by Lauren Canan
Her mother had insisted that she could come home, that in the intervening years everything had settled down and there was no reason not to return to her childhood home. But Sophie remembered the taunts and the stares and the fingers pointed at her with whispers of Isn’t that Sophie Prescott? Wasn’t she one of the four teenagers who set that barn on fire and killed that elderly man?
She realized just thinking about it made her mouth go dry and the tears well in her eyes. If only some parts of life were do-overs. She would’ve never gone to that barn, would never have sat next to her friends as they watched in silent horror as the match’s flame had blazed out of control. They had never seen the elderly man who had fallen into a drunken stupor in the corner of the ground floor.
She placed the last of her items in the suitcase and closed the lid. She made sure the little cottage was locked up tight. She had just stepped out onto the front porch when Clay pulled up to the curb in a pickup. He helped her with her bag and they were off.
It was a brief ride back to the Flying E Ranch, down the extended driveway and into a parking space at the back of the house. Clay brought in her bag. If he noticed she was unusually quiet during the trip, he said nothing.
His home left the description of “large” in the dirt. Three considerably sized houses could fit inside his mansion with room to spare. She followed him through the maze of hallways, past more than ten bedrooms that filled the third floor, finally opening a door on the right. The room was as large as her entire cottage.
“The bath and closets are through that door.” He nodded toward a single door next to the fireplace. “After you get settled then come and find me. I’ll be in my office.”
Ten minutes later she entered his spacious office, pulled a chair closer to his desk and with pen in one hand, notepad in the other, she was ready to go to work.
By ten o’clock that evening Clay called a halt to the insanely busy day and insisted on walking her to the temporary suite where she would stay.
“I appreciate you, Sophie.” He leaned forward and briefly traced her lips with his. “Good night.”
“Good night, Clay.”
After closing the door behind her, she walked to the bed and opened the small suitcase sitting next to it. What a day. One full of surprises. There would definitely be a better, more appropriate time to advise Clay he was going to be a father after this situation with his company was put to rest. In the meantime, it would allow her a chance to get used to the idea. She looked down and placed her hands over her flat stomach. Being in Clay’s home twenty-four hours a day would make it difficult to conceal the morning sickness. But she had to find a way, for Clay’s sake. It wouldn’t do to have him worried about this when he had so many other things stacked on his plate. Everest was a major global corporation and God only knew who was trying to shut it down and why.
Over the years, Sophie had met a good many secretaries and administrative assistants of local companies here in Royal. Tomorrow she would begin calling them to see if she might gain some insight as to what is going on. Sometimes the assistants knew as much as or more than their bosses.
She grabbed a T-shirt and some clean panties from her bag and headed toward the bathroom. A long soak in a hot tub of water sounded like it would hit the spot. She picked up the jar of bath beads and the bubble bath, deciding to go all the way. It didn’t take long for the huge spa-like bathtub to fill with water. Once she’d shed her clothes, she stepped into the hot bath.
She lay back and just soaked for a long time. Finally, deciding she was about to become a prune, she reached for her shampoo. It wasn’t next to the tub. Sitting up, she looked around the room. No sign of it. She must have left it inside of her suitcase. Standing, she then exited the tub and ran into the bedroom. No shampoo inside her bag.
Could it have fallen out somehow when Clay brought the bag upstairs? Chewing her bottom lip, she eased open the outer door. Nothing. Pushing the door open a bit more, she spotted the silver cap of the bottle under the palm plant just a few steps down on the other side of the hall. After looking both directions down the long hallway and seeing nothing, she slipped out of the room and rushed over to the plant. Just as her fingers touched a metal object and she realized it was not her shampoo, she heard her bedroom door click closed behind her.
She rushed back to the door. It was locked! She could feel the blood drain from her face. Crap! What was she going to do now? She stood naked in the hall with nothing but a few bubbles to cover her and they were fading fast. She again tried to turn the doorknob in both directions. Nothing. She tried shaking the door. It remained firmly closed.
It was then she heard someone exit the elevator and walk in her direction. Panic set in every cell of her body. She looked around her, but the only shield was the palm plant. There was no time to question the logic of the idea. She bolted over to the plant, pulled it away from the wall and squeezed in behind it. It stood four feet high and was about the same width as her body but there was plenty of space in between the leaves. Maybe whoever it was coming her way wouldn’t notice. Or maybe the person would enter a room before they came this far down the hall.
Her luck wasn’t that good. She caught sight of long, muscled legs clad in worn jeans striding past her. Clay stopped a few steps past the plant then turned around and stood directly in front of her.
“I assume you have a good explanation,” he said in that deep voice.
“Get me a towel,” she whispered loudly, anger lacing her words.
After hesitating only a few seconds, he walked toward her room and found the door locked. Uproarious laughter followed. She didn’t know whether she should be furious with him for laughing at her situation or smile at the beautiful ring in his voice. She’d known Clay a long time and it was rare for him to smile, let alone laugh. She decided rather quickly, since she was still in the embarrassing situation, anger was her friend.
He dug deep in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, quickly finding one, which he inserted into the lock. The door opened.
“I guess I don’t need to tell you these doors have a lock. One tiny little button you push and it requires a key to reopen it from the outside.”
“Well, I’m glad you remembered to tell me,” she snapped. “Now please move away from the door so I can go inside and finish my bath.”
“I’m just curious, what in the hell were you doing running up and down the hallway without any clothes on?”
“I wasn’t running up and down the hallway! I needed my shampoo.”
“Ah, and you thought it would be out here?” It was half question, half statement.
“No. Yes. I looked everywhere else. I thought you dropped it when you brought in the bag.”
He pushed the door open, graciously moved away and turned back toward where she still huddled behind the bush. He offered his hands to help her stand.
“Thanks. I can stand on my own. Just make sure the door isn’t locked and thanks for your help.”
“Sophie, don’t be ridiculous. Give me your hand.”
She swallowed hard and placed one hand in his. Just as he began to pull her up, she slid her slippery hand out of his grasp.
“I told you I can get there on my own. Now just go away.”
The game was once again on. Catching one slender wrist, he hauled her up from behind the plant, hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom. Sophie squealed and kicked her feet for all she was worth. It did no good at all. She was a one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound woman and he was used to tossing around five-hundred-pound cows.
Clay set her down next to the bed but instead of making a move toward her, he just stood watching her. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, especially when she looked at his face. He was not going to let her simply go through the door and continue as she had been. He was going to grab her. And kiss her. And she wo
uldn’t let her mind go further than that. With her chin up, she fought to reclaim her integrity and marched into the bathroom. Surprisingly Clay let her go. She felt the need to run but refused to give in to the instinct as she headed toward the tub. Quickly she sat down in the still-warm water with the intent of finishing her bath. She still had no shampoo.
A knock against the frame of the bathroom door caught her attention. She looked up to find Clay holding her bottle of shampoo, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“It had rolled under the bed.”
She reached out for it.
His lips pursed as though hiding a grin. Mischievousness danced in his eyes.
“Now the question is, what will you give me for it?”
Sophie wanted to play this game. But it would set a precedent and the rest of her stay here would be based on her answer.
“Come closer and see,” she said softly.
Clay’s eyebrows came together in a cautious frown but he proceeded to walk toward the tub. His green eyes gleamed in speculation. Sophie raised her arms to him, silently asking him to bend down to her.
As soon as he did, she pulled him to her lips and kissed him. About the time she heard him moan, she raised the washcloth over his head and squeezed. He jumped back, completely caught off guard.
“You little vixen.” He laughed and reached for her again. “Turn around and let me shampoo your hair.”
“No. I mean I can do it.”
“I know you can, Sophie. Humor me on this one.”
Before she could comment, Clay had ripped off his shirt, disposed of his jeans and underwear, and joined her in the tub. She barely had time to grasp what had happened before she smelled the delicate scent of her favorite shampoo as he applied it to her wet hair. Gently his large hands began to massage her scalp and move the suds through her long locks. It felt heavenly, if she could only relax enough to enjoy it. Cupping the water in his hands, he rinsed the soap from her hair. Then his hands moved to her shoulders.
“You are so tense,” he murmured, then began to work the tension away. Her neck. Her shoulders. Her back. “Try to relax.”
His heavily muscled legs were on either side of her, dwarfing her own. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what his hands were doing. Then she was lying back against him as his magic hands began to massage her breasts.
“I’m not tense there.” She suddenly sat up and spun around.
“Yes, you are,” he mumbled.
Then he was kissing her, this time going deep, filling her mouth with pleasure. After a few incredible moments, their lips separated and he drew back.
“Make love to me, Sophie,” he growled.
“Clay, I...”
His hand held the back of her head, gently pulling her to him. Then his lips were once again covering hers. She had no resistance. Not even when he lifted her and slowly lowered her onto his erection. Her heart slammed in her chest while the heat in her belly began to burn.
He was incredible, lying back in the huge tub, the water lapping at the tips of her breasts as he filled her. She broke the kiss and sat up, wanting to focus on the dynamic heat between her legs. With only a few moves, Sophie rocketed to the stars, her limp body falling against his chest. His strong arms came around her.
Clay stood and helped her to stand. Together they stepped from the tub. She felt him place a soft towel around her back as he carried her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and followed her down. Without a word he entered her. His lips were hot as he kissed her mouth, jaw and down her neck, alternately nipping and kissing.
As he took a rosy bud into his mouth and began to suckle, the passion again began to build. When she sensed his hold on his desire slip away, Sophie wrapped her legs around his back and held on. Each stroke became harder, each one deeper than the last. The same precarious intensity that had led him to champion wild bulls over and over again began to come out. It was thrilling, a bit frightening, beguiling, seduction at its best. She felt the breath die in her throat seconds before she was again experiencing an amazing release, taking her up to the heavens, where she stayed while Clay found his own release, joining her in euphoria.
Her next clear thought: She couldn’t breathe. The second: She didn’t care. Clay was lying on top of her, heaving to catch his own breath. He rolled off her but kept her close, one muscled arm going around her. She felt his lips against the side of her face as he gently kissed her. With his scent surrounding her, she closed her eyes. She was an idiot.
An idiot in love.
Seven
“I have to fly to New York,” Clay said as he walked out of his office. “Would you call and make sure the apartment is prepared? Oh—and I need you to come with me.”
“Me? Why me?” Sophie was flustered.
“I’m meeting with the Everest board. I need you there to help me prepare and take notes.” He turned to face her, and didn’t try to hide a full grin. “Don’t worry. It’s legit. Unless you want it to be something different...?”
“Legit works for me. I’ll call them right now. But you know how I hate to fly.”
She hoped Clay hadn’t notice that her hands were shaking. It’s the flying, she told herself. She hated to fly. She hadn’t been able to get over the irrational fear since working for Clay. Her job required quite a bit of travel and every time her nerves were stretched to the snapping point. Never mind that this time she would be flying to New York. With Clay.
The penthouse was a large multilayered structure with one of the best views of Manhattan one could ever imagine. The three large bedrooms were equally blessed. He’d purchased the building four years ago and had the space converted, turning the loft into a luxury suite on the top floor of the high-rise. A helipad on the outside edge of the same floor took away any necessity for ground transportation from the airport.
She’d felt strange sharing the space with Clay the first time they’d gone there. The second trip was much better. Now here they were again, going to the same penthouse, only this time things between them had changed. A flare of heat ran through her body, settling in the apex of her thighs. She knew what his smile was about. She had the same inner grin. It was never a good idea to sleep with the boss. But after the night they’d spent together in May and the times between then and now, she could think of little else.
If there was ever a man who made a woman feel like a woman, it was Clay Everett. He appreciated the females and saw no reason to be coy about it. But neither was he brazen. He walked a perfect line between the two. When she’d first come to work for Clay, he’d come off a lot more reserved, almost shy. After the accident, he’d changed. Anger and resentment at his injuries and at the woman who’d unceremoniously dumped him because of those injuries had made him hard. From then on, he approached a woman like he did a business deal: straight and direct, sighting his target and focusing, not stopping until results were achieved. No slap-happy cowboy; no easygoing persona. She knew those attributes were still inside him but she hadn’t as yet figured out a way to bring those more gentle qualities out. Or if she even wanted to.
Clay had made it clear he wanted her back in his bed for as long as she would stay. But Clay had always said he was not the kind of man to settle down with a family. He now lived on the fast track, as though his time to experience life was limited. He had no time left for frivolities, no time to kick back and have a beer with one of his lifelong buddies. He worked because that was what he did; his life demanded it. He slept and ate because he had to. He had sex because he wanted to. But everything was accomplished with the same driving force. If Plan A didn’t work, he went on to Plan B. If a company didn’t want to get serious and negotiate, he dropped them and found another. If food didn’t set well with his palate, he threw it out and ordered something else. If a woman didn’t suit his needs, he went on to the next.
She had to a
dmit this new Clay had advantages. He worked hard and played the same, only both were done with determination and without humor. He’d always put 100 percent into a project or business negotiation but when the project was finished, it was done. In the months after the accident, once he could walk again, he had then kicked up his heels and partied the night away, usually with the woman of his choice, the two of them disappearing for the night. It was as though he was testing the waters to see if any woman would still want him. He got his answer pretty quickly.
But work eventually overcame the need to establish himself with the fairer sex and the one-night stands ended. As Everest grew, his time was filled, his mind totally devoted to business. And then came the night of the charity ball. One too many cocktails and she’d danced into the arms of one very sensuous, unbelievably sexy man: a dark force with a power of persuasion few men ever mastered.
As far as she knew, since that night in May, Clay had not gone on to the next woman. And he was allowing her time, showing a patience he rarely showed anyone about anything. It was the only aspect of the old Clay she could see. But how long would it last?
Sophie wanted a family. She wanted a husband who would put her and their children first. She couldn’t see Clay ever taking on such a role. So she had resolved to keep her heart well out of the picture. It was a resolve that lasted almost a week.
And now there was the fact that she was pregnant throwing a wrench into the works.
The plane was waiting for them when the limo drove up. When she’d climbed to the top of the stairs, she was greeted by Clay’s flight attendant and welcomed on board the 747. The luxury didn’t stop at his house. Like the barns at his ranch and most everything in his life today, size and opulence abounded. That included his planes, and this one, his newest, was certainly no exception. There was seating for twelve people and plenty of room to move around, a small area where food was prepared, a bathroom, a separate area for the security team so they could unwind and enjoy the flight, a master bedroom for overseas flights and Clay’s office. She couldn’t help but speculate who else was coming along on this trip. He hadn’t mentioned anyone.