by Natasha Tate
“Yes.” Between their caretaking duties and Carrington’s retired show horses, Ethan and his father had been kept busy working long, grueling hours in the heat. But it had all been worth it, knowing Cate would soon arrive for her annual summer vacation. “When’s the last time you visited?”
Her smile dissipated and she dropped her gaze. “I haven’t been back for a long, long time.”
“Why not?” Back when he’d loved her, he’d counted the days until her return, hoarding their time together like a miser hoards his coins. “I thought you loved it there.”
“Just too busy, I guess,” she said, her eyes shadowed by a sweep of dark lashes.
“With what? Your charities?” It had never mattered how busy Ethan was, he’d always made time for her. He’d gone without sleep, without meals, just to steal another minute with Cate. He remembered how, on moonlit nights, he’d gallop down the pristine white beach after her, watching as her hair twisted in the breeze. Ethan had always allowed her to win their clandestine races. And after he lost, he’d always paid whatever forfeit she demanded. Despite the warnings of his father, he’d always, always paid.
“Among other things,” she admitted in a low voice.
At first, she’d demanded the shells he’d collected, pink and white like her skin, their smooth insides as soft and smooth as he imagined her lips to be. He’d watch her as she dipped her head to listen to the roar of the sea within their spiraled centers, his heart aching and his hands hungry to touch. To feel. “What other things?” he asked, equally softly.
“I really need to mingle with the other guests,” she said, backing away and looking as if she, too, remembered the way they’d charted their future beneath the island sky. As if she, too, were remembering the way they’d moved from chaste kisses to heated explorations of each other’s adolescent bodies. They’d skirted the tenuous boundaries of her virginity too many times to count while arousal roared hot and ravenous within his ears. When we’re married, she’d promised as she arched beneath him. When we’re married, we’ll make love. We’ll make babies and I’ll be yours in every way.
He’d believed her. He’d believed in the future he saw through Cate’s eyes, and her faith in him had shaped his goals for his life and their future. A future that fashioned them into two halves of the same whole.
It had never occurred to him that the future he planned was made of the insubstantial cobweb of dreams.
It never occurred to him that she’d lie.
But she’d broken that promise, just like she’d broken every other promise she’d made him. And he’d be damned if he allowed her to back out of another. Not when it was he who held the upper hand. Not when it was he who held the power. So he snagged her arm before she could escape into the crowd. “You won’t forget about the paperwork, right?”
Her nostrils flared while her neck grew taut. Pleasure fired his veins as he saw her wrestle with her decision. “No,” she acceded on a thready exhale. “I won’t forget.”
“Good.” He checked his watch. “Shall we meet up at two?”
A worried frown marred the ivory skin of her brow as she tugged free of his grip. “Perhaps.”
“Two it is, then,” he said, infusing the word with just a hint of seductive intent.
“Goodbye, Ethan.” She gathered her composure around her like a mantle and abandoned him with her typical grace.
He allowed her to retreat. For now. She couldn’t escape him, and he’d be content to watch her squirm from a distance.
Squirming was good.
He was going to enjoy luring her close enough to crush her, until he left her trembling, vulnerable and wanting, just as she’d left him so long ago.
Still reeling from her conversation with Ethan, Cate tried to resume her duties as hostess for the fundraiser with little success. As she circulated, she found she couldn’t concentrate on the conversational topics swirling about her. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t taste the champagne, nor would she have noticed if the catering staff had opted to walk off with the weighty Carrington silver flatware and gold-encrusted china that had been in the family for generations.
Ethan’s presence consumed her thoughts, making her poor company and causing her to lose count of how many guests she’d abandoned in midsentence.
“Cate,” whispered her assistant, her eyes glinting with eager speculation. “If you need to leave early, I can finish up here.”
Heat climbed Cate’s cheeks. “Why on earth would I need to leave early?” Her tone, despite its bright cheerfulness, did little to disguise her jittery nerves.
Janine’s brows arched high. “Ethan Hardesty just bought your island for ten times its value.”
“I know. Isn’t it wonderful?” Cate affected a breezy smile while ignoring the tightness in her chest. “I never dreamed we’d get twenty-five million for it.”
“Cate.”
Cate felt her smile wobble, but she hung on to it with a grim perkiness she didn’t feel. “Yes?”
“He wants you.” Janine’s conspiratorial grin tugged at her mouth as she surreptitiously scanned the vibrant cluster of partiers. “He’s been watching you all night.”
“Oh, he has not,” Cate protested, even though she knew he had. She hid her quivering lips against the rim of her champagne flute, unwilling to subject herself to Janine’s perceptive observations, and took a steadying swallow. She then gestured casually toward the display of auction items. “I think we’re going to surpass last year’s total. What do you think?”
Cate caught sight of Ethan’s profile in her peripheral vision, and Janine’s reply registered as garbled white noise. She told herself to focus on the conversation, reminding herself that Ethan was just another wealthy guest at the auction.
But her feeble will proved no match for the pull of his dynamic presence. Virility oozed off of him, the aura of wealth and power and suppressed sexuality a potent combination when paired with his formal black tuxedo. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t resist stealing covert glances at his profile and the evening attire that fit him flawlessly. Its gleaming black wool, tailored to perfection, outlined broad shoulders, a muscular torso and powerful arms too tantalizing to ignore.
As if he sensed the weight of her stare, Ethan turned. His gaze caught hers, held, then flashed with raw desire. The champagne in Cate’s stomach turned to liquid flames before he dragged his attention back to the woman who’d sidled close enough to press her breasts against his biceps. The jet-haired socialite, draped in a red velvet gown that plunged nearly as far in the front as in the back, glanced once at Cate before dismissing her with a smug smile.
Cate dropped her gaze to the remnants of champagne in her glass, her body humming with tension. She did not look up until she felt Janine’s hand at her elbow.
“You’re a way better catch. Everybody knows it.”
A blush fired her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He’s interested. Go after him. Have some fun for once.”
Cate scowled. “I don’t go after men, Janine.”
“Why not?” Janine’s eyes widened with the question. “You’re beautiful. You’re rich. You’re smart. You could have anyone you wanted, if you just put yourself out there.”
“No,” Cate said, pulling away and squaring her shoulders. She knew from experience that she wasn’t a catch. Her accident had seen to that. “Trust me. Ethan Hardesty and I … it would never work.”
Small lines of confusion drew creases above Janine’s brows, and she glanced back at him with a sigh. “But you so could, Cate. And he’s gorgeous!”
“Oh, look, it’s Chef Rupert,” Cate interrupted. “He donated that lovely series of cooking classes that sold for twenty thousand. I can’t forget to thank him before he leaves.”
For the next hour or so, Cate exchanged distracted pleasantries with other attendees, smiling and chatting as if she weren’t painstakingly aware of Ethan’s tall figure at every moment. She felt
his hot gaze on her no matter how many people clustered around him, vying for his attention.
She wished she could ignore him, but instead, she was filled with an itchy impatience to draw closer to him. The sensation converged within her blood until she became exquisitely aware of every thudding beat of her heart, every glancing touch upon her skin, every sight and sound and scent. Circulating among her guests while Ethan’s eyes traced her movements made her feel disjointed, her body going through its expected motions while her insides fluttered and spun.
Within seconds of thanking the last of her auction donors, Cate turned to find Ethan before her, his unexpected proximity sending her heart to her throat. “Ethan,” she gasped as she clutched her champagne flute to her chest. “You startled me!”
He ignored her distress, the backs of his fingers lifting to graze hers in a silent, uninvited toast. “Did I?”
“You know you did,” she whispered, her awareness of him quickly outpacing her ability to craft polite conversation. Her guests’ curious regard weighed upon her with embarrassing clarity. “And stop staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Perversely, he stepped closer, trapping their hands between their bodies. “Surely you’ve grown accustomed to men staring at you.”
Somehow, she managed to retain her balance as she stepped back and broke contact. An unwanted yearning settled low in her stomach. She wanted to touch him. Smell him. Taste him. She longed to bury her face against the side of his neck and lick the transition from smooth skin to stiff, white collar. The urge to peel off his jacket and explore every tuck and seam of his snowy white shirt before releasing its jeweled black buttons to expose his chest roared through her, silencing the chattering crowd. “They respect my boundaries,” she clarified, infusing her voice with a hint of rebuke.
A sardonic grin dented his cheek as he performed a blatant perusal of her body. “What, are you worried I’ll give them ideas?”
“No.” Her pulse gained ground on her common sense, fluttering with heated awareness. She wanted to trace the silky strip of satin that climbed from ankle to hip, to run her hands along his hard thighs and perfectly curved buttocks. And worse, she suspected he could read her thoughts in her expression. “I’m worried you think you bid on more than the island.”
His blue eyes flashed, glinting with a mocking gleam before dropping to linger at her breasts. “Maybe I did.”
An intoxicating rush of desire rose in her veins, blurring her ability to form a coherent thought, and she stumbled back another step. “Ethan!”
His heated gaze caressed her shocked expression. “What?” he asked in a bland voice.
“You know what!” she sputtered, agitated arousal hitching hard within her chest.
His dark head tipped toward hers and his nostrils flared on an inhale, reminding her of a wolf who’d just caught the scent of his prey. “You’re beautiful when you’re flustered.”
The boldness of his statement startled a gasp from her. It had been years since anyone had flirted with such outrageous intent, so long that she’d almost forgotten the heady thrill of being pursued for something other than her stock portfolio. She could almost overlook the fact that nothing could ever come of it. She could almost pretend that the past ten years had never happened. That she was still beautiful. Whole. “I’m not flustered. I’m irritated.”
A seductive heat flared within his eyes and for a moment, it reminded her of the way he’d looked at her in their youth. He lifted a single finger to trace the line of her cheek, trailing dangerously close to her lips. “You forget, Catydid. I’ve seen you irritated, and this definitely isn’t it.”
Her mouth went dry and she clumsily twisted her face from his touch. The pet name he’d given her so long ago, delivered with such bewitching softness, opened channels of longing deep inside. It hinted at the intimacy they’d once shared, an intimacy she could no longer entertain. “I’m serious,” she said. “Stop trying to flirt with me.”
His voice was a quiet murmur. “Why should I?”
Her heart thumped within her chest, reveling in the rising challenge between them. Male against female, desire against will, past against present. The factions warred within her, filling her with anticipation and unexpected pleasure. She wanted to spar with him, to match wits against him while dodging his attempts to seduce her. She wanted the chase. To feel alive again. But she couldn’t. Not with Ethan. Not with anyone. So when she finally replied, it was in a firm voice that brooked no opposition. “Because I’m not interested. Remember?”
Anger flashed beneath the surface of his sultry expression and then disappeared just as swiftly, replaced by a confident smile. Undeterred, he leaned to whisper, “Yes, I remember. Only now, I intend to change your mind.”
CHAPTER THREE
“CATE.” Ethan scolded her with a glance as she fabricated yet another excuse to postpone their departure. It was nearing 4:00 a.m., and he was losing his patience. “Stop dallying.”
“I am not dallying,” she protested, her arms piled high with empty china boxes. “We always clean up before we go home after the auction.”
“We?” If she procrastinated any longer, he was going to haul her delectable little rump out to his limo by force, no matter how much she resisted. “You have staff to handle the cleanup and you know it. You do not have to be here.”
“Yes, I do. I don’t trust anyone to take care of the family’s china.” She angled an apologetic glance toward her assistant. “No offense, Janine.”
Janine, looking fatigued enough to curl up on the gleaming hardwood floor, didn’t seem to notice she’d just been insulted. “What?”
Ethan moved to touch the girl’s slouched shoulder. “Go home,” he told the weary assistant. “I’ll finish up here with Cate.”
“Really?” Gratitude temporarily brightened the young woman’s face before she remembered her place and shot a worried glance toward her boss. “Sorry, Cate. Is that okay?”
Cate’s expression telegraphed a panicked blend of irritation and worry, but she quickly masked it with a strained smile. “Of course it is. You’ve gone above and beyond tonight and I’ve kept you far too late. Go get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Janine didn’t have to be told twice. Within ten seconds, she’d dumped her share of the boxes on the auction table, donned her coat and escaped the empty ballroom, leaving Cate and Ethan alone.
“That was a bit high-handed of you,” Cate said, not meeting his eyes as she strode toward the auction table with her unwieldy load. “I needed her help.”
Ethan tracked her from behind, watching as she balanced the empty boxes. She moved with the subdued grace of a sylph, as lissome and lithe in her evening gown and heels as she’d been in her island bikini and sandals. Just as in the past, her tempered sensuality shone through, drawing him with the magnetic power of some magical lodestone. Ethan could scarcely contain the urge to drag her off to some dark, hidden place. “It was necessary,” he told her, forcing his thoughts back to the topic at hand. He relieved her of her burden and arranged the empty boxes in a line along the auction table’s edge. “That poor girl didn’t deserve to be caught up in your bid to avoid me.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” she said as she scuttled sideways, away from his touch. “I just have things to do. Important things.”
He kept his scowl in check as he watched her lean to collect a stack of gold-rimmed plates. He wanted her off balance. He wanted her nervous and jittery and on edge. He wanted to burrow his fingers into the silk of her hair, drag his mouth against her satin flesh and breathe in her essence until he grew dizzy from it. “We agreed to leave at two.”
“No. You agreed,” she retorted, moving to lower the stack of plates into the box. “I was blackmailed. Bullied.”
He arched a brow. “Everyone’s been gone for over an hour,” he said, leaning over the box toward her tipped head. “It’s time.”
Her eyes widened, but she stood her ground. “Says you.”
“Nervous?”
She swallowed visibly. “Of course not. I just don’t like leaving a job half-done.”
“What else needs to be finished?”
“Besides putting away all the lights and china?” she said, then cleared her throat. “I need to lock up tonight’s donations.”
“So leave the lights and china. We’ll lock up the money and go.”
She pressed her lips into a flat line, irritation and worry fighting for dominance in her expression. “Fine.”
Lifting an arm, he gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
Cate exhaled noisily and then dipped to collect a small, black cash box from beneath the auction table where she’d locked it in a portable safe. A strand of shining hair slipped forward, brushing her gleaming shoulder and sliding to conceal her profile. With a flick of her wrist, she tucked it behind her ear and then resumed her task as if he weren’t standing there, watching her.
Her unhurried actions betrayed no awareness of the time he’d already wasted, waiting for her, and he felt a surge of annoyance flare. It had always been this way: she drew him and he followed like an orphaned puppy, too caught up in his desire to please her to even care whether she ignored him or not.
He stiffened, exhaling in a slow, controlled stream. God, what was it about her? It hadn’t even been a full night, and he already felt tangled up in Cate again. He bit down on his back teeth and forced his hands to relax. He didn’t have to relinquish his control to her; he could simply slake his lust and be finished with her.
Three minutes later, after a silent ride to the top floor in an executive elevator paneled in mahogany and brass, he and Cate entered her father’s office.
“I see you haven’t changed a thing,” Ethan said after she’d flipped on a muted lamp and moved to place the cash box on the wide, polished surface of her father’s desk.
“Why would I?”