Music hummed softly; ceiling fans swirled. “Is the whole place wired like a clap on/clap off commercial?”
“A bit more high-tech than that, but yes. I may dress better these days—” he sailed his hat toward a coat tree with perfect aim “—but I’m still the same computer geek inside. The whole place is wired for internet, satellite, solar panels.”
“Everything here is fresh. I thought there wasn’t a staff?” The place had clearly been serviced, from the fresh basket of fruit on the kitchen island to the thriving plants climbing toward the vaulted ceiling.
“There isn’t an official crew here. Not full-time, anyway.” He set their luggage by a sofa. “A service comes in once a month to air the place out, dust the knickknacks. Fill the pantry before I arrive. Then they leave. I come here for solitude.”
“But you brought me.”
“Yes, I did,” he said from beside the fireplace, one foot braced on the stone hearth. “That should tell you how important you are to me.”
The seriousness of his statement caught her off guard. “Does that line usually work with women?”
“Your choice. Trust me or don’t.”
And that’s what it all boiled down to for her. Trust. The toughest of all things for her to give. “Could I just give you my right arm instead?”
He shoved away from the wall. “What do you say we take this a step at a time?”
With each step that brought him closer, her temperature rose, her desire for him flamed even as wariness lingered. “What do you mean?”
“Rather than jumping all-in, you can test the waters, so to speak.” He lifted a strand of her hair, sliding it between his fingers with slow deliberation.
“Test the waters how?” Like make out on the sofa? Play strip poker? Progress to third base? Nerves were stirring her into a near hysteria, because if her body ignited when he was just touching her hair, there wasn’t a chance in hell she would be able to hold out against a full-out touch. And there was nothing and no one here to stop them.
He let her hair go shimmering free. “Go swimming, of course. So which will it be? The pool or the waterfall?”
* * *
Hillary stripped out of her travel clothes, a dress she’d slept in on the plane. She needed a shower, but since they were heading to the waterfall… She would just take shampoo with her.
Her suitcases waited at the foot of the bed, but the open doors on the teak wardrobe showed rows and shelves full of clothes, all her size.
He truly had prepared for her visit. What would he have instructed buyers to choose for her? She thumbed through sundresses, jeans, shorts, gauzy shirts—and a half-dozen swimsuits with sarongs. Two-pieces and one-pieces, giving her choices.
One-piece, for sure. She tugged out a basic black suit and stepped into it before reaching for the phone to check in with her sister. Her hand half in and half out of her bag, she paused. What did a call from Costa Rica cost? And would it be traceable, thus risking their safety? She should probably check with Troy on that.
She yanked on a matching cover-up, then stuck her head out the door. “Troy?” she called out. “What’re the rules on phoning home? I meant to call my sister while we were in France, and I, uh, forgot.”
Their date had so filled her mind, she’d lost sight of everything else.
“Use the phone by the bed,” he answered from somewhere around the kitchen. “It’s a secure line.”
“Thanks, I’ll only be a minute.”
“Take as long as you need.” The sound of cabinets opening and closing echoed. “The only rules here are that there are no rules, no schedules.”
She slid back into the room, the easy exchange so enticingly normal, so couple-ish. Plus a ka-billion-dollar vacation home and a world-renowned computer mogul she’d met while they both helped international law enforcement solve a case.
Yeah, totally normal.
And how would she even know “normal” if it bit her on the nose? She certainly hadn’t seen a lot of healthy relationships in her life.
Sagging onto the edge of the bamboo-frame bed, she dialed her sister’s number from memory. Since there was only an hour’s time difference, her sister should be awake. The ringing connection was so clear, she could have been calling from next door. Of course Troy had crazy good technology.
“Uh, hello?” her sister said hesitantly, probably because the caller ID wouldn’t have been familiar.
“It’s me, Claudia, not a telemarketer.”
“God, Hillary, it’s great to hear your voice. How’s Monte Carlo? Are you winning a fortune? The photos of you are gorgeous, by the way.” The sound of Claudia sipping her signature soda filled the airwaves for a second. “I’ve been saving everything I can get my hands on and downloading the computer articles so you can see it all when you get home. We could have a scrapbooking weekend to organize everything.”
Monte Carlo. Their cover story. Telling her sister everything would only worry her so she simply said, “Thank you. You can show me when I visit next.”
“We could both be in our retirement rockers by then. Try to make it sooner.”
“Fair enough. I promise.” She always promised, but when push came to shove, somehow something always interfered…. And why? Her sister was wonderful; her brother-in-law was a great guy. She loved the kids. Their family was actually an example of how a healthy family could work. Had she avoided them because it was painful to see everything she didn’t have? “I just wanted to check in and tell you I love you. I’ll send the kids cool T-shirts.”
“How about just have fun with that überhot guy. He beats the hell out of Barry the Bastard Cutthroat.”
“He does. He really does. I’m actually getting some of that R & R you’re always telling me I need. We’re going swimming in a few minutes.”
“Please tell me you’re wearing a sexy two-piece so I can continue to live vicariously through you.”
She looked down at the conservative black swimsuit with the simple black cover-up. “Um, sure.”
“Atta girl. You deserve to play, date, flirt. Everything doesn’t have to be intense. Enjoy the chase. Love you, but I have to run to clean the guest room.”
“You’re having company?”
“Uh…yeah. Listen, I really need to go. The kids are killing each other over who gets the last packet of gummies. Bye—” The phone connection cut off.
Phone still pressed to her ear, Hillary eyed the open wardrobe and that stack of bathing suits…. She tossed the receiver down and bolted across the room. Before she could change her mind, she tore off the black suit and snatched up an aqua-colored bikini, crocheted with flesh colored lining. It was suggestive and sexy and something she never would have dared pick out for herself.
If it had been the only suit on the shelf, she might have been angry. But there was such a wide range to choose from, this wasn’t forced on her. The store tags on everything made it clear the items had been bought for her.
And she felt good wearing it.
She pulled on the frothy cover-up that matched, the nearly sheer silk sliding seductively over her skin like a lover’s kiss. She arched up on her toes to snag a beach towel from the next shelf up. The white-and-black patterned cotton slid down in a tumble all around her, a huge towel made for sunbathing. She whipped it forward to refold…
What in the world?
Blinking, she looked again and sure enough, Troy had somehow, someway ordered a towel with a big Holstein cow pattern. No way could this be coincidental. The man was too smart and too observant. He had to have noticed her cow-patterned luggage tag and the silver pin on her evening bag.
Her sister was right. Things didn’t have to be intense. She could play. Flirt. This wasn’t an all-or-nothing proposition. A guy who gave cow towels definitely understood the lighter side of life. Her bruised heart could use some soothing after all she’d been through the past month.
Cow towel cradled to her stomach, she charged through the door, ready to meet her adventure head-on.
>
* * *
Troy needed to give his assistant a big fat bonus.
Palm flat against the kitchen counter, he took his time staring at Hillary from head to toe. There were no words other than wow—just wow—for how mouthwateringly hot she looked. The sea-green, almost-sheer cover-up rippled over her skin like waves of water, touching her in all the places he ached to caress.
He’d told his assistant to order a variety of clothes for any occasion. His only specific instruction had been to include a few cow-patterned accessories for fun. His assistant had been smart enough not to question or laugh.
That’s why he paid her well.
He cleared his throat. “Did you find everything you need?”
“And more.” She held up the cow-patterned towel. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
“Thank my assistant. She did all the work.”
“I’m guessing that she didn’t decide on her own to pick out a beach towel with a bovine theme.”
“I may have given her some direction. I’m glad you like it.” He couldn’t wait to see what she thought of the other surprises he’d ordered for her.
His own personal mermaid walked toward him, stealing a little bit of his sanity and will with every long-legged stride. Her eyes slid over him, lingering on his black board shorts and plain white T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
She held up a small beach tote. “Do you mind if I wash my hair at the waterfall?”
He slid an arm around her and pulled her flush against him. “You can do any damn thing you want to.”
“I do believe that’s a compliment.” She shook her hair back to glide down her spine.
“All that and more.” He placed a floppy sun hat on her head before reaching for his straw fedora.
Hooking an arm around her shoulders, he grabbed his own bag of supplies for their morning—food and more towels. He guided her through his house and out onto the balcony. Her jaw dropped in awe, her feet slowing as she looked around her. For a moment, he saw his house through fresh eyes. Somewhere along the line, he’d lost sight of the details, just seeing the place as home.
The space widened into a veranda with a hot tub and a sunken pool built up to the edge. In spite of his carefully cultivated playboy reputation, he didn’t take much time off. Even when he came here, he worked. Enjoying a morning at a waterfall with Hillary was an indulgence for him.
“Troy, this is incredible.” Kneeling, she played her fingers through the crystal water. “I’ve seen infinity pools before but nothing like this one. With the way it’s sunk into the balcony, it’s like the pool is suspended in midair. What an architectural wonder. Did you come up with the design?”
“I had an idea in my mind for something like this, but I had to leave it up to the experts to make it happen. I have an architectural contact. He’s more of an artist, actually.”
Standing, she shook her hand dry. “One of your school pals?”
“Not this time.” He slid his arm around her waist and started down the winding stairs that led from the house, down the bluff and toward the lagoon. “The architect is the stepbrother of my business partner. He had the place built from all regional materials. Most of the wood comes from Guanacaste trees…the fabrics are local weaves—”
“Whoa, hold on.” She touched his stomach lightly. “You have a business partner?”
“In my software company, yes.” Their flip-flops slapped each wooden plank on the way. “He provided the start-up funds.”
“But I thought you came from old money? The press all said your father—” She stopped short.
“That my father bought a big company for me.” He pushed past the sting of her assumption. He’d long ago accepted there were people who would always see him as a trust-fund kid. He could live with that, especially since it helped him when Salvatore needed him.
“What’s the real story?”
He glanced over at her, surprised she asked. “A school friend provided an infusion of start-up cash to get things rolling. So I can’t claim I did it all myself.”
“I’m guessing your friend earned his money back many times over.”
“Our company has done…well.” Troy plucked a blue bloom from a sprawling Gallinazo tree and tucked it behind her ear.
Smiling, she touched the flower as a toucan flapped on a branch above. “You said his stepbrother designed the place. Who is this architect?”
“Jonah Landis.”
“Of the Landis family?” Her eyebrows shot upward. “The stepbrother…is a Renshaw? Wow, you do have connections.”
The Landis-Renshaw family were financial and political powerhouses. They understood his intense need to protect his privacy.
This place offered the ultimate in seclusion, with nature’s soundproofing of a roaring waterfall and chattering monkeys.
His feet slowed as they reached the secluded lagoon. He set his bag on a mossy outcropping and tossed his hat on top, kicking off his sandals. He peeled his T-shirt over his head and—
Hillary stood on the edge of the shore in a bikini that glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Her smile was pure seduction as she backed into the water, bottle of shampoo in hand.
His erection was so damn obvious in his swim trunks, immediate, total immersion in the waterfall would be the best course of action. He climbed up the nearest rock ledge and dived in.
He parted the water with his hands, swimming closer and closer to Hillary. Her aqua-colored suit blended with the shades in the water until she appeared naked. Just what his libido needed. Yes, he wanted to seduce her. But he wanted to be in control when he did it.
Right now, he felt anything but in control.
He surfaced next to her and plucked the shampoo bottle from her hand. “Mind if I help?”
“Knock yourself out.” She gave him the shampoo and disappeared underwater. The flower in her hair floated free. She shot back up again, her hair drenched and slicked back.
He squeezed shampoo in his palm then pitched the bottle back to shore. Facing her, he smoothed the shampoo along her soaked auburn locks. “How was your sister?”
The feel of her hair in his hands struck a primal chord deep inside him.
“Busy. As usual. She has the husband and kids and the big farmhouse. Our parents’ old house, actually.” Her head lolled back into his hands. “Where are your parents now?”
“I honestly don’t know or care.” His fingers clenched the rope of sudsy hair in his hands.
Her head tipped to the side as she studied him through narrowed eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Nothing upsetting about it. Just facts. You left home. So did I.” Stepping behind her so she couldn’t read his expression, he worked up the lather, massaging along her scalp. “Go ahead and say what you’re thinking.”
“I still keep in contact with my mother.”
“I’m glad for you.”
“I’m sorry for you. And I’m sorry I even brought this up.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He slid his soapy hands along her shoulders, down her arms. Her silky skin sent lust throbbing through his veins, made him ache to peel away Hillary’s suit and explore every soft inch of her rather than talk about his damn family. “My folks are living happily ever after, soaking in the sympathy of their friends over the huge disappointments their children have been.”
“You’re a billionaire, a successful software entrepreneur. You’ve turned your life around.” She started to shift around to face him, but he stopped her, bringing her back flush against him instead. “They should be proud.”
Her voice hitched, and she relaxed against him, her bottom nestled against his erection.
“I’m a self-centered playboy,” he said against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her minty shampoo. “But of course I do outscore my jailbird brother.”
“What made him start using in the first place?” She reached back to cradle his cheek. “Where were your parents then? Or when he was in rehab?”
“We’re adults. We take responsibility for our own actions.” His heart pumped faster the harder she pushed the subject.
“But you weren’t adults then.”
Enough.
Enough of her trying to rationalize his past so he fit her mold of morality. He gripped her shoulders and turned her around to face him, needing her to see him, him as he really was. “We were old enough to know right from wrong and we both chose to do the wrong thing. There are consequences for that.”
“Were the two of you close?” She clasped his wrists and just held on, her touch gentle but firm.
“We alternated between hating each other and being best buds. He sent me care packages at school—almost got me expelled with some of the crap he included.” The memory made him smile…for a second, anyway. “I visited him in rehab to return the favor. A lot of the families there had reasons for what happened—abuse or depression leading to drug use. My brother had the same excuse I did. He was bored.”
She squeezed his wrists. “I’m sorry, but I’m not letting your parents off that easily. At the very least, they were neglectful.”
This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d intended and this outing sure as hell wasn’t going the way he’d planned.
“Troy—” she stepped closer, leaning into him “—tell me something…happy. Surely you’ve got some positive memories with your brother. You’re a good person. I know the colonel and your brotherhood were there when you needed them, but there had to be some kind of foundation for that goodness inside you.”
He wasn’t sure he bought into her line of reasoning, but if it would get her smiling again, he would dig deep for something. “When we were kids, we had a nanny. When our parents weren’t around we would even call her Mom.”
“She sounds sweet.” Hillary gifted him with a smile.
“She was tough as nails, just what two out-of-control boys needed. She was one step ahead of our pranks—and the first to reward us when we behaved.”
“Reward you how?”
“Take us to baseball games, swimming at the lake, building tree houses and forts.” And until now he hadn’t thought about how his home here echoed those early tree houses—on a grander scale. “She even got us a couple of puppies and taught us how to take care of them.”
An Inconvenient Affair Page 11
