by Joanne Rock
As soon as she said it, she realized it made her sound like she was falling for him. She wanted to recant the words. To say what she meant another way. But if Miles noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead he turned his attention to unbuttoning his shirt.
“I like the way you think.” His lips curved in a half smile. “But if I’m going to show you all my details to savor, I hope you plan to do the same.”
She knew she should just be grateful for the out—he hadn’t taken her words to mean anything serious. And she hadn’t meant them that way. But now that the idea was out there in the ether, she had to acknowledge that it rattled her. Worried her. She couldn’t fall for Miles.
Could she?
A swish of material jolted her attention back to Miles’s shirt falling to the floor. His chest and abs were burnished gold by the firelight, the ripples of muscle highlighted by the shadowed ridges in between them. She wanted to focus on him. On them.
“Chiara.” He said her name as he charged toward her. “What’s wrong?”
His hands slid around her waist. Bracketed her hips. The warmth of his body rekindled her heat despite her spiraling thoughts.
“Is it crazy for us to indulge this?” She steadied herself by gripping his upper arms, and he felt so good. Solid. Warm.
Like he was hers.
For tonight, at least.
“Why would it be?” He frowned as he planted his feet wider to bring himself closer to her eye level. “What could possibly be wrong with finding pleasure together after the day you’ve had? Your business has been threatened, but the cops won’t help. I’m scared as hell that you could be vulnerable, and yet you don’t want to let me get too close to you or take care of you.”
The urge to lean into him, to let him do just that, was almost overwhelming. But she had to be honest, even if it doused the flame for him. “Trust comes hard for me.”
Her parents hadn’t bothered to tell her when they lost their fortune. Zach had kept secrets from her. Miles kept secrets, too. Although he had confided more to her tonight.
“Which is why I haven’t pushed you to stay with me so I can protect you. But you told me yourself that you thought about being with me every night.” His hands flexed against her where he held her hips, a subtle pressure that stirred sweet sensations. “So maybe you could at least trust me to make you feel good.”
“I do.” She swayed closer, telling herself she could have one more night with him without losing her heart. “I have absolute faith in that.”
He gripped the silk of her blouse at her waist and slowly gathered the fabric, untucking the shirttail from her skirt.
“I’m glad. Remember when you told me you chose work over fun for a long time?” he asked, leaning closer to speak into her ear. And to nip her ear with his teeth.
A shiver coursed through her along with surprise that he recalled her words. “Y-yes.”
“That ends now.”
* * *
Miles kissed his way down her neck, smoothing aside her thick, dark hair to taste more of her. She needed this as much as he did. Maybe even more.
It stunned him to think he read her so clearly when they’d spent so little time together, but he recognized how hard she pushed herself. How much she demanded of herself even when her world was caving in around her. The devotion of her staff—all personal friends, apparently—spoke volumes about who she was, and it made him want to take care of her, if only for tonight. He was going to help her forget all about her burdens until she lost herself in this.
In him.
Not that he was being unselfish. Far from it. He craved this woman.
Flicking open the buttons on her blouse, he nudged the thin fabric off her shoulders and let it flutter to the floor before he lifted his head to study her in the glow of the firelight.
“Are you still with me?” He followed the strap of her ivory lace bra with his fingertip.
The dark fringe of her eyelashes wavered before she glanced up at him, green eyes filled with heat. “Definitely.”
The answer cranked him higher. He raked the straps from her shoulders and unhooked the lace to free her. The soft swells of her breasts spilled into his waiting hands, stirring the citrus fragrance he’d come to associate with her.
Hauling her into his arms, he lifted her, taking his time so that her body inched slowly up the length of his. He walked her to the bed and settled her in the space between the rows of pillows at the head and the down comforter folded at the foot, her hair spread out behind her like a silky halo. She followed his movements with watchful green eyes as he unfastened the side zipper of her skirt and eased it down her hips, leaving her in nothing but a scrap of ivory lace.
She made an enticing picture on the bed while he removed the rest of his own clothes. When he paused in undressing to find a condom and place it on the bed near her, she kinked a finger into the waistband of his boxers and tugged lightly.
“You’re not naked enough.” She grazed a touch along his abs, making his muscles jump with the featherlight caress.
“I’m working on it,” he assured her, stilling her questing hand before she distracted him from his goal. “But we’re taking care of you first.”
“We are?” Her breath caught as he leaned over her and kneed her thighs apart to make room for himself.
The mattress dipped beneath them, their bodies swaying together.
“Ladies first.” He kissed her hip, and she arched beneath him. “Call me old-fashioned.”
He slid his hand beneath the ivory lace and stroked the slick heat waiting for him there. Her only reply was a soft gasp, followed by a needy whimper that told him she was already close.
She sifted her fingers through his hair, wriggling beneath him as he kissed and teased her, taking her higher and then easing back until they were both hot and edgy. The third time he felt her breathing shift, her thighs tensing, he didn’t stop. He fastened his lips to her as she arched against him, and with a hard shudder, she flew apart.
He helped her ride out the sensations, relishing every buck of her hips, every soft shiver of her damp flesh. When he kissed his way back up her torso, he stopped at her breasts to pay homage to each in turn. Chiara patted around the bed for the condom and, finding it, rolled it into place. The feel of her hands on him, that efficient stroke of her fingers, nearly cost him his restraint. He closed his eyes against the heat jolting through him.
“Your turn,” she whispered huskily in his ear before she gently bit his shoulder. “I’m in charge.”
She pushed against his shoulder until he flipped onto his back. When she straddled him, her dark hair trailed along his chest while she made herself comfortable. Her green eyes seemed to dare him to argue as she arched an eyebrow at him.
But Miles couldn’t have denied her a damn thing she wanted. Not now, when her cheeks were flushed with color, her nipples dark and thrusting from his touch. The glow of the chandelier brought out the copper highlights in her raven-colored hair. He caught her hips in his hands, steadying her as she poised herself above him.
Their eyes met, held, as he lowered her onto him. Everything inside him stilled, the sensation of being inside her better than any feeling he’d ever known.
Damn.
He cranked his eyes closed long enough to get command of himself. To grind his teeth against the way this woman was stealing into his life and rewiring his brain. When he opened his eyes again, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist to take her to the edge of the bed so she was seated on his lap.
They were even this way. Face-to-face. They had equal amounts of control.
He told himself that with every thrust. Every breath. Every heartbeat. They moved together in sweet, sensual harmony. Their bodies anticipating one another, pushing each other higher. She held on to his shoulders. He gripped her gorgeous round hips.
By the t
ime he saw her head tilt back, her lips part and felt her fingernails dig into his skin, he knew he couldn’t hold back when she came this time. He let the force of her orgasm pull him over the edge. They held on to each other tight while the waves of pleasure crashed over them, leaving them wrung out and panting.
Breathless.
Miles found a corner of the folded duvet at the foot of the bed and hauled it around them as he laid them both back down. They were still sideways on the mattress, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t move until the world righted. For now, he tucked her close to him, kissing the top of her head, needing her next to him.
He breathed in the scent of her skin and sex, the passion haze behind his eyelids slowly clearing. He’d wanted to make her feel good, and he was pretty sure he’d accomplished that much. What he hadn’t counted on was the way being with her had called forth more than a heady release. He’d damned near forgotten his name.
And even worse? After today, he was pretty sure he’d never be able to dig this woman out of his system.
* * *
Chiara awoke some hours later, when moonlight filtered through a high transom window over the French doors in the master suite. Even now, Miles’s hand rested on her hip as he slept beside her, in just the same position as they’d fallen asleep, her back to his front.
For a moment, she debated making them something to eat since they’d never had dinner, but her body was still too sated sexually to demand any other sustenance. What a decadent pleasure to awake next to this man in her bed.
And yet, no matter how fulfilled her body, her brain already stirred restlessly. After fourteen years, she now knew what had happened to Zach Eldridge. Or at least, she seemed to know as much as Miles did. Miles had insisted he wasn’t sure—that none of his friends were sure—whether or not Zach had jumped to end his life or if he’d jumped in a moment of reckless thrill seeking.
Maybe it didn’t matter.
But what if it did? What if one of the Mesa Falls Ranch owners knew more about Zach’s motives or mindset than they let on? Was one of them more morally responsible than the others for not stopping Zach’s trek up to the top of those cliffs in the first place? Was one of them responsible for Zach’s death?
She burrowed deeper into her down pillow, trying to shut out the thoughts. If she didn’t get some sleep, she wouldn’t be able to solve the mystery. Yet her brain kept reminding her that someone knew she was looking into Zach’s death, and whoever it was felt threatened enough by her search that he—or she—had tried blackmailing her into giving up.
“Everything okay?” the warm, sleep-roughened voice behind her asked.
A shiver went through her as Miles stroked his palm along her bare hip under the covers. What might it have been like to meet him under different circumstances? Would she have been able to simply relax and enjoy the incredible chemistry?
“Just thinking about Zach. Trying to reconcile the things you told me with my own understanding of him.” That was true enough, even if she had bigger concerns, too. Absently, she traced the piping on the white cotton pillowcase.
Propping himself on his elbow, he said, “If he had an affair with a teacher and she ended up pregnant, it definitely accounts for why he was stressed that weekend. She could have gone to prison for being with him, too, which would have provided another level of stress.”
His other hand remained on her hip, his fingers tracing idle patterns that gave her goose bumps.
“She put him in a position no seventeen-year-old should ever be in. Who’s to say how he felt about her that weekend? He could have been stressed because she ended things with him. Or because someone found out their secret.” She tried to envision what would drive Zach to total despair or to feel reckless enough to make that unwise jump. “Then again, maybe he was stressed because she wanted him to commit to her.”
Miles’s hand stilled. “What nineteen-year-old woman would want to play house with a seventeen-year-old kid?”
“The same woman who would have had an affair with a student in the first place.” Even fourteen years later, she felt angry at the woman for taking advantage of someone she should have been protecting. No matter how much more mature Zach seemed than the other students around him, he was still a kid.
“I should check my phone.” Rolling away from her, Miles withdrew his hand from under her body to reach for his device on the nightstand. “I might have heard back from the PI about the stakeout around Nicole Cruz’s house.”
Instantly alert, Chiara sat up in the bed, dragging a sheet with her. The room was still dark except for the moonlight in the transom window, so Chiara flicked the remote button to turn on the gas fireplace. Flames appeared with a soft whoosh while Miles turned on his phone then scrolled through various screens, his muscles lit by the orange glow.
When his finger stopped swiping, she watched his expression as his blue eyes moved back and forth. Tension threaded through his body. She could see it in his jaw and compressed lips.
“What is it? Did they find her?”
For a moment, when he looked up at her blankly, she wondered if he would go back to shutting her out of news about Zach. Or news about this woman—whether or not she had a direct tie to Zach.
But then his expression cleared, and he nodded.
“According to Desmond’s note, Nicole Cruz won’t return to Mesa Falls with our private investigator until all the ranch owners submit DNA for paternity testing.” His voice was flat. His expression inscrutable. “She’s agreed to submit a sample from her sister’s son.”
“That’s good news, right?” she asked, feeling a hunch the child wouldn’t be linked to any of them. Her gut told her the mystery boy was Zach’s son. “And in the meantime, maybe your detective can see if there’s a link between Nicole Cruz and the teacher—Lana Allen. Were they really sisters?”
Miles’s fingers hovered over his phone screen. “It would be good to have a concrete lead to give him.” He hesitated. “Are you comfortable with me sharing what you told me?”
The fact that he would ask her first said a lot about his ability to be loyal. To keep a confidence. He’d certainly maintained secrecy for Zach’s sake for a long, long time. The realization comforted her now that she more clearly understood his reluctance to reveal the truth.
“Would you be sharing the information directly with the investigator, or are you asking for permission to communicate it with all your partners?” She understood that Miles trusted his friends, but her first loyalty had to be to Zach.
A veil of coolness dropped over Miles’s features as a chill crept into his voice. “Until now, my partners and I have pooled our knowledge.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
She needed to tread carefully, not wanting to alienate him now that he’d finally brought her into his confidence. And yet her feelings for him—her fear of losing him—threatened her objectivity. Hugging the sheet tighter to her chest, she felt goose bumps along her arms. If only it was the room getting cooler and not Miles’s mood casting a chill. She weighed how to respond.
“I know you trust your friends.” She couldn’t help it if she didn’t. “But you have to admit that the last time you communicated my interest in Zach to that group, the threats against me came very quickly afterward.”
If she’d thought his face was cool before, his blue gaze went glacial now.
“Coincidence,” he returned sharply. “I’m not in the habit of keeping secrets from the men I trust most.”
A pain shot through her as she realized that the last few hours with Miles hadn’t shifted his opinion of her or brought them closer together. If anything, she felt further apart from him than ever. The hurt made her lash out, a safer reaction than revealing vulnerability.
“You realize my entire livelihood rests in the balance?” She couldn’t help but draw a second blanket over her shoulder
s like armor, a barrier, feeling the need to shore up her defenses that had dissolved too fast where he was concerned. “And possibly my safety?”
She thought she spied a thaw in his frosty gaze. He set his phone aside and palmed her shoulder, his fingers a warm, welcome weight.
“I’ve already told you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” The rasp in his voice reminded her of other conversations, other confidences he’d shared with her. She wanted to believe in him.
“I want to find out what drove Zach over that cliff as much as anyone.” She swallowed back her anxiety and hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake. “If you think it’s best to share what I told you with his other friends in addition to the PI, then you’re welcome to tell them what I knew about Zach and the teacher—Miss Allen.”
Miles’s gaze held hers for a moment before he gave a nod and picked up his phone again to type a text. For a long time afterward, Chiara couldn’t help but think his expression showed the same uneasiness she felt inside. But once Miles hit the send button, she knew it was too late to turn back from the course they’d already set.
Eleven
Snow blanketed the Tahoe vacation villa, the world of white momentarily distracting Miles from the tension hanging over his head ever since he’d shared Chiara’s insights about Zach with his friends two days ago. A storm had taken the power out the day before, giving them a grace period to watch the weather blow in, make love in every room of that huge villa and not think about their time together coming to an end as they got closer to learning the truth about Zach’s death.
Miles had continued to shove his concerns to the back burner this morning, managing to talk Chiara into taking a walk through the woods with him after breakfast. They’d ridden a snowmobile to the casino the day before to retrieve some clothes from his suite.
Now, he held her gloved hand in his as they trudged between sugar pines and white fir trees, the accumulation up to their knees in most places. A dusting clung to her jeans and the fringe of her long red wool jacket. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and the effort of forging a path through the drifts. Her dark hair was braided in a long tail over one shoulder, a white knitted beanie framing her face as she smiled up at a red-tailed hawk who screeched down at them with its distinctive cry.