love to her as if she was the most important woman on earth, revived her anger.
“Where’s my stuff?”
He stepped back and gestured her inside. “Some of it’s in storage. Some of it’s here.”
“I told you I didn’t want to move.” She crossed the threshold and pulverized his grin with a hard look. “Not in here with you. Not anywhere.”
“Despite everybody telling you that staying in your place was a health hazard?” He shook his head.
She set her hands on her hips. “So you decided to steal all my stuff?”
“I didn’t steal it.” His measured tones infuriated her as he tugged her deeper into the condo. “I moved it so the contractors I hired could get to work.”
“You hired contractors?” she demanded, annoyed at how control over her life was slipping from her grasp. “It’s my loft. I should be the one doing the hiring.” She narrowed her eyes at his easy shrug and trailed after him as he headed into the kitchen. The scent of brewing coffee made her nose twitch with interest despite herself. “And I don’t understand why everything is gone. Surely they don’t need all my furniture removed to clean up a mold problem.”
Nathan poured two cups of coffee and handed her one. “After leaving your loft yesterday, I realized that you can’t sell it the way it is now.”
“Sell it?” Emma wondered if she’d just heard him properly. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because after we’re married we’ll live here.”
The words after we’re married reverberated through her head. He was taking a lot for granted. “I thought you understood that I’m not going to marry you because of some business deal.”
“But you are going to marry me.”
The man was insufferable.
“No, I’m not,” she fumed. “And I’m not moving in with you, either.”
He sipped coffee and watched her over the rim of the cup.
Emma stared back at him, matching his silence while her thoughts churned. How was she supposed to get all her pieces finished in time for the show? Then, it occurred to her that this had been his plan all along. If he stopped her from working, she wouldn’t make enough to replace the money in her account and she’d be forced to marry him. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he that diabolical?
“Where’s the equipment and supplies from my workroom?”
“In storage. Your clothes are in my guestroom.”
Hadn’t he heard a word she said? “I’ll stay with Addison until the mold is cleaned up, then I’m moving back into the loft. Call your contractors and cancel them. I’m not going to do any remodeling on the loft because I’m not going to sell it.” Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth, but she managed to add, “I’ll have someone in here either this afternoon or tomorrow to move my things out.”
“And where do you plan to work? You’d better not go back to the loft.”
“I’ll find studio space I can rent.”
“You can work here.”
His offer was grudging at best. He didn’t want her working at all. And Emma couldn’t imagine getting anything done with his presence distracting her.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said, and wished her wo
rds would convince him.
“How can I help it?”
“Easy. Just remind yourself that I’m not your responsibility.”
His dark eyebrows arched. “Not yet.”
“Not ever.”
“We’ll see.”
Nathan realized that he’d been staring at the set of financials for half an hour without making any sense of the numbers. In fact, he’d been distracted all morning. After five days of searching, Emma had been unable to find space to work. Desperate and running short on time, she’d ungraciously reconsidered her refusal of his spare bedroom as her studio, but spent her nights at her friend’s house.
Despite knowing that he was her last option, he’d been pleased that Emma had stayed within his grasp, even if she’d wrung a promise from him not to sabotage her jewelry or interfere with her workspace.
This meant the only way to keep her from working would be to distract her with kisses and lovemaking, but like the shoemaker’s elves, she was both industrious and elusive. In the four days since she’d been working in his condo, he had yet to catch sight of her.
Every night when he arrived home, he went straight to the spare room where her equipment was set up and noticed new sketches pinned to the walls and glittering works in progress scattered across her worktable.
And the more jewelry she finished, the more likely it was that she would make good on her threat to sell enough at the show to meet her goal. He needed to slow her down. An impossible task with all the long hours he was working at rehashing the numbers for the venture with Montgomery Oil.
Maybe he should take work home. Lord knew he could use a break from the office. His brothers’ negative attitudes were getting on his nerves more than ever. For the last week, he’d been as surly as a bear awakened in the middle of winter.
He checked his watch. He could head home for lunch and surprise her with a little afternoon delight. Decision made, he grabbed his keys and the tube containing the architect’s plans for her loft that he’d commissioned. Anticipation kicked him hard as he headed for the door. He dodged the implication that not seeing Emma was what accounted for his foul mood, but it dogged his heels in a relentless bid for attention.
He was moving briskly down the hall when Sebastian called after him. “Nathan, got a minute?”
Hissing in exasperation, Nathan turned and spied his older brother standing just outside his office. Sebastian must have seen him going by. “Sure,” he said, retracing his steps. “What’s up?”
“Max and I are heading out to meet with Lucas for a couple days.” Sebastian gestured Nathan into his room. “I wondered if you had any input for us before we go.”
Nathan noticed that he hadn’t been included in the meeting. Resentment burned. They’d regret cutting him out of the decision-making process. He’d make sure of it. “I don’t see the point. You won’t like what I have to say.”
Sebastian’s mouth tightened at Nathan’s sarcasm, but he wasn’t as reactive as Max. “Maybe you should come along and say it in person.”
Sebastian’s offer surprised Nathan. Obviously, he and Max were still determined to persuade Lucas to sell his company, but it also appeared that they were willing to listen to Nathan’s analysis of the business.
Or at least Sebastian was. Max hadn’t voiced his opinion. But if Nathan could get one Case brother on his side, chances were the other one would come around in time. Divide and conquer.
Or was it possible that they were interested in finding some middle ground and starting a dialogue?
“When are you thinking of going?” Nathan asked, curious as to what his brothers were up to.
“We thought we’d go this week,” Sebastian said.
He really should stick around Houston and prevent Emma from having uninterrupted access to her equipment and supplies at his condo.
“Set up the meeting,” Nathan said. “Let’s see what Lucas has to say.”
“Earth to Emma.”
Distantly she heard her name and blinked to redirect her focus from the necklace on the worktable. Nathan lounged in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame. Dressed in a navy suit, pale blue shirt and red tie, he looked every inch the powerful executive in his prime. Emma’s traitorous pulse lunged like a racehorse from the starting gate.
She’d been very careful to avoid him, keeping the hours she spent at the condo short to leave for Addison’s before he arrived home. At first she hadn’t wanted to run into him because she was still furious over the way he’d tricked her into moving out of her loft. Then, as her anger faded and the night she’d spent in his arms played repeatedly in her mind like a steamy foreign film, she’d steered clear of him out of a desire for sheer self-preservation.
She didn’t trust herself to be alone in the condo with him and not succumb to his sizzling kisses again. Just the thought of him and her and an empty condo got her hot and bothered. He needed to believe that she wasn’t going to fall for his winning charms and let him boss her around anymore.
Sifting through a pile of sapphires, she did her best to ignore the throb of awareness pulsing through her. If only he’d stop eyeing her as if she was a juicy apple he was dying to sink his teeth into. She almost groaned at her body’s sharp reaction to the notion of his mouth on any part of her.
With the back of her hand, she brushed her bangs off her face. “How long have you been standing there?”
“A couple of minutes. You certainly seem preoccupied by what you were doing.” He gestured with the long tube he carried.
“I have a lot to do and only ten days to get it done.” She held up a half-finished necklace for his inspection, pleased by how well her design looked in gold. The light clipped to the side of her worktable made the diamonds sparkle. “But I’m doing some of my best work ever.”
He cocked his head as he surveyed the necklace. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Her insides twisted into an uncomfortable knot. To her dismay, she realized that she’d expected his eyes to light up with pride at her accomplishments. She wanted him to appreciate her craft and to understand how important this show was to her, not just because she needed to restore the money to her account, but also because it would prove that she could take care of herself by doing something she was great at.
What an idiot she was. Bad enough that he whipped her into a sexual frenzy with his lazy smiles. She’d really be setting herself up for heartache if his opinion of her started to matter.
Nathan tapped a roll of blueprints out of the tube he was holding and spread them across her worktable, using pliers, the box that held her loose stones, and the necklace she’d shown him to weigh down the corners.
“I brought you some sketches for the remodel on your loft.”
She shook her head. Exhaustion dragged at her shoulders. “I don’t have the money or the time to think about remodeling my loft right now.”
“Let me do it.”
“No.” Emma bristled. He wanted to fix up her place to sell it. “Why won’t you listen to me?”
Instead of reacting negatively to her sharp tone, Nathan left the sketches and circled her worktable. He’d come within reach before she caught the intent in his eye. Back against the wall, surrounded by equipment, she had no place to flee. She held up her tweezers.
Ignoring her defensive stance, he spun her around on her stool. His hands settled on her shoulders, thumbs rolling deep pressure into her muscles. Rather than feeling sexual, his touch pleasured her on a whole different level. She groaned her appreciation and let her head drop forward.
“You should take some time off,” he told her, massaging his strong fingers down either side of her spine. “You’re working too hard.”
“I have to get ready for the show.”
“You’ll concentrate better if you’re not so tired.”
Did he know she wasn’t sleeping? Crashing on Addison’s couch wasn’t ideal. Between staying up late to sketch new designs and her best friend’s early-rising brood, she was
lucky to snag four hours of shut-eye. The first few nights it hadn’t been bad, but now, in the second week, she was feeling the effects of weariness. She’d messed up an important piece yesterday afternoon for that very reason, but she couldn’t stop, much less slow down.
“I’ll sleep when the show’s over,” she said, pulling away from his invigorating massage before he convinced her to take a break. His hands on her back made her long for him to apply that healing touch to other parts of her body, parts that were achy for reasons having nothing to do with jewelry-making. She fussed with the gems on her worktable. “Until then, I intend to work until I drop.”
“Take five minutes and look at what my architect came up with.”
Exhausted and awash with conflicting desires, she gave him a taste of her frustration. “What part of ‘I’m not going to sell my condo’ aren’t you getting?” she muttered crossly. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t like being told what to do? You bullied me into moving out of my loft and now you tell me that you’re going to remodel it so I can sell it because we’re getting married. You’ve never once thought about what’s best for me.” Emma’s chest heaved as she drew breath for her next onslaught of temper. “Go away, Nathan, and take your plans with you.”
She indicated the ones he’d spread over the table, but really meant all his plans—the ones for her loft, the ones for her future and, most important, the ones for her heart. She moved the weights that held the floor plans flat and they curled up on themselves.
Emma returned to sorting sapphires, her hands shaking hard enough that she could barely pick up the pink gem she intended to place into the gold setting. Although Nathan was a difficult man to ignore, she put her heart and soul into it. He stood beside her for a long moment, impatience rolling off him, before he dropped a perfunctory kiss on the top of her head and walked out of the room.
An insistent ringing disturbed Nathan’s grim thoughts. The meeting with Lucas Smythe had gone worse than he’d expected. The guy was definitely considering selling his company and offering Case Consolidated Holdings first crack at it. Sebastian and Max were full of smug delight and Nathan was fighting hard to stop them from shutting down his venture with Montgomery Oil. With three weeks to go until Valentine’s Day, the only thing keeping his deal with Silas alive was the fact that Smythe was not one hundred percent ready to let go of the business his family had owned for the last hundred years.