Secret Nights at Nine Oaks

Cain's deep baritone voice riddled Phoebe with sudden sharp memories. She ignored them. “How magnanimous of you,” she snapped, wanting him to face her. “But no thanks. It's obvious no one is welcome here. I'll make other arrangements.”

It was humiliating that she needed a place to hide. It wasn't in her nature to back down, but she was desperate to keep her life from spiraling out of control…again.

“Phoebe.” His sharp tone demanded her attention.

She went still, her heart in her throat. “What?”

“Forgive my reluctance,” he said softly. “I'd be…delighted if you'd stay at Nine Oaks.”

That sounded about as welcoming as a case of the plague, Phoebe thought. “How about you look at me and say that? Then I might believe you.”

Cain stiffened then turned his head. His gaze slammed into hers. Nine years tumbled away, and they were again naked, skin to skin. Wanting the contact to be more intimate.

Phoebe tried to push those memories away. She didn't need sensual distraction. She needed peace and privacy. And Nine Oaks was the only place she'd find them.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Nine Oaks Plantation, SC

C
ain Blackmon coveted his home and his privacy. So much so that he paid a fortune to keep people away from his estate.
People
should have included his younger sister, Suzannah.

The woman could drive a saint to violence.

She'd asked a favor; for the impossible. Not for him to leave Nine Oaks, that he wouldn't do, even for her, but to invite someone inside. To live. For
weeks.

And that someone was Phoebe DeLongpree.

She might as well have dared him to name his most erotic fantasy and lay it out for the world to see.

“No.” From a seat at his desk, Cain picked up a file. “There are plenty of hotels and spas in the area.”

Suzannah blinked. “Well, that's just plain rude.”

Cain didn't have any compunction about turning her down. He did not want that particular woman here.

Suzannah stepped nearer, her hands on her trim hips as she gave him a glare he remembered from their childhood. It signaled she was about to clamp down on a bone and refuse to let go. “This is my house, too, you know.”

“Fine. When shall I expect your share of the restoration mortgage?”

“You're avoiding the issue.”

“And you are refusing to accept the inevitable. I made myself very clear, Suzannah. I don't want a houseguest.” Glancing at the closed door, he could almost scent Phoebe on the other side.

“You don't want
anyone
here, and for no good reason.” He shot her a hard look and his sister wilted a little. “Fine—for reasons you won't discuss with
me.
”

Her wounded tone gave Cain no more than a pin-prick of regret, yet he looked to the painted ceiling with its intricately layered molding and prayed for patience. “All right, Suzannah. Tell me why I should invite a stranger—”

“She's not a stranger.”

No, he thought, she was Phoebe. Shapely, sexy-without-trying Phoebe. A man's erotic vision in a five-foot-two package of sensuality and combustible energy. He knew her from firsthand experience when she'd rocketed through his life and this house once before, briefly, but long enough to stir his desire to dangerous heights. Enough that he'd caught her under the servants' staircase and kissed her.

It had been one of the most electric, sensual moments of his life. And a mistake. She'd been liquid fire in his arms, dragging him into her unstoppable passion. And scaring him with it. Yes, Cain admitted with a bit of youthful recollection. Scaring him. Because one touch told him he'd delved into something that would consume him whole.

The memory of it tightened his groin, and he shoved out of the chair, turned to the window and brushed back the curtain. He stared at the landscape that hadn't changed in over two hundred years, his gaze flowing over the familiar live oaks draped in Spanish moss, the manicured gardens sloping toward the boats floating lazily down the river. The serenity of it didn't stop the memory of a single warm, wet kiss that left him raw and stripped.

Cain pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking that
Lily had never made him feel even a degree of what he'd shared with Phoebe in those few moments.

And he'd married Lily.

His expression darkened, the memory of his late wife compounding the guilt he stacked in a corner of his mind. He didn't want to share his isolation for the simple reason that Phoebe would end up hating him, and he didn't want that burden.

“I'm listening,” he prompted, impatient to say no, again.

“She'd dated this guy three times, called it quits, but he wouldn't go away. Then he got mean.”

Cain twisted a look back over his shoulder, frowning. “Go on.”

“It was Randall Kreeg, the fifth.”

Cain's brows shot up as the realization set in. Randall Kreeg, the son of the CEO of Kreeg Enterprises. A computer-generated imaging company all filmmakers used today. He'd seen a news report, yet hadn't paid it much attention, nor had he associated Phoebe with P.A. DeLong. Like most, he assumed this person was a man. “He's been arrested as I recall.”

“Yes. She'll testify against him in a few weeks. But that wasn't the half of it.” When he frowned, she asked, “Don't you read the papers?”

“Yes, several, daily.”

“Phoebe is P.A. DeLong. The film writer?”

Good God, he thought. Sweet little Phoebe wrote those terrifying scripts?

“I see you understand. Add to that, the L.A. press twisted the whole mess, accusing her of staging it for publicity and ignoring the fact that Kreeg terrorized her.”

Cain tried to imagine someone entering his life just to torment him. He almost laughed. What was Phoebe but a walking torture for him? “He's in jail, then she's safe.”

“For how long? He can post any bail, and with his high-priced lawyers, who do you think they'll smear? She had to leave L.A., but the press has dogged her since she landed here. Though she covers it well, she's this far—” Suzannah pinched the air between her thumb and forefinger “—from collapsing from exhaustion.”

Exhaustion? Phoebe? The woman had more energy than ten people, which made him doubt his sister's viewpoint on the matter. He faced the window again, unwilling to concede to her demands. Then he heard the door open.

“Enough, 'Zannah! Stop!”

Cain recognized Phoebe's voice instantly.

“I won't have you begging him for this, for pity sake.”

“You heard?” Suzannah said, clearly mortified.

“I didn't press my ear to the door since my mama taught me better, but his answer was
quite
clear.”

Good, it saved him from repeating himself, Cain thought, his gaze on the view, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't turn to look at Phoebe. He didn't have to. The energy level in the room went up a couple notches the instant she stepped inside. To look at her now, well, that was like anticipating a mortal blow. He knew it was coming, and there was no doubt it would have more impact than he expected.

Yet Cain knew when he was licked. Suzannah would never forgive him if he denied her request. He had so few people in his life, and he adored his baby sister. He didn't want to lose her, too. So, he said the words that would leave him in complete agony for the next few weeks.

“You may stay, Phoebe.”

His deep baritone voice riddled Phoebe with sudden sharp memories. She ignored them. “How magnanimous of you, my lord,” she snapped. “But no thanks. It's obvious no one is welcome here. I'll make other arrangements.” Though she didn't know where. The press had a sixth sense, and had already forced her across the country and out of Suzannah's place.

It was humiliating enough that she needed a place to hide. It wasn't in her nature to back down, but she
was desperate to keep her life from spiraling out of control again. Cutting herself off from the world that had been very unfriendly to her lately was the only way. She'd lost so much and needed it back or she wouldn't be able to recognize herself in the mirror.

She was ready to leave, wanting to pinch Suzannah when she kept appealing to him.

“Phoebe.” His sharp tone demanded her attention.

She went still, her heart in her throat. “What?”

“Forgive my reluctance,” he said a little more softly. “I'd be…delighted if you'd stay at Nine Oaks.”

That sounded about as welcoming as a case of the plague, Phoebe thought, moving a step closer. “How about you look at me and say that? Then I might believe you.”

Cain stiffened, then turned his head. His gaze slammed into hers. Nine years tumbled away. They were trapped under the staircases, pawing at each other like teenagers, wanting contact to be tighter, more intimate. Naked, skin to skin. When she moved closer and met his gaze, he felt ashamed that he'd hurt her that next morning. But where Phoebe was concerned, going cold turkey was the only way to deal with something that powerful.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Because he'd wanted her like breath itself.

Green eyes pleaded with him for understanding. The same way she'd looked at him that morning, yet never asked for an explanation. Her look drove into him like a punch. My God, she was beautiful. Nine years had aged her from a girl to a breathtaking woman. Dark red hair framed her face in uncontrolled layers, much like her personality. The wild cut suited her, framed her elfin face, her big innocent eyes. His gaze lowered unconsciously to her mouth, to the lushest lips he'd ever had the pleasure to kiss and for a second he remembered the exotic taste of her. His gaze drifted lower, over her body wrapped in a frilly rust-colored top and matching leather skirt that was short enough to be illegal. Sexy without trying, he thought, catching a hint of something lacy under the sheer blouse. Right now he wanted nothing more than to be consumed by his own desire for her again. See if it had been a fabrication of his youth or still as real as his memories. He shoved the thought down. He couldn't afford to think or feel any of that. Not ever. Not for her.

“If it's refuge you seek, then Nine Oaks is at your disposal.”

Phoebe wasn't listening. She was staring. He was bigger than she remembered, taller, broader in the
shoulders. The pale sunlight shimmering through the windows silhouetted him against the sheer curtains, making his rich brown hair shine, the angled cut of his jaw stand out against his pristine white dress shirt. He gave off an aura of isolation, yet when he faced her fully, Phoebe couldn't breathe as his dark eyes clashed with hers.

Intense, assessing, edged with anger.

His mysterious hooded look was nothing like the man of her past, and the way he scrutinized her from head to toe made her feel peeled open and vulnerable. She smoothed her leather skirt and didn't like that he made her nervous.

But then, she was getting an opportunity that hundreds of people would kill for. A look at the South's most infamous recluse. He didn't look it, though. She wasn't expecting long hair and pale skin or anything like that, yet he looked…well, as heart-stoppingly handsome as he had nine years ago, but now, there was a dark gloom surrounding him. While it was sexy and mystifying, it made her want to pull apart the reasons he hid from the world. Even hid from his sister.

“
Is
that what you want?” he said, startling her.

Phoebe tried gathering her thoughts when she could taste the strain in the air. She knew the truth. He
really
didn't want her staying here. Normally,
she'd have taken the hint and split. She wasn't dense, but she
was
desperate. Her life was in shambles and there was no sign that the press would leave her alone until the trial weeks away. She needed peace and privacy. To feel safe again.

“Yes,” she said. “Just for a little while.” She needed time to get a handle on her insomnia and, hopefully, regain her creativity.

“Do you have your things with you now?” he asked.

“No. To be honest, I didn't anticipate a yes.”

Cain's brows knitted. His gaze moved to his sister standing behind Phoebe, her arms folded, a warning in her eyes.
Don't hurt her,
Suzannah was saying.
You've done that already.
He must be reading that wrong, Cain thought. Surely Suzannah didn't know about that kiss. But then, Phoebe and her sister had been friends for over a dozen years. They probably told each other everything. All the more reason to keep away from Phoebe while she was here.

Then Suzannah said, “Since I'm leaving for England,” on business for him, Cain knew, “she'll be here this afternoon.”

“Would you like me to send a limousine for you?” Cain offered, reaching for the phone.

Phoebe blinked. “Good grief, no. I wouldn't know how to behave in one.”

“Not alone, at least,” Suzannah muttered, a secret smile passing between the women. Phoebe's cheeks pinkened delicately, and Cain was instantly jealous of the man who'd had the pleasure of misbehaving with Phoebe inside a dark luxurious car.

Oblivious to the images rushing through his brain, Phoebe pushed Suzannah out the door ahead of her, then paused to look back around the edge. She met his gaze across the large room. “I appreciate this, Cain. I'll see you this afternoon.”

No, you won't,
he thought, yet nodded just the same.

 

The electronic sensors on the front gates sounded softly from Cain's computers, the relay reminding him of his promise to his sister. He'd thought of little else since this morning. His offer to Phoebe was gallant, but a mistake.

Cain pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked at the screen. Video cameras were positioned around the property, each one representing a separate block on the monitor. In the upper left square, Phoebe sat behind the wheel of a topless yellow Jeep, waving frantically at the camera, then looking behind herself. Her panic was full-blown, and the sudden urge to protect her shot through him.

Quickly hitting another key, he opened the gates
and she shot through with little room to spare. The gates closed behind her and he aimed the camera down the street to show a TV news van skidding to a halt. Photographers leaped out, snapping pictures. His irritation made him hit the speaker. “You are on private property. Please leave.”

The man and woman looked startled. “It's a public road, pal.”

“I
own
the road. The gates are now armed.”

To bring the matter home, the Dobermans raced to the gate, their fangs and bark sending the couple into the van.

Unaffected, Cain turned from the console. Suzannah hadn't given him details of what Kreeg had done to Phoebe, and he suspected his sister was protecting her friend any way she could. Even from him. After Phoebe and Suzannah had left, Cain had done a search for any information. As much as the press was hounding her, it had more on Phoebe than on the police capture and Kreeg. The thought of her being hunted and tormented made Cain's anger rise.