The Rogue's Fortune

by Cat Schield

  “I can see that.” He looked past her. “Doing a little baking?”

  “A pumpkin pie.”

  “Then you’re still planning on coming for Thanksgiving dinner?”

  Was it that late already? She’d been so busy worrying about her sudden unemployment she had forgotten all about calling to cancel. “I really don’t know if that’s such a great idea. Sabeen was right. Roark and I aren’t really engaged. You have to know he was only thinking of Waverly’s.”

  “And you? What were you thinking about?” Vance set his hand on the door frame and leaned in. “Why would a beautiful woman risk so much to help out a man she barely knew?”

  “He’s helping me.” She waited for shock and outrage, but glimpsed only amusement. “What’s so funny?”

  “Roark could have had almost any woman in New York City, but he chose you. Have you asked yourself why?”

  “No.”

  “You might want to.”

  The timer dinged on her stove, indicating that the pie was done and saving Elizabeth from having to reply. “Can I offer you some coffee?”

  “Why don’t I pour myself a cup while you get ready.”

  The words that would send him on his way hovered on her lips, but went unsaid. She really didn’t want to be alone today.

  “I have a lot of flour to wash off. It’ll probably take me half an hour.”

  “The coffeepot looks full. I can wait.”

  “Afraid if you leave, I won’t show up?”

  “Of course not.”

  Elizabeth didn’t believe him. Nor did she blame him for not trusting her. Facing even a small number of people today held little appeal.

  An hour later, they arrived at Vance’s palatial home in Forest Hills. Charlie’s face reflected her relief as her husband escorted Elizabeth into the grand two-story foyer.

  Despite the large scale of the rooms, Charlotte had managed to make the traditional styling welcoming and cozy. As Elizabeth slipped out of her coat, she couldn’t help but compare the warm, elegantly decorated space to Roark’s starkly appointed loft that, thanks to the odds and ends he’d collected on his travels, looked more like a Moroccan flea market than a home. The two living spaces were as different as the men who occupied them.

  Vance, a wealthy businessman with a rock-solid personal life. Sophisticated and settled. His home, polished and perfect.

  Roark, a scholar and an adventurer with a study crammed with books and a packed bag in his closet ready so he could be ready to leave town on a moment’s notice. And then there was the penthouse on Fifth Avenue. Roark was a man holding on to his past because guilt kept him from confronting his mistakes and forgiving himself.

  Envy ate at Elizabeth as she watched Vance kiss his wife and toss the toddler into the air. The room rang with the child’s delighted cries and Elizabeth looked away. Not wishing to burden anyone with her melancholy, she moved apart and sat where she could gaze at the gardens behind the house.

  She wanted what Charlie had. Wanted it so bad she couldn’t breathe.

  The strong, stable husband. The adorable toddler. The security of being loved and respected.

  Instead, she’d fallen for yet another man who couldn’t give her those things.

  Would she ever learn?

  * * *

  Roark’s flight from Cairo landed at JFK a little before four on Friday afternoon. He cleared customs without any trouble.

  Brushing past the crowd shuffling toward baggage claim, he stretched his long legs and headed for the taxi area. He hoped the line wasn’t long. Now that he’d landed in New York City, the need to see Elizabeth had gone from prickly urgency to gnawing compulsion.

  A short, Middle Eastern man in a black suit caught up to him as he stepped into the icy November afternoon. “Mr. Black, I’m your driver.”

  Who’d sent a car for him? Vance knew his travel plans, but he’d never send a car.

  “No, thanks. I’d rather catch a cab.” To Roark’s relief, only a handful of people stood in line ahead of him.

  “But I have a car waiting.”

  After everything that transpired in Cairo, he was more cautious than ever about getting into a car with a stranger. If Masler had any idea that Roark was setting a trap for him, he would have sprung one of his own.

  “Who sent you?” Roark demanded.

  “I have instructions to bring you to Waverly’s.”

  Not Masler then. It was probably Ann.

  “No, thanks,” Roark repeated. He had a driving need to see Elizabeth.

  “But…”

  Roark slammed the taxi door on the man’s protests and gave the driver an address. His head fell back against the seat. His eyelids became heavy and he let them droop. He’d barely catnapped during the twelve-hour flight from Cairo. Normally he was able to sleep anywhere he considered safe. And what could be more secure than a plane flying at thirty-thousand feet? Today, however, he’d been pestered by regrets. Haunted by what Elizabeth had not said when he called to tell her he was heading out of town.

  As exhausted as he was, Roark couldn’t quite step across the threshold of sleep. He’d disappointed Elizabeth by running off on such short notice. She might not have asked, but she’d needed him to be there for her on Thanksgiving. He remembered how hard it had been to be alone with the news about his mother’s death. Growing up, he’d never spent much time with kids his own age. Learning about friendship was something it had taken him years to figure out.

  Even now, he could count on one hand the people he considered friends and most of those were buddies like Smith that he counted on when he needed help, not confidants he shared his aspirations and fears with.

  In fact, until Elizabeth had entered his life, Vance was the only person Roark had confided in. And he’d never brought his half brother to his mother’s apartment. Elizabeth alone had seen it and Roark remained baffled that he’d given her that glimpse into his psyche.

  Gray and tan buildings swept past the taxi’s window in a hypnotic blur as they neared the restaurant where Elizabeth was organizing a birthday party for one of her clients. She was in charge of setup. The restaurant would take care of the rest. Before he’d left for Cairo, the plan had been for him to pick her up at seven and take her out to dinner. He was here to make sure those plans hadn’t changed.

  Roark held the front door for two men carrying in an enormous cake decorated with realistic-looking women’s shoes. Inside, the restaurant’s urban edge had been softened with black tulle, strings of white lights and sprays of white ostrich feathers. Four-tops had been pushed together to make long rows and arranged in a horseshoe along the walls of the narrow restaurant. Down the center of the tables tall crystal candleholders alternated with crystal vases containing sprigs of greenery and white orchids. Roark saw Elizabeth in every detail.

  A woman in her mid-thirties was showing two young women how the place settings needed to be set up. Elizabeth was nowhere in sight. He approached the trio.

  “I’m looking for Elizabeth.”

  The woman in charge spoke. “You’re Roark Black. I recognize your photo from Page Six.” Her smile carried more than a trace of malice. “Elizabeth is no longer in charge of this event. Or any event for Josie Summers’s Event Planning. She was fired.” Her delight in Elizabeth’s downfall was so obvious that Roark turned away without responding.

  Without question, this had been his fault. Elizabeth was on her way to becoming Josie Summers’s partner before he’d entered her life. Now, because Sabeen had behaved badly, Elizabeth had been terminated.

  Flagging down another taxi, he headed for her apartment. She answered the door as if she’d been expecting his arrival. Her expression was neither surprised nor delighted and he half expected her to slam the door in his face. Instead, she stepped back, but made no welcoming gesture.

  “Sabeen said you weren’t returning to New York until Sunday.” Her rebuke came through loud and clear.

  Roark entered her apartment and dropped his duffel
near the door. “Sabeen doesn’t know my business.”

  “Neither does anyone else, apparently.”

  The black turtleneck she wore emphasized her skin’s paleness. She’d fastened her long blond hair into a lackluster ponytail. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her shoulders hunched. This was not the vibrant woman he’d made love to on Wednesday morning.

  “I went to the restaurant, but some woman said you’d been fired.”

  “Josie didn’t think having one of her employees embroiled in a Page Six scandal was good for her business.”

  “We can fix this.”

  Instead of answering she retreated to her small dining table and picked up an envelope. “Here.”

  “What is this?”

  “The money I took from you. It’s all there.”

  He left his hands at his sides, letting her know he wasn’t going to take the envelope. “I gave you the money in exchange for your help.”

  “What help? Thanks to Sabeen, everyone knows our engagement was fake. Your reputation is worse than before.”

  “It’s her word against ours.”

  “It’s more than that.” She waggled the envelope to catch his attention. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

  Her dejection wrenched at him. When she’d needed him to be at her side, he disappointed her. He didn’t blame her for cutting her losses.

  “Keep the money. This fiasco was my fault, not yours.”

  “I don’t feel right taking it.”

  “How are you planning on paying for your next round of in vitro without it?”

  She shoved her chin to a belligerent angle. “I’ll manage.”

  “Don’t be stubborn.” He might have accepted her decision, if not for the dark circles beneath her eyes. It was his fault that she wasn’t sleeping. That she’d lost her job. If he’d postponed his trip for a few days they could have confronted Sabeen’s accusation together. She wouldn’t have had to face the anniversary of her family’s death alone. “Have you forgotten that you’re out of a job?”

  “Not likely.”

  Frustration rushed at him like a speeding bullet. “Why can’t you just let me help you?”

  “Because I don’t feel right taking anything from you.”

  “Why not? I thought we were friends.” Even as he said the words, he realized he thought of her as a lot more than that.

  “Friends.” She repeated the word too softly for Roark to catch any inflection that hinted at her thoughts.

  Oh, who was he kidding? What he felt for her went way past friendship. But how far did it go? He instinctively shied away from the word love. He’d never shown a propensity for the commitment and responsibility to another required for that emotion.

  And what could he expect from Elizabeth when he had no idea what he intended to offer her?

  Bypassing the envelope she continued to hold out to him like some sort of shield, Roark stepped into her space and slid his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, undoing the ponytail. While her hair cascaded around her shoulders, he lowered his head and stole her surprised gasp.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, her lips moved beneath his, answering his passion with a hunger that sent his libido into overdrive. He crushed her body in his arms, plundered her mouth and drank from her moans.

  When he’d planned how to get her to forgive him, storming her defenses with long, drugging kisses had been pretty far down his list. Her fingers burrowed beneath his shirt, finding skin. Any ability to think rationally vanished in a haze of desire so strong he tore buttons loose getting the shirt off. The shirt landed atop his leather jacket at his feet. A second later, he’d swept her into his arms and carried her the blessedly short distance to her bed.

  With the mattress against her back she stiffened. “Wait.”

  Roark had already been waiting for days. His patience was long gone. Kissing his way down her neck, he traced his fingertip around the nipple that had hardened to a tight bud beneath the black silk camisole she wore. Her turtleneck lay on the floor beside his discarded clothes.

  She arched her back, offering her body for his pleasure, but her next words blunted his desire. “Roark, stop. I’m angry with you.”

  He drifted his lips along the skin just above the camisole’s lace edge, tantalizing her with kisses, but ventured no lower. If he wanted to make love to her, he could seduce her into forgetting everything that was wrong between them. But as the glow from their passionate reunion faded, the same issues would resurface. He’d abandoned her when she’d needed him. She wasn’t going to forgive that easily.

  “I’m sorry I took off the way I did.”

  “You’re sorry?” She shoved at his chest until he rolled off her. Sitting up, she ran her fingers through her hair and glared at him. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the last three days?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “Sabeen humiliated me in front of your friends. Then my name was plastered all over Page Six in a career-ruining scandal. You asked why I gave you back your money. It’s because I can’t afford to have a child right now.”

  “I did this. Let me help you until you’re back on your feet.”

  She scrambled off the mattress. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This.” She waved her hand to indicate them both. “I never should have let you in today.”

  “Why did you?” Roark came to stand before her. He set his hands on her hips, slid his palm over the jut of her hipbone. Momentum carried him to the swell of her bottom.

  “It’s over between us,” she said, ignoring his question.

  He eased her against the thunderous ache in his groin, dropped his cheek to her soft golden hair. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “So I’m just supposed to be grateful you’re going to stick around for the near future?” The edge in her tone told him the opposite would be true. “And then you go your way and I go mine?”

  Silk sighed against his palm as he drew his hand up her spine. In seconds he could whisk the fabric over her head and bare her gorgeous breasts. The trembling in her limbs told him she was fighting what her body craved. Already the fists she’d made were loosening. The anger was ebbing out of her and with it, her determination to fight him.

  “Can I borrow your shower?”

  “I guess.” The confusion in her bright blue eyes dominated the sensual fullness of her parted lips. She hadn’t expected him to back off so easily and stood lost between battle and surrender.

  “Thank you. It was a long flight from Cairo.” He kissed her nose and headed for the bathroom.

  She called after him. “Why aren’t you showering at the loft?”

  “Because your place is closer.”

  “Is that why you came over? To use my shower?”

  Roark grinned as he turned on the water. The disappointment in Elizabeth’s voice gave him hope. Naked, he stepped into the doorway and gave her an eyeful of what she’d just passed on.

  “No, I came by to see you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time I was gone.”

  Even if he lived an infinite number of lifetimes, he’d never stop enjoying the way she was staring at him at the moment. The stark lust in her eyes as her gaze drifted from his chest to his groin. The dreamy expression that told him she liked what she saw. And the way she bit down on her lower lip as if holding back was the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

  “How was Cairo?” As if it took a great amount of will, she looked away. “Were you able to find Darius?”

  “He was gone before I got there.”

  “What about the other thing you were looking for?”

  “I got a lead.”

  He’d said the wrong thing.

  “A lead.” Her chest rose with the deep breath she sucked in. “When are you leaving again?”

  “In a week or so.” He stepped into the shower. She preferred a berry-scented body wash and shampoo. If he used it he would probab
ly spend the rest of the day half aroused at the memory of her.

  “What you’re doing is dangerous, isn’t it?” She’d stepped into the bathroom to pursue their conversation.

  “There’s an element of danger, but I take every precaution.”

  “This isn’t what I signed up for.” Her voice was closer. The door to the shower slid open. “Everything in my life was exactly the way I wanted it before you came along.”

  He snagged her wrist and drew her into the shower with him. She didn’t protest. Not even when the water drenched her clothes.

  “And it will get back to being that way again,” he assured her, stripping the sodden fabric off her body.

  “After you’re gone?” She reached up on tiptoe and cupped his face in her hands. Her eyes were bottomless pools of angst as he gathered her in his arms.

  “As soon as you take me up on my offer to start you in your own business and use the money I paid you to get pregnant.”

  “Thank you for reminding me what’s most important in my life.” And then she was kissing him, her tongue plunging into his mouth as passion ignited between them once again.

  Eleven

  Elizabeth shredded lettuce and watched Roark talk on the phone. It was 7:00 p.m. The lasagna she’d made earlier that day was due to come out of the oven in ten minutes. From the tone of Roark’s voice and the annoyance pinching his mouth, she doubted he’d get a chance to sample her culinary skills.

  “Can’t this wait until Monday?” he demanded. From his duffel bag he’d pulled fresh clothes and a small bag containing toiletries. “I don’t really give a damn what Ann wants.” The rest of his side of the conversation was distorted when he headed into her bathroom.

  Getting into that shower with him had been a mistake. The water might not have ruined her brand-new camisole, but she’d ruined any chance at a clean break with Roark. Despite spending the past two hours romping with him, hunger tugged at her loins. The lure of the man was her Achilles’ heel.

  “I’ve been summoned to Waverly’s for a meeting with Ann Richardson. Supposedly there’s some huge crisis that can’t wait until Monday morning.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. “I can be back in an hour.”