Her Secret Thrill (11 page)

But she didn't want another hotel room. She couldn't explain it. It wasn't that it made her feel tawdry or anything. It was hard to feel tawdry in a five-star hotel. But she wanted something more…personal.

Dangerous wish there, Nat.

She wondered what his home looked like, wondered if he'd like her loft in the city. She imagined what it would be like to see him sprawled on her sheets, sleep on the pillow he'd slept on, smell his scent on her towels.

God, she was becoming obsessed.

Which was exactly why she'd turned down Jake's offer to take her to the airport. She needed to get her head back on straight about just what the two of them were doing together. Lingering kisses at the gate were only going to further cloud her already cloudy mind. She was already reading things into his every look that probably meant nothing more than that he was having a good time. And why wouldn't he be? But it didn't mean anything else. Did it?

Nothing else had changed. He was still a workaholic
dedicated to his career, as was she. Even if they both wanted to take this relationship to a more serious level, how would that work?

She knew the answer to that. It wouldn't work. If she wanted to see him at all, she'd have to suffer with the rules they'd set up. But could she? Could she handle her growing feelings? And when it inevitably came to an end, would she wish she'd ended it sooner, before her heart got any more involved?

Because it was definitely involved.

She sighed and looked out the window as the plane took off from O'Hare. She had three weeks until New Orleans. The work she'd done in Chicago wasn't her best, even though she'd gotten the job done. If she was going to stay on the upwardly mobile track at work, she'd damn well better find a way to keep her mind focused on work, and off Jake.

He'd be in New Orleans. They'd have fun. Nothing more than that, and no reason to look forward to it any more than she would a party with Liza, or a work-free weekend. No reason to let thoughts of him interfere with her career. After all, that was exactly why they'd made up the stupid rules in the first place.

She relaxed as the plane reached cruising altitude, and started drifting to sleep. Only, she didn't dream about making partner before she hit thirty-five. She didn't dream of the corner office with the view or finally proving to her family that she was perfectly capable of making her own dreams come true.

No, she dreamed of a cowboy riding bareback, roping a rogue calf, taming it to submission…

When she woke as the plane landed, she actually
found herself rubbing her wrists, checking for rope burns.

She stayed in her seat as others disembarked.

“You're in big trouble, Natalie Holcomb,” she muttered beneath her breath. There was only one way to get herself out of it. Cancel New Orleans.

A
S IT TURNED OUT
,
Natalie would have to cancel New Orleans whether she wanted to or not. Her father suffered another heart attack three days after she returned to New York. She'd flown home and spent thirty hours straight at the hospital, only going back to New York when it was clear her father would make it.

But it hadn't ended there. In fact, that had been only the beginning. She'd been having running arguments with one family member or another since she left Connecticut.

“You have to come home, Nat. You're the only one he listens to.”

Natalie massaged the now-constant ache in her temples as she fought once again with one of her sisters. “How many times can I explain that I can't just up and walk away from my career, from my life, to take care of Dad? He's a grown man. A grown man who can well afford round-the-clock care.”

Sabrina made an impatient noise. “Don't you think this rebellion thing has lasted long enough? Daddy needs you now, and all you can think about is yourself.”

“What Daddy needs is to realize that he is not immortal, and he needs to listen to his doctors. I've been on the phone with him every day. You know that. I'm not neglecting him, but I can't force him to get better.”

Then the waterworks started. “I can't believe you're being so cold and unfeeling about your own father.” She sniffled.

Natalie swallowed an impatient sigh. Sabrina was an Oscar-caliber crier who used her tears very effectively on just about everyone else. Usually Natalie was impervious, but right now, despite her tough talk, she was feeling very shaky and vulnerable. Enough so that, even though she knew she was being manipulated, she couldn't stop the guilt from assaulting her.

For a short time her father had actually been clinically dead. In fact, the doctors brought him back not once, but twice, on the operating table. It had shaken her badly to realize just how fragile a bond she had with her only remaining parent. And if he didn't follow his doctor's instructions to the letter this time, there would be no next time. His cardiologist had explained the grim reality to her personally, and had also beseeched her to do what she could to help her father, as if he somehow knew she was the only one in the family who could. It didn't comfort her in the least that his intuition was on the money.

Even in the best of circumstances, Chuck and Natalie's two sisters simply didn't have the patience to deal with their father, nor he them. They all worked for the same common cause: to make the Holcomb name synonymous with everything elite and powerful. But they went about it in very different ways. Normally her father was content to let them go about their own busi
ness in their own way, as long as the bottom line was maintained. Which was just as well, since trying to tell her siblings how something was going to be done was only marginally more havoc-wreaking than them trying to tell their father what to do.

Right now, they were telling her what to do. They saw no reason why she couldn't end this “foolish escapade in New York” and come home where she belonged, to take care of the man who had always taken care of her.

She could have argued that she'd taken care of herself since graduating from prep school, but there was no point. She also knew that her return was not going to be the miracle cure her siblings thought it would be. Living with her father would be one huge, ongoing battle of wills. The very idea made her head pound.

But his life was on the line. How could she just walk away?

“Natalie? Are you listening to me?”

No. I'm listening to myself.
She had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “It will take me a little time to put things in order here.” She took no measure of comfort from the relieved sigh on the other end of the line.
What have I just agreed to?

She hung up the phone, tempted to lay her head down on her desk and cry. But that would solve nothing. She turned her thoughts to the tasks ahead. This wasn't going to be easy.

She had to ask her boss for a sabbatical. She would probably get the leave, but she knew she was dooming what success she'd busted her backside to achieve. Others would pass her by, and when she returned she'd have to work doubly hard just to earn her way back in. She'd
seen it happen time and again with other women who'd taken even a brief maternity leave. No matter how many laws they passed to protect women's rights in the workplace, the old boys' network managed to find some way around them. And nowhere was that more clear than in her testosterone-dominated law firm.

Which was why she'd long ago decided to claw her way up as high as she could, to junior partner at the least, before even considering trying for a serious relationship, much less a family. Women had children in their forties all the time, she'd reminded herself every time her biological clock threatened to start ticking.

Jake instantly flashed through her mind. She managed a hollow laugh. Biological clocks and Jake. Had she really been trying to persuade herself that she could still carry on with him and not get more serious? She'd lost sleep trying to convince herself she could handle a whole weekend in New Orleans without falling more deeply in love with him.

So much for that worry.
No job meant no travel. No travel meant no Jake. But she knew she'd have had to end it, anyway.

Her heart literally ached, and she stared unseeing at the piles of folders on her desk. Temper flared through the pain, and she had to fight the urge to clear her desk with one sweep and give in to a well-deserved tantrum over the sudden destruction of everything she'd worked for.

But that was counterproductive. She knew the only way she'd feel better was to take action, put the plan in motion. Then she'd at least feel she was in control. So she picked up the phone and dialed her boss. There would be no pouting. Her father needed her.

 

F
OUR HOURS
, one airline reservation and several packed suitcases later, however, she still hadn't managed to leave that note for Jake.

“It wasn't supposed to last forever,” she reminded herself. But saying it out loud—again—did not make her feel any better.

He was going to be in Dallas in three days. All she had to do was send a note to his hotel for him to pick up on arrival. It was the only way to contact him. She knew he'd understand. He had a close family.

She knew this because she'd just happened to stumble on some information about a cattle ranch in Wyoming while doing some research for a merger deal for one of her partners and— Okay, okay, so it hadn't been specifically Jake's cattle ranch. But since she was poking around, she'd gone and looked up other cattle-related industry in Wyoming and, lo and behold, she'd stumbled across Jake's family business.
Empire
was more like it.

Only, it had seemed to her a rather happier empire than the one that had brought her into the world. Both parents, several aunts and uncles, children from various families including all four children in Jake's family, as well as their spouses worked for the company. Literally one big happy family.

She hadn't found much in the society pages beyond the weddings of Jake's three siblings and three or four cousins. Nothing had popped up on the political front, but when she'd dived into charitable contributions she'd hit the mother lode. The Lannisters loved giving money away almost as much as they enjoyed making it, or so it seemed.

It was odd, though. Finding out he came from a large
family with substantial holdings should have made her feel closer to him, considering her own background. Instead it had made her feel a bit lonelier. Maybe a bit needier. Which was more than a bit disconcerting, as she'd long ago come to grips with her family's various dysfunctions.

Their families didn't really have much in common beyond their corporate bottom line. Sure, her family was into charities, but they made certain their contributions were duly noted in the news so as to enhance the company's image. They dominated the society and political pages for the same reason.

From what she could tell, Jake's family kept their charitable work relatively quiet and seemed to be content to stick to business when discussing anything with the media, keeping the family part in the family.

She'd sighed, wondering how things might have been different in her own family if they'd put family first.

She tossed the pencil down on her desk. Honestly, she had to stop this. So what if his family was happy? It still didn't mean she knew him any better. When she got right down to it, beyond his ability to bring her to multiple screaming orgasms, she really didn't know him at all.

She snorted as she imagined Liza's probable response to that bit of information. “What else does a girl need to know?”

But seriously, did he leave the toilet seat up? Was he picky about what he ate or how things were done? What was his favorite music? Did he like to stay home and read, or was he a party animal, needing to be around others all the time? What was his favorite vegetable? Did he always lose his keys? Did he remember important
dates, or was he completely hopeless when it came to birthdays and anniversaries?

No, her little foray into his family and business background hadn't answered those questions. Questions she almost desperately wanted answers for…questions destined to remain forever unanswered, as soon as she placed that call to Dallas.

She reached for the phone, then paused. So what if she didn't know his favorite vegetable? She already knew all the really important stuff. He had a good heart. He was a gentlemen to the core, but willing to push her when he thought she needed it. He was honest. He refused to take the easy way if a more difficult path might prove more beneficial in the long run. So what if she'd learned these things in bed? Surely they applied to the man himself in any situation. Her heart knew.

She yanked up the phone and called Liza. “Thank God,” she said, when her friend answered her phone at work.

“What happened?” Liza asked instantly. Liza was great about skipping the small talk. It was one of the many things Natalie cherished about their friendship.

She'd already told Liza about her father's heart attack. She'd called from the hospital. Now she told her the rest, from her sister's call onward. She told her about everything except the one thing she really wanted to talk about. Jake.

“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry!” Liza said when she was finished. “Can't they hire a nurse or something?” She didn't even wait for a reply; she knew Natalie's family very well. “I know, I know. Wishful thinking. It's just
that it's not fair that you have to give up everything and run home to Papa.”

Natalie already felt better. She might not throw tantrums over things, but it never hurt to have someone else do it on her behalf. “I don't have a choice. Not this time. But thanks for sticking up for me.”

Liza snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Like you need hand-holding. I'm sure you've already made all the plans and taken care of everything. God forbid you mope and whine. Lord knows, I would. But then, the last person my folks would turn to for help is me.” Liza's parents had divorced when she was a teenager, leaving her mostly to her own devices as they spent most of their time wrapped up in themselves.

That pattern hadn't changed in the years since. She rarely heard from them, and when they did call it was usually to announce some new engagement or marriage. Liza had stopped attending these events somewhere around wedding number four for each of them. She loved them both, but pretty much left them alone, as they did her, and everyone was the happier for it.

Natalie sighed. “Yeah, well, I'd trade you at the moment.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Wishes. She knew what she'd wish for. An endless weekend in New Orleans with Jake. Her stomach knotted and her heart hurt as the reality that she was never going to see him again truly began to sink in. “Liza, I have to tell you something.”

“There's more?”

“I'm making up for lost time.”

“Hey, are you implying that I've taken the lion's share of whining lately?”

Natalie smiled. She might be putting a career on hold and losing her secret thrill, but Liza would always be there for her. “You? Whine?”

“Okay, smart-ass. I'll let that go, basically because I can't defend myself against it and we both know it. So. I'm totally ready to wallow in your misery. Bring it on.” Then she gasped. “Oh, no. You're not giving up the loft, are you? Is that what you wanted to tell me? Because I know you love that place. If money is the problem, then let me help you. You can pay me back whenever. Personally, I think you should make an exception about that trust fund of yours and finally dip into it. After all, it's your family that is forcing this sacrifice on you—the least they should do is foot the bill for this. You shouldn't have to lose everything just because you're the only one who takes no guff from that hardhead of a father of yours.” She paused for a breath, then dove back in. “And what will he say about this? He might argue with you about your career choice, but you know damn well he's proud of your independence.”

“Only because he truly believes I'll eventually see the light and give it all up to come to work for the good of the family. He can be a very patient man when it comes to proving a point. Of course, he'll gloat for life if that ever comes to pass, so in his mind it's a worthwhile gamble.”

Liza didn't laugh this time. “Maybe, but he's going to throw a fit when he finds out he finally won, but only because he's weak and needs taking care of. Talk about pissing the old guy off. You might kill him just showing up.”

“Liza,” she quietly admonished. Liza was her one sounding board in the occasional rail and rant against
her family, and it was a fairly typical statement for Liza to make. But the memory of standing in that sterile little room, waiting for the surgeon to come out and tell her if she was indeed an orphan or not, was simply too fresh.