No Longer Forbidden? (7 page)

The words
seduce her
tantalized him again. He sat back, thinking,
Do it because you want to
. Such a bad idea.

“Afraid of the thunder?” he taunted lightly.

She set the squat candle in its round bowl on the corner of his desk. “I thought you might be fumbling around in the dark, but of course you’re perfectly equipped.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he drawled, and wondered if that was a blush climbing into her shadowed cheeks or just the flush of impatience women got when a man made an off-color remark. “I’m fine. Working without interruption, in
fact.” He turned his nose back to the screen to steer himself from temptation.

He still tracked Rowan as she took an idle stroll into the dark corners of the office, pausing at the window as rain gusted against the glass before taking herself to the bookshelf of worn style-guides, atlases, and other reference tomes.

“Use my tablet if you want a novel,” he offered. “There are hundreds on it.”

“If I have time to read, I have time to practice.” She said it like something she’d memorized by rote. “Same goes for television—not that that’s an option right now.” She came away from the bookshelf with a look that was both disgruntled and lost. “I’ve already done my exercises. If I work my leg anymore I’ll just hurt myself. I was about to start dinner, but the freezer is empty and the power’s gone.”

“I brought the boat,” Nic reminded her, his body involuntarily reacting to the way she moved like a leaf in a stream, meandering in a way that mesmerized him.

“I’ve had enough of the sea today, thanks.” Her aimless path took her to a lamp fringe, which she lightly stroked, making the silk lift and fall in a ripple.

This was so like her—the way she accepted as her due that a room would pause and take notice when she entered. What was it about her that made it happen? he wondered. She was lovely, with her buttermilk skin and sable hair, the sensual softness of her features and the toned perfection of her frame, but that wasn’t what gave her such power. There was something more innate, something warm, that promised happiness and fulfillment if she noticed you.

Nic shut down that bizarre tangent of thought. He was not one of those people who fell for charisma, watching and waiting for the next act, aching to feel important because he was touched by her attention.

Irritated with himself, he did what he’d always done when Rowan inveigled herself into his space. He pretended he was ignoring her even though he could practically feel the heat off her body from across the room.

That was his libido keeping her on its scope. He hadn’t made much time for women in the last year and his body was noticing.

“Cold sandwiches are fine,” he said. “Bring mine here so I can keep working.”

“That reminds me. I should have said earlier, Nic.” She moved toward him, pale fingers coming to rest like a pianist’s on the opposite edge of his desk. The candlelight made her solemn expression all the more wide-eyed and impactful. “What you’ve done for Olief? Looking after things for him? That’s good of you. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

The unexpected praise turned him inside out. No one had ever suggested he was a good son. Olief certainly hadn’t acknowledged him that way—ever—and Nic had long given up expecting him to. Having Rowan offer this shred of recognition was a surprise stiletto through the ribs that slid past his barriers to prick at the most deeply protected part of himself.

For a second he couldn’t breathe. The sensation was so real and sharp and paralyzing. Then his inner SWAT team snapped into action and he remembered her using this same gamine face and earnest charm to garner affectionate pats on the head and indulgent approval from Olief. They’d been president of each other’s fan club, and now she was obviously looking for a new partner in her mutual admiration society.

“I’m not doing it for him,” Nic stated bluntly, angry with himself for sucking up her flattery like a dry sponge.

“But …” Rowan’s brows came together and she took
a half step back from the refutation she read in his face. “Who, then?”

“Myself. I’ve been working my way up since he brought me aboard to launch his web journals on the Middle East ten years ago. It was a merger, actually, since I was already established in the electronic publishing side. I made it clear then that I had ambitions. He hadn’t named me as heir, and I wasn’t at the top of his corporate succession plan when he disappeared, but it was due to be reviewed and we both knew this is where I wanted to end up.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t …? Of
course
you’re his heir!”

Rowan’s certainty made a harsh bubble of laughter rise to catch in Nic’s throat. They were talking about a man who hadn’t spoken to his son until Nic had walked up to him at an awards gala and said, “
I believe you knew my mother
.”

With fresh rancor, Nic said, “We won’t know who inherits until he’s been declared dead and his will is read. Perhaps he left his fortune to Cassandra and you?”

With a shake of her head that made loose tendrils of hair catch the candlelight and glitter like an angel’s halo, Rowan said, “You’re his son. And you can build on what he’s already accomplished. Of course he would leave everything to you. Except maybe Rosedale.” Her chin hitched with challenge as she gave him a considering look.

“This land was bought as an investment property to be developed. It’s never been taken off the books as a company asset,” Nic said. “I know that much.”

“Therefore you control it as long as you’re in that chair?”

“Exactly.”

Her narrow shoulders slid a notch, but her breasts lost none of their thrust. For a skinny little thing, she had beautifully rounded breasts. All of her was a little curvier than he remembered. It was nice. Healthy.

“If I
did
inherit everything from Olief, I could fire you.”

Her disdainful look down her nose was the kind of entitled sassiness that had always made him want to yank her off her self-built pedestal. He reminded himself not to let her engage his emotions.

“I’ve spent the last year proving to the board I’m the right man for the job. They’re not going to switch allegiance on the whim of a spoiled brat—despite your proven ability to charm older men.”

Her chin twitched at the word ‘spoiled’ before her thick lashes came together and her most impudent smile appeared. “Don’t underestimate me. I charm the younger ones, too.”

“Yes, you always manage to get what you want, don’t you?” he said with chilly disgust. “Until now.”

As soon as he said it a vision of her feet flashed in his mind’s eye and he heard her again.
I want my family
. The source of hardness in him turned on its edge, pressing at an unpleasant angle against his lungs. He grimaced, wishing for her to be the diva ballerina he’d always found easy to dismiss.

“Am I really that bad, Nic?” Her white hands sifted the air. “Maybe Olief
did
pay my expenses, but developing as a dancer was my
job
. I didn’t have time to hold down a real one. And, yes, I did take things too far in the last few months, but it was the first time I’d been free to! I kept waiting for someone to set me a limit and finally realized
I
had to. Everyone goes through that on the way to becoming an adult. You’re making out like I’m all new cars and caviar, but what did I ever have that you didn’t?”

His laptop timed out, abruptly going black and dimming the room into a place of darkness and shadows. Thunder continued to rumble in the distance, along with the piercing
wail of wind and the churn of rough waves against the shore.

“What a loaded question,” he muttered, stabbing a key to make the screen come back to life, and rising restlessly at the same time. “What did you have?” he repeated.

He rounded his desk to confront her in the cold bluish glow. He couldn’t contain the confused hurt bottled against the spurned rock that was his heart.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to meet your father for the first time when you’re an adult? To finally be invited into his home only to watch him fawn over the daughter of his mistress—a girl who isn’t even related to him—while knowing he never once wasted affection on his
real
flesh and blood? Now, to be fair, my mother was only a one-night stand—not a long-term companion like your mother—but he knew about me from birth. He paid for my education, but he never so much as dropped by the boarding school to say hello. I came to believe he was incapable of fatherly warmth.” He’d had to. It had been the only way to cope. “Then I saw him with you.”

Rowan drew in a breath that seemed to shrink her lungs, making her insides feel small and tense. Olief was the one safe, reliable, loving person she could go to without being told to try harder, commit deeper, be better. That was why his disappearance was killing her. She missed him horribly. She loved him.

And apparently Nic felt she’d stolen all those precious moments at
his
expense.

“At least that explains why you hate me.” Nic, like everyone, had expected better of her and, like always, she didn’t know how she could have been different. All she could do was what she’d always done: apologize. “I’m sorry. I never meant to get between you.”

“Didn’t you?” he shot back, his feral energy expanding until her skin prickled with goose bumps.

She felt caught red-handed. Her old crush on him sputtered to life in neon glory, making her feel gauche. The memory of today’s kiss, which she’d managed to ignore through sheer force of will since entering this room, was released like an illicit drug in her mind—one that stole her ability to think and expanded her physical perceptions.

Betraying heat flooded into her loins while the tips of her breasts tightened. She was hyper-aware of his male power held in tight restraint. For years he’d looked at her with bored aversion. Today he was seeing her, and his gaze was full of the force of his primal nature, accusatory and personal.

And for once she understood his animosity.

The defusing explanation didn’t come easily. Her throat didn’t want to let the words out. They were too revealing.

“I know I often interrupted the two of you. Please don’t judge me too harshly for that.” She had wanted so badly to catch Nic’s attention. Being in his presence had made her heart sing—not unlike right now, she thought in an uncomfortable aside, burning on a pyre of self-conscious embarrassment. “I wanted to hear your stories,” she excused, trying to downplay what a wicked pleasure it had been to eavesdrop on his rumbling voice. His analytical intelligence with such an underlying thirst for justice had drawn her irresistibly. Her fingers tangled together in front of her. “You were traveling the world while I couldn’t steal time to climb the Eiffel Tower in my own backyard. Don’t fault me for wanting to live your adventures.”

“Adventures? I was reporting on civil wars! Crimes against humanity! Those sorts of tales aren’t fit for a woman’s ears, let alone the child you were then. The only reason I brought them up with Olief was because he’d been
there. He understood the line that has to be drawn between exposing the horrors and scaring the hell out of people. You can’t do that kind of work without unloading somewhere.”

Rowan was struck by more than his words. His eyes darkened and his expression flashed with a suffering that he quickly shuttered away. Her view of his work had always been that it was genuinely glamorous and important, not just appearing that way like her own. His face was splashed on magazine covers, wasn’t it? He was no stranger to being a still, compelling presence before a camera. He had accolades galore for his efforts.

There was a toll for bringing forth the stories that held an audience rapt, though. Perhaps she
was
horribly self-involved, since she’d never considered what sorts of anguish and cruelty he’d witnessed in getting those stories. He would have pushed himself because he was a man of ambition, but his opinion pieces revealed a man who wanted to restore peace and justice. That wasn’t work for the faint-hearted. If he was tough and closed off it was because he had to be in order to get what he wanted for the betterment of humanity.

Everything in her longed to surge forward and somehow offer comfort, but his body language—shoulders bunched, head turned to the side—shouted
back off
.

She stared down at bare feet that were icy despite the carpet she stood on.

“I always wondered why you were always so …” Aloof? Emotionless? Haunted? “Quiet.”

She rubbed her arms, trying to bring life back into herself when she felt chilled to the bone. Her heart ached for him. Of course he would have needed someone to help put all those terrible sights into perspective. She wanted to scroll back time and watch from afar, allowing him the healing he’d so obviously needed.

“I wish you’d said something,” she said weakly. “I wouldn’t have got in your way with Olief if I’d known how bad it was.”

“No?” he challenged, with another shot of that searing aggression.

“Of course not! I’m not so self-centered that I felt threatened by your having a relationship with your own father.”

“Then why did you set it up for him to see us on the beach and take a strip off me for it? That was a depth of bitchiness that exceeded even
my
low expectations of you, Ro.” His recrimination made her knees go weak.

The tiny thread of hope she’d found and clasped on to, the tentative belief that she was making headway with understanding Nic’s reserve and softening his judgment of her, snapped like a rubber band, not only stealing her optimism with a sharp sting, but launching her into an empty space where there was only hard landings.

“Olief
saw
that?” The one person who liked her exactly as she was had seen her inept plea to be noticed and the humiliating rejection that had followed. Rowan wanted to sink through the carpet and disappear. She dropped her cringing face into her hands.

“Oh, give it a rest. The awards committee isn’t in residence,” Nic bit out.

“I passed Olief on the path, but I didn’t think he’d seen us!” She only lifted her mortified face because she was determined to make him believe her. “Do you honestly think I’d want anyone to know I behaved so cheaply? I can hardly face
you
.”