Authors: Kimberly Dean
‘We can’t keep sneaking around this property, trying to avoid one another,’ he said, the powerful side taking over.
No. No, they couldn’t. She glanced at the front door to the lake house. Her car was outside. The boxes still lined the far wall.
‘Just dinner,’ he promised, that crooning tone coming back, almost as if he could read her mind. Funny, but that tone didn’t give her platonic thoughts. ‘You can get that book you wanted to borrow.’
She blinked in surprise. Ah, there was the conniving side of him, the one she’d always expected.
‘We need to talk, Elena.’
Yes, they did. About what had happened and so much more. She had so many questions and so few answers. She glanced at her office. She’d been here for over a month and she’d failed to dig up many of them.
Maybe she needed to go to the source.
‘All right,’ she agreed before she could over-think her decision.
There was a burst of air, almost as if he’d been holding his breath. ‘I look forward to seeing you.’
The last time they’d seen each other, they’d both been naked.
‘I’ll be there,’ she promised.
* * *
Elena was nervous when she knocked on the door to the main house. She tugged her jacket tighter around herself and felt a rock bite through the bottom of her pump. Her ankles were sore from the walk up the hill in heels, but she’d known better than to arrive in jeans or yoga pants. She’d been officially invited to dinner. After her last encounter in Wolfe Manor, she wanted to put on as mature a front as she could. In fact, she’d debated whether she should go to the front door, but that had seemed too formal. So she waited for the kitchen door to open, her stomach swirling and her thoughts racing.
She’d considered cancelling about a hundred times. She’d even picked up the phone twice, but he’d said ‘just dinner’ and they did need to talk. She couldn’t carry on like this, with energy snapping between them every time they came close.
They needed to clear the air.
Still, she had to fight off the desperate urge to turn tail and flee when she heard footsteps approaching.
‘There you are, dear. Welcome.’ Questions were in Leonard’s eyes, but a smile was on his face as he opened the door wide. He stepped back and gave a sweeping gesture, encouraging her to enter. ‘Come in before the mist starts up again. We wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.’
The kitchen was warm and inviting as she stepped inside. ‘It smells wonderful in here. I hope you haven’t gone to too much effort.’
‘Nonsense. This place was made for entertaining. Wasn’t it, Marta?’
The cook looked up from the kitchen island where she was preparing asparagus. Her cheeks were pink and she was beaming with pride. ‘It does feel good to fire up the kitchen again. All these professional shiny appliances and nobody to –’
Her words stopped abruptly when she realised where they were leading.
Leonard smoothly stepped in. ‘Let me help you with your jacket.’
Elena turned, but prickles of awareness dotted her spine when she heard other footsteps echoing.
‘I’ll do that.’
The low rumble set those prickles dancing and she glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze connected with grey eyes that reminded her of the clouds outside. Heavy-lidded and stormy. Alex stood in the doorway to the main hall, the one she’d slinked down the other day.
The inquisitive look on Leonard’s face intensified, but, ever the professional, he nodded. ‘Of course, Master Wolfe. I’ll go prepare the table in the breakfast nook as you requested.’
Leonard might have put on a placid front, but the cook stared openly, her gaze darting back and forth between her boss and their guest. Elena bit her lip. She could only imagine what the woman was thinking.
Somebody
had picked up her clothes, washed them and packed them.
‘Marta, could you help me?’
The cook snapped upright as if goosed. Backing away, she went to assist Leonard. She didn’t allow room for her girth as she headed to the open archway and she bumped into the refrigerator. Her pink cheeks brightened. ‘Excuse me.’
Elena’s gaze swung back to the remaining person in the room.
Alex looked sharp and important. Intimidating and sexy in a crisp white shirt and black pants. His blue tie brought out the colour of his eyes, and that gaze wasn’t moving from her. He held a glass of amber liquid, and the ice in the tumbler clinked as he set it on the breakfast bar. The high-pitched jingles sounded lyrical and threatening as he moved towards her.
Her jacket. Right.
Bending her head forward, she untied the belt. She was pulling the jacket off her shoulders when she felt his hands cover hers. The contact was warm and deliberate. She drew in a fast breath as she felt him come and stand behind her.
‘Allow me,’ he said, his breath sliding over her ear.
She’d caught her hair up on one side in a barrette, and goosebumps rose on her neck. Whatever she thought of the other day, this was something she hadn’t overblown in her mind – the way she felt when he touched her. Her hands dropped helplessly to her sides.
He drew her jacket over her shoulders, his knuckles skimming her bare arms. He wasn’t touching her anywhere else, but she was aware of his presence behind her. Big, hard and immovable. He’d been like a ghost ever since he’d arrived home, but now he was manifesting. Real, male and dominant.
The moment she was free, she turned to face him. ‘Thank y –’
The words died on her lips when her breasts brushed against his chest. He was so close. She stepped back when his pupils dilated in response, but her heel banged into the coat rack. It rocked noisily, and he reached over her shoulder to catch it before it fell.
‘Sorry.’ She cringed at her awkwardness, but took the opportunity to duck under his arm and step further into the kitchen. ‘I can be a bit clumsy.’
At least around him.
‘Really? All I’ve seen is you trotting through the trees like a doe or going through yoga poses like a master.’ He hung up her jacket and turned. The raw emotions of the day before were gone, and he looked different. The rugged outdoorsman and the sexy athlete were hidden. She’d been able to relate somewhat to both those sides of him, but tonight he looked like the powerful executive he was, rich, confident and used to getting what he wanted.
She smoothed her H&M dress. It was the third outfit she’d tried on. It had a scooped neck and was of fitted lace with a sewn-in slip dress underneath. The slender shoulder straps made the outfit more appropriate for summer, but the black colour gave it a pricey look. Considering that she hadn’t packed for fancy dinners when she’d come here, it was the best she could do on short notice – especially with reporters still blocking the exits.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
She pressed a hand to her stomach as his gaze raked over her, slow and hot.
He reached for her and she jumped, instinctively looking over her shoulder in case Marta was still watching. Colour flooded her face when, instead of his touch, she heard the tinkle of ice in a glass. A bemused look came over his face as he swirled the amber liquid. ‘Can I get you something?’
Absolutely not. By all rights she should remain clear-headed, but it would be nice to have something to hold onto. Something that might ease her nerves …
‘White wine?’ she said throatily.
‘I’m sure we can find something that will do the trick.’ This time he did touch her, his hand settling against the small of her back. With strides measured to match hers, he led her to the open archway. He stopped as they walked through it, though, and looked back. ‘How much time do we have before dinner is ready, Marta?’
The cook pirouetted around the corner, biting her lower lip. She’d been caught hovering, and she knew it. ‘A while, Master Wolfe. I’m just starting on the risotto.’
‘Excellent,’ he murmured.
No. Not excellent. Elena pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she walked into the open grand room with the floor-to-ceiling windows. Minute rice would be fine for her. Alex’s hand felt huge on the small of her back as he led her to the wet bar, and she could have sworn that his thumb moved over the ends of her hair. The touch was impersonal and intimate at the same time, and she shivered at the coolness she felt when it left her.
‘2008 Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet?’
She licked lips that were suddenly dry as paper. ‘Whatever you have is fine.’
His grey gaze was steady. ‘I think you’ll like it.’
Unlike her, he seemed rock solid – unembarrassed by what had happened – although a bit curious. Maybe he rolled around on the floor with neighbours all the time. He was certainly rich enough and handsome enough to get any woman he wanted. According to the magazines and online blogs, he hadn’t passed on many opportunities to ‘social network’.
Yet he had been imprisoned for the last eighteen months …
Elena drank from the glass he passed to her. He might be a man of the world, cultured and suave, but she wasn’t as easygoing. She didn’t sleep around. She’d had steady boyfriends, but she’d never –
‘Mmm,’ she murmured with pleasure. The flavour of the expensive wine spread over her tongue like smooth honey. She swallowed, tasting the unexpected spiced notes, and was distracted.
He caught her hand. ‘That’s better.’
He drew her to the sofa. She kept a respectable distance between them as they sat, but the white leather was unexpectedly comfortable. The cushions were so deep, they sucked her in and defied her to remain rigid. She sat up straighter, near the edge, and crossed her ankles. She couldn’t allow her guard to drop, not around him.
Hand tightening around her drink, she took another deep sip. The wind was rising outside. The trees were swaying and those last leaves were fluttering wildly. Inside the mansion, though, she didn’t hear the wind’s howl.
‘Did I ever thank you for what you did?’ he finally asked, his low voice breaking the silence that had taken over the room.
She looked at him through her lashes.
‘For rescuing me.’ There was no curve at all to his lips. He wasn’t teasing or being coy.
‘I … I don’t remember,’ she replied.
‘Thank you.’
The words were honest and heartfelt. They weren’t characteristics she’d normally associate with a Wolfe, and they made her chest tighten. ‘You’re welcome.’
Their gazes connected and, in that moment, something passed between them. Not trust, no, but something maybe closer to empathy. Worried about what that connection might be, Elena focused harder on the windows. The sun was setting, but there weren’t any golden flecks on the water. The sky had been overcast all day long, and the lake was just growing darker and more opaque.
‘Haunting, isn’t it?’ she remarked.
His ice clanked. ‘More than you know.’
‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged, his gaze snagging on the rough water. ‘This place is full of memories for me. They keep popping up when I least expect it.’
And not all of them were good. He was hard to read, practically detached, but she could feel how his mood changed. It was subtle, but she was beginning to notice the difference.
‘Did you grow up here?’
‘No, but my parents would send me here to spend the summers.’
‘With your grandfather?’
‘This is his house.’
The temperature in the place had just dropped ten degrees. Elena considered her host. She felt an icy rage every time she thought about Bartholomew Wolfe, but why would he? The answer dawned like a light bulb.
His grandfather had gotten away with it.
‘Why come here then?’ she asked. He’d spent the last eighteen months in prison. Why make this the first place he’d come when he’d regained his freedom?
‘The seclusion and the privacy. I’d have preferred to go to my apartment in Manhattan, but I knew this place would be more secure.’
More secure? Or would he have better access to what he and his co-conspirators had left behind?
He drew up his left leg and rested his ankle on his opposite knee. His foot bounced restlessly. ‘I’m sorry you got caught up in all the drama. The press tends to follow me wherever I go.’
So he’d known this would happen, while she’d been blindsided once again. The delicious wine turned a little bitter in her mouth. ‘You didn’t know I was here,’ she murmured.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t.’
They watched the water as it slapped against the side of the dock. It was like observing a silent movie, with action going on all around but no soundtrack.
‘Leonard said that the paparazzi harassed you, that it was the reason you came here.’
She ran her finger around the lip of her glass. Reporters and others had run her out of town on a rail, but he didn’t need to know that. The less he knew about the power he’d held over her life, the better. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
His foot stopped bouncing, and his gaze grabbed hers. ‘I’m happy to provide you refuge. You can stay as long as you want or need to.’
‘I got the impression that you didn’t like the intrusion on your property.’
‘I didn’t,’ he confessed. ‘I wasn’t happy when I discovered you were staying at the lake house, but yesterday I was glad you were here.’
Because of the door? Or because of the sex?
Elena took a gulp of her wine, the flavour returning full and strong. There was a huge pink elephant standing in the middle of the room and they were both ignoring it. They’d had sex. Quick, can’t-get-to-it-fast-enough sex. They both knew it. The cook and the butler had to know it. Yet nobody was acknowledging it.
The air in the open room became heavy. Pulsing. It sparked when his hand covered hers where she’d braced it against the sofa.
‘I’m beginning to think it would be nice not to be so alone.’
Her eyelids dipped. She’d had to be strong for so long. For a moment, the tiniest of seconds, she let herself sink into the feeling of kinship. The wine, the comfortable surroundings and especially the handsome man at her side tugged at her. The offer of protection was seductive.
His fingers laced with hers, and his palm encompassed the back of her hand. His touch was warm while her fingers were cold. Her fingers curled, digging into the soft leather.