by Cat Schield
“I always considered Julian Onderdonk the master of the bluebonnet,” she said, grateful to hear the steadiness of her voice. Now if only she could count on the rest of her body to follow suit. “But after seeing Brewer’s interpretation, I might have to change my mind.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he retorted, clipping off the words with an impatience that banished her sensual daydreaming. “We buy purely for investment purposes.”
Emma’s eyes flashed open. She glanced up at his forbidding profile. He appeared preoccupied with the painting. Despite his grim expression, she detected a hint of softness in his lips. The gentleness vanished a second later as his flat, gray eyes slashed to her. Her pulse jerked.
Seizing her by the elbow, he drew her down the hall that stretched away from the receptionist’s desk. The speech she’d prepared vanished at his touch. She was at a loss for words, wishing his impersonal grip didn’t affect her so acutely.
The hall buzzed with activity, but Emma might have been blind and deaf for all the attention she paid. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but Nathan and the annoyance radiating from him. Clearly, this had been a mistake.
He steered her into a huge office and abandoned her in the middle of the space. While he crossed to his desk, Emma glanced around. The walls held more artwork, this of a modern flavor, by artists whose work she didn’t recognize. Half a dozen canvases sat propped against an end table. Yet as compelling as her curiosity about the art was, the man who owned it captivated her more.
Nathan stood before the wall of windows, hands clasped behind his back, and surveyed downtown Houston. The broad shoulders she’d caressed and clung to appeared no less intimidating encased in a charcoal-gray suit coat that matched his eyes. Sunlight stabbed through the window and drew forth the gold in his brown hair.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked.
It dawned on her that she’d used the excuse of retrieving her jewelry to see him again. “I came to collect my earrings.”
“They’re at my condo,” he said. “We could go and pick them up.”
Him and her alone in his condo would only lead to one thing. “I wouldn’t want to put you out. Why don’t you just bring them here tomorrow and I’ll pick them up?”
“How about dinner tonight?” He countered.
Dinner with him sounded like a prelude to seduction. “How about breakfast tomorrow?”
For the first time since entering the room, he turned and faced her. “But if we started with dinner tonight, breakfast tomorrow will be inevitable.”
The air sizzled with the power of his magnetism.
“I already have plans for dinner,” she hedged as he advanced toward her. Emma backed up. If she didn’t get out of here fast, he’d figure out how effortlessly he made her pulse race and her willpower waver. “How about we meet at nine tomorrow morning after my yoga class?” Preferably at a place where she couldn’t be persuaded to take her clothes off. “I go to Carley’s Café quite a bit.”
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “You stood me up for breakfast once.”
Emma doubted that he’d ever been stood up before. Cody had regaled her with enough of Nathan’s conquests for her to recognize that he kept a woman around as long as it suited him to do so. He determined the length of the relationship, not the other way around.
She’d understood that three weeks ago when she’d left the party and gone to his penthouse condo overlooking downtown Houston. But that didn’t mean she had to wait for him to grow tired of her, like all the other women who fell for his charms.
She shrugged. “Sorry about that. I had to get back to Houston right away.”
“And the reason you didn’t call and give me a heads-up?”
What could she say to that? “Because you don’t take no for an answer.”
“Funny,” he murmured, his gaze trailing over her features, “that doesn’t stop you from saying no to me.”
With her heart thundering in her ears, she pressed her lips together to keep from spilling the truth. In the weeks since he’d taken her hard and fast against the front door of his condo, she’d been consumed with a crazy, irrational desire to see where dating him might lead. She’d been on the verge of returning his phone calls when her father had interfered and saved her from making a huge mistake.
“Until three weeks ago, you never gave me the chance,” she said, immediately regretting both the statement and her aggrieved tone.
“I didn’t realize you were that interested,” he said, taking a step toward her.
His predatory intent induced Emma to take a step back. “I wasn’t.”
“No?”
Emma’s pulse kicked up a notch, intensifying her need to retreat. When her back collided with something solid, she brushed aside her bangs in acute frustration. She’d misjudged her direction and missed the doorway. The wall kept her from escaping.
“Look.” She tugged on her earring. “The night of Grant’s party was nice.”
“Nice?” he echoed, his tone neutral.
“It gave me closure.”
He set his hand on the wall above her shoulder and leaned in. “Closure?”
“I wondered what…being with you would be like.” She took a deep breath. “Now I know, and…”
His nostrils flared. “Let’s see if I have this straight. You’d been curious what sex with me would be like? And now that you know, you’re done with me?” Gray ice melted as heat blazed in his eyes. The rest of his expression remained frozen, but his searing, penetrating gaze heated places that would inspire her to surrender if she wasn’t careful. “Well, let me set the record straight. I’m not done with you.”
Traitorous impulses surged through Emma’s body, undermining her resistance. She shoved Nathan’s business deal with her father to the furthest reaches of her mind and gathered handfuls of his lapels, but before she could draw him closer, a tall brunette breezed into the office as if she belonged there.
“Nathan, I hope you’re free to take me to lunch.”
At the interruption, Emma’s hands fell to her sides. Nathan shifted his gaze to follow the newcomer across his office and pushed away from the wall.
He smoothed his tie and straightened his suit coat. “Gabrielle, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve been craving Rolando’s crab bisque all morning.” The brunette set her purse on his desk and pulled out a compact, appearing oblivious to the charged atmosphere.
A wave of nausea pounded through Emma. She’d been a fool to think for even one second that she was the only woman Nathan was interested in. Scanning Gabrielle from her elegant haircut to her expensive shoes, Emma recognized that Nathan’s taste in women ran to sophisticated, pampered brunettes with large bank accounts.
Nathan looked from her to Gabrielle and back again. Was he comparing his women? Who would he choose? The tense, pale girl in a simple beige dress or the accomplished flirt in the pencil-slim skirt, cowl-neck halter top and Manolo sandals?
“Nathan?” the brunette asked, sensing that she hadn’t captured his complete attention. “Are you listening to me?” She turned around and spotted Emma. “Oh, is this your new assistant? I’m glad you finally listened to Sebastian and hired someone. Tell her to make reservations for us at Frey’s.”
“Gabrielle, this is Emma Montgomery. She is not my new assistant. Her father is Silas Montgomery of Montgomery Oil.”
“Really?” Gabrielle turned the full power of her aquamarine eyes on Emma and perused her appearance with amusement. “Well, my daddy is chairman of the board and CEO of Parker Corporation.”
What was this, battle of the spoiled heiresses? And adding to Emma’s humiliation, Nathan had introduced her as if she was the daughter of a business associate instead of his… What? Lover? Girlfriend? Well, wasn’t she?
Emma unclenched her jaw and forced her lips into a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Gabrielle,” she said, not meaning a single word. It was long
past time to go. She slid sideways along the wall until she found the doorway, then practically fell on her behind when the gap appeared. Dodging the hand he reached out to her, she muttered, “Carly’s Café at nine. Bring my earrings.”
Beset by the sense that something had just gone very wrong, Nathan stepped into the hall. He watched Emma race away, fighting the urge to chase after her. His mood worsened when he reentered his office to find Gabrielle ensconced in one of his guest chairs, her skirt hiked up to show off her great legs.
“Ready to take me to lunch?” she demanded, her lower lip pushed out in a sulky expression she wore way too often. “I’m starving.”
“See if Max is free.”
“I don’t want to have lunch with Max.” Which meant they were arguing again. Gabrielle and Max had an on-again, off-again thing going. Nathan didn’t understand it. There were plenty of women in Houston eager to help a guy scratch an itch. Why did Max put up with Gabrielle’s demands and temper? “I want to have lunch with you.”
She only wanted his company because she thought it bugged his brother. It didn’t.
“I don’t have time. I’ll give Max a call for you.”
“I’ll bet you would have gone if she’d asked you.” Gabrielle wasn’t ready to give up. She leaned forward, running her hand along her shin to draw attention to her best asset. “What’s up with her, anyway? And where the hell did she get that dress? I would expect someone with her kind of money to have better taste in clothes.”
“I thought she looked fine.”
Indeed, the dress’s scoop neck had shown off a hint of cleavage and the hundred tiny buttons running from neckline to hem had awakened an urgent desire in Nathan to unfasten every one, or give up and rip the garment right off her. Arousal lashed him like an unexpected storm. He dropped into his leather desk chair to keep Gabrielle from noticing.
Picking up the phone, he dialed. “Max, Gabrielle wants to have lunch with you.”
She squawked in protest and got to her feet.
“Great,” he continued. “I’ll let her know.
“He’s on his way.” Nathan replaced the phone.
Hoping this would be the last time he’d see Gabrielle at Case Consolidated Holdings, Nathan flashed her a broad grin. Maybe Max would send her packing, the way he had sent the last dozen packing, with a full stomach and a firm, noncommittal goodbye. Gabrielle had been bragging of late that she’d succeeded in enticing the elusive Max Case from his bachelor ways. Nathan almost felt sorry for her.
The next morning, a heated discussion was taking place in Sebastian’s big corner office.
“I’ve looked at Smythe’s numbers. It seems like a pretty solid deal,” Sebastian said, as cool and unflappable as Max was hot and animated. “Which means we’re not going to be able to do the deal with Montgomery Oil.”
Nathan tapped his pen on his yellow legal pad to keep his temper from flaring again. “I put in a call to a buddy of mine in Chicago in investment banking. He’s got the inside scoop on Smythe. The guy is not going to sell.”
“And we’re just supposed to believe your buddy?” Max demanded.
Nathan shrugged. “It doesn’t change the fact that if Smythe does sell, we won’t have nearly the potential for profit as we would if we did the deal with Montgomery.” His temper slipped. “And if you two would stop acting like a couple of old women, you might understand the value in taking a little risk.”
“Don’t lecture us about taking risks,” Max shot back. “You’re nothing but a hotshot who wouldn’t be here if Dad—”
Max had always doled out his criticism with boisterous, taunting directness. Sebastian chose a quieter, deadlier approach.
“I’m sure Nathan understands his position in this company.”
Yeah, Nathan understood his position all right. He was an outsider. It didn’t matter that he bore their last name. His mother had been Brandon Case’s mistress. He wasn’t their “legitimate” brother, and they resented that they’d been forced to share their father with him. And now their company.
“Don’t give up on the deal with Montgomery,” Nathan said, letting the subtle and not so subtle jabs slide off him. He would get nowhere if he continued to agitate his brothers. “I told you I have a couple things to iron out in order to get things finalized. Give me a few more weeks. You owe me that.”
“Forget it, Nat,” Max said. “You took your shot and lost.”
I didn’t lose. “Don’t be an idiot. You’ve seen the numbers. The technology is poised to explode, and if we get in on the ground floor, we’ll make a killing.” He leaned forward. “Look, I get that you’re angry that Dad didn’t consult you when he brought me on board. You want me gone, but that’s not going to happen. So you might as well quit playing games.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian exchanged a look with Max.
“Ever since we were kids you two have ganged up against me. I get why. I was the illegitimate one. The proof that your father had cheated on your mother. Well, that was a long time ago. My mother’s been dead twenty years. Don’t you two think it’s time you let it go?”
Both his brothers looked surprised by his vehemence. They turned to each other and another of those nonverbal exchanges passed between them. Nathan hated how their closeness shut him out. It renewed his determination to take control of the company away from them.
“What do we really know about this technology you want to invest in?” Max grumbled, his body language and expression broadcasting his skepticism. “We’re out of our depth here.”
Nathan stared at his brother. “I’m not.”
“Well, excuse me if I’m having trouble taking your word on this.”
Sebastian silenced his younger brother with a sharp gesture. “Nathan has given us solid numbers on this, Max. Until this thing came up with Smythe, we agreed to give him a chance to approach Montgomery about their joint venture. Silas hasn’t made a decision. I think we should at least give Nathan until the middle of February. If he’s right about Lucas, we can afford to wait.”
“I never thought you’d be up for this kind of risk, Sebastian,” Max said, his eyes narrowing. “That sort of gambling is better left to the experts.” A great deal of sarcasm went into the last word.
Nathan sidestepped the urge to react to his brother’s taunt, but it rankled. He didn’t have an MBA or their business credentials, but he’d made a hell of a lot of money on his ability to research up-and-coming companies and glimpse their potential.
“Why don’t you discuss it?” Nathan glanced at his watch. He was going to be late if he didn’t get going right away. “I’ve got a breakfast meeting. Let me know what you decide.”
Leaving his brothers to make their decision, Nathan grabbed his coat and headed out. Carley’s Café was a three-block walk, and he let the chilly winter air cool his anger as he strode along the sidewalk. For the first time in months—maybe even years—he had a project he could sink his teeth into. He would not give up because of his brothers’ timidity and lack of imagination.
He hadn’t completely banished his ill humor by the time he pushed into the tiny restaurant, but his pulse kicked up in anticipation of seeing Emma again. At this hour, there was only one table available. He stripped off his coat, ordered coffee and settled down to wait.
When the waitress offered to refill his cup a second time, he glanced at his watch. Where the hell was she? It was already half an hour past the time she’d promised to meet him. He tossed money on the table and donned his coat.
Cody had given him her address weeks ago. After their encounter at his condo, he’d considered sending flowers, a balloon bouquet, something foolish and romantic. The impulse disturbed him. He wasn’t the foolish, romantic sort. In the end, he hadn’t done anything, and after she’d ignored his phone calls, he was damn glad.
Nathan walked the five blocks to her building and slipped in without having to warn her of his arrival, thanks to the woman who exited the secure front door ju
st as he arrived. He crossed the newly remodeled lobby to the refurbished freight elevator, imagining Emma’s shock when she answered the door.
On the fourth floor, Nathan found Emma’s unit and rang her doorbell. When no one answered, he tried again. While he considered that she might refuse to let him in, he doubted that she would be hiding inside, pretending she wasn’t home. He tried the doorknob and, to his surprise, found the door unlocked. Entering the unit, he called Emma’s name.
The only noise that reached his ears sounded like someone being violently sick.
He crossed the living room, absently inventorying the size of the place and the abundance of renovation projects left incomplete, and headed down a narrow hallway, following a hunch. At the end of the hall he hit pay dirt. What he found dismayed him.
Someone had taken a sledgehammer to the master bathroom and completely gutted the space. The walls and ceiling had been stripped down to the studs, exposing the wiring and plumbing. Where the shower should have been, he noticed rotten wood, mottled with black stains. The only fixtures in the entire room still intact were the sink and the toilet. And that’s where he found Emma, hunched over the bowl, her eyes wide and incredulous in a face the color of chalk. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Nathan?” She closed her eyes, and her face twisted into an expression of agony. “What are you doing here?”
Before he could answer she had leaned over the toilet and heaved. Concern for her overrode his earlier irritation. He knelt beside her and soothed his hand over her shoulder, buffeted by an all-too-familiar feeling of helplessness. How many times had he sat by his mom after her chemo treatments and struggled with the frustration of not being able to help her?
“I came to see why you stood me up again.”
