Sleeping with the Enemy's Daughter (6 page)

She jerked her head over her shoulder, in the direction of her office. "I have a deadline for my column. I'm just working on getting it done."

"Are you going to work on it all weekend?" She shook her head. "No. I was almost done actually." She lifted her brows. "Why?"

A wary grin crossed his face, causing tiny butterflies to beat against her stomach. They were all equally handsome, but only Jacob could make her melt with just one look, one smile, one caress. She shook her head trying to push the destructive thoughts from her mind. Out of all the brothers, 50

Sleeping with the Enemy's Daughter

by Nadia Aidan

she
had
to be attracted to the one who hated her the most. She'd never figured herself to be a masochist, but if this didn't have
love to be hurt
written all over it then she didn't know what did.

"I wanted to see if you were free for dinner tonight," he said casually.

She struggled to keep her features neutral as she searched his face, trying to read any deception in his eyes. She saw none. Yet she was still wary. At any moment she expected Jacob to reveal
why
he'd really brought her there and his true plan for revenge. She still didn't completely trust the rest of them, but she definitely didn't trust Jacob. He had only shown her coldness. His offer of dinner raised her suspicions. She folded her arms across her chest. "You don't have to pretend with me, Jacob. I don't need any grand gestures," she clipped out tersely.

His eyebrows lifted at her tone, and he frowned. "What do you mean
pretend
? It's dinner, Camille. That's all."

"You've never wanted to go to dinner before. You've never wanted to spend any time with me, why now?" His eyes narrowed. "Look if you have plans then—"

"I don't have plans, Jacob. I just want to know
why
you suddenly want to go out with me," she said impatiently He stared at her for several moments before he nodded, as if he was silently acknowledging that she had a point.

"Because I know I have been—" he paused, and she knew he was searching for the right words to say next, "—
aloof,
" he finished.

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Dragging a hand through his hair he let out a deep breath.

"Look, my brothers speak highly of you, and I wonder if I've misjudged you. I'd like to take you to dinner to talk, get to know you better, that's all."

She arched an eyebrow as she studied him. He seemed genuine enough, although she still didn't trust him. She nodded slowly. He was right. It
was
just dinner. It wouldn't hurt to actually talk to him.

"Alright then. Can you give me a couple of hours to finish this and then get dressed?"

"Of course. I'll just shower, change and nap while you finish up."

She stood there for several minutes, slightly perplexed after he left her apartment.

What had she just agreed to? She wanted to believe this was some kind of nefarious trap, but there was nothing about his actions or words that said it was anything more than a simple dinner.

Sitting back down at her computer she worked to finish her column. Jacob was turning out to be quite an enigma indeed.

* * * *

"You look lovely this evening." Camille ducked her head as heat crept into her cheeks, and little jitters of pleasure glided across her skin at the compliment.

Nodding slowly, she smiled. "Thank you," she murmured softly, averting her eyes from Jacob's penetrating stare. 52

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She lifted her menu to hide her face, trying to still the slight trembling of her hands. She scanned the menu quickly, immediately deciding on her dinner, but she continued to hold it in front of her hoping to buy herself some time. All too quickly the waiter returned to take their orders, forcing her to relinquish her death grip on the delicate paper. With nothing left to do
but
focus on Jacob, she slid her gaze to his face. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes roamed over him. His stormy blue eyes held a wealth of mystery in their depths as they stared back at her. She forced herself to stifle a groan as she absorbed just how unbelievably handsome he was. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit, his raven hair brushed against the nape of his neck, while a solitary lock fell across his brow. She ached to reach her hand across the table and push the wayward strand off his gorgeous face.

"Do I look lovely too?"

He'd spoken, but she'd been so wrapped up in staring at him that she'd missed his words. "I'm sorry?" Jacob's grin grew wider. "You keep staring. I wonder if you think that I look lovely too," he teased. She returned his grin with a warm smile. "You do," she said softly, slightly surprised by the husky lilt of her voice, before her face suddenly heated with embarrassment when she realised what she'd said. "I mean—I mean you look nice this evening." She finished. God, she was so mortified. His teasing had caught her off guard. His grins had too. He rarely smiled, and she didn't think she could handle it if he did it more often. The effect was devastating.

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"Thank you," he said softly as his eyes twinkled with amusement.

She lowered her gaze, still embarrassed by her slip of tongue.

Silence hung between them as if they were both afraid to say something that would break the spell of the moment. Unnerved by his penetrating stare, she glanced over his shoulder, but immediately regretted doing so.

"Good evenin' Ms. Camille," the man tipped his Stetson at her before pinning Jacob with a steely glare. "Downing," he bit out as if it pained him to say that one word. She closed her eyes for just a second, struggling to calm her racing mind and wildly beating heart. She opened her eyes then to stare into the face of Pete Rollins, the old foreman that had once worked on a ranch in Arizona before coming to hers when she was just a girl. Pete was like an uncle to her, who'd grown even more protective since the death of her father. Now with her back in Texas he'd taken it upon himself to be her self-appointed guardian. When he found out that she'd "moved in" with Jacob, he'd been furious. The entire town of Macon had been ablaze with the rumour that she and Jacob were dating. They still weren't certain how the town had decided it was Jacob and not any one of the other Downings. How they'd come up with that
particular
pairing remained a mystery, but neither one of them felt the need to say otherwise. She knew by going
out
to dinner the chances that they would spark another round of rumours was high, but she didn't care. She would rather people assume that she and Jacob were bringing an end to 54

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the Douglas and Downing feud than discover the truth—that she was the exclusive mistress to the entire Downing clan.

"Good evening, Uncle Pete. Fancy seeing you here," she said politely, hoping he wouldn't make a scene. Out of loyalty to her family, over the years he had taken up the mantle of hating the Downings and she knew that it wouldn't take much to set him off given the rumours flying about, and especially now that he'd seen her out with Jacob.

"Camille, can I have a word with you?" She sighed inwardly knowing that he wanted to get her away from Jacob just so that he could once again rail at her for making such a disastrous mistake. She moved to tell him that they could speak later, at a more appropriate time, when Jacob stood from his seat.

She watched in horror as Jacob stepped towards old Pete, his body language commanding attention, as his eyes focused solely on the older man.

"Camille and I are trying to have a nice quiet dinner. Is this something you can discuss with her later?" Jacob's words were soft, but she could see the muscle in his jaw twitching furiously, which she knew only happened when he was angry or irritated.

"Step back, Downing. This has nothing do with you," Pete bit out, his voice rising.

She cringed inside when the restaurant suddenly grew silent.

Her frantic gaze darted between the two angry men, their postures rigid, their faces twisted with fury. 55

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"Gentlemen, please. We're causing a scene," she hissed out just loud enough for them to hear her. Pete hesitated for several moments before he tipped his hat. "We'll talk later then," he said, nodding his head towards her although his gaze still remained focused on Jacob. She let out a loud sigh of relief when Pete finally stomped off and Jacob settled back into his chair. Swinging her gaze to Jacob, she shot him a hard glare. She was mad at him for confronting Pete. "What was that about?" She demanded in a low voice, still mindful of the prying eyes and nosy ears.

Jacob shrugged. "You tell me." He said tightly, as his eyes darkened to the colour of a stormy sea. "That's
your
employee."

She stiffened at the bite in his tone. "No, that's
your
employee," she snapped back. "Last time I checked
you
still owned the Douglas ranch."

"Yes, so maybe you should tell your old foreman that since apparently he doesn't seem to realise—" Her eyes widened in alarm. "You
cannot
fire Pete. He has been our foreman for years—"

Jacob's nostrils flared angrily. "But as you so wisely stated before it is not
your
ranch anymore." His lips curved into a sardonic grin as he leaned across the table. "Well, at least not until you've paid off your debt."

She cringed at the picture he painted with his offensive words. Despite the nature of their arrangement, she wasn't a whore and she resented his insinuation that she was. "Just 56

Sleeping with the Enemy's Daughter

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like a Downing," she hissed angrily. "You greedy, manipulative,
tactless
bastard—" Jacob's blue eyes turned to ice as his gaze grew cold. "Well I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree either," he said bitterly. "Considering the women in
your
family play men like pawns in a game, using your
bodies
to manipulate them." She reared back in shock, unable to believe that he'd had the gall to bring up the bad blood between their families, and then throw
his
version of the truth in her face. She leaned forward so that her face was only inches from his.

"You have some nerve, Jacob Downing. Your family has caused mine nothing but heartbreak and grief." He arched one arrogant eyebrow. "I could say the same thing to you, Camille."

She shook her head. "I knew this dinner was a mistake," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Standing to her full height, she pushed back her chair.

"Camille, sit down."

She rolled her eyes at him before she spun on her heels and marched out of the restaurant, her head high. She stood outside the restaurant on shaky legs, her body trembling with anger.

"Where the hell are you going to get a cab, you idiot?" she muttered under her breath.

This wasn't Dublin or New York or any of the other major cities she'd lived in before. No cabs were coming unless she walked back into the restaurant and called them—which she absolutely refused to do.

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She knew the moment he stepped outside. The cool air carried his masculine scent directly to her and the rich heady smell of him tickled her nose.

With her back still to him, she folded her arms under her breasts, and lifted her chin a notch higher. Without warning, she felt fingers curl around her arm from behind. A gasp of shock escaped her lips when she was suddenly dragged by her arm to the side of the restaurant, next to the parking lot. Now plunged into the dark shadows of the night, she blinked furiously as her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting.

She lifted her blurry gaze to meet what she knew was the stormy eyes of the man that still held her arm. "Let go of me," she bit out as she struggled to pull her arm from his grasp, but he didn't bulge. Pushing her back against the brick wall of the building, he cornered her in. Once he had her imprisoned between the wall and his large frame, he finally released her. "I'm sorry. I was out of line back there," he whispered, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek. She stood there, a little stunned by the gentleness she glimpsed in his eyes and the softness she felt in his touch, but she didn't let it sway her.

"What do you want from me, Jacob?" His hand stilled against her cheek, and he tilted his head to the side to stare down at her, his expression thoughtful.

"Isn't it obvious?" he murmured huskily. She shook her head. "No it isn't. You're always distant with me, but then you're in my bed every night—all night. Now you take me to dinner, but then you insult me. Jacob, I get it. 58

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You want revenge on my family for what my parents did to you and your family and you're using me to get it. That's fine. I agreed to the terms of the contract and I am yours physically, but I refuse to play these mind games with you." Jacob's eyes narrowed and he held her gaze, his mouth lifting into a slight grin. "You intrigue me, Camille. At every turn you fight me, even though I still own you for the next three months."

Her nostrils flared as anger coursed through her veins.

"You do not own me, Jacob Downing," she gritted out tightly. His grin grew wider, seemingly amused by her spark of anger. "That's where you're wrong, Camille," he said softly, before he lowered his head and captured her lips with his mouth, in a slow, sensual kiss. "You belong to me in every way that a woman can belong to a man and I think you know it," he murmured softly against her lips, before claiming her mouth once again.

She moaned against his mouth, as her body responded to him, although her mind continued to struggle with his possessive words. However, his kiss soon pushed all thoughts from her mind, including the ones that had been filled with anger towards him only moments ago. Lifting her arms, she wrapped her hands around his neck, dragging him into her embrace.