The Perfect Fit

by Cait London

  A fond flicker coursed over Nick’s lips, though not quite a smile. “Mamie thinks of me like that. I’d like to let her keep that image, and I’d like her to have that designer perfume line she wants to add to Palladian, Inc. I have strict orders on how to handle you, and that precious nose of yours. You were very specific. Not too dry air, et cetera. On a business level, your demands will be met. On another level, you step over the line and it won’t be pleasant.”

  “You’re frightening me,” she returned in a lie, and knew that she would not allow him to stop her. “You want unofficial game rules.”

  “Precisely. I don’t like surprises.” He studied her lips, which she had just moistened, and Silver, who made certain she was always in control, realized her heart had just kicked up into overdrive.

  “Don’t,” she managed to say as Nick reached to flick the dangling crystal beads at her ear. She wasn’t accustomed to being backed into corners, protecting herself from a powerful man—this one was too potently male.

  His finger stroked the strand of hair that webbed across her shoulder, and toyed with it. He leaned closer and a sudden awareness of his masculinity surprised her. She fought the quiver running through her, the shocking sense of her body awakening—He brought the silky strand to his nose. “Whatever scent you’re wearing is very...nice.”

  “I don’t wear scents. They would ruin my nose. I’ve been packing essential oils—” She arched back as he eased closer, towering over her. The leather and pine scent enfolded her, and she picked through the other scents—baby, dry cleaning, plain, unscented soap, coffee, black and strong—to his body’s original scent...smooth, clean, dark, a touch of exotic, a drop of experience and a new, masculine indefinable edge—a scent of a wild, free river, dark secrets and moonlit magic—

  The essence of magic and male startled her...and the need to leap upon him, to discover how to reproduce that scent as she had Jasmine’s. Nick’s base notes were too hard, too volatile, unsettling as mountain thunderstorms.

  Nick tensed, the tilt of his head rising. Something live and hot moved beneath the slumberous depths of his green eyes. “Why, I believe you’re sniffing me, Miss Tallchief.”

  She eased back, too aware that she had been leaning toward him and hiked up her defenses; Nick Palladin was too potently male. “It’s usually not that obvious, but it’s what I do, Mr. Palladin. I’m very good at it. Scents are like people. There are interesting little nuances, blends and drops of this and percentages of that. I can almost smell the ‘don’t do this and don’t do that’ pouring off you.”

  “Don’t is the appropriate word. I don’t want to see you upset the Tallchiefs in any way. They’ve had enough to deal with.”

  She realized that Nick’s business suit was a veneer for the strong, primitive man it covered. She could picture him in buckskins, taking what he wanted...the hunter foraging and taking—she couldn’t afford to be dissected or held captive under his thumb.

  Silver had always made her own rules, and a male moving into her life, threatening to dominate her and put limits on her private plans, infuriated and excited her.

  He was very good, but so was she—Turning the play, she eased slightly against Nick, lifted her face to his. She dived into the flickering male acknowledgment of her power as a woman, her excitement jerking up by miles as Nick’s expression settled warily, grimly, his eyes narrowed.

  All those lovely spiky male edges, lovely craggy angles and tense powerful muscles challenged her. A creative woman who followed her impulses, Silver wanted Nick Palladin’s lips on hers more at that moment than she wanted the Montclair-Tallchief pearls. She wanted to test the heat beneath that firm line of his mouth, test the hunger that she had sensed before it was shielded, fling herself into the challenge and win. She sensed that if she couldn’t handle Nick Palladin, she wouldn’t be able to complete her goal—he might even be useful, once on her side. There were pluses to collecting Nick, a cautious, mind-prowling hunter of a man.

  Then there was her own need to taste him—to see if all those wary edges could be smoothed into a problem-free path, leaving her free to concentrate—

  A natural competitor, leaping to challenges, Silver liked games and she always won.

  “Let’s get this over, shall we?” she whispered before lifting her lips that fraction to his. She inhaled delicately, bringing all that was Nick Palladin into her, circling his essence—sandal-wood, cedar, oakmoss, contrasts of man and baby, protector, danger, predator...

  This isn’t going to be easy, she thought as her prey didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed warily.

  Because she was on tiptoe and still didn’t complete the distance to his mouth, Silver reached for Nick’s pin-striped grayand-navy-blue tie and tugged slightly. He remained immovable, though something banked and dangerous flickered beneath his lashes. Then there was that cleft in the center of his chin, a dark, tasty little piece of magic—

  Fascinating eyes, Silver thought, studying the unique dark green shade. As cool as a mountain stream, shady with secrets, and just enough primitive threat to entice her; Silver had never liked an easy game

  She tugged his tie again and this time, Nick’s hand came up to circle her wrist, capturing the bells on her bracelet. “Back off.”

  Only the slightly uneven edge to his deep whisper salved Silver’s uncertainty. She eased her wrist from his callused fingers, noting the way he resisted freeing her. The slight caress of his thumb upon her inner wrist and back again did wonders for her damaged ego. There for an instant, Nick Palladin had wanted to kiss her, and for now that was enough.

  He wanted to protect his family and for that, she admired him. If she could have protected her family from its pain, she would have died trying. The Tallchief family meant a great deal to Nick; his response ran deeper than mere affection.

  It was almost too bad she had to step into that perfect Tallchief nest and walk over Nick Palladin to get what she wanted. He was adorable, in his way—nettled, weanng over-the-counter but respectable aftershave. The wary angle of his jaw proved that she had gotten to him, so her first foray into petting the Tallchiefs’ guardian warrior wasn’t a total loss.

  Impulsively Silver stood on tiptoe to gently bite the hard line of his jaw—just to test his reaction. She followed the bite with a flick of her tongue. She wanted him distracted and unaware of her real purpose.

  The taste and texture of his skin lingered on her tongue, as intriguing as his scents.

  This time she got what she wanted—that flick of heat and desire, quickly shielded. “This is going to be very interesting, Mr. Palladin. By the way, I can’t have my sense of smell contaminated by woodsy, male scents, not if Palladin is going to get that exclusive all-woman essence liquor they want. If you’re going to be involved with this project, and in my vicinity, you will shower often, and please use unscented soap.”

  When the telephone rang, Silver impatiently ripped it from the cradle, her eyes stormy and locked with Nick’s. “Silver’s.”

  Nick pushed his aroused body back into control. Silver knew just how to arouse, how to tempt, and that bite had sent a jolt of pure sexual need coursing through him. He used her current distraction to push away the temptation of her mouth, the warmth of her lips against his skin disturbing, tormenting.

  She reached to crush the layers of tissue paper, which she had been using to wrap and pack perfume bottles. Her lean, impatient body tensed as she focused on the caller. She half turned from Nick, the array of antique bottles fiaming her, filled with sunlight and shadows, her taut body in silhouette. A shield of white-gold hair slid across her face, lingered on her cheek and spilled like liquid moonlight onto her shoulder. “Pop, Mom will have to live without me for a while. She can do that, can’t she?”

  There was more mockery in her tone than love. The shelved bottles seemed to dance with the emotions vibrating from her. Every word was spaced, wedging a distance between her family and her heart. She tossed the wadded tissue onto the desk as though sh
e wanted to discard something—someone—in her life. “I’m fine. I’ll call.”

  Nick leaned against the wall, studying the woman he would bring to Amen Flats. Steel ran through her, and fear, her emotions tumbling, conflicting, and he glimpsed pain, quickly shielded. Silver Tallchief was very good at shielding, protecting herself. This family cared about her, yet Silver wanted to be cut free. Why?

  A slender finger reached to touch the pointed top of a cerulean blue stopper, tapping it briskly. “Sorry, Pop. I can’t stay. I’ve signed a contract. I’ll try to write. Uh-huh. Bye.”

  Silver replaced the telephone and scrubbed her face with both hands, like a person wearily trying to remove herself from a bad dream. Her fingers trembled as she pushed back a length of hair webbing her cheek. She focused on Nick, lightning and thunderstorms in her gray eyes. “Look. I’ve got a family that doesn’t want me to leave them, okay? Don’t stand there looking like a brooding warlock. You’re not a part of this, and there is no way I’m listening to anything you have to say about my family.”

  “Just as long as you don’t hurt the Tallchiefs in Amen Flats—”

  “You and I are not getting off to a good start. What if Mamie knew that the Tallchiefs’ guardian was making me uncomfortable and that I couldn’t create under his nose?” At the next ring of the telephone, she jerked it to her ear. This time her impatience snapped across the shadows. “Silver’s. John, handle it. It’s about time you started dealing with what happened. I am. Take it easy on Mom and Pop, because they’re all you have. Do not call me a ‘Scent Vampire.’”

  Nick settled back into the shadows and allowed the lacy fronds of a fern to seductively brush his cheek as he settled into his thoughts. Silver was extracting herself from the family circle, placing her cranbeny-tinted toes firmly outside their love and contact. There was just that silvery, damp rim below her eyes before she swallowed, straightened and started briskly wrapping her collection of bottles and stoppers in tissue paper, lining them up like soldiers on her desk. The moving process was slowed by a number of male callers, and there was no denying Silver’s sexy, inviting tone. “I’m off to the ball, Ron. Sorry. You can’t visit. I’ll be back before you know it. Thanks for the great going-away party last night—loved your hors d’oeuvres, and no, you can’t visit me.”

  She glanced at Nick, her smile intimate. “I’ll be very busy.”

  Mark rated a chuckle and Dan, who called next, a long, slow wistful sigh. “Mmm...I’ll call you when I get back. I’ll collect my stuff then. You’ll keep it for me, won’t you? How are those cooking lessons going?”

  Jacques De LaFleur was next and Silver’s tone changed to an intimate, warm seduction. “You’ve taught me well. I miss you, mon cher. ”

  A flurry of soft, intimate French followed and Silver laughed huskily, warmly.

  Nick stripped off his tie and jacket, tossing them over her chair. She’d lived with De LaFleur for five years, traveled with him to perfume shows, and he’d paid the bills. Their relationship was intimate, from publicized dinners to sailing trips, and the bikmi-clad photo of Silver, sitting on De LaFleur’s lap, said the pair had shared a bed. The lady had lovers, and they weren’t happy that she was leaving them hungry.

  Nick’s life rule was to keep inside the boundaries of his own life, and his femily’s—the Tallchiefs included. He opened the top buttons of his dress shirt and rolled back his sleeves. He treasured his brothers, and now the unique Tallchief family. Silver’s lovers were apparently drooling, and she hadn’t missed a beat

  The perfectly aligned, wrapped-in-tissue rows of bottles and stoppers were exactly how the lady did business: neat and could. When she hung up the phone, he asked, “Are you certain they can live without you?”

  She shrugged and slid him a glance beneath her lashes. “Is this a problem with you?”

  Nick hefted a crate to his shoulder; the woman thrived on challenges, seeking them. “As long as you give Mamie what she wants, there’s not a problem.”

  “Mamie and I understand each other, but I have a feeling that you could be real trouble.”

  “I can be.”

  Six hours later, Nick circled the tiny landing. A bossy woman where her beloved essences and laboratory equipment were concerned, Silver had paled as Nick moved her boxes from Palladin’s luxury jet into the smaller cargo plane. She had hurried beside him, her hands reaching out to touch her precious essences and more than once she’d left him with the fragrant, disturbing brush of her fingers along his cheek. The hair on his nape had lifted wamingly, nettling Nick who controlled his body and his senses with a tight rein.

  The flight from Denver had been smooth, the turbulence over the Rocky Mountains minimal. Despite Silver’s tough attitude toward her immediate family, she had been too quiet—except for a few questions about the women in his life. Nick gave her nothing but silence.

  Framed in the cockpit by the dying sun, the white-gold color of her long straight hair blended with her silver leisure suit and windbreaker, dragging across her shoulders. as she leaned back against the seat. In the shadows of the cockpit, Silver’s high slanting cheekbones had glistened suspiciously before she swiped away the moisture.

  Nick braced himself against the helpless fear that swamped him when a woman cried. Every move Silver made was designed to suit her own purposes and she was hunting—

  While the cargo hold stored the crates, Silver had never released the traveling bag with her formulas. Her fingers had gripped the leather tightly as if everything she wanted or would want was in the bag.

  When she glanced at him, there was nothing in her gray eyes. Nothing. As if an essential piece had been vacuumed from her soul and could never be replaced. The circles beneath Silver’s eyes gave her a haunted, lonely look. Then the steel slid through her, her mouth hardening as she looked out into the beautiful mountains studded with trees and colored by red jutting rock.

  “You’re acting doomed, you know. But once I’m settled, you can be on your way. I’ll dismiss your services. You can fly away, fixing things for Palladin, Inc.” There was that cocky, challengeing look at him as she placed her silver boots over a layer of notebooks and flight plans. Without missing a heartheat, he reached to circle her ankle and tug it away from his notebooks, just as he wanted to remove her from his life.

  Nick almost muttered his curse before his lips clamped tighter. Shaken by just that sliver of an insight into the woman next to him, he checked his controls. He didn’t want to feel anything for Silver, his senses telling him that something was very wrong— Maybe he’d seen too much loving in the last years, since his brothers had married into the Tallchief family. Maybe he’d cradled too many smoky-eyed Tallchief babies on his lap, because his senses were telling him to hold Silver tight and safe.

  Maybe he wanted to place his cheek along her smooth one, nuzzling it. Maybe he wanted to finish that kiss, taking it beyond the limits she had set.

  But Silver was an illusion of a woman, and beneath the incredible female fantasy was ice.

  To dive into that image, even temporarily, would be a complication, and Nick didn’t like human puzzles. He inhaled sharply. In a quiet, pensive mood, Silver was even more dangerous than when she was bossy and feminine. The dusk blankketing the ground, the blue sky above, only heightened her unusual coloring—not the pale skin of a natural blond, but the creamy light skin of a complexion that would darken easily in the sun. The straight sweep of her lashes was all Tallchief, the smoky gray of her eyes marking her as a member of the family.

  “Tallchief Mountain...and look, there’s the lake, just like Mamie said,” Silver whispered, looking out her window. “A treaeherous dark lake, capped by white waves, looking moody as my Tallchief,” Silver murmured.

  My Tallchief. The hair on Nick’s nape lifted, the passage familiar. Elspeth Tallchief Petrovna had read similar words from Una’s journal.

  Silver leaned closer to the window, her body tense. “Yes, that is the castle where Rafe and Demi live. See, on the
other side of that hill. Montclair Castle, brought from England by the wealthy owners—the castle where Liam swept Elizabeth and their son back to America. Every one of the Tallchiefs retrieved an item of the dowry and found love. Your brother Rafe fell in love with Demi and the legend of the crystals came true.”

  “You’ve done your homework.” Why? Nick’s senses quivered just as they did when he sensed danger.

  The engines hummed under Silver’s too quiet, almost reverent tone, as if she were speaking to herself. “Yes. Every legend was true, the descriptions of the items vivid in Una’s journals. Tell me about Elspeth, Nick...how she seems to sense things before they happen. With a Celtic seer ancestor and a shaman from the Talichief inheritance, she’s a natural. I like naturals.”

  “You’ll meet them soon enough. You can see for yourself.” Nick tapped the glass gauges, an old habit developed from his early days of piloting poorly serviced or renovated planes. Nothing about Silver was natural. Whatever she was after, it was not exclusively to develop a top line of scents for Palladin, Inc. She was too interested in her relatives, in how Elspeth had worked, just as her mother had, with Una’s journals, preserving and examining them.

  He glanced at her. With the same features as the Tallchief family, she could have inherited other traits. “Do you ever feel sensations, like Elspeth?”

  “Because we’re both descended from a Celtic seer and a Sioux shaman? Sometimes...no, I’m positive that isn’t in me. I don’t want anything like that in me,” she said firmly, placing her open hand against her reflection in the plane’s window.

  “Cleaning fluids,” he said automatically as she inhaled delicately. “I had the plane cleaned for you.”

  “I expect my directions to be followed. My nose is my best asset—and at the moment, it’s a Palladin investment. That leather jacket you’re wearing could use some oil. It looks ancient. Better yet, why don’t you buy a new one?” She leaned over, peering down at the shadowed emerald field below. “What’s that?”