“I wired that money to the farm account this morning. Yes. I want you to use it to pay on the mortgages. I know it’s not enough, but maybe it will hold the lenders at bay a little longer.”
So that’s why he’d wanted to find a bank. She thought he’d just wanted to deposit his winnings.
He paused, propping his leather-clad foot up on the wall next to her, listening to the other end of the conversation.
Laura dipped her hand in the cool water, trying to appear as if she wasn’t clinging to his every word. He’d wired last night’s winnings to a farm account and asked this Amanda to pay on the mortgages? Plural? Nathan didn’t strike her as the farmer type. And what lenders did he need to hold at bay?
“Okay,” Nathan continued. “I miss you, too.”
Laura clamped down on her reaction. Missed her? Who was this woman? Wincing, she realized that sounded a lot like jealousy. And she wasn’t the jealous type. Just selfish. She wanted to be the one and only, if only for a short time.
“I’m sorry to leave you with this mess, but it will pay off in the end. I promise. I’ll call you in a day or two.” He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. He stared straight ahead for a moment, before searching for Laura as if he didn’t know where she was. “Sorry about that. Family business.”
Family business? Rising, she walked over to him. “Look, Nathan, we agreed, Rule Number Four: No personal questions, but we also agreed, Rule Number One: I’m not the other woman. So, I have to ask, who is Amanda?”
Nathan stepped into her, and cupping her face said, “Amanda is my baby sister. I promise there is no other woman.” He lowered his mouth to hers, taking her lips in a warm kiss, before retreating. “Now, I thought you were starving.”
Laura sighed. Nathan Maxwell sure knew how to kiss. “I am, but not for food anymore.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Sugar, don’t tempt me.”
Laura had spent a good bit of the afternoon thinking over Nathan’s baffling phone conversation, trying to put the pieces together. She didn’t know why it mattered so much to her. Was Nathan in financial trouble? If so, why was he on this expensive cruise? Did he have a gambling problem, despite what he’d told his sister? To her knowledge, he hadn’t spent any time in the ship’s casino, and he hadn’t suggested they go there either.
And what was the deal with this farm? If he had a farm, what was he doing living in New York? Dressed like he belonged on the cover of GQ? She couldn’t imagine the urbane Nathan Maxwell in coveralls and a flannel shirt.
Her curiosity was eating her up, but she reminded herself of her own rules.
Her thoughts circled back to The Spy and she questioned again whether it could be Nathan. But no. She’d seen Greg talking with other passengers, taking notes on his tablet. Nathan hadn’t spent any time with other passengers—at least not that she knew—except in her presence.
“There’s an app for that,” Laura offered, responding to Nathan’s comment about people who couldn’t demonstrate even a modicum of courtesies.
She opened the door to her stateroom, Nathan’s laughter following her into the room. Glancing down, she saw an envelope on the floor, as if someone had slipped it under her door. The recipient name on the envelope read: LAURA ARMSTRONG. Before Nathan could see it, she flipped the enveloped and slid it open.
“It’s a telegram,” she muttered, confused, answering a question Nathan hadn’t asked. Skimming to the end, she saw her grandmother’s name.
“I didn’t know they still sent telegrams.”
“Me neither.” She wandered over to the picture window to read it.
“Not bad news, I hope?” Nathan asked, still standing near the door.
“Hmm? No,” she replied, distracted. “No, it’s not bad news, unless you consider being disinherited bad news.” Now why had she blurted that out?
She released a mirthless laugh. So the old bitty had finally done it. Apparently, it was official.
Her grandmother had been so pissed that Laura had missed her eightieth birthday celebration that she’d met with her team of lawyers and revised her will. She sighed, and collapsed into a nearby chair. Clearly the flowers, the bottle of Krug Clos du Mesnil champagne—her grandmother’s favorite—and the card did nothing to mitigate the woman’s wrath.
“Laura? Are you okay?” Nathan knelt in front of her, taking both her wrists in his.
Still stunned, she gazed out the window. “Yes. I’m fine.” Not really. Not yet. But she would be. She’d survived without her father’s love and her mother’s affection, she could survive without her grandmother’s money.
“No, you’re not.” Nathan said, his voice soft and understanding. “I can’t say I know what it feels like to be disinherited, but I imagine it doesn’t feel good. Why would your grandmother do that?”
Laura could feel tears stinging her eyes. She. Would. Not. Cry. Especially in front of Nathan.
And dammit. It wasn’t the money. She didn’t need the money. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, and her salary and the money from her grandfather would support her quite comfortably. But the inheritance was just one more connection with her family, tenuous as it was, that was now broken. As far as her father was concerned, she didn’t exist. And now her grandmother felt the same way.
She swallowed the tears building in her throat, and gave Nathan a watery answer. “Because she can.”
“Ah, sugar.” He took the paper from her hand and laid it on the side table. “Come here.” He pulled her up and took her place in the chair, and drawing her into his lap, nestled her head beneath his chin.
It felt so damn good to nestle into his lap. To be held with such tenderness. Such . . . caring. She couldn’t resist burrowing in, pressing her face into the warmth of his neck.
Other than as a child, when Darcy’s mother or father comforted her, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had just held her. Certainly not the men she met. The men she had meaningless sex with. The only holding they wanted to do involved some form of sexual contact. Not this unbearable tenderness.
He stroked her hair, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
“Not really. Rule Number Four.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Okay. What would you like to do?”
She raised her head and gazed into his kind eyes. “I’d like you to make love to me, Nathan.”
He held her gaze, then claimed her mouth with his. His fingers traced a lazy pattern across her back. Soothing and arousing all at once. He moved to cup her face in his hands, and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. His kisses were slow and thoughtful. Tender and sweet.
Sighing into his mouth, she relaxed into him. Let herself go. For once, just bared her soul and let herself be.
He unbuttoned her blouse, kissed her shoulder as he peeled back the silk. He popped open the front closure on her bra, baring her breasts to his touch, his mouth. Closing her eyes, she let him sweep her up and away. Lifting her off his lap, he stood her in front of him, removed her remaining clothes, before rising from the chair himself. “Sit.”
He knelt at her feet, gazing up into her face, his eyes liquid gold, warm. Spreading her legs, he tasted her, taking her breath away. She gripped his hair, fingers tangling, grasping. The pleasure almost unbearable. The climax burst upon her, taking her by surprise, making her cry out with the sheer glory of it.
After shedding his clothes, he lifted her from the chair carried her into the bedroom. Taking his mouth with hers, she tasted herself there. Gathering her close he slipped into her, a sigh on his lips. Lifting her hands above her head, his fingers intertwined with hers, he breathed her name.
“Look at me, sugar. My beautiful Laura.”
She opened her eyes to find him gazing into hers. Her heartbeat against his, their bodies joined, her soul laid bare to him. And she flew above it all, forgetting the pain, reveling in the unbearable sweetness of him.
&nb
sp; Nathan lay with his arm around Laura, her head on his chest, his hand drawing circles on her back, as their breathing returned to normal.
Something happened this time. Something more than physical. Something simultaneously wonderful and frightening.
Wonderful, because he’d never experienced that connection with another woman before. Frightening, because, well, he’d never experienced that connection with another woman before. He wondered if Laura had felt it too.
Seeing her so distraught over that telegram had affected him. More than he’d like to admit. Who disinherited their own grandchild? He’d wanted to pick up the phone and give this woman who would so coldly use money as a weapon against her own flesh and blood a piece of his mind.
He had no idea how much money was involved, whether Laura would be able to provide for herself without it. He only knew that she was, in her own words, a trust-fund baby. Was that the trust fund she’d been referring to?
Laura kissed his chest and hummed in appreciation.
He hugged her close. “What would you like to do for dinner tonight?”
“Could we just stay here, in the room?”
“Are you sure?”
He felt her nod of confirmation.
“All right. After sex like that I couldn’t deny you anything. How about I go pick up some of that raw fish you’re so fond of, and I’ll pick up a juicy artery-clogging burger from the grill and bring it back to the room? Maybe a bottle of wine?”
Laura sat up, her hair mussed, sliding over her shoulder to cover those perfect breasts. “That sounds . . . wonderful.”
“Your wish is my command.” He rose to find his pants, Looking around in confusion, until Laura said, “Living room.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
He bent down to kiss her. “I’ll be back shortly. Keep the bed warm for me.”
She smiled, a sexy, drowsy smile, and smacked him on the ass as he turned to walk away.
After hearing the soft click of the stateroom door closing, Laura flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Her grandmother had always been a bitch, ruling with an iron fist and using money as a stick rather than a carrot. No wonder her father was emotionally stunted. Even so, she never thought she’d actually follow through on her threats to disinherit her.
She rose from the bed, the post-sex buzz all but gone, and walked naked to the living room to retrieve the hateful telegram before Nathan could read it. Ripping it to shreds in her frustration, she then balled up the remnants and tossed them in the trash.
Angry at herself for telling Nathan, she went to the closet and yanked her robe off the hanger. As if telling him wasn’t bad enough, she’d almost cried in front of him too. And did it end there? No. She’d gone and needed him. And told him she needed him.
She hated needy. Working herself into a good mad, she paced the room.
But, God, she sighed. The mad ebbed. He’d been so tender. So . . . supportive. So unlike any other man she had ever slept with.
They were breaking rules left and right. She’d broken Rule Number Four after reading the telegram. He’d long since broken Rule Number Six by spending the last four nights in her bed. He even paid for her lunch today when she went to the ladies’ room, breaking Rule Number Five.
Little sneak.
And she’d been breaking Rule Number Two by spending every waking—and sleeping—moment with him.
She glanced over at the bed, the rumpled sheets, the comforter lying halfway on the floor. And what the hell happened there earlier? The sex hadn’t felt like just sex anymore. It had felt like . . . more. Exactly what, she couldn’t put her finger on. But something . . . deeper. More meaningful.
“Oh, hell no.” She paced away from the bed. She was not breaking Rule Number Three. This was just a fling. Nothing more.
That settled it. Tonight, after dinner, she’d tell him she wanted to be alone. That he needed to go back to his room. Nathan had proved to be a bigger distraction than she’d planned and it was time to refocus her energies on the Imperial account.
Her grandmother thought she’d won, but all she’d succeeded in doing was reigniting the fire under Laura. She was more determined than ever to get the account, and with it the VP position.
On the train for the ninety-minute trip to Florence, Laura gazed out over the rolling hills of Tuscany.
She’d caved last night. Once Nathan got her back in bed her resolve crumbled. So much for tiring of him before the end of the cruise. How could she tire of a man with so many skills at his disposal?
Only three more days, she rationalized. Three more days of his clever mouth and his cleverer hands. Three more days of his laughter, his warmth, his sex appeal.
Enjoy it while it lasted, she told herself. Because there was no way in hell she was breaking Rule Number Three. Once she returned to New York, she had to get her head back in the game. She and her team would only have six weeks to finalize the pitch. There was just no room for Nathan in her life right now.
That she was even thinking about him in her life later, after the Imperial deal closed, was something she brushed aside. For now. She’d ponder on that later.
Satisfied with her decision, she resolved to enjoy the day in one of her favorite cities. People sang the praises of Paris, but she’d take Florence over Paris any day of the week. The art, the architecture, appealed to her appreciation for fine craftsmanship. All surrounded by the beautiful Tuscan landscape.
She quickly checked her phone for any fires that required dousing. An email from Katie with a few questions, but nothing that couldn’t wait until later. She tapped out a quick reply to Havi on the technology team about an issue with the drink campaign, then as she was tucking away her phone, it buzzed. Darcy.
“Hey, girlfriend!” she answered.
“You don’t call, you don’t text. Was it something I said?” Darcy teased.
“Sorry, I’ve been a bit . . . busy,” Laura replied.
“Translation, I met a guy. So, what accent does he have? French? Italian? Ooh, or maybe Eastern European?”
“Southern.”
“Southern what? Italy? I didn’t know their accent was different.”
“No Southern U.S., as in Gone with the Wind, as in Rhett Butler.”
“You’re on a ship in the middle of the Mediterranean, and you met a man from Georgia?”
“You got it, sugar.”
“Wait, you said all the men were old enough to be your grandfather.”
“Okay, so I wasn’t exactly truthful.”
“He’s a passenger on the ship?”
“Yes. But I actually met him in New York. Before I left.”
“You invited a stranger on the cruise with you? Did I teach you nothing about stranger danger?”
“I didn’t invite him. He just happened to be on the cruise.”
“Do tell. What’s he look like? Is he rich?”
“He’s handsome, polished, gentlemanly—”
“Other than the handsome part, he doesn’t sound like your type at all.”
“Funny, I thought the same thing, but he grew on me.”
“How did you meet him in New York? A bar?”
“A sidewalk.”
“A what?”
Laura told Darcy the story of her rescue.
“Aww! How romantic,” she sighed.
Laura could just see Darcy’s face going all dreamy. Ever the romantic.
“He’s your knight-in-shining-armor. Your Prince Charming with the glass slipper.”
“Sugar, I don’t do knights-in-shining-armor like you.”
“Sugar? Is that what he calls you? How, well, sweet.” Darcy giggled on the other end of the phone.
“What’s new with you?” Nathan appeared with a cup of coffee in his hand, prompting Laura to change the subject.
“Oh! I almost forgot why I was calling, Holly’s Heroes is an RT Book Reviewer’s Choice Best Book!”
Laura remembered Darcy struggling with that particular book whil
e she was on the hunt for Mr. Perfect. “Congratulations, Darcy! We’ll have to celebrate when I get back.” A Reviewer’s Choice was like the ADDY of the romance writer’s world. Other than a RITA, it didn’t get much better than that.
Not wanting to share too much personal information in front of Nathan, Laura ended the call with a promise to call Darcy when she returned to New York. “Have fun in Wine Country!”
Chapter 11
Nathan handed Laura one of the cups of coffee in his hands. “Nectar of the gods, just the way you like it, hot and sweet.”
“True that.” She took a sip. Sighed. “Thanks.”
“You didn’t need to cut your call short. Sounded like your friend had some good news to share.”
Laura gave him a curious look.
“You were offering congratulations when I sat down.”
“Right. She’s a romance writer and her book was nominated for a top award in the industry.”
“Well, congratulations then.”
“So, what’s on tap for today, Mr. Cruise Director?”
Nathan settled his hand on her thigh, clearly at ease with the public display of affection. “I thought we’d go to the top of the Duomo, look out over the city. Then over to the Uffizi. And we can’t miss the David, so we’ll head over to the Galleria dell’ Accademia after that.”
“I need to get some shopping in. Souvenirs for the folks back home.”
“Then let’s set aside some time to visit the Ponte Vecchio. Did you know that it’s the only remaining medieval bridge in the world with shops built into it?”
“Will there be a quiz on this later? How do you know all this if you’ve never been to Florence?”
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