What Belongs to Her (Harlequin Superromance)

by Rachel Brimble

  “Okay, okay. Just...just stay there. I’ll be two seconds.”

  He nodded and glanced along the corridor of her apartment floor.

  Pushing away from the door, Sasha hurried into her bedroom, discarded her robe and quickly pulled on a bra and panties, her heart hammering. God, why did she have to find him so attractive? She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Her headache had miraculously disappeared the moment she’d lain eyes on him...

  Damn, she was so happy to see him.

  She straightened and stared through her open bedroom door. She had to be coolness personified. She couldn’t allow him to see how much he rattled or weakened her. She was angry. Angry he’d suggested—and was probably right—that her mother had been in cahoots with Kyle years before. She had to keep that feeling at the forefront at all times if her weakening heart had any chance of staying intact.

  She put her robe back on before hurrying to her dressing table. She fluffed her hair and licked her finger before drawing it across her unruly eyebrows in an attempt to coerce them into a more acceptable shape.

  “Why is he here?” She stared at her reflection. Why didn’t I just talk to him at the fairground?

  Her legs shook as she left the bedroom and approached the front door. The sexual tension between them had been palpable and unnerving before they’d released it on the kitchen countertop. Lord only knew how it would be once she let him in her apartment and they were alone again.

  Clearing her throat, she fought her frown into submission, unlocked the door and swung it open. “Sorry about that.”

  Silence.

  His gaze instantaneously left her face and wandered lower. She stood stock-still as his study languidly passed over her breasts and abdomen to her legs, revealed beneath the short length of her robe. His eyes widened and when he lifted them to hers, Sasha swallowed and thanked God a gaze didn’t have the power to untie a sash. His stare was feral—and sexy as hell.

  “Are you coming in?” She lifted an eyebrow, battling the pull high between her legs. “Or just going to stand there staring?”

  He coughed. “I’m coming in.”

  She flung out her arm and gestured him inside. He brushed past her and the distinct smell of his rich, musky aftershave assaulted her senses. She inhaled and then silently admonished herself. No. None of that, thank you very much.

  Closing the door, she turned. He lifted the bag and wine. “I didn’t know what you like, so I went for a Chinese banquet. Hope that’s okay?”

  She smiled. If she didn’t know better, the nervousness in his eyes gave her the impression he was eager to please. Anxious John Jordon was a new—and kind of cute—development. “Chinese is great.” She took the bag. “Although, I’m not sure I can manage a banquet at eleven-thirty.”

  He smiled. “We can try.”

  “Take a seat. I’ll grab some plates.”

  Sasha went to the kitchen and busied herself plating up half the enormous amount of food. He’d be eating leftovers for the rest of the week. Battling the tension that quivered over her skin, she concentrated on slowing her racing pulse.

  As cute as John had looked a moment before, the fact he had news that couldn’t wait set warning bells screaming. Their last conversation had been tense and then he and Freddy had disappeared.

  Yes, they’d had sex...but that didn’t mean he’d give her an ounce of commitment as far as the fair or anything else was concerned. It didn’t mean he was more likely to accept her offer, either. He’d already admitted they’d be wise to take steps together to uncover the truth about their parents instead of squabbling. Maybe he was there to reiterate that point after she left without talking to him...in that mature, kick-ass way of hers.

  Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she returned to the living room. He sat on her sofa, the bottle of wine in his hands, staring at the label as though it held the secret to world peace. She had no idea whether his expression was due to the low lighting or the tense atmosphere, but he suddenly looked so drawn and pale. Her stomach knotted tighter as the urge to slide onto his lap and offer comfort seeped into her heart.

  “Here you go.” She smiled, forcing buoyancy. “Do you want me to open that wine?”

  “Sure.” He blinked as though forgetting he held it and passed her the bottle, his eyes lingering on hers. “Thanks.”

  She took the wine and walked back into the kitchen. Her hands shook as she drew a corkscrew out of a drawer. Twice she tried and failed to open the wine before the cork popped free. Releasing her held breath, she grabbed two glasses and some cutlery before reentering the living room. She lowered onto the sofa and placed everything next to the plates on the low table in front of them.

  Taking a deep breath, she jumped straight in. “Why are you here?”

  He met her eyes. They stormed with an emotion she couldn’t name. Dark and so beautifully blue, his gaze bored into hers as though searching for answers. “I’ve spoken to Kyle.”

  For a long moment, words failed her. She held his gaze, trying to think of a suitable response. “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “No, not really.”

  He sighed. “Me, neither. I think I’m still in some sort of delayed shock. He rang Freddy when I happened to be with him. Once Kyle knew I was there, he wanted to talk to me.”

  “And you agreed?”

  “He caught me in a weak moment.” His jaw tightened.

  Her gaze wandered over his handsome face. No anger showed. No resentment. Just confusion. She swallowed. “Is that the first time you’ve spoken since...”

  “I was eleven. Yes.”

  “God.” She put her hand over his closed fist at his thigh and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

  A muscle worked rhythmically in his jaw. “I will be.”

  They didn’t move. Their eyes locked, and her emotions went into free fall with sympathy for the little boy who’d never known his father—and the man who was now forced into a situation where nearly twenty years of absence was tainted with demand rather than devotion.

  “My feelings aren’t why I’m here.” He exhaled. “I’m here because of what he told me. It was a lot more than he said in the letters he sent weeks ago. I’m more informed than when I got here.”

  Foreboding tripped over her skin. “About what?”

  “About you, the fair...and your mother.”

  She slipped her hand from his and reached for the wine bottle. Its neck shook when she attempted to fill their glasses.

  “Let me.” He eased the bottle away, and she sat motionless as he poured out a glass and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She took a hefty gulp. “You tried to talk to me at the fair earlier when you were waiting outside, didn’t you? I ignored you. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s probably better that I’ve had time to calm down.”

  She nodded and looked to the cooling food in front of them. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Me, too.” He took a sip and lowered his wine to the table, drawing his hands tightly together between his knees as though steeling himself. Sasha stiffened, waiting for the inevitable blow.

  He turned. “Kyle was definitely approached by your mother.”

  She stared as her stomach filled with dread. “When?”

  “Once she learned from your grandfather that Kyle wanted to buy the fair.”

  “You mean, before I knew?”

  “I think so.” He blew out a long breath. “Your mother told him she had information Kyle could use to convince her father to sell. Information that would guarantee he’d want to be rid of Funland and, more important, it would make your grandfather want you away from there forever.”

  She frowned. “But that can’t be right.”

  “Why?”

  “I promised Granddad on his deathbed I’d get the fair back. Why wouldn’t he have told me what Kyle said? Why wouldn’t he...” She froze. Unless... No. No. No. Tears sprang into he
r eyes and she squeezed them shut. “Oh, God.”

  His hand slid onto her thigh. “What is it?”

  She opened her eyes. “He didn’t want me there, not really.” Memories of her and her grandfather heatedly discussing the pros and cons of keeping the fair charged her mind. More often than not, her grandfather came up with a hell of a lot more cons than she did. She swept the fallen hair from her face. “He said I was too good for the place. Said it would suck the life out of me. That I was meant for bigger and better things. I thought he was feeling guilty because of the years my mother told him he was selfish keeping me there, holding on to a bygone age.” She shook her head. “Granddad said the words, but the conviction he wanted me to turn my back on the fair and walk away was always lacking.” She met his eyes. “No. He loved that place. We spent so many nights tossing words back and forth, but deep down, I know he dreamed of me running it. I know he did.”

  He took her hand. “If what Kyle is saying is true, that your grandfather didn’t want you there, you running Funland was the last thing he wanted.”

  “I don’t understand. He could speak to me about anything. Why wouldn’t he tell me what was going on?”

  “Your mother told Kyle she wanted money for her information. Money to move you and your sister out of Templeton. She knew your grandfather would leave the money from the sale of the fair to you and you only. She wanted you away from Templeton and making a different life for yourself before that happened.”

  Anger burned deep inside her. “The woman is forever trying to run my life, as well as my sister’s. Her influence might have worked with Tanya, but it will never work with me.”

  His concerned gaze wandered over her face to settle on her lips. “What do you want to do next?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Not once did Granddad tell me to leave Templeton. The fair, yes, but not the town.” Realization seeped into her veins and she slumped. “He did beg me not to put every ounce of my happiness into one thing. Clearly, he meant Funland.” She picked up her glass and took another mouthful.

  “Sasha, your mother told Kyle something happened to you at the fair. Something that changed you overnight. Do you know what she was referring to?”

  She stared at him as her breath caught like a jagged blade in her throat and her glass slipped from her hand.

  Red wine splashed across her lap like spilled blood from an open wound.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JOHN LEAPED TO his feet and rushed to the kitchen, leaving Sasha frozen on the sofa. “It’s all right. I’ve got it.” He ripped sheet after sheet of paper towel from the roll on the counter. “Have you got any club soda? I heard something about club soda and red wine...Sasha?”

  She hadn’t moved an inch. He strode from the kitchen and shoved the table to the side, sinking to his knees. He mopped at the wine on her legs and the hem of her satin robe. She trembled beneath his fingers. He looked up. She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

  He cupped his hand to her jaw. “Sasha, talk to me. What is it?”

  “She knew and didn’t do anything about it.”

  Her trembling grew worse, and John tossed the sodden kitchen towel onto the coffee table and took her hands. He pulled her rigid body from the sofa and held her.

  After a moment, she collapsed her weight against him. “I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

  He dropped his lips to her hair and closed his eyes.

  What the hell had his words done to her? Had Kyle made this cryptic reference, knowing it would have this effect? Anger burned as his heart yearned to take back his words. God damn it. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Investigated the root of Kyle’s claims himself before saying a single word to her.

  “I’m sorry, Sasha. If I would’ve known asking that question would upset you like this, I wouldn’t—”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  She pulled back. “Nothing my mother or your father has done in the past is going to stop me from wanting to make Funland mine, John.” Fire raged in her jet eyes, her olive skin pale and her jaw tight. “I will help you in any way I can to heal whatever it is you need to heal, and then you can help me to do the same. After that, we go our separate ways as winners. You’ll have what you need to move on, and so will I. Now, what is it you need? Because I need Funland.”

  You. I need you. John swallowed and stepped back for his own protection, as much as hers. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and turned away from her. He planted his hands on his hips and looked to the ceiling. “I need to know my life has been better for not having Kyle around while I was growing up. I need proof he did me a favor by staying away.”

  “Aren’t you getting that by learning what he did? What he was involved in? The drugs? The money laundering?”

  He turned.

  Her gaze wandered over his face as she clasped his hand. “What more do you need to convince you what kind of a man he is now? Surely you know you were better off without him?”

  He shook his head. “He couldn’t have been out-and-out bad. The inspector doesn’t exactly despise him. Plus, I’ve spoken to other people who even smile when I say I’m Kyle’s son.” He sighed as conflicting emotions continued to twist and turn. “It’s like he did them a good turn or something. Even you don’t entirely dislike him.”

  She opened her mouth to disagree and then her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I don’t.”

  Frustration burned and John shoved his hand into his hair. “I need to know who Kyle is...really. Then maybe I can start to move on from all the pain and supposition I’ve built up in my head over the years. I can’t stand not knowing the truth.”

  She nodded. “Right. So that’s what we’ll deal with first.”

  She marched past him, toward the kitchen, and snatched a bottle of soda and a cloth from a cupboard before returning to the living area. She attacked the spilled wine with a gusto that had him thanking God he wasn’t the carpet.

  Leaving her to her cleaning, he cleared their cold food from the table and carried their plates into the kitchen. His mind whirled and his gut churned as he scraped the untouched food back into containers.

  After that, we go our separate ways as winners.

  Her words taunted him. What the hell happened from here on out? Had their lovemaking meant nothing to her? Did she take him the way she did because she knew she could? Would she do whatever it took to get the fair and to hell with the consequences? He snapped on the container lids as pride swelled in his gut.

  Nobody used him. Nobody. He’d made love to her because he’d never wanted a woman with the ferocity he wanted Sasha. He had come to her tonight rather than in the morning because after her reaction to Freddy possibly knowing something from her past, he didn’t want to hold back any information from her. Yet, it seemed she had no problem holding back from him.

  What had she been referring to when she said her mother knew something and didn’t do anything about it? Her entire demeanor had changed from frozen mummy to whirlwind in a matter of seconds once she said that.

  Frowning, he stacked the take-out boxes in her fridge and ran his hands under the faucet. He turned to grab the towel that hung from a hook beneath the counter and watched her. She scrubbed mercilessly at the sofa, her stunning face flushed and her cheeks streaked with tracks of dried tears.

  He tossed the towel onto the counter and strode from the kitchen. Just as he was about to touch her back, she abruptly stood.

  Her determined, dark and beautiful gaze bored into his. “You might as well go. I’ll see you at work in the morning.”

  Her words cut through his weakening heart and he shook his head. “I’m not leaving you like this.” He drew his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve been crying.”

  She stepped back. “And now I’m done. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “And you’ll tell me what you meant by your mother knowing something and not doing anything about it?”

  The sk
in at her neck shifted as she swallowed. “I will...when I can find the words.” She lifted onto her toes and gently pressed her lips to his. “Give me a little time to absorb what you’ve told me, okay?”

  What else could he say to that request? He couldn’t harangue her or beg to sleep on her sofa so that she wouldn’t be entirely alone in the sadness that lingered in her gaze. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. “If you really want me to go, I’ll go. But—”

  “I want you to go, John. Please.”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her a moment longer before raising his hands in surrender. “Okay.”

  She lifted her chin. “I need to see my mother.”

  He nodded. “I understand that.”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  “Okay. Do you want tomorrow off?”

  “Can you can manage without me? I don’t want to leave you understaffed.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He cleared his throat. “If nothing else, it’ll give me some time alone with Freddy while he packs up his desk.”

  She flinched. “What? You’re firing him?”

  He straightened his shoulders. “Yes.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Her eyes were wide. “Kyle will go mad if you get rid of Freddy like that. He’s...he’s Kyle’s.”

  “This decision has nothing to do with Kyle. I asked Freddy what was said when he saw Kyle at the prison. He wasn’t forthcoming, so he’s going. His nose is so far up Kyle’s ass, I can only see his damn chin when I look at him.”

  Her mouth lifted at the corner. “Nice imagery.”

  He shrugged. “He’s made it clear he’ll never accept me being in charge and resents every second I’m here. I don’t need his skulking and scowling. I’ve got enough on my plate. He’s out of here. As far as I can ascertain, he’s easily replaceable. He’s nothing but a bloody henchman who thinks the world owes him a favor.”

  Her gaze turned wary. “Have you thought what he might do when you deliver the news he’s fired?”

  “I don’t care.”

  She shook her head. “Freddy wants Funland as much as I do, albeit for very different reasons. If you kick him out now, I’m worried you’ll be looking over your shoulder every damn minute in case the man sticks a knife in your back.”