by M. Leighton
“It’s been so long. And it’s so good to see you,” she declares, her expression flooded with sincerity. “Malcolm and I missed you so much around here. How have you been? Have you put on weight?” she asks, backing up to assess me.
I can’t help but grin. “Since I was nineteen? I’m sure I’ve gained a pound or two.”
“You needed to. You were so thin back then.”
“I wasn’t that thin, Tanny. I was just active.”
“Well, you look healthy and hale now. I’m glad to see you’re eating well. And still so handsome. Have you married yet?”
“No, still not married.”
She rubs my arm and winks as if to reassure me. “Don’t you worry about that, my sweet. The right girl is out there somewhere. Don’t rush it. Just wait for her.”
“Oh, I’m not rushing anything,” I tell her honestly.
“Good. Some mistakes can haunt you for the rest of your life.”
Something in her eyes tells me she has some personal experience with ghosts, but I have no idea what they might be. It occurs to me that, as well as I know Tanny, I don’t really know her at all. I make a silent resolution right here and now to visit her more often. Provided that she still has a job when all is said and done.
The thought of my father firing her when he takes over the house makes my insides roil with rage. But, for Tanny, I hide my anger behind a pleasant smile.
“I do my best not to make mistakes.”
Tanny’s expression falls into one of mild disapproval. “That sounds like something your father would say.”
I don’t have a chance to respond before Tanny sees someone over my shoulder and her face lights up again.
“Oh, it’s my beautiful girl,” she says, moving past me, arms spread in preparation for another hug.
I turn, ready with a pleasant smile, but it’s wiped from my face the instant I see who Tanny is hugging.
It’s Kennedy.
Today, she looks more like what I remember, like what I would’ve expected to see, even after all these years. Her chestnut hair hangs in a smooth, gleaming sheet to the middle of her back, her face is bare of makeup because she really doesn’t need it, and her slender body is concealed beneath a plain black dress that falls to just below the knee.
But none of that can rid my mind of the way she looked last night.
A series of emotions flood me, desire first and foremost. Now I have memories of her seductive dance to add to those from my youth, ones of tasting her sweet skin on a bed of soft grass in the forest no more than a few hundred yards from where I’m standing. The other emotions are secondary, but no less potent.
Frustration because, still, I would like nothing more than to sink between those long, long legs and lose myself for at least a day. Anger because she is far too innocent to be dancing at one of my clubs the way she was. More frustration because I loved it. And more anger because other men got to see it.
It’s that anger that propels me forward. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the tiny dancer.” My tone is cold and bitter even to my own ears. Just like my father’s.
Kennedy straightens from Tanny’s arms, her expression stung, her cheeks pink. She tucks her chin and glances left and right, as though she’s checking to see if anyone else is listening. Finally, she returns her attention to me. Her smile is tight, but polite.
“Reese, it’s been a long time.”
“Yes, it has. Seems like a lot has changed since I left.”
Her smile falters. “That happens when people leave without a word and don’t come back for almost two decades,” she grinds out from between her gritted teeth.
I deserved that, but I’m not in the habit of being derailed by something as simple as guilt. That’s one reason I decided to stop feeling it. It’s a weak feeling for weak people.
The perfect clone of the perfect bastard, I think for a moment before I push the thought aside and return to my anger.
“I don’t have time for this,” I snap, stepping forward to take Kennedy by the arm and tug her along with me as I stride across the room to the door that leads to the conservatory just off the library.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Kennedy hisses when the door shuts behind us and we are out of view of the people in the library. She wrenches her arm free.
“I’m the one asking questions. Now would you like to tell me what you are doing dancing in one of my clubs?”
She raises her chin defiantly. “I didn’t know it was your club until last night when you accosted one of the waitresses in the men’s room. Word got around pretty fast after that,” she spits in disgust.
I grind my back teeth together. I don’t know why I care that she knows about that. Even though she did little more than lick my dick before I stopped her, it still pisses me off. “Don’t change the subject. Why are you dancing in a place like that?”
Kennedy narrows her eyes on me. “What’s the matter? Feeling a little ashamed of the type of businessman you’ve become, Reese?”
“I’m not ashamed of anything. My clubs are some of the best in the world. They’re just no place for a girl like you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? Just what kind of girl am I?”
“You used to be a nice one.”
“Just because I do what I love in a club like yours doesn’t mean I’m not a nice girl. It’s not a strip club, for god’s sake.”
“It’s still not a place for someone like you.”
Kennedy’s laugh is bitter and so is her expression. “I hate to break it to you, Reese, but most of the world has to work for a living. And, just in case you didn’t realize it, your clubs pay very, very well.”
I stare at her and she stares at me. I want to yell until she hears me, to grab her and make her promise she won’t ever return there, but I also am suddenly overcome with the desire to help her. She’s just working a job to pay the bills, like ninety-nine percent of the population. But knowing that she’s forced to dance for the pleasure of men hits me in a soft place that I didn’t even realize I had.
“Then let me get you a job in the administrative offices. There are dozens of other positions I could put you in with the company.”
“I’m sure that’s your way of trying to be nice, but I don’t need your charity, Reese. I’ve done just fine on my own all this time. Besides, dancing is what I love. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Your club is just a stepping stone. Trust me, Reese, I have dreams far beyond dancing in your club.”
“And what are those?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I just do.”
A frown wrinkles Kennedy’s brow. Her sea foam eyes search mine as though she’s discerning whether or not I’m genuinely interested or if there’s a trap somewhere ahead.
“You really want to know?”
“I do.” And that’s no lie. Just as when we were kids, I find that I’m unusually interested in Kennedy.
“Ultimately, I’d love to dance with an amazing troupe like Altman American Dance Theater. But since that’s not very likely, I’d settle for small theater dance. My dream is just to dance. Really dance.”
Her voice is quiet. Sincere.
And for reasons I’ll never know, I do something incredibly stupid.
“Come work the summer for me, then. On my boat. Then I’ll get you an audition with Chance Altman.”
CHAPTER SIX- Kennedy
“What? A-are you serious?” I stutter.
“Deadly,” Reese replies flatly.
“Work for you. Doing what?”
One dark brow arches suggestively, sending a little shiver through me, but then it falls back down before he answers. “Nothing you haven’t done before.” When I open my mouth to take exception to such a vague description, he continues. “Some dancing, socializing. Maybe serving some drinks. Nothing too taxing.”
“And for that, you’ll get me an audition. With Altman. How?”
“Very easily. I
’ve had the pleasure of Chance’s company on one of my boats before. As well as in a few of my clubs. Let’s just say he owes me.”
“I just…I can’t…And all I’d have to do is work for you. On a boat. For the summer.”
Reese smiles. That smile that turned my world upside down. And then left it in a smoldering heap of burned ruin.
I am so overcome with emotion right now, I’m finding it hard to keep a grip on rational thought.
Seeing Reese last night was like a bullet to the heart. Feeling those aqua eyes on me brought back everything in one mind-numbing rush.
The draw, like gravity.
The desire, like obsession.
The pain, like annihilation.
I thought I was over him. For years, I’ve thought I was over him, but seeing him again…even for three minutes…right out of the blue…God, it was like being hit by a car going ninety miles an hour. All over again. The instant I saw him, everything I ever felt for him came crashing back down on me, like an avalanche. One that it took me half my life to crawl out from under.
But then, finding out what he did with Pandora just a few minutes after our eyes locked… it was like losing him all over again. The disappointment was devastating. I spent the night holding back tears, both old and new, reminding myself that I left Reese behind a long, long time ago. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I kept reminding myself that I have to leave him in my past, not let him touch my now in the tiniest way.
Yet here I am, listening to his proposition, actually considering it, because he’s dangling the one carrot that could make me question whether or not I should turn around and walk away. For good. Forever.
“What if I’m married? Did you ever think of that?”
For the blink of an eye, I see his nostrils flare in anger, but then Reese surprises me by giving me a half-grin, his sparkling eyes intense as they shine down into mine.
“You’re not married.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because if you were mine, I would never, ever let you dance like that.” Reese takes another step closer to me, reaching up to touch my cheek with the very tip of one finger. “Unless it was just for me.”
I’m breathless. I shouldn’t be. But I am. “Maybe he just likes to watch me dance,” I say, struggling to keep from falling under the spell of his closeness.
“I wouldn’t blame him. I loved watching you. But I didn’t love everyone else watching you.”
Reese’s eyes flicker down to my mouth, making my lips tingle again. I’m stuck in some surreal place between what was and what is. Some part of me is teetering on the edge of the ocean of passion and desire that Reese and I once drifted within. But another part of me, the scarred part, remembers what it felt like to drown in those waters.
Helpless. And all alone.
I take a step back. “Well I guess it’s a good thing I’m not yours then, right, Reese?”
“But you could be,” he says softly, not moving any closer, eyes just as intense.
My heart is aching in my chest. The girl in me, the one who loved him so deeply so many years ago, wants to run to him, to throw myself in his arms and ask him where he’s been all this time. But the woman in me, the woman who had to clean up the mess of that girl, the one who suffers the echoes of all those tears, knows that there is nothing to run back to. There never was.
“Is that what this is about? You getting another shot at little Kennedy?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my tone, so I don’t even try. “Because I’m not that little girl anymore.”
“Oh, I can see that.”
“I won’t retrace her footsteps, Reese. You should know that now. If you make this offer, and if I accept, it’ll be strictly professional.”
Reese sighs. “I want to help you, Kennedy. I really do. And I will. But I won’t deny that I want you.” He takes one easy step toward me. “Or that I intend to have you.”
My insides quake. His words…the memories…that look in his eyes…
But I reach down deep for the strong Kennedy that rose from the ashes of the girl that knelt at Reese’s feet. I wrap myself in her confidence, in her resolve. It’s her that gives Reese my most stunning smile. “Then I hope you’re okay with disappointment, because there’s no way in hell I’d go down that road again.”
Reese nods his head regally, a silent Touché. It’s as I turn to walk away that he lands his parting shot.
“Just don’t expect me to help you resist me, Kennedy. In fact, I promise you that I’ll make it as hard as I can.”
My legs falter only for a moment as they carry me resolutely, albeit unsteadily, away from Reese.
CHAPTER SEVEN- Reese
There’s no reason for me not to make plans for Kennedy’s arrival on my yacht. Part of it is being sure of myself and my powers of persuasion. I’ve spent most of my life getting what I want. I’ve learned how to do it effectively, no matter who I’m negotiating with. But part of it is anticipation. I’m ready to get this show on the road. I’m anxious to spend some time getting to know this new Kennedy, the one who dances like she’s dancing just for me. The one whose legs are longer than ever. The one whose lips are made just for mine. The one who I’m going to gorge myself on until I can’t stand the sight of her.
I need to get Kennedy in my bed and out of my system as soon as possible.
Being the owner of the club at which she works, I have access to all of Kennedy’s records—her mandatory health exams, including the results of her labs that show she’s clean as a whistle; the brands of products she orders for her shows, from makeup to body glitter (which she never orders); her shoe and clothing sizes; and even the fact that she loves hats. I pass most of that information along to Kimmie, the woman in charge of the entertainment on my cruises. She can order outfits and accoutrements for Kennedy based on what she’s worn in the past.
So, in essence, I have all the information I need to make sure Kennedy’s room is prepared for her when she boards. And she will board. I was even able to get the son of a friend of my father’s to find out if she has a passport that’s up to date, which she does.
The last thing I have to do is let Kennedy know what time the car will be around to pick her up. I punch in the number that I got from her contact information sheet into my phone and listen to it ring.
“Hello?” comes a sleepy, husky voice.
“Mmmm, that sounds like an invitation,” I murmur. And it does. It says to me that she’s lying warm and naked beneath her sheets, her skin supple, her body willing.
After a short pause, during which I can almost hear Kennedy’s eyes opening wider as she comes awake, she speaks. “Then you would be mistaken,” she replies, prim and curt. She doesn’t ask who’s calling or mistake me for another man. She recognizes my voice, which means she’s been thinking about me. Maybe remembering. Maybe wishing.
“Get someone to look after your cat for three months, and be packed and ready by four o’clock. I’ll send someone to escort you to the airport. And bring your passport.”
“How do you know I have a cat?”
“Educated guess.”
She sniffs at my reply. “Aren’t you being a little presumptuous?” she asks sharply.
“Not at all. You’re a smart woman. You’ve looked at your options. You’ve weighed the merits of working the summer in my club and planning for the dream you may or may not achieve on your own, versus working for me and getting a once-in-a-lifetime audition that you could likely never get on your own, and you’ve concluded that there’s only one sensible choice.”
“Just like you knew I would,” she says quietly.
I can’t help but smile. I’m sure she hates that I’ve engineered the situation so perfectly. But if I didn’t know how to make offers people can’t refuse, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I wouldn’t be who I am today.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. There are very few people who can deny me.”
“And, aside from me, who might those
be?”
“You’re not denying me.”
“I’m taking you up on an offer, but you can rest assured that I’ll be denying you in every other possible way.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
I hear her soft huff and I smile again. This might be even more fun than I anticipated. And I anticipated a whole hell of a lot!
Before she can argue further, I cut her off. “I’ll see you at four.”
I hang up.
I’m still smiling, thinking, planning when the phone rings in my hand. It’s a number I don’t recognize. The switch to Harrison Spencer is swift and automatic.
“Spencer,” I answer brusquely.
“Mr. Spencer, my name is Oswold Bingham. I represent Malcolm Spencer’s estate. Would you be available to attend the reading of his will today? You’ve been mentioned in a recently-notarized codicil.”
I frown. I never expected to be named in Malcolm’s will. It makes me feel even worse about my protracted absence.
“What time?”
“Three pm, sir. The reading will be done here at Bellano. In the study.”
I don’t bother to hide my sigh of irritation. “Fine, but I can only give you until 3:45. No later. I’m flying out this afternoon.”
“I’ll make sure to accommodate you then, sir. I’ll be seeing you at three?”
“Yes,” I respond.
“Thank you.”
I hang up in a much pricklier mood than I was two minutes ago.
CHAPTER EIGHT- Kennedy
As I shower and dress, I still question the wisdom of taking Reese up on his offer. It’s a golden opportunity. All I have to do is just resist him long enough to make it off that boat and get what I came for.
Just resist him.
Like it’s that easy.
Right.
Impulsively, I decide to visit Tanny. All my life, she’s been my go-to person for advice. And comfort. And trustworthy friendship. Growing up at the back edge of Bellano with my foster father, Hank, in the grounds keeper’s cottage left me with little in the way of playmates or companions that lived nearby, so Tanny was it.