Imminent Conquest

by Aurora Rose Lynn

  He rubbed a hand against his forehead. “I guess if he's not around, I'll authorise the repairs myself and live with the consequences."

  "That's fine. Do what you need to.” She blew on her nail with crimson-painted lips.

  "Don't you have work or something to do?"

  "I'm in love. Which disqualifies me from being a productive member of the work force."

  "What happened to an honest day's work for an honest day's pay? Or however that goes."

  "What's he going to complain about? He's got the same inability."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Michael's got the hots for this chick.” Libby wiggled her eyebrows meaningfully.

  "Who is she?"

  "I'll give you a hint. She was at the party last night."

  "I'm not in the mood for guessing games, Libby."

  Libby rolled her chair across the plastic floor mat and set her hands on the computer keyboard, ready to type. “Why not give it a shot?"

  "You need a new screen saver."

  "Yeah, of a nekkid guy."

  "I'm sure you could find a volunteer around here."

  "Nah. Got one already."

  Bryan wondered if she was talking about one of the men in the plant.

  She spun her chair around to face him. “Something funny's been happening."

  He rested his hip against her desk, folded his arms across his chest and hoped he would learn something in the process, although he didn't have the foggiest idea what it might be.

  "Michael's been acting real strange lately. He forgets things and stares off into space when I'm talking to him. I think he's really taken with the chick."

  "Isn't that what people who are in love usually do?"

  "Yeah. I'm living proof.” Incredibly, she giggled. “Only thing is, Colin came in this morning and called Michael on the carpet. He wanted to know what he was up to."

  "There's nothing new about Iceman sticking his nose in his brother's business."

  "Colin usually doesn't care about his brother's comings and goings even though they live in the same house. But today, he was on edge, blowing up about every little thing. Not that it takes much for Iceman.” Libby had an uncanny ability to assess a situation correctly.

  Some sixth sense told him Iceman was up to no good. “Colin never gets involved unless it's personal. That's bad news."

  Libby's eyes lit up. If there was a conspiracy or a rumour to be sniffed out, that brought her out in her element.

  "Michael was kind of quiet, so I didn't catch all he said, but Colin was mad and yelling. He wanted his brother to leave Nicole alone and let him handle things."

  So they had been arguing about Brad's fiancee, not that Brad seemed too thrilled about his upcoming marriage. Bryan interrupted. “Handle what?"

  "They never spelled it out. Michael was real, real mad because Colin was goading him on, I think. He kept on asking Michael why he wanted to get laid by the little bitch, but Michael got defensive. I couldn't even begin to understand what they were saying. You know how people talk like they're just carrying on from another conversation. Struck me as odd Michael got so angry. It takes a lot for him to flip out."

  Bryan frowned. In the months he had been the assistant supervisor at Anessa, he had never seen or heard Michael and Colin argue. He had the impression they stayed out of each other's way as much as possible. The one thing that really bothered Bryan was how Michael could snuggle up to another man's fiancee. That definitely wasn't his style. “Do you remember mention of specific dates, incidents, people, that kind of thing?"

  The secretary shook her head. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Michael's a good man. There is nothing he wouldn't do to help someone who was in trouble, but Colin made him sound as if he was the scum of the earth, some kind of lowlife."

  Bryan patted her shoulder. “I don't pretend to understand what went on, but don't take it to heart, Libby.” And all of this was none of her business anyways.

  "That's exactly it,” she said, stabbing the back of her hand across her right eye and smearing her mascara. “I've been working here for three years. From the time Michael opened Anessa. I never once heard him argue with Colin. Something stinks when it comes to his brother. He doesn't seem to work, everyone steers clear of him. Oops, don't tell him I said that."

  "I wouldn't say anything, Libby. He's not my favourite confidante."

  Libby's eyes brightened. “You can't stand him either?"

  Bryan shook his head.

  "Colin's like, strange, you know? There's times where he'll be hanging around like he owns the place and then times I don't see him for weeks on end.” She pulled her purse close. She dug around in it and lifted a wad of tissue to her eyes, dabbing at her mascara. “Colin's an asshole."

  Bryan nodded. It sounded as if Colin went away for long periods of time, although Bryan hadn't paid any attention until now.

  "Colin's a nasty piece of work. I have no idea how two brothers can be so different in temperament. It's like one is an angel, and the other is the devil himself."

  "You've given a pretty accurate assessment. As usual."

  Libby beamed from ear to ear. “Michael doesn't deserve the shit he gets from his brother. Heck, when my boy was sick—that's before you got hired on, that is—he told me to take as much time off as I needed to get him better again. I found out later, he filled in as secretary himself. I figure he did that because then there wouldn't be any jealousy or anything between me and a temping secretary. I'm a bit of a control freak, I guess."

  Bryan had already discovered that fact. He made sure not to mess with Libby if he didn't want to get an earful. He patted her shoulder solicitously again. “Don't worry about that. How is your son?"

  "He's okay. The doctor will be checking on him again soon to see if the cancer is in remission. He'll see him right away if Dusty has any symptoms or anything like that."

  "Good,” was all Bryan could think of to say.

  "On top of his kindness to Dusty, Michael paid all the medical bills and made sure I was taken care of too. He paid my salary for two months, even though I didn't show up for a day of work. He's a good man."

  "I agree, but would Michael like to see his favourite secretary crying her eyes out?” Just in case the man got it into his head to arrive at that moment.

  "No, no.” She dabbed at her eyes again.

  The effect made Bryan smile in empathy. “Why don't you go to the restroom and freshen up? I'll man the phones."

  "That's a good idea.” Tucking her purse under her arm, she strode off.

  Wasn't it natural for brothers to argue? Bryan wouldn't know for certain, though. He had been an only child. Heavy footsteps jarred him from his thoughts and forced him to look towards the double glass doors. Iceman was on his way in and his thunderous expression didn't bode well for anyone who stood in his way.

  Bryan hoped Libby would stay in the restroom for a while. At least a couple of hours or until Iceman vamoosed. Libby wasn't exactly a wallflower but it sounded as if she'd been through a lot and didn't need men like Colin messing with her mind. Bryan sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, dreading the inevitable encounter. Colin had a burr up his ass again.

  * * * *

  "I couldn't find a parking spot nearby, so I'm afraid my car is a ways down the street. I hope you don't mind walking."

  Nicole's heels clip-clopped on the sidewalk. “You mean you couldn't use your influence to get you something closer?"

  "Money isn't everything, Nicole. Especially if it comes without the woman I love."

  She chose to ignore his reference to love. Under her warm jacket, she felt her nipples pucker. A frisson of energy ran through her. She was making a mistake going out with him. Could other women feel his latent sexuality, the power of the devastating body under his clothes? Last night, she hadn't seen him look at any other woman. His full attention had been focused on her alone.

  Not for the first time in the last five minutes, she desperately
wanted to turn back into the office building and forget he had arisen, so to speak, from the dead. Realising she was uneasy with the thought of travelling alone in his car with him, she asked, “Can't we walk to the restaurant?"

  "It's a few miles away.” He stopped at a luxury, burgundy sedan and unlocked the passenger door. “There will be plenty of people around. You really don't need to worry."

  His words did nothing to reassure her. Reluctantly, knowing she had to trust him for at least a few minutes before they got to the restaurant, she got into the car as he held open the passenger door. Disconcertingly, she realised she had no idea where they were going. Seconds later, he slipped into the driver's seat, inserted the key in the ignition and started the car.

  She worried her lower lip as she watched his broad hand shift into drive, then lower to his muscled thigh. A tiny whimper escaped her lips as he pulled into traffic. He didn't have to do anything to turn her on even more than she already was.

  The drive was completed in silence. On Third Avenue, in Eastwynd's ritzy district, he pulled up in front of an expensive looking restaurant. Oddly enough, although it was nearing lunchtime, the parking lot was empty.

  He parked and guided her by the elbow into a tastefully decorated but dimly lit restaurant. A waterfall cascaded onto rocks in the centre of the main dining room and tall, graceful potted ferns lined the walls strategically. The tables were covered with pure white lace tablecloths and a crystal vase with a single red rose. Strangely, there was no one else in the restaurant.

  Nicole shivered. “Where is everyone?"

  The maitre d’ silently made his appearance. “Ah, Mr Karlisi. It's so nice to see you again.” His eyes darted from Michael's face to hers and back again.

  He immediately made her feel uneasy although she couldn't put her finger on the reason why.

  Michael flashed his winning smile. His eyes wrinkled at the corners. “You have my regular room set aside for me, Peter?"

  "Of course, sir. And for your beautiful wife as well."

  Sensing Michael had no intention of correcting the waiter, Nicole wrenched her elbow free. “I'm not his wife,” she said adamantly.

  The man's eyes darkened and he wet his lips. “I'm so sorry to hear that. You make the perfect couple."

  Michael interrupted the man's impertinence. “Peter, keep your comments to yourself. Nicole is a friend."

  "Not even that,” she blurted.

  The maitre d’ ignored her outburst and led them up a winding staircase, through double doors and into a cosy dining room. Three of the walls were made of floor to ceiling mirrors. The fourth looked out on to a forest of majestic, snow-covered pine trees. The maitre d’ seated Nicole and handed the pair a menu. Fluted crystal glasses and fine silverware were set for an intimate dinner for two.

  "Ring any time you're ready, sir."

  Michael dipped his head in acknowledgement as the man left, closing the connecting door firmly.

  "I thought you said we would eat in a public place,” Nicole said, confronting him about his duplicity.

  "We're in public,” he said coolly and maddeningly.

  "No. We're not. We're in a private restaurant with no one about."

  His eyebrows notched up. “No one about? The waiters are around. Relax, will you?"

  She couldn't but she wasn't going to say anything to that effect. Tense silence followed. She opened her menu and examined it. None of the entrees had prices, which made her wonder how these places stayed in business. If a customer couldn't tell how much a dish cost, then how could they determine if they could afford the price?

  Michael must have seen her staring at her menu. “There are no prices, Nicole, because I specifically asked that the menus not have any."

  She frowned. “Why would you do that?” She enjoyed observing his fingers curl around the menu and found herself wanting to take one in her mouth, to taste and feel him.

  "Because I should be able to afford anything I want in my own restaurant."

  A sharp breath hissed in and out. “You own the restaurant?"

  He nodded before he returned to studying the menu. “What do you think you would like?"

  Perhaps the real question was, what didn't he own? “The soup de jour would be fine,” she said in a level tone. At least she knew that meant soup of the day. She knew the pricey soup wouldn't make even a small dent in his pocketbook.

  "The cook makes a wonderful steak flambe. Why don't we have that and eliminate the mind-boggling choices?"

  Without looking at him, she inclined her head, bemoaning her idiocy in coming. She was alone with a sexy man and a murderer, she reminded herself, one powerful and very wrong combination. Quite possibly, she had come to drive herself insane with need, to force him to finish what he had started last night. She blushed furiously.

  The maitre d’ returned with a white wine, pouring it into the crystal glasses with a slightly vacant look. Michael placed his order and he left, once again closing the door. Quiet classical music played in the background.

  Nicole couldn't think of anything to say. What was there to say after last night? Why was she even here tormenting herself? And after her vehement promises to herself last night that she wouldn't ever see him again. Where had the vow gone?

  Up in smoke.

  "I'm proud of you."

  The unnecessary statement caught her off guard. “Why?"

  "You've made something of yourself without much help from anyone."

  "It's none of your business,” she replied uncharitably. Did he care about her emotionally, not just sexually? Although all this was for show, she reminded herself. All of this was to get revenge for putting him into prison.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't around to help you when you needed it,” he murmured, looking into her eyes.

  She shifted in her chair. How ludicrous was it to tell him her personal life was none of his business when she had been wide open to his gaze last night, bared in every way a woman could be to a man. She had no idea how she would spend the next hour with this overwhelmingly handsome man without begging him to make love to her. He'd grown more attractive over the years and his body was made of perfect hollows and planes. It was her body demanding the attention after years of neglect.

  She recalled how she had fantasised about a wedding to Michael at Christmas, with tall, scented candles burning all around the altar and a tree all lit up with bright lights and the snow falling softly outside.

  "Do you love him?” he asked unexpectedly, throwing her abruptly out of her fantasy. What she wanted and what she got were two different things.

  "Who?” she asked softly, brushing a white napkin onto her lap.

  "Brad."

  "That's still none of your business,” she said, unwrapping the cylindrical material and spreading it across her lap. She had planned a small wedding for close friends only. Since both Brad and she were only children, and their parents were dead, they had no immediate family to invite. To save money on what was normally a lavish and costly event, she had planned to sew her taffeta wedding dress, and bake and decorate the cake herself. But now would there be a wedding? Did she want to marry a man who lived in the past, moaning over the loss of his first wife?

  Nicole sipped her wine and swallowed, savouring the sweetness. “I didn't come here to talk about Brad."

  "I don't want you tossing your life away on a man like that, Nicole. He's not the right man for you."

  "But you think you are?"

  He let out a deep breath. “Like I said last night, I still love you. If I'm not mistaken, you love me too."

  What could she reply to that? That she lusted after a murderer's body? What else could she call what she felt for him? It wasn't love though. “That's not true."

  He shrugged wearily. “It's only a matter of time before you accept that as the truth."

  Her chair legs scraped the floor as she stumbled to her feet. “I've had enough of your insinuations."

  "Have you?” His hand clamped over her sma
ll wrist.

  "Let me go."

  "That's not really what you want."

  "Yes, it is.” Her voice wavered.

  He rose and faced her, his hand as firm as the black leather straps he had used around her wrists the night before. She didn't want to think about his caress. All she wanted was to get away, to flee back to her safe world where he couldn't play with her.

  He grasped her free hand and brought it up to his collar. “Why don't you unbutton my shirt and make love to me?"

  "No. You said we were going out for lunch. That's all.” Her voice was much too breathy. Her fingertips rested lightly on the button near his throat. She wanted him. There was no denying that but an inner voice screamed in protest. He wanted nothing more from her than payback. After he was done with her, he would discard her like dirty dishwater. She stared at her fingers in his tight grip.

  His breathing became ragged, drawing her attention to his face. His eyes had become heavy-lidded and narrow. Why was she so surprised to recognise the fact that he wanted her? His erection bulged against her stomach.

  "We have nothing in common,” she whispered, trying to deter him. Moisture seeped from between her legs. Lust and arousal played like lightning fire with her determination to have nothing to do with him.

  "That never stopped you before."

  Nicole knew the war she battled was within herself more than with Michael. She launched herself at him, pounding her fists against his broad chest. “You can't do this to me. I won't let you!"

  He seized her wrists, locking them in a tight, one-handed hold. His eyes widened a little, then sparkled with unconcealed satisfaction. He released one of her hands and, before she was fully aware of what was happening, he had her lying on her back on the table. The glasses fell to the floor as he swept aside the tablecloth and the few utensils.

  She groaned. He couldn't make her helpless again. She struggled to rise. As fast as a lightning bolt, he ripped away her sleeve. Their eyes met, and she nodded slightly. This was all a game that she was really into.. Then he reached for the chair next to him and drew black leather straps into her line of vision, which drove her into a frenzy to escape. Once he had tied her down, there wouldn't be a damned thing she could do to stop him from arousing her to fever pitch.