“What are you really looking for?” she asked.
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, again.
“And don’t try to talk me in circles, okay? You’re here looking for something. And it’s not an alternate light source. You wanted me out of the way when you left me upstairs earlier, you wanted me out of the way when you sent me candle hunting, and you want me out of the way right now. You’ve done a really good job. If the ladder hadn’t fallen earlier—”
“I wouldn’t be wanting a pain reliever and a stiff shot of something strong,” he said. “But it did, so I’d really like—”
“I’d really like some answers.”
Why was it he was fighting a smile, when he should be frustrated as all hell? “You seem to have forgotten which one of us is the Hamilton here.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything. You’re interfering with the job I was hired to do. And, inadvertently or not, you’re trashing the joint. A joint I’m responsible for maintaining. It’s bad enough the power is out and God knows what is spoiling or…or going bad because of it. Not to mention the heat going off, and things freezing outside, like pipes, or—or, whatever.”
He couldn’t help it, he did smile. She was babbling again. Imperfect human that she was. One he was finding himself unavoidably and increasingly attracted to. But his grin was certainly not the reaction she’d been aiming for, which she proved by thumping him on the upper arm.
“Hey!” he said, rubbing at the spot, more to make a point than because she’d hurt him in any way. “No hitting.”
“Fine. If you call no hitting, then I call no being obtuse. You said you were here to surprise Lionel with a visit. I’m thinking the surprise part was that he wasn’t supposed to know about your visit at all.”
“So, are you saying you’re going to contact him and tell him I’m here?”
“I’m saying now would be a good time to tell me what’s going on so I can make an educated decision, instead of being backed into a corner and forced to make a knee-jerk one.”
His lips quirked. “Why do I get the feeling you’re thinking the key word in that little dissertation was jerk?”
She sighed and dipped her chin briefly, before looking back at him. Though she had no problem standing up to him, he guessed confrontation wasn’t typically her style. If either of them was frustrated as hell, at the moment, it was her. But then there was also the way she jiggled the flashlight in her hand. Like someone who was nervous. Only she was staring him right in the eye. Which begged the question…exactly what was fueling those nerves?
Which was something he had no business even thinking about. He had to scramble and scramble fast here. Everything was on the line, and she was standing right in the way of him getting what he came here for. Now was definitely not the time to be wondering what she’d do if he leaned in a bit closer. Then closer still. He was lifting a hand before he realized he’d put thought to deed. He managed to check the action before he touched her face, and instead toyed with a few of the curls framing her face.
“Don’t—don’t think you can distract me,” she said. Quite unsteadily, he noticed.
His body really noticed.
“You’re not answering my questions,” she added, but she didn’t jerk her head away, or back up so his hands would no longer be in her hair.
“I’m not trying to be frustrating,” he said, thinking hair as curly as hers shouldn’t feel so soft and glossy. He let another coil wrap naturally around his finger. “In fact, you have no idea how badly I’d like to reduce the frustration for both of us. At least for a few hours.”
The jiggling stopped. But her gaze stayed locked on his, and he could see her throat work. Which brought his attention to that slender column, and made him wonder how the tender skin beneath her ear would taste.
“I read you wrong earlier, when we initially met, about your intent. I—I’m not reading you wrong now, am I?”
He just shook his head.
She drew in a shaky breath, and let it out again. “Right. Well, I know you’re probably used to this,” she said, her voice a bit tighter, and a bit lower.
“This?” he queried, letting his gaze drift from her neck to her mouth. It really was quite sinful looking. His own watered at the thought of sampling it.
“Using seduction, getting your way,” she said. “You’re…a very attractive man. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
He immediately looked into her eyes, and noticed how carefully still she was holding herself. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“I don’t play these kinds of games,” she said, her voice more than a bit shaky now. “I’m a pretty direct person.”
“Games?”
“I’m not naïve. You want to distract me from whatever it is you’re up to, and sending me on wild goose chases wasn’t working, so…”
He realized what she meant, and realized he shouldn’t be insulted. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking exactly that. Besides, she didn’t know him. Still, it stung that she didn’t think his interest in her was sincere. But, just to clarify things, he said, “So, you think I’m trying to seduce you. As a means of distraction. Or as some kind of persuasion, so you won’t call my uncle.”
“Yes. Maybe you don’t even realize you’re doing it, maybe it’s second nature to you, but it’s not to me. It’s—”
Now he cut her off. With a kiss. His hand was fisted in her curls, finally, and he drew her mouth to his. There was nothing aggressive about the kiss, or threatening, or even demanding. But she was right about one thing, it was intentionally seductive. Because he definitely wanted to taste her, and he wanted her to like it. Beyond that, he didn’t much seem to care where it got him, or what it got him. It wasn’t about that. He just wasn’t quite sure he’d ever get her to believe that. Not when he couldn’t quite believe any of this himself.
But not because she wasn’t worthy. He didn’t think in those terms. He didn’t believe this was happening, but that was because he’d come there looking for one thing. One very specific thing. And, it appeared, had found something else entirely.
She froze at the contact of his mouth on hers, and her lips—those lips—didn’t open beneath his. “Trevor,” she said, against his mouth, the soft friction making him groan a little.
“This isn’t a game,” he said, meaning it, though he knew she had no reason to believe him. “I just—I’ve been dying to do this since we met in that hallway.”
She pulled back enough to look at him. “I may not run in your circles, but don’t insult my intelligence.”
His hand was still in her hair, her lips were still tilted up to his, and his gaze searched out hers. His body raged at him to take that mouth again, until it was pliant and open beneath his. “What circles do you think I run in?”
“Hamilton ones. Privileged ones. Ones that think nothing of toying with people to get what they want.”
“That’s not remotely who I am.” He lowered his mouth again. “I know you can’t know that, but that cliché couldn’t be further from the truth of me. I don’t assume anything with you, or anything else. I just know you fascinate me, and I want to kiss you, taste you, know more of you.”
“Because I’m standing in the way of you getting what you want. That’s the only reason you even noticed me. If we’d met anywhere else—”
“I’d have noticed this.” He wrapped his hands more deeply in her never-ending mass of curls. “And these.” He dipped in and dropped a hard, fast kiss on those lips. Then he looked into her eyes. “I’d have noticed you, even if you’d never spoken to me. I don’t know what I’d have done about it, but I’d have noticed.”
She stared into his eyes, and he hoped she saw the truth there.
“Then you did speak to me. And you didn’t pull any punches, even after you found out who I was. Maybe even more so. I’m not used to that, and you can’t possibly know how refreshing that was.” He edged closer to her. “How much more attractive that made you to me.”
> “Because I didn’t suck up to you?”
“Or come on to me.” A grin edged his lips upward. “Though I did notice you looking at me. A lot.”
Even in the dim light, he could see her cheeks actually pinked, which, considering how direct a person she was, intrigued the hell out of him.
“Normally the staring is a signal for me to run and run fast.”
Now she frowned. “Because…?”
“Women who stare are usually formulating strategies. Strategies that have a lot more to do with my last name and supposed bank account than about me personally.”
“I wasn’t—wouldn’t—”
“I know,” he said, his smile widening. “You just looked. Honestly, openly, and pretty frankly.”
“I didn’t think you saw. I’m sorry if you felt…I don’t know, demeaned? You’re right, I don’t know you. I am shallow enough to say I liked what I saw, so I looked.” Now her lips quirked. “Maybe a lot. You’re also right that there was no game plan. I had no intention of following through on…” She trailed off, apparently realizing she was giving more away than she’d intended.
“On your attraction to me?”
“I didn’t think it was mutual.”
He traced the finger with her hair coiled around it down over her cheek and across her lips, his gaze following the motion. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
Her skin warmed under his touch, and her pupils expanded. “You’re either incredibly good at playing women—and I’m still not entirely sure I trust you…or you—”
“Really mean what I say? I always do.”
She moved back, just a fraction, enough so that his fingertips were no longer brushing her chin. “Okay. If you want my trust, and you want more than the one kiss you stole, then let’s put a foundation to this attraction.”
He was already in it now, but that comment should have sent him scrambling for the door. Instead, it also intrigued the hell out of him. And, it was rather shocking to realize that he was perfectly okay with doing whatever it took to prove he meant what he said, to gain her trust. Mostly because, at that moment, it had absolutely nothing to do with distraction or the reason he’d come here, and everything to do with her. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, as sincere as he could be.
“Then you need to get out more. I’m quite ordinary.”
“There is nothing ordinary about you.”
“Trevor—”
“What did you mean, about putting a foundation to this attraction? What can I do or say to prove I’m not just using you for my own personal gain?”
“I was just pointing out that, although we’re both consenting adults, in a dark house in the middle of an ice storm, and, yes, it’s true, I am attracted to you—I’d have to be dead not to be—that despite the ridiculous and surprising temptation you’re presenting me with, I don’t just—”
“Fling yourself with great abandon into a wildly satisfying sexual affair with a man who is finding himself completely smitten with you?”
Now she laughed. “Uh, well…yes. More or less.”
He sunk his hands under her hair and cupped the back of her head, tilting her mouth up to his once again, her gaze to his, as his body crowded into hers. “So, then, what foundation does this attraction need in order for it to move forward?”
“Your trust. Tell me why you’re really here. What are you looking for?”
7
E mma watched his face closely, and though he didn’t answer right away, he didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. Both good signs.
Good, if she was going to believe that any of this was actually happening to her. Because it was a far more plausible scenario that she’d just fallen asleep in front of the fire upstairs and was dreaming this entire sequence. Although, even in her dreams she was generally a pretty pragmatic sort. And in Emma Lafferty’s basic, straightforward world, men like Trevor Hamilton simply did not fall all over themselves to seduce her. Hell, she’d have passed out in a dead faint if he’d even smiled at her. Under normal circumstances anyway. These circumstances were far from normal.
And she’d dealt with him in a way she likely wouldn’t have in any real-world scenario. Or maybe she would have. Hard to say. What she wouldn’t have done was flirted with him. Or played up to him. Either for personal or professional gain. That’s not who she was.
And here he was, essentially trying to get her to believe the same of him. She had no reason not to believe him. Except he was hot. Rich. And was here for reasons he hadn’t been quite honest about. Not that it was necessarily her business. But, for the next eleven days, this house and everything in it was her business. Which made what he was doing here her business.
“If you’re the up-front person you say you are, who just happens to be finding himself completely swept away by my stunning beauty and incredible wit, then tell me why you’re here. I won’t go running to Lionel. It’s really none of my concern. I know I’m being nosy just asking. But I’m guessing you don’t want Lionel to know. So…you trust me with your secret. And I’ll trust that you’re not distracting me with all this seductive smoke and mirrors, so I won’t notice or care if you rob your uncle blind.”
He smiled then. “You really need to stop underselling yourself. You are stunning and incredible.”
“I was not fishing for compliments.”
“I know. Which is part of what compels me about you. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting a stunning, witty beauty who doesn’t give a rat’s ass what I think about her.”
He tugged her closer again, and she had to admit she was quite liking being in his personal space. It was disarming and disconcerting, all at the same time. Which might also be part of his plan. Keep her in a pheromone-induced fog, sweet talk her into doing exactly what he wanted, believing whatever he told her.
Only he didn’t seem to be spinning any tales, even if he was making her head spin.
“So, it’s my complete lack of tact that attracts you? Along with the babbling and other imperfections? I really have apparently been going about the whole attracting guys thing entirely the wrong way.”
“So…does that mean there isn’t a guy? At the moment?”
“I realize we haven’t exactly made any commitments here, with our bodies or our brains…but I wouldn’t be standing here—right here—if there was someone in my world. I don’t do that. I couldn’t do that.” She cocked her head. “And you?”
“Will you believe anything I say?”
“Answer my initial question…and I’ll let you know.”
“First, no, there is no one special. I’ve spent the last five years concentrating on building my own business and that hasn’t left a lot of time for socializing. I’m not a monk, either, but let’s just say I’ve found the dating world to be immensely frustrating and even more unfulfilling.”
“I find that almost impossible to be true. Not for me, mind you. I personally completely agree. But it can’t be that hard for you.”
“I didn’t say it was hard for me to find a date. I’m not trying to be disingenuous here. But finding someone I want to keep dating? Yeah, that’s been a bit trickier.”
“Poor, hot-looking rich guy syndrome, huh?”
He laughed. “It’s more pathetic than even you realize.”
“We all have our crosses to bear.”
He kept grinning. “You really are…unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Just because I don’t pull punches and I’m not staring at you because I’m trying to figure out how to part you from some portion of your trust fund—”
“Just because you’re being yourself around me,” he said. “And it’s a self I am growing to like more every second.” He tipped her chin up, and brushed a soft, incredibly hot kiss across her lips. “And it’s a good thing you’re attracted to me, and not my money. Because I’m not entirely sure I have any.”
“Must be some empire you’ve been building these past five years.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, then the corner of her mouth. “No, I did that completely on my own. I haven’t touched any of my Hamilton money. The whole wad of it is still sitting in that trust fund.”
She sighed, a part of her—most of her—wanting to rescind that entire part about not being a one-night-stand kind of girl. He kept on touching her, and talking in that low smooth voice, and looking like…well, how he looked, and she honestly didn’t know how much longer she was going to remain the upstanding, morally centered woman she liked to believe she was. In fact, she’d far rather be down-lying, and centered beneath him right about now.
She struggled to keep track of what he was saying. “What, your uncle won’t let you spend your trust fund? Is that why you’re here?” She really couldn’t care less about his money, but she paused and leaned back a fraction when all of what he’d said sunk past the hormone haze. “Do you think Lionel Hamilton is stealing from you? His own great-nephew? Is that why you’re here?”
Trevor smiled then, and the way he looked at her…it was amazing she wasn’t simply a puddle at his probably perfect feet. “No, no one is stealing from me. I’m here because I’m not sure I am, in fact, Lionel’s great-nephew. And, if my suspicions are correct, then I’m not entitled to that trust fund.”
“What? How could you not know if you’re his nephew? Do you think you were adopted? And you’d still be a Hamilton, unless you’re saying you have some hang-up about being a blood relative. Or you’re saying Lionel does.”
“I’m not adopted.”
“A bastard then? No insult,” she added quickly. “To you or your parentage. I just meant, if you think you’re not a real Hamilton, and you’re not adopted—”
“I know who my parents are, and they were legal when they had me. It’s not me, personally. Well, it is me, personally, but it all started a few generations back, with my great-great-grandmother.”
“Wait a minute. You mean to say you’ve left a—let’s just say very healthy—trust fund and incredibly huge amounts of interest sit around and gather dust because somewhere up in your ancestral tree, someone parked their boots under the wrong bed?”
To All a Good Night Page 6
