by Day Leclaire
“Only to a closed mind,” she insisted. “You were looking for an excuse to doubt me and I want to know why.”
He picked up his champagne flute, swirling the contorts so that tiny bubbles shimmered in the depths of the pale gold wine. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” Suddenly it seemed quite clear. The fact he’d never completely let down his guard with her, but had always kept a small part of himself aloof and distant, became oddly significant. “Am I imagining it, Damien?” she asked intently.
He returned her gaze and she’d never seen him more remote, more withdrawn. “Don’t try and dump this in my lap. Right after I fired you, you accepted a job from Caldwell. What else could I believe?”
“I had no choice!” she insisted sharply. “I had bills to pay.”
A muscle leapt in his jaw. “That’s a load of crock and you know it. Selling those bids to Caldwell’s should have made you a wealthy woman.” His mouth twisted. “Of course, marrying Caldwell made you even wealthier.”
Every scrap of color drained from her face. “I won’t discuss my marriage with you. It’s absolutely none of your business. But I will say this.” She leaned forward to emphasize her point, her voice trembling with the strength of her passion. “If I’d sold information to Caldwell’s as you claimed, I wouldn’t have had to work. Money wouldn’t have been an issue. But what about if I didn’t sell you out? What if I didn’t lie? Did you ever consider that?”
He didn’t relent. “I considered it. Until you proved me wrong.”
“I keep telling you. It was all a horrible mistake!”
“Then why work for the man?” he demanded, animosity breaking through his rigid control. “It damned you in everyone’s eyes. Even you must realize that.”
“I realize it. Dear Lord, I’ve lived with that knowledge hanging over my head every day of the past five years,” she cried. “But I had bills to meet, a rent to pay, food to buy. And no one would hire me, except Caldwell. I turned him down the first two times he asked, insulted that he’d think I’d work for a company capable of such duplicity. But as the weeks passed my pride wasn’t as important as earning a living and putting food on the table. So I accepted his third offer and thanked heaven for his persistence.”
“Why was he willing to hire you?”
“Maybe because I’m good at my job.” Her gaze, angry and defiant, locked with his, condemning him for his relentless suspicion. “Or maybe he hired me because he knew the truth. He knew exactly how his company obtained the bid information, as well as that I never deliberately betrayed you. Perhaps he even felt guilty.”
Damien grew still, his head cocked to one side, and for the first time Sable thought she might have struck a chord with him. “So why marry him?”
His question dashed all hope. “He asked.” The answer was flippant and did nothing to redeem her. But she didn’t care, couldn’t care. What else could she possibly say? That she’d married Leonard because she was pregnant and adrift, and more frightened than she’d ever been in her life?
His eyes narrowed, cynicism tainting his expression. “Interesting how thorough your explanations have been. Until now, that is. Until you have to try and justify why you married a man old enough to be your father.”
The fight drained from her. She couldn’t win this battle. She’d been foolish even to think it possible. Dropping her gaze, she applied herself to the lobster. “You forgot to mention,” she murmured drily, “that Leonard was old enough to be my father and stinking rich.”
He released an exasperated sigh. “Your humor is out of place.”
She could either laugh or she could cry. But she sensed that once the tears came she’d be unable to stop them. She forced a shaky smile to her lips. “Right now,” she admitted with devastating candor, “a sense of humor is all I have left.”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes for a fleeting moment, but whether it was directed at her or himself she couldn’t tell. “Then eat,” he directed briskly. “Just let me know when you’re ready to do battle again.”
She did as he suggested, enjoying the rare treat of a dinner out. It wasn’t until they were sipping the last of the champagne that he resumed their discussion. “Have you reached a decision about selling your Caldwell shares?”
“Back to business?” she asked with notable reluctance.
“Afraid so.”
“I’m willing to sell,” she admitted. “But I’d like time.”
He inclined his head. “How much time?”
“I’m not sure.” Replete, she pushed her plate aside. “The end of the month should be sufficient, I guess.” That gave her until Ryan submitted his final report to complete her inquiries. If she hadn’t found out who’d leaked the information to AJ Construction by then, it wouldn’t matter how much time Damien allowed. She’d be cast in the role of head scapegoat and that would be the end of it.
“Why do you need time? What are you hoping to accomplish in the next three weeks that could change anything?”
How could she possibly answer that without revealing what she’d learned from Alex Johnson? What excuse could she use? She bit down on her lip. “I—”
“Does your hesitation have something to do with what happened at Caldwell’s today?” he cut in abruptly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. That phone call I walked in on before we left the office. Did it have anything to do with losing Luther’s development project?”
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re dancing around your answers again. Talk to me straight for once,” he ordered, irritation clear in his voice. “You were upset—more than upset—by that call.”
“That’s none—”
He tossed his linen napkin on to the table. “Don’t say it. Not again. Because unless that call was personal it’s very much my business. I won’t have you keeping secrets from me, not ones that affect Caldwell’s.”
She hated deceiving him, hated the role she was forced to play. “It was personal,” she claimed.
“You’re lying,” he snapped. “You’re lying and I know it.”
She stiffened. “How?”
He laughed, the sound incredibly weary. “Sometimes your face is so open and clear, it reflects your every thought. Your eyes grow soft, like a rich black mist. And other times the light fades from your eyes and there’s nothing there, no thought, no emotion, just this murky emptiness. And that’s when I know you’re lying.”
She lowered her gaze, appalled that her most intimate thoughts and feelings were so easily read by him. “Please, Damien. I’d rather not discuss that particular phone call.”
“Then let’s discuss Luther. This entire situation reeks of a conspiracy. Why not admit it?”
He was taunting her deliberately, she could tell. He wanted to assess her reaction. She looked at him, suppressing her fear, forcing herself to deal with the problem with calm resourcefulness. “You suspect there’s been a leak, don’t you?” she asked, cutting to the bottom line.
“You’re damned right I do. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours looking into it. And I’ve discovered that this isn’t the only account we’ve lost. There have been four others in the past year. An interesting pattern, wouldn’t you say?”
That did take her by surprise. “So many? I had no idea. Do you really think those others had information leaked, too?”
“Too?” he questioned sharply, her comment clearly condemning her. “So you do think AJ Construction had inside information on the Luther project.”
She sighed in defeat. She shouldn’t have had quite so much of Nikolai’s Nectar. She certainly shouldn’t have chased it with several glasses of champagne, not when she needed to keep her wits about her in order to deal with Damien. “Ryan’s looking into the possibility. At least, he is with Luther.” Her brows drew together. “It worries me, though, that you think they’re all connected.”
“It should worry you more that I think you might be responsible.”
Her mouth tightened. “Is that what you plan? To blame me like last time?”
“Ah, but you were guilty last time.”
She pushed back her chair and stood up, crossing to the window. Lights from numerous boats twinkled out on the bay, though fog concealed most of the view. “I’d like to leave,” she stated quietly, wrapping her arms around her waist.
His reflection appeared just behind her. “Running away, Sable?”
“I prefer to call it a temporary retreat. I’m tired and need time to regroup.” She swung around. “I want you to think about something, though. If I leaked that information, what possible motivation could I have?”
“I don’t know,” he conceded slowly. “But then, it took me a while to figure out your motivation before.” He dropped his hands on her shoulders, drawing her close. “You’d better not be responsible for the leak. Because this time I won’t hesitate to press charges. And then you won’t have to worry about selling me your shares. You’ll lose them to me.”
She didn’t fight him as she should. Exhaustion gripped her and she relaxed against him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. Just for a minute she’d close her eyes and pretend his hold was an embrace, his intent to comfort rather than accuse.
You’d better not be responsible for the leak. His words rang in her ears. She had so little time left to uncover the actual villain and vindicate herself. Unfortunately, she couldn’t expect any help from Damien. Tears pricked her eyes. “Maybe I should just sell out now.”
“You can. But I’ll put a clause in the sales agreement. If you’re guilty, the deal’s off.”
She glanced up at him. “Then I’ll have to find the real culprit, won’t I?”
He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her jaw. “Are you sure she isn’t right here?”
“Positive,” she replied without hesitation.
He didn’t argue, though she suspected he didn’t quite believe her. “Time will tell,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded. “There’s just one last thing I’d like to ask before we leave.” She licked her lips, steeling herself for this final battle. “I have a request.”
Laughter lightened his eyes, the green as bright and vivid as newly unfurled leaves. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“It’s about your other condition.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “About our sleeping together?”
She nodded. “Were you serious about that?”
“Very.”
“Why?” The question burst from her before she could stop it. “How could you insist on such a thing?”
His expression darkened, desire slipping across his face, heating his eyes and hardening his body. “Because you’re a temptation I can’t resist. You’re like a pool of water in the midst of a scorching desert. And I’ve been lost in that desert for five long years. I have to taste you, slip inside you, see if you feel as good as I remember or if it’s all an empty mirage.”
“But not this way,” she argued desperately. “Not with threats and coercion. Not with such cold-blooded deliberation.”
His laugh had a wry, husky quality to it. “There’s nothing cold-blooded about the way I feel.”
“You’ll regret it, I swear you will,” she tried again.
He shrugged. “Then I’ll regret it.” His fingers slipped beneath the heavy fall of her hair, thrusting into the thick curls at the base of her neck. “What’s your request?”
Nervous dread balled in the pit of her stomach. “If you insist on holding me to this stipulation, then I want to be the one to decide when and where.”
He inclined his head. “Agreed.”
“No!” she cried recklessly. “There is no agreement. There’s only your demand and my submission. That certainly doesn’t constitute an agreement.”
“It doesn’t matter what you call it.” His arms tightened around her, fitting them together like two interlocking pieces, neither one complete without the other. “This is what it’s all about. The warmth of my hand against your breast, the stirring of our bodies when they touch. Our lips meeting, tasting.” His voice deepened. “The feel of your body beneath mine, open and eager.”
Heat flashed through her, burning with an unmistakable urgency. She could feel the most feminine part of her weeping for his possession. “But it’s not love!” she protested, battling against the primitive hunger sweeping through her like wildfire.
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I never said it was. Call it love or concede it’s lust. Whichever it is, I intend to enjoy it. And so will you, no matter how much you try and deny it.”
“No!” She shook her head, wishing she could refute his words, struggling to resist what was fast becoming more and more irresistible.
He didn’t permit any further opposition, his method of silencing her immediate and effective. He lowered his head and kissed her. She murmured in dissent, but his mouth absorbed the distressed sound. He didn’t force her. He didn’t need to. Instead he reminded her of the intense delight to be found within his arms, seducing her with slow, deep kisses, teasing kisses, soul-wrenching kisses.
Reality deserted her, leaving her careening out of control. He was the sun, coaxing her toward his brilliant fire. She surrendered to his pull, spinning where he willed, bathed in his golden heat. Her heart had never truly belonged to her, she realized then. It had always rested within his care, his to cherish or destroy.
His mouth slid from hers and she gasped for breath, fought for sanity. “You can’t do this to me again. I won’t let you!”
“You can’t stop it. You’re mine, body and soul. You’ve always been mine.” His hand caressed her hip and her response came as surely and naturally as a wave to the shore. She shifted deeper within his embrace, her hips moving against his in an ancient rhythm, one he matched. It had always been this way for them, the two of them perfectly synchronized, perfectly mated. “You see? Deny it all you want. It doesn’t alter a thing.”
She bowed her head. “You won’t change your mind?” she whispered.
“I can’t. I won’t.”
She lifted her head, tears trembling on the end of her lashes. “Then heaven forgive you, because I never will.” And with that she ripped free of his arms and ran for the door. She had to get away, she had to leave now before she lost all control. Flinging it open, she threw an anguished glance over her shoulder, her expression filled with accusation and hopeless desire. And then she plunged into the fog-filled night.
Chapter 6
“Sable! Sable, stop!”
Damien’s footsteps pounded on the deck outside the restaurant, giving chase—and gaining on her. She ran recklessly onward, intent on escape, the breath sobbing in her throat, tears blinding her path. She’d always known that it would come to this, both of them reverting to their baser instincts. She the prey, fleeing before the predator, Damien giving chase, moving with cat-like speed, running her down to earth. Her heel caught on an uneven plank and just as she pitched forward his hands closed on her shoulders, saving her from a nasty fall.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, spinning her round to face him.
She tore free of his hold. “Take your hands off me! I’m going home. Alone.” She swept her hair back from her eyes and glared at him with all the defiance she could muster, refusing to shrink from his wrath. To her confusion, he didn’t look angry as much as concerned.
“You want to go home? Fine. I’ll take you there.”
She shook her head stubbornly, trembling with emotion while she struggled to catch her breath. “I said alone. I’ll catch a cab. Or take the ferry.”
He stepped between her and the walkway toward Sausalito. “Not a chance. You came with me, you leave with me.”
“No! I’ll—”
“Forget it, Sable.” His tone brooked no opposition and he shifted closer, as though in anticipation of her bolting again. “You’re not going home alone. I’ll escort you
to the launch. You can wait for me there while I settle up inside.”
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. She’d overreacted, she realized, allowed him to get to her, to break through her defenses. She’d panicked when she most needed to keep a level head. But it was all too much. Every time she turned around she faced a new battle, one she had no chance of winning.
Slowly she nodded, her rebellion draining away, to be replaced by an oppressive weariness. “All right,” she said in a cool, remote voice. “You may take me home.”
“Thank you.” Irony colored his words.
“No more, Damien,” she said, with a tiny sigh. “Please. I’ve had enough.”
He apparently concurred. Wrapping a protective arm around her waist, he guided her down the ramp to the dock. “Wait here,” he ordered, then stilled. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he tilted her face toward the lights ringing the restaurant, his brows drawing together in a fierce frown. His thumb feathered across her cheek, tracing the path of her tears. “You’re exhausted.” He sounded almost apologetic. “I should have realized.”
She didn’t trust his compassion. It was just one more weapon in his arsenal, the latest attempt to slip beneath her guard. “I’ll be fine again tomorrow.” She had to be. There wasn’t any other choice, not with the clock ticking steadily toward her doom. She had to act, not rest.
He helped her aboard. “I’ll be right back. Don’t disappear on me.”
“I won’t,” she murmured, and collapsed on the padded seat in the bow. She didn’t have the energy to find her own way home, anyway. She certainly didn’t have the energy to indulge in another chase. And that was precisely what would happen should she run. Damien would come after her again, and what might happen should he be forced to catch her a second time didn’t bear consideration.
She stared out at the boats moored at a nearby yacht club. Sounds drifted across the water—the slap of waves against fiberglass hulls, the groan of wood dipping and swaying atop the choppy crests, the distant clang of a buoy marker. She found it oddly soothing and she relaxed against the seat cushions, taking a deep breath of rich, salty air.