Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1)

by Knightly, Sophia

  No kidding. From the way Nick acted toward Daisy, she surmised they hadn’t slept together—yet. Daisy was sixteen years younger than Nick, but she was out to seduce him. Why else would she cook in such revealing shorts? The baby doll she’d worn last night had been practically see-through—good thing they’d been in the dark. This morning, Daisy had been wearing pink lip gloss and gold hoop earrings. Who wore earrings and make-up after a hurricane, for God’s sake?

  Veronique fed Baxter a piece of her bacon. “How did she come to be your housekeeper? Did she ask for the job?”

  “She didn’t have to. When I saw her working in the yard with a pregnant belly, I brought her inside to work.”

  Her heart fluttered as she gazed at him tenderly. She had a soft spot for Nick’s innate compassion. It knocked her off her feet every time—especially now. What a dichotomy—a successful corporate raider who was capable of compassion. No wonder Zack and Elizabeth had thought they could destroy him.

  “That was kind of you,” she said.

  “I’m not the same guy at camp, Ronnie,” Nick said, his tone flat.

  “You’re still kind,” she persisted, smiling at him.

  He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, working out the kinks. “I wouldn’t call it being kind. I needed a housekeeper and she fit the bill. I had sunk down real low, drinking too much and sleeping too much.”

  “When was this?” she asked, hating to imagine Nick like that.

  “Six months ago. I was a mess and this place was a shambles.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What made you clean up?”

  “I didn’t want to end up like my old man. He was a nasty, mean drunk. The day Mom left him and took my sister and I with her is the day I started living without fear.”

  “I hear you,” Veronique said with a heavy sigh. “My dad wasn’t a mean drunk, just a sloppy one. I hated to see him stumbling around.” When her famous father had drunk too much he’d became a drooling, crass man who couldn’t keep his balance. She shuddered at the memory.

  “Not a pretty sight for a little girl,” Nick commiserated, shaking his head.

  “Yes, but when Daddy was sober, he was awesome.” She couldn’t help feeling bad that she’d brought to light her father’s tragic flaws. “Every morning, we’d have breakfast together and instead of reading the paper, he’d give me his full attention. He always asked, ‘What good thing are you planning on doing today, Ronnie?’ He was big on social reform. So am I.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.

  She tapped his hand. “You’re one to talk. You have a strong social conscience too.”

  Nick didn’t respond to that, just sat there gazing at her with an unreadable expression.

  She sighed. “Luckily, I only saw Daddy in bad form a few times because I had a ridiculously early bedtime.”

  “I never had a bedtime. What time was yours?”

  “Nine o’clock. Nanny Millie was a real drill sergeant. No amount of pleading or arguing changed her mind. But when she left the room and got out of my hair, I would read till midnight,” she said with a triumphant grin.

  He nodded. “Just like when you were in camp.”

  Astonished that he’d bring it up, she said, “You remember that?”

  “The only time you were quiet was when you were reading or drawing. Are you still drawing caricatures?”

  She chuckled. “Absolutely. They’re my wicked form of therapy…and revenge.”

  “I better not catch you drawing pictures of me,” he growled, eyes darkening to midnight blue. He braced his forearms on the table with fingers laced together as he held her gaze.

  “You wound me, Nick. Don’t look at me that way. I’m innocent,” she said, ignoring the twinge of guilt. If he only knew the sketch she’d been planning of him covered in plaster. He’d looked so ferocious—and cute. A big, grouchy bear dusted in snow. “Back to Daisy. I take it she got your house in order.”

  He pushed back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “You could say that. Within a week of hiring her, everything was spotless and organized. She cooked up some fine meals too. That girl loves to cook and is a clean freak. It’s the only reason I’ve kept her on.”

  “I’m not exactly Suzie Homemaker, so I can’t fault you there,” Veronique said with a wry smile. “Frankly, I’d much rather work outside. Housework is boring.”

  “And yet you offered to do it just to get rid of Daisy. How generous of you.” Nick’s lips curved upward and the hard planes of his face softened, making her wish he’d kiss her again.

  “Somebody had to get rid of her,” she said, not taking her eyes from his.

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Ronnie?” The flash of appreciation in his eyes sent a ripple of pleasure through her.

  “Nope. My lack of a filter has gotten me in trouble a few times,” she admitted, returning his warm smile. Her heart did a little dance, relishing their moment together. They’d shared a good meal and he was opening up to her. The ever-present wariness in his eyes had lessened, making him appear more relaxed, even approachable.

  “I’ll bet,” he grunted.

  “You don’t pull any punches either, Nick.”

  He grew silent as he regarded her across the table with brooding eyes.

  Veronique lowered her gaze and collected her wits. When she looked up, he was still watching her beneath hooded lids. “So…where’s the father of the baby? Is Daisy married?”

  “No. He wants to marry her, but she refuses.”

  Veronique leaned in. “Really? Why?”

  Nick shrugged and his face shuttered, signaling the subject was closed. “Who knows? It’s none of my business…or yours. Don’t put your reporter hat on, Ronnie.”

  Holding his mug in his hand, he rose from the table and deposited it in the sink.

  So much for their moment. Disappointed, Veronique drained her coffee and pushed back from the table. Baxter roused from his nap on the floor and went to his water bowl, where he slurped noisily.

  “I’m going to try to reach Natasha again. Leave everything there. I’ll clean up,” she said, gathering the paper plates and plastic forks.

  “Sure you can handle it? It might be too boring,” Nick taunted.

  “Oh shut up,” she said, grinning.

  She turned on her heel and sauntered away. After Daisy’s ample display in the short shorts, she felt a bit lacking in the way of curves. But Nick was male, and she was sure he’d be looking at her retreating backside and legs.

  Might as well give him something to watch. She threw in a little extra hip swaying and glanced over her shoulder.

  Sure enough, he was checking her out. Her stomach did a neat flip flop as her pulse kicked up a notch.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick shook his head and tamped down his body’s instant reaction to Ronnie’s saucy exit. She was going to be his undoing. He knew she was trouble from the moment she appeared at his door and he sent her away. He didn’t want anyone in his house, especially not a reporter. But she’d come back like a wet, injured kitten and he’d had to let her stay. What was he supposed to do—turn her away when the bridges were closed? And besides, she was Ronnie. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve and she didn’t have a mean or deceptive bone in her body.

  And she believed the best in him, making it harder to turn her away.

  Ronnie was too damn sexy. She reminded him of a playful little cat, clawing at him to get attention and then rewarding him with soft cuddles when she got it. He thought of the silken feel of her skin, how sweet and addictive her mouth had been when he’d kissed her…and her recent sexy strut. A shot of pure, hot desire tightened his loins and his jaw clamped down. Don’t go there.

  She had told him, “If you’re fire, I want to get burned.” Ronnie made no bones about wanting intimacy, but he couldn’t let it happen. She might think she could handle it, but his fire would burn them both. Her inherent trust and respect
touched him, made him want to open up, but he wasn’t going to go down the road of seduction. Not with her.

  Underneath her bravado and impulsiveness, lay a young girl’s heart. He wasn’t about to break it to slake his lust. He wasn’t husband material and at twenty-eight, it was time for Ronnie to be thinking about marriage and having a family. Something he wasn’t about to offer—no matter how enticing she was or how engaging her company.

  More determined than ever to banish temptation from his mind’s eye, he headed out the door toward the guesthouse.

  The guesthouse was a detached structure from the main house the size of a small apartment with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a full bathroom. The moment he opened the door, muddy water mixed with leaves and twigs rushed out. He waded through several inches of it before he reached the window. Branches of a fallen black olive tree were stuck inside and had broken the window ledge. Slats of wood that had blown in from the force of the wind covered the rain drenched mattress.

  No wonder Daisy had been scared out of her wits. Damn foolish girl. She’d narrowly escaped being killed by the tree. Felipe was right to be steamed. She had no business sneaking in last night. He’d read her the riot act later.

  The grinding sound of a chainsaw caught his attention. He peered through the other bedroom window and saw Felipe hard at work, chopping a fallen tree trunk.

  Nick headed outside. “Felipe!” he shouted, closing the distance between them.

  Felipe looked up and shut off the chainsaw.

  “How bad were the roads coming over here?” Nick asked.

  Felipe wiped his sweaty brow with his shirt sleeve. “Bad. Really bad. A lot of fallen trees and garbage.”

  “I figured as much.” Nick let out an exasperated breath. “Don’t work here anymore. I’d rather you concentrate on clearing the roads today, but first I need you to remove the tree that crashed into the guesthouse.”

  “Sí. Manuel and I have been working since the sun went up to clear the road here.” He gulped down water from his canteen.

  “Where’s Manuel?”

  “In the truck, waiting for Daisy,” Felipe muttered. He took his straw hat off and slapped it against his thigh, shaking off the sawdust before putting it back on his head.

  “Where did you park?”

  “About fifty feet up the road. Over there.” He pointed to the right where a heap of pine trees had toppled across the dirt road.

  Daisy burned with fury at her stupid father. She raced down the road blinking back blinding tears of resentment. As she rounded the bend, she slowed down when she saw Papi’s old truck. She felt like slashing his tires and leaving him stranded. It would serve him right for humiliating her in front of Nick and that bitch who thought she had a claim on him! Just knowing that she was eating the fine breakfast Daisy had made for Nick made her wish she’d poisoned Veronique’s portion.

  It infuriated her that the bitch was a tough adversary. She and Nick must have already slept together. The thought made her stomach clench into a tight knot. Why else would she have been wearing his T-shirt and in his bedroom last night? By now she was probably rearranging his house…and his life. She had even offered to clean his house just to get rid of Daisy.

  That one had to go. Daisy needed to step up her game and set her plan in motion, but first she had to send Veronique out of Nick’s life and out of his home. The sooner the better before she took over and ruined everything that Daisy had set up.

  Maybe poison wasn’t such a bad idea. She’d read about the use of cyanide to…

  Manuel stepped out of the clearing and grabbed her around the waist, knocking the wind out of her as he interrupted her thoughts.

  “Slow down, chica. What are you running from?” he asked, pulling her closer.

  Daisy shrieked and shoved at his chest with all her might. “What are you doing here? Let go of me!”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He tightened his hold. “Why are you crying?”

  “What do you care?” Daisy snarled. She swiped at her stinging eyes and struggled against his hold, but he held fast. “I said let go!”

  Manuel shook her slightly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Papi expects me to work in the yard like a field hand,” she spat out.

  She grimaced at the thought of sun burning her flawless complexion and she hated dirtying her nicely manicured nails. She always wore gloves to clean house. There was no way she’d ruin her hands with manual labor.

  Manuel searched her face, his mouth twisting with irony. “Is that why you’re crying?”

  She looked away from the mocking glint in his dark eyes. He was the last person she wanted to see her doing yard work, getting all sweaty and grimy. She might not want to marry him, but he sure was amazing in bed.

  His lean, brown fingers tweaked her gold hoop earring. “You’ll survive, princesa. Felipe and I will do the heavy work. All you have to do is rake and help clean up.”

  “I’m not going to do it,” she snapped.

  Manuel’s generous lips curved upward to reveal white teeth vividly contrasting against dark olive skin. His eyes flashed with amusement as his rough-skinned hands lowered to her hips and anchored her before him.

  “Doesn’t suit your fancy style, huh, Princess Daisy?”

  Daisy thrust her chin up and her mouth turned downward with scorn. “That’s right and don’t forget it. One day I’m going to have a big house like Nick’s, and I won’t answer to Papi…or a laborer like you.” She gestured to his work clothes with a derisive twist of her lips.

  His smile faded and his black eyes hardened. “You’re wrong, chica. We have a son.”

  She tossed her head. “So? We’re not married. I’m free.”

  “When I finish my night classes, I’ll get a real job and we’ll get married,” he stated arrogantly.

  “Don’t count on it.” She was taking night classes too. It would be a long road before she got the power and wealth she craved…unless she seduced Nick and got him to marry her.

  Manuel’s mouth twisted. “Shut up. You’re rude and spoiled. I don’t want you raising our son to be that way.”

  His eyes raked over her. He was too hard to ignore—his eyes too scorching, his mouth too sexy, his lean muscles too tempting…too bad he would never be as rich or as powerful as Nick. She hated that her body was already heating up at the feel of Manuel’s strong hands on her hips. A surge of eagerness made her squeeze her thighs together to stop them from quivering. Damn him, she was already wet.

  “As long as I’m alive, we are connected.” Manuel pressed her against his swollen erection. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  His rough hands cupped her buttocks, gave them a hard squeeze and released her. Daisy fought the hot tremor of lust coursing through her. Tight-lipped, she watched him stalk toward the house.

  Bastard.

  Chapter Ten

  After she washed the pans, Veronique tried calling Natasha again, but to no avail. She would try all day until she finally got through. Setting her phone down, she got her toiletries together and headed toward the master bathroom. She stripped and stepped into the stall, gasping when the cold water hit her hot skin. She sucked in shaky breaths as her body adjusted to the shock of frigid water. Turning her face toward the showerhead, her chest heaved with shallow puffs as she tried to catch her breath. She quickly soaped up and rinsed off using the hand held shower nozzle. She shaved her legs too, just in case…

  Satisfied she was clean and presentable, she cut the shower short to conserve water. They hadn’t gotten word of water contamination yet, but it could happen at any time. At least there was enough water pressure for a decent shower.

  Back in the guest bedroom, she rubbed her favorite honey almond scented body cream all over, luxuriating in its lush fragrance. It was her portable aromatherapy—lightweight, yet rich enough to leave her skin moisturized and satiny. It always made her feel good.

  Pulling her hair up in a high ponytail, she dressed in a
cool summer dress and flat sandals, opting for the barest clothes to deal with the heat streaming into the house. The power was out and the radio announcer had said it might take weeks to be restored.

  Nick had taken the shutters down early in the morning. She opened all the windows in her room to air it out, welcoming the bright sunlight as it streamed in. The sun never failed to lift her spirits.

  Through the bedroom window she saw Nick working on the lawn and wondered where Felipe and Daisy had gone. Sunlight glinted on his chiseled physique, making him look like sculpted marble. His skin was tanned an even rich brown and tautly stretched over the muscle and sinew of his back and powerful arms. He was too gorgeous not to record. On impulse, she pulled her camera out of her purse and zoomed in. She filmed him at every angle, including close-ups of his face in deep concentration as she narrated, “Hurricane Abby tore apart Nick’s paradise, but that hasn’t deterred him. He’s powerful and unstoppable.” The minute she said that, she felt a stab of guilt. She had told him she wouldn’t take more pictures. This wasn’t exactly breaking her promise though—nobody would see it. The homage to Nick’s male beauty was for her eyes only.

  When she was satisfied she’d gotten some priceless footage to treasure later, she turned away from the window and took her notebook out. In times of stress, her work was her refuge. She immersed herself in writing a detailed report on Hurricane Abby. When she finished, she gave into the impulse to draw a caricature of Nick just as he’d looked in the closet covered in white dust. By the time she completed the drawing, she was in stitches.

  Nick didn’t come in until late afternoon. His blue eyes glittered vibrantly against his tan and the sexy stubble on his jaw. She was in the kitchen getting ready to heat up dinner when he strolled by holding two buckets.

  “What’ve you got there?” she asked.

  “Bananas, avocados and key limes,” he said, lifting one bucket. He lifted the other bucket, drawing her attention to his flexed biceps. “This one has fish I caught for our dinner.”