by Meg Lacey
“Well,” Raven said, using her most tactful expression, “you can’t have too much love.” She’d been trying her entire life to get it, so she knew what she was talking about.
“No, you can’t, can you? Raven—”
The ardent tone in his voice warned her. Coming here with him might rank as one of the bigger mistakes she’d made lately. She’d only come for fun. Didn’t he realize that?
“Ever since I met you…”
Obviously not.
“Raven, I’ve—”
“Oops.” To avoid further talk she did the only thing she could, she missed a shot so he’d have to take a turn. “Bad luck. You’re up, Jackson.”
Jackson waved it aside. “I don’t care about that. Raven, I want to—”
“Finish this game while the night is young? I agree.”
He placed his pool cue on the table and stepped toward her. “No. From the moment I first saw you, I’ve been considering—”
“Jackson”—she faked a huge yawn—”I think the combination of scotch and the wine at dinner were too much for me. I’m getting very sleepy. Would you mind if we continue this discussion tomorrow?”
“I…”
She gave him her most appealing look. “Please.”
His face fell, but he responded courteously, “No, of course not.”
Raven slipped her pool stick into the wall rack, blew a kiss then sauntered through the double doors, leaving Jackson staring at her with a puzzled look. She made it as far as the hallway before taking a deep breath and accelerating her pace. She didn’t exhale until she’d closed her bedroom door behind her.
Close call.
She leaned back against the wood, praying he hadn’t changed his mind and followed her. All she could hear was her own tense breath in the darkness, accompanied by confused thoughts. Jackson wasn’t playing by the normal fun-and-games rules of seduction. He’d jumped right to the last act before the curtain raised. Even though she’d had a minor engagement here and there, no relatives had been involved, just hot-blooded hunks. She wasn’t sure how to handle this.
Raven walked across the room, undressing as she went, tossing her clothes on a chair before wrapping a silk robe around her as she replayed the dinner disaster. Lorianne adored Jackson and tried to show him, while he…
She frowned, fighting an uncomfortable sympathy for Lorianne. Raven recognized a woman with little self-confidence where men were concerned— hell, with everyone—so she pushed too hard to gain acceptance. Raven recognized it too well. It brought back many painful memories.
She sighed and sat on the edge of her bed, reaching to turn on the side table lamp. Pulling the pins from her hair, her tempestuous mass fell to curl around her shoulders. She tapped a scarlet nail against her lips as she considered the situation. Lorianne obviously wanted a “happily-ever-after” with Jackson, while Raven only wanted a “friend with benefits”. To avoid an even messier scene, she’d have to find a way to convince Jackson she was the wrong woman for his future.
The bad weather had changed Nicholas’s plans. Since he’d left New York later than he’d expected due to some personal business, the gale-like winds and blowing snow he’d encountered in upstate New York had forced him to stop overnight.
The weather was more wild and wooly the next day as Nicholas left the highway to access the roads leading to J.R.’s country estate. His rented Land Rover slipped on one of the curvy mountain roads. He peered through the windshield at the dense snow. Although the highway system up here was used to handling a great deal of snowfall, it was now falling too fast for them to make a dent, according to the radio.
“Raven Rutledge,” he snarled. “Just wait—”
If it weren’t for her, he’d be tucked up in a lovely suite, enjoying a gorgeous woman, swilling champagne and celebrating a successful closure to his business deal with J.R. Exeter. Instead, he was blinded by snow and getting a pounding headache.
When he got his hands on Little Miss Trouble—
Nicholas occupied the next few miles happily deciding what to do with Raven, what tortures to inflict, before he saw a sign that identified J.R.’s country home. Downshifting to accommodate the sharp curve, he turned onto a blacktop road. Nicholas traversed a long drive that meandered through the woods before the trees parted to reveal a huge, old Tudor mansion tucked into a cozy pocket meadow created by rising cliffs on either side. The place rambled like a bit of architecture gone mad. But there was an air of expectation, as if the house had been waiting for him. Nicholas snorted, “Yeah, right.”
Another bit of insightful fancy that could have come straight from a dashing Romany ancestor, according to family legend. Personally, Nicholas thought someone had romanticized the family background to include a clairvoyant gypsy prince, but occasionally…
He pulled to a stop in front of the house and sat for a moment leaning forward, arms resting on the steering wheel. His breath quickened as he stared at the house. There was something he couldn’t put his finger on. A feeling that something was waiting for him, drawing him closer.
The unexpected sound of a car’s horn echoed, snapping him back to the present. He’d accidentally hit the center of the steering wheel with his elbow. He lifted his forearms, sat back and blinked. Get a grip.
Nicholas grabbed the keys and opened the door, turning to remove his luggage from the backseat. Something waiting for him? That sounded like his old man talking. An excuse for his bad luck at the tables, the slots, with a sure-fire investment. Always looking for an easy ride, even at the end.
Nicholas’s head pounded. He closed his eyes for a brief instant and focused on steadying his breathing until he felt the emotions twisting inside him begin to straighten.
It’s history. Dead, done, gone and buried.
Nicholas stared up at the house, slightly less visible in the driving snow. Still— Something’s waiting raced through his mind in a driving rhythm. “Some—”
Then the pounding stopped and his head cleared. Back to normal. His lips quirked as he took a firmer grip on his leather bag and approached the front door.
The only thing waiting for him inside this place was a siren named Raven, singing her seductive song to any male susceptible enough to listen. And that sure-as-hell didn’t include him.
He grinned as he rang the bell. “Get ready, sweetheart. It’s time to face the music and learn a new tune.”
Chapter Two
That afternoon, Raven had escaped to the library. As a child, she’d spent many hours among the books at her home, both from inclination and from a need to hide from her family, think things over and dream. Funny how she never outgrew some childhood experiences, regardless of how far she came. She rolled her eyes. A psychologist would probably explain that she was still hiding from reality, judging by her adult behavior.
Up in the loft, Raven tucked herself deeper into a wing chair placed in an alcove of books located near the top of the winding stairs. She was well hidden up here in her cozy haven, but could still see some of the room below. Rubbing her chin, she considered her awkward situation. Since the snow was falling more heavily, all thoughts of leaving immediately were out. She’d have to think on her feet and improvise.
She started to rise when the strident sound of angry voices changed her mind. Jackson and his father entered the library in the midst of a volatile argument. She shrunk farther into her chair, praying no one would see her.
“Save your breath, Father,” Jackson said. “I’m an adult. I will see whom I wish, when I wish.”
“Goddammit, Jackson,” J.R. exploded. “You’re playing with fire here, don’t you know that? Have you any idea of this woman’s reputation? What she could do to you?”
“She makes me laugh and takes my breath away when I look at her. That’s what she does to me.”
“Hell’s Bells, son, I could introduce you to a dozen high-priced whores who could do the same thing.”
“Watch yourself,” Jackson warned. “You’re talking about the woman I’m
considering marrying.”
Raven almost jumped out of her chair. Marry? Ohmigod. She was right.
“Marry, is it? Have you lost every bit of sense you were born with? You can’t marry her. I forbid it.”
“You forbid it? I’m not a child, I’m twenty-eight. I’ll marry anyone I damn well please.”
“No, you won’t. I control the money, Jackson. And I’m still the head of the family. I haven’t worked all these years to see my son throw it away because the front of his pants are too tight.”
“I haven’t even had sex with her. My feelings are stronger than that.”
“Oh, listen to yourself. You sound like a lovesick calf. If you want to moon over someone, moon about Lorianne. She’s someone who can do you some good.”
“Will you stop shoving Lorianne down my throat every two seconds?” Jackson snapped.
“Not till you come to your senses.”
“Lorianne is part of my childhood. I grew up.”
“Grown-ups fulfill their obligations, son.”
“Their obligations?” Jackson’s voice was not only hot with temper, it dripped with sarcasm. “Don’t you mean I’m supposed to fulfill your political ambitions? Did you ever ask me if it’s what I want?”
“It’s always been understood that—”
Jackson gave a sharp, unpleasant laugh. “If it means so much to you, Father, why the hell don’t you run for office instead of laying it all on me?” A slamming door punctuated the end of Jackson’s statement.
“Son of a bitch,” J.R. swore, “what did I ever do to have such an ungrateful, idiotic pup? Damn boy takes after his mother.” Leaving that statement hanging in the air like wet wash on a line, J.R. left the library, too.
Only then did Raven dare exhale. She could practically feel the scorch marks where J.R.’s tongue had flicked fire at her character, or lack thereof. Her face flushed with shame. She didn’t want to be the object of derision. No one did. Nor did she want to be a chisel prying a father and son apart. Snow or not, she’d have to pack and leave.
That decided, Raven rose and tiptoed across the loft toward the second floor doorway, which she’d discovered the day before. She eased the door open, glancing in each direction before setting a cautious foot into the hallway. She skulked along the corridor. Just as she passed the stairs to the main floor entrance hall, the doorbell rang, its distinctive sound echoing around the huge center foyer below her. Raven stopped, turning to glance over her shoulder, looking down at the people below. Lorianne and Margaret had just wandered in from the sitting room when the bell peeled, while Jackson was crossing the hall toward the back of the house, his father in hot pursuit. The only person missing was Nana, who had retired to her room for a brief rest after lunch.
Lorianne pulled open the door, stepping back out of the way as a gust of wind and snow blew in along with a six-foot-two inch male. He was clapping his hands to rid his gloves of snowflakes, then he stopped and shook his broad shoulders and dark head like a dog coming in from the rain.
“Oh,” Lorianne gasped, struggling with the door as the wind continued to gust. The man merely stretched a long arm and closed the door in a competent manner. “Oh, thank you. The wind’s very strong.”
Nicholas Demetrious looked down, giving Lorianne a charming smile, his teeth very white against his dark tanned skin, his eyes warm and amused. “My pleasure,” he said, his voice smooth chocolate liqueur mingling with the rich cream of a slight southern drawl.
Devastating.
Stunned by his sudden appearance, Raven shivered as she watched Nicholas work his sexy magic on Lorianne. There was power there. Power accompanied by a sense of humor that always made Raven wonder what he found so amusing. He set her teeth on edge and had since he’d first turned his quizzical glance on her as a child. She and Nicholas were like oil and water after the match was dropped. He was a magnificent and very sexy animal. She could appreciate him, even as she was wary enough to keep her distance. For all of Nicholas’s smooth sophistication and charm, he reminded her of a panther dressed in a too-tight tuxedo. If he ever really unbuttoned—
Raven shivered again.
“Good timing. Got here just ahead of another big storm, I see,” J.R. said.
“Barely. I got caught in one on the way here yesterday. I had to stay in some little motel last night.” Nicholas unbuttoned his overcoat and removed his gloves to hand both to a hovering Lorianne. “The roads are really getting treacherous.”
Raven shook her head and recovered her wits. What the bloody hell is Nicholas doing here?
Coincidence? Could be. But knowing how Nicholas worked, she doubted it. No matter, if fate in the shape of Nicholas was stepping in, then she’d use it.
Raven moved closer to the railing in the upper hall, feeling as if she were seated in a front-row theatre box. The moment and the players were etched onto her memory. The hallway thrown into sharp shadows from the storm outside, the titter of polite conversation, and Nicholas—all charm and appealing danger—standing calmly in the center of it.
Her nerves continued to tingle as Nicholas greeted Jackson, who suddenly resembled a teenage pup standing in the shadow of a mastiff. Nicholas was only three or four years older than Jackson, but in terms of experience and sheer presence, he overwhelmed the man shaking his hand. That’s when she got the idea. Her lips curved in a smile that her mother, had she been around, would have told everyone in the vicinity to beware.
She must have made some sound because suddenly she found herself looking straight down into Nicholas’s alert gaze. She couldn’t pull away. Her breath caught as he took a small step forward, head lifted, eyes gleaming. Suddenly, she remembered that she couldn’t wrap him around her finger as she did most men. For a moment she faltered, then stiffened her resolve. Showtime.
“Nicky,” she purred, loud enough to capture attention as she tilted her lips into her most alluring smile.
Raven ran along the hall to the stairway and practically danced down the steps, her hand trailing lightly over the railing for balance. Her eyes never left Nicholas’s, not even when she saw the wary question in his.
“Nicky, darling.”
She spread her arms wide and raced toward him, giving everyone the impression that she was a woman on her way to her lover from whom she’d been separated for eons.
“Oh, Nicky, you came.”
She flung herself into his arms, leaping up to clamp her legs around his hips, her arms encircling his neck.
Thank God the man had good reflexes. With a sharp exhaled “Whoosh!” he grabbed her and adjusted his stance as he wrapped his arms around her body to pull her close.
Without giving herself time to consider the wisdom of the move, Raven fastened her lips to his, but not before she caught a glimpse of uncharacteristic astonishment in his eyes. That shocked her so much—Nicholas always seemed in control—that she forgot to be careful. Her lips sank into his, stunned by the soft texture of that firm, well-shaped mouth that was usually scowling at her.
But not now.
Her lips opened, relaxing into the kiss, the heat of him warming her, beckoning her to come closer, to singe her wings. Then for an instant, reality returned.
What am I doing?
The opportunity to stop was lost as Nicholas responded, his hand cupping the back of her head to hold her mouth on his when she started to draw away. His mouth took control, his tongue darting forward to open her lips farther before slipping inside for a light caress. She could feel her breasts swell, her nipples automatically harden, much as he was hardening against the sensitive V where her passion lived. Her legs tightened as she pressed closer. Where this might have gone was up for grabs. Luckily for both of them, the background noise rushed to the foreground.
“Raven,” Jackson cried. “What are you doing?”
“Good lord. This is outrageous,” Margaret sniffed.
“I see you two know each other,” from J.R. with a manly chuckle.
“Oh,” sighed Lor
ianne, “how romantic.”
Recalled to the present, Raven lifted her head, her reluctant lips leaving those of Nicholas. With a small, “Oh, wow,” she unclasped her legs, allowing herself to slide down his body. Her eyes met Nicholas’s. The passion she’d surprised in them was rapidly being replaced by his guarded gaze.
“Never a dull moment,” he muttered, so low she wasn’t sure if she imagined it.
“What?”
“What a nice welcome. Maybe I should go out and come in again,” he said in a light tone, which belied his tense mouth and firm jaw as he continued to stare at her, obviously wondering what was coming next.
Raven slipped her arm through his, turning to half face the group while keeping her gaze firmly on his as she said, “This is my fi…” The word fiancé stuck in her throat. Suddenly the impulsive plan she’d concocted when she first saw Nicholas seemed a disaster. “This is my f-friend, Nicholas Demetrious.”
She risked a quick peek around at their audience. They stood as if petrified, shocked into silence. Raven took that moment to seek Nicholas’s gaze, to try to read his expression. He was looking at her with a calculating gleam in his smoke-gray eyes that made her wonder if all of her brain cells had died. She might as well dangle red meat before a starving predator as involve Nicholas in one of her schemes.
“Friend,” Nicholas queried with just enough playful suggestiveness to add fuel to the fire she’d already set.
“Point taken.” She pasted a smile on her face. “My cousin, actually.”
Oh, why couldn’t she hit rewind? Tell everyone the kiss was a mistake, that it was just a joke. Before she could say a word, everyone started speaking at once, but one imperious voice cut through the din.
“Child, are you telling us that this is your cousin?”
“Kissing cousin, I’ll bet,” Lorianne giggled. Then she shut up as everyone sent her a look that could have fried eggs.
Raven turned to look at Nana standing in the center of the staircase. She found it hard to meet the old woman’s shrewd eyes; sure she must be seeing right through her. “Um, yes, my cousin. We’re not closely related, not blood-relations or anything…” The hole was getting deeper.