The Texas CEO's Secret

by Nicole Foster

  “The feeling’s mutual.” And before she could protest, Blake pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. Neither of them seemed capable of doing anything by half measure and their kiss deepened while she put her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer.

  After what seemed to him too short a time, she eased away, pushing both hands through her hair. “This is what I’m talking about. How can we decide what we want and need from each other, or if there’s even an us to begin with, if we end every discussion like this?”

  “It’s not every discussion.”

  “Blake—”

  “What do you want from me, Katie?” he asked, beginning to get frustrated, although he knew his irritation stemmed more from his own unsettled feelings than her questions.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she countered.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to give a glib answer, the one she probably expected: that he wanted her in his bed, no strings attached, no hearts broken. Except this time, with her, the words he’d said to women so many times before in so many different ways didn’t come easily—or at all.

  “I don’t think either of us has an answer right now,” Katie said quietly. “This should wait. We can talk when you get back from Toronto.”

  Blake wanted to argue but time was short and rationally he knew they couldn’t resolve anything here and at this moment. The problem was he didn’t feel very rational. He forced a deep breath, reined in his urge to blow off the trip entirely, and kissed her cheek, the chaste caress of a friend.

  “I’ll call you this evening,” he said, “if it’s not too late.”

  She responded with a nod and with what might have been an attempt at a smile and stepped back to let him leave.

  Taking that as his dismissal, he turned, intending to board the jet, but barely completed the motion before he spun back around, strode over to her and gave her the kiss he wanted, nothing chaste about it. He didn’t wait for her response; instead he headed in the opposite direction, refusing to look back.

  It was the next morning when her cell phone rang and Katie, automatically assuming it was Blake calling her to confirm she’d be picking him up tomorrow afternoon, frowned a little when she realized it wasn’t him, but a number she didn’t recognize.

  “Katie, this is Marcus Brent.” A voice answered her hello and Katie recognized it as her Uncle Peter’s campaign manager.

  “Marcus, hello. This is a surprise.” No lie there; she scarcely knew him, except from their encounters at various fund-raisers. He was in his midforties, successful and good looking in a sleek, polished way. She’d thought little about him except as a key player in her uncle’s campaign and had never had more than a superficial conversation with him, which made her wonder why he was calling her now. “If this is about another fund-raiser, fair warning—I’ve had my fill.”

  Marcus laughed. “No, this is personal. If you’re free this evening, I wanted to ask if you’d have dinner with me. I realize it’s short notice,” he went on when, caught off guard, she didn’t answer right away, “but this close to the election, my schedule is pretty tight. Everything I do these days seems like last minute.”

  A vision of Blake crossed her mind, clashing with remembered advice from family and friends that she shouldn’t limit herself to one man, and her own uncertainties over her involvement with Blake so soon after Tate.

  What do you want from me, Katie? She heard Blake’s voice in her mind. Instead of answering him, she’d hedged, throwing the question back at him because she didn’t know what to say. That was the problem and it prompted her to impulsively tell Marcus, “Thank you, I’d like that. What time?”

  It was only after they’d settled the details and she hung up, that she was hit by a mass of regrets and the feeling she’d just made a mistake she wouldn’t soon rectify.

  The feeling stayed with her even as she tried to reason with herself that she was doing the sensible thing, not limiting herself to the first man she’d been strongly attracted to, considering for once what she really wanted in a relationship. In a way, she and Blake shared a lack of experience in sustaining anything more long-term or in-depth than a passionate affair, and while it was tempting, she knew it wouldn’t satisfy her need for something loving and lasting.

  Her private pep talk carried her through the evening’s dinner with Marcus and although the date wasn’t a disaster, she ended it early, pleading a first-thing-in-the-morning appointment, vague about when she’d be able to see him again. He lightly kissed her good-night and she silently thanked him for not pressing it further because all she felt was a sense of guilt that she carried with her to the airport the next afternoon.

  Comparisons immediately came to mind when Blake strode over to where she waited and skipped a hello in favor of a long kiss, except there was really no comparison. She forgot Marcus had ever touched her the moment Blake’s mouth covered hers and her nagging conscience caused her to kiss Blake back all the more passionately.

  “If that’s what I have to look forward to every time I leave town, then I’ll have to do it more often,” he said, holding her a little away from him.

  “I missed you, that’s all.”

  “Did you?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “I don’t know.” She averted her eyes from his searching look. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

  “A lot of things happened,” she quipped back, “but none of them were important. Just the usual. Are you ready to go? And am I taking you home or to your office?”

  Blake hesitated, watching her a few moments longer, and then picked up the locked case and suit bag he’d set down at his feet before he’d scooped her into his arms. “Home is fine. I can stow these—” he indicated the case she assumed held the diamonds “—in the safe there for the time being.”

  They were out of the airport and a few minutes on the road when he broke the silence, causing her to start. “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course, yes. Everything is fine.”

  “Are you sure? You seem very tense.”

  The note of concern that warmed his voice nearly caused her to blurt out her jumbled thoughts. I cheated on you. That’s the way it feels. Except it can’t be cheating when we haven’t promised each other anything, and it’s ridiculous to think of having dinner with another man as a betrayal. “I have a lot of things on my mind right now,” she said and it wasn’t wholly a lie. “Work has been busy and the ball is coming up fast…”

  “Is that all?” Blake persisted.

  “Isn’t that enough?” She didn’t dare glance his way.

  “I suppose it is.” He fell quiet again and they were less than five minutes from the McCord estate before he spoke up again. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? There’s a new French restaurant on the west side—”

  “No.” Blake raised a brow at her sharp protest and she quickly amended, “I mean yes, I’ll have dinner with you, but not French. I’d rather do something more casual.” Marcus had taken her to an expensive French restaurant and the last thing she wanted was to be reminded of it the entire evening with Blake.

  “I’d invite you home, but—” His mouth pulled in a wry grimace.

  “But that would be weird,” she agreed. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think I’m quite ready for an intimate family dinner.” She’d reached the mansion and pulled into the long drive, stopping near the front. After a moment, she shifted to face him.

  Expecting him to reach for her, she was surprised and admittedly disappointed when he didn’t make good on the clear desire she saw in his face. “How about an intimate night with me?”

  The soft, low timbre of his voice sent a shiver through her. “Are we still talking about dinner?”

  “I don’t know, are we?” Blake asked and the caress of his eyes on her was nearly as potent as a physical touch.

  “I thought we were going to talk,” she said, aggravated it came out slightly breath
less, giving away her own desires.

  “Who said that?”

  “We did, before you left town.”

  “That was you.”

  “Blake—”

  “Okay,” he said, holding up a hand. “We’ll talk. I’ll pick you up at six.” He let himself out of the car, retrieved his bags and then leaned back inside and before he let her leave added with that cocksure half smile curling one side of his mouth, “Remember, though—you didn’t define the topic.”

  Blake had accepted Katie’s earlier mood, taking her word it was the pressures of work and the upcoming benefit that were responsible for her odd edginess. He wondered, though, as he pulled into the drive of the Salgar estate precisely at six, if her insistence they “talk” had more to do with defining their relationship than work and party plans. She’d seemed happy enough to see him, as willing as he to pick up where they’d left off. But it was also clear something had changed, that she wanted more from him than he’d ever been asked to give.

  Knowing that forced him to consider the question she’d thrown back at him and he’d never answered, what did he want from her? The answer had become increasingly complex, extending beyond desire, to friendship, caring, warmth—things he’d learned to live without but had come to rely on from Katie.

  Halfway through dinner he was still thinking about it, unaware of being lost in his thoughts until Katie’s slim fingers brushed his hand.

  “Is it jet lag or me?” she asked, the slight curve of her lips making it a tease.

  “Neither. I’m sorry, I let myself get distracted thinking of all the things I need to catch up on.”

  Katie pulled a face. “You’re supposed to be relaxing, forgetting all of that until tomorrow.”

  “I could say the same about you,” he returned. He took her hand, rubbing patterns against her skin with the pad of his thumb. “What’s wrong, Katie? Are you having second thoughts about us?”

  “Is there an us?” she asked pointedly.

  “Do you want there to be?”

  “That isn’t an answer.” She sighed, fiddled with the edge of her napkin. “I want to say yes, but I’m not sure if that’s wise.”

  Blake leaned back in his chair, letting his hand slide from hers. “Because of Tate?”

  “Tate?” Her eyes jerked to his and Blake swore he saw guilt flash in her eyes. “No, Tate has nothing to do with this.” Her firm denial was at odds with her uncertain expression.

  “Then what does—or should I be asking who?”

  “If there’s a ‘who,’ it’s me. I’ve never thought about what I want in a relationship and I don’t think you have, either. I feel like we’ve rushed into this blindly just because we’re…attracted.”

  “Attracted?” he repeated with a lifted brow. “I don’t think it’s anything that tame.”

  A flush stained her cheeks. “No, and like I said before, it’s just complicating things.” She took a deep breath, slowly let it go and then squarely met his gaze. “You asked me what I wanted from you. I’m not sure, yet, but I’m worried that whatever it is will be more than you’re willing to give me.”

  She was being honest with him and he owed her the same in return. “I can’t make you any promises because you’re right, I don’t know any more than you how to make this work long-term. I can only say I’m willing to try, if you are.”

  Looking at him a long moment, Katie surprised him by leaning over and kissing him. “You must be serious,” she said softly, “because I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve heard you admit there’s something you don’t know how to do.”

  “Don’t let it get around. My reputation will be ruined.”

  They shared a smile and the mood lightened, lingered the remainder of the evening. It was only much later, when he’d left her at her front door after reluctantly ending their passionate embrace, that he realized that she hadn’t answered in kind his offer to work toward a commitment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Why on earth had she agreed to this?

  Seven o’clock on a Saturday, and instead of buried under blankets, taking advantage of the chance to sleep in, she was on the court at the Westwood Tennis Club about to play a mixed doubles match against her ex-fiancé and his new love.

  Stretching her back and legs out at the net, she turned to Blake where he stood on the sideline, fiddling with his racquet, pacing, looking anything but relaxed. “Remind me again why I went along with this idea of yours.”

  “You were the one who decided it would be a good way to quiet the gossips if we were seen socializing with Tate and Tanya,” he said shortly. “My only contribution was suggesting tennis.”

  “I thought we’d both decided.” When he only shrugged, his mouth pulled in a hard line, Katie felt a twinge of uneasiness. “If you didn’t want to do this, I wish you’d have said something.”

  “It seemed important to you so I went along with it.”

  Ready to push him to elaborate on that, Katie was interrupted by the arrival of their opponents.

  “Morning all.” Tate and Tanya, racquets in hand, waltzed lightly onto the court. Tanya looked fresh and glowing, Tate as handsome as ever.

  The foursome exchanged somewhat strained greetings and Blake immediately took control. “We’d better get started, we’re running late.”

  “I have to warn all of you, I haven’t played in months,” Katie said as they moved onto the court, “and I wasn’t that great to begin with.”

  “Always the modest one,” Tate teased, drawing a questioning look from his partner.

  When the serve was decided and Blake set the ball in motion, Katie saw the spirit of competition flare in Tanya’s eyes. A trait that came in handy in her career as an investigative reporter, no doubt. Inwardly Katie groaned. She’d never been much of a competitor in sports and now playing against her ex and his girlfriend, she felt even more uncomfortable.

  “Nice work,” Blake praised her when she, surprising herself, caught a ball at the net and killed it before Tanya had a prayer of returning it.

  With a graciousness that may have been slightly forced, Tanya echoed the compliment. “If that was any indication of how she plays when she’s rusty, we’re in trouble, Tate.”

  Tate shrugged lightly. “Told you.”

  They volley bantered on at a clipped pace, and Katie began to relax as she realized Tate and Tanya, while strong competitors, were truly making an effort to be supportive and keep the atmosphere as tension-free as possible.

  Game after game, she and Blake began to learn more about each other’s styles, strengths and weaknesses. She found herself relaxing, working with him as a teammate, enjoying their wins, accepting their losses.

  “Match,” Tate called out on the final shot. “Looks like we’re pretty well tied. Want to call it a day?”

  Blake wiped the sweat from his brow, a simple motion that sent Katie’s mind to flights of fancy. She found him even sexier with his hair mussed, the muscles in his arms and legs pulsing with power, glistening with sweat.

  Tanya caught her staring and smiled a woman-to-woman kind of appreciation. She walked to the net to congratulate Katie on the game and took her hand warmly. “Nice view, hmm?”

  Katie couldn’t help but smile. “It seems to run in the family.”

  Tate and Blake shook hands, as well, and Blake put an arm around Katie’s waist, lightly holding her to his side. For a moment, it felt awkward, the display of familiarity in front of his brother, but it passed when she saw Tate smile.

  “Drinks on me,” Blake offered. “Do you two have time for the juice bar?”

  Tate turned to Tanya. “I think so, don’t you? We aren’t due to meet up with Charlie for a couple of hours.”

  Tanya nodded. “Juice sounds great.”

  “You have plans with Charlie?” Blake asked sharply.

  Tate and Tanya exchanged a glance. “He asked if we could catch up with him for a late lunch.”

  “I didn’t know you and Charlie palled ar
ound much.”

  The edge in Blake’s voice was telling. Katie knew that ever since Eleanor revealed Charlie was actually Rex Foley’s son, Blake’s relationship with his youngest brother had been strained.

  “We don’t. He’s too busy at the university and with my surgery schedule we hardly ever get to see each other. But…”

  “What’s going on?”

  Katie saw Tanya slide her hand into Tate’s. “Honestly, I don’t know. All he said was he wanted to talk to me.” He stopped, considering, then went on. “He said it has to do with Mom and Rex.”

  “I see,” Blake said flatly. “Well, good luck with that, then.” He turned and gestured to Katie. “How about that juice?”

  Tension electric between them, the foursome headed toward the front of the club.

  The poshly appointed juice bar featured every fruit, basic to exotic, and dozens of add-ons to boost energy, relieve stress or curb hunger. All around them, people sipped icy concoctions in tall, brightly colored glass goblets.

  As Katie perused the menu, having skipped breakfast—her stomach beginning to growl—she failed to see the man stride up beside her. She was the last at her table to realize he was trying to get her attention.

  Marcus Brent touched her shoulder lightly, breaking her concentration. Her eyes darted upward; her stomach plummeted. She felt all eyes on her and was certain her face had turned a dozen shades of red.

  “I didn’t realize you were a member here,” Marcus said smoothly, turning to the rest of the group. “Hello, Blake,” he said, extending a hand. When Blake’s eyes looked questioningly at him, he added, “We met at Peter Salgar’s fund-raiser. I’m his campaign manager. It was a pleasant surprise to see you there.” He paused. “And to see you here, Katie.”

  Katie saw Blake struggle to make sense of Marcus’s familiarity with Katie. “Right, sorry, it took me a moment to place you,” he said finally, taking Marcus’s hand.

  Marcus turned to Tate and Tanya. “And you must be Tate McCord and the lovely Tanya Kimbrough. I used to see you on the news, now I see your picture in the society column. Neither of them does you justice.”