by Natasha Tate
His unrepentant smile teased a reciprocal grin from her. “Haven’t you heard? The best way to achieve your goals is to behave as if you’ve already met them.”
“Hmm.” She nodded. “And what, pray tell, would you have done had I kept saying no?”
“I’d have ridden through Central Park all alone, wallowing in solitary misery.”
Laughter bubbled from her throat. “You are such a liar! You’d have found a half-dozen willing females—no, make that supermodels—to assuage the pain of your solitude.”
“Not true.” He sobered, holding her gaze. “If I can’t have you, I’d rather be alone.”
Disbelief marred the clearness of her green eyes while a pretty pink blush rose to stain her cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He feigned a wince. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“It’s true!” Chastened, but still insistent, she continued, “You don’t even know me anymore. Claiming you’d rather be alone than be without me is crazy!”
“But I do know you, Cate.” He cupped his hand around her shoulder, squeezing delicately as he leaned to peruse her defensive expression. “Better than you think I do.”
She bit her lip and dropped her gaze. “Ten years ago, maybe. But you don’t know me now.”
“Don’t I?” He lifted his free hand to her downturned chin and tipped her face up. “My success stems from an ability to make split-second decisions about any given opportunity. I’ve learned to trust my instincts, whether it’s with property, investments or people. And my instincts are telling me I want you.”
Twin furrows formed between her brows. “But relationships aren’t the same as business. There’s more to human interaction than investment potential and the bottom line.”
“I disagree,” he told her. “There’s always a bottom line, whether monetary or not. And with you, I’m willing to negotiate for the pleasure I know we could share.”
“Negotiate!” She gaped at him as if he’d just spoken in tongues. “I don’t care how much money or property you have or how many businesses you run. You’re still a person. A human being. And human beings don’t interact this way.”
“Of course they do. Whether you admit it or not, every relationship is just a series of negotiated business transactions. Physical pleasure, time, prestige and emotion are the currency we use to barter for what we want. Why ignore that reality, instead of using it to our benefit?”
She reared away from his touch. “No wonder you burn through women like you do. No self-respecting female could withstand that attitude for long.”
“You might think so,” he said reasonably. “But you’d be wrong. Every one of them has begged to stay.”
“Well,” she said, crossing her arms over her ribs, “I guess I have more self-respect than they do, don’t I?”
“Which is why I’m so intrigued.”
“Exactly. What kind of fool would I be if I allowed you to seduce me, only to pay the price when you’ve had your fill?”
He cocked his head and smiled. “See? Even you use the language of business to assess the risk.”
“Only because for you, it would be business. A cold, calculated transaction in flesh that would leave me miserable and hurting.”
“You flatter me, sweet. To think I’d have the power to hurt you. Who knew?”
“Don’t be like that, Ethan.”
“Like what?”
“Sarcastic and mean.” She studied him with a perplexed little frown. “Why are you so hard now?”
Because you ripped my heart out and left me to bleed. “I prefer to think of it as smart.”
“Smart?” Sadness, or maybe it was even regret, softened her green eyes as she stared at him. “You forget, Ethan. I know what’s beneath that shell you’ve built around yourself. I know you, and you’re not like this.”
An uncomfortable ache fisted within his chest, but he kept his expression impassive. “Now look who’s claiming to know the other, despite ten long years of separation.”
Her eyes narrowed as she turned on the seat to face him. “Can I ask you something?”
The frisson of unease coiled even tighter in his gut. “Depends.”
“Have you loved even one of those other women you’ve so callously discarded?”
“They knew the terms before becoming involved.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Does it matter?”
“I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t.”
He glared at her, not liking the way she’d derailed the conversation. He’d planned to seduce her, to overcome her resistance with carefully orchestrated romance and blinding pleasure. He’d planned to ravage her, to make her vulnerable without losing one atom of his own control. Discussing love had never been on his agenda. “Love is a marketing ploy used to sell flowers and cards to the gullible masses,” he bit out.
“I’ll take that as a no, then.”
“Love just makes people miserable. I have no interest in it.”
“Because of what I did to you?”
He forcibly relaxed the tension in his jaw and hands. “No, Cate.” He infused the words with a hint of rebuke. “Because I grew up.”
Her expression, soft and filled with remorse, told him she knew he lied. “I’m sorry I made you afraid of love.”
A flare of irritation gathered ground, making him forget his plans for a slow, deliberate seduction. He wanted to hurt her now, to punish her for refusing to acknowledge that he held the upper hand and that his emotional barometer was no longer calibrated to her feelings toward him. “I’m not afraid of love.”
“Then why are you still alone?”
“Why are you?” he shot back.
She sucked in a breath, her glorious emerald eyes looking wounded. Bruised.
Steeling himself against the urge to pull her close and apologize, he said, “Can’t handle it when the questions are aimed at you, huh?”
For a moment, she simply stared at him, looking both bereft and defiant at the same time. “I’m alone because I want it all,” she finally said. “I want a family and security and someone to come home to at night. I want a reason to smile, a reason to get up in the morning and a purpose to give my life meaning. I want someone to love me unconditionally. And even knowing I can’t ever have it, I’m not willing to settle for anything less.” She lifted her chin, her trembling mouth and wavering voice tugging hard against his better judgment. “What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t need one,” he said, brutally quashing the need to comfort her. “I have everything I want, and am perfectly content with my life as it is.”
“Then why are you pursuing me?”
He glowered at her in silence.
“If you’re perfectly content, why court the messiness I’m sure to bring?” Her cheeks flared with distressed color as she pressed her point. “With our history, with all the ugly baggage of our past, why on earth would you choose to seduce me over the dozens of other women you could have without any strings attached?”
“Because.”
“Because?” She huffed out an exasperated exhale. “How is that a reason?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped. “Maybe I want to prove that I’m good enough to claim you.”
The words hung suspended between them, revealing far more than he’d intended to reveal. But it was too late to call them back, too late to stuff them back inside, deep, deep inside where they belonged.
Cate stared at Ethan, the vulnerability beneath his admission making her ache for the man he’d once been, for the man he’d hidden away from the world. From himself, even. “Oh, Ethan,” she said softly, lifting a palm to his face while her eyes searched his. “You were always good enough for me. How could you ever doubt that?”
He lifted his chin from her hand and glared out over their liveried driver’s head. “Spare me your damn pity.”
“What?”
He dismissed her question with a scowl, his jaw bunching in an
ger.
“It’s not pity,” she insisted. “Why on earth would you think I pity you?”
When he ignored her in favor of the passing city lights leading to the park, she stopped pressing for answers and simply watched him in silence. Tension radiated off of him, knit into his clenched teeth and rigid thighs and arms. His posture alone testified to the emotional walls he’d erected, keeping him guarded and alone. It made her want to pull him close, wrap her arms around him and tuck herself up against his ribs. She wanted to warm the coldness inside, to comfort him and convince him of his own worth.
“The park is beautiful,” she finally said, once they’d entered the canopy of trees lining the main drive within Central Park.
“It is,” he said in curt agreement.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She ran a finger over a seam in the blanket, close to his thigh but not quite touching. “I’d forgotten how good it smells here.”
He didn’t reply and her words died to silence on the cold October breeze. Overhead, trees interlaced their shadowed branches, allowing intermittent views of a star-studded sky. After a while, she reached for his hand, curling her gloved fingers over his clenched fist. He remained stiff and unyielding until, feeling foolish, she moved to withdraw her touch.
“Don’t,” he said, breaking the silence. He turned his hand to claim hers and then dragged their joined fingers to his hard thigh. Despite the cold, he was warm, seeping heat through her long, white glove.
“Ethan—”
“Don’t talk,” he said without looking at her, his hand tightening around hers. “Just enjoy the drive.”
She nodded in mute agreement, a fragile hope winging through her chest. Maybe now, they could move forward. Without any barriers. Without any lies.
As they made their leisurely circuit around the park with their hands joined, her hopes tightened into an unbearable knot of longing. It felt as if they were the only two people in the park, alone in a wooded wonderland while the rest of the world spun crazily around them.
After a few more minutes of silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves, Ethan divested Cate of her glove. Their bare hands met, palm against palm beneath the blanket, and she closed her eyes, steeping herself in his %nearness. His thumb grazed the edge of hers for a while, ratcheting up the aching need that had settled into her stomach.
Tucked up against him with the scents of fall mingling with his masculine essence, she could almost pretend they were lovers in truth. She could almost pretend that her scars wouldn’t matter and that the past ten years had never happened.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN the carriage driver drew to a halt several blocks outside the park, Cate recognized the location and then turned to Ethan with a curious, surprised glance. “What are we doing here?”
“I’m hungry.” His glance grazed her mouth.
“But aren’t they closed?”
“Not to us.” He handed her down from the carriage. “When’s the last time you ate a decent meal?”
Certainly not in the past few days. She hadn’t eaten properly before the auction, as her nerves had been too highly strung. And in the wake of his seduction, she’d been too distracted to think about food. Too nervous and unsettled. “Yesterday?” she said, realizing she was famished.
Ethan pressed his mouth into a grim line of disapproval. Within minutes, he’d escorted her inside Le Bernardin’s elegant dining room.
“There’s no one else here!” Cate gasped, turning to view the restaurant’s interior, empty save for their sole table.
“I met the chef at your auction,” Ethan said, as if he reserved entire restaurants after hours as a matter of course. “He agreed to provide an intimate meal for two at my behest.”
“I’m impressed.” She relinquished her coat and slid into the silk-covered seat before a waiter materialized to drape a linen napkin over her lap.
An hour and a half later, after being spoiled by the flawless French service, an incomparable sommelier, a lovely shrimp ravioli puddled in truffle sauce and two full glasses of wine, Cate realized the heated emotion infusing her was more than mere tipsiness. Ethan had relaxed over dinner, losing much of the hard, defensive edge he’d worn in the park, and it made her harbor hopes she had no business feeling. Hopes that she felt nonetheless.
“Tell me about Europe,” she said, leaning forward to cup her chin within her palm. “Do you have a special project that means more to you than the others?”
“Every businessman remembers his first success,” he said, looking at her over his glass of wine. “That first moment when he starts to believe he can actually catch the dream he’s been chasing.”
“That was your first hotel in London, right?”
He nodded, a small smile flirting with his mouth. “The first one I financed and built all on my own, yes.”
“I read somewhere that you’ve built a hundred since.”
“One hundred and eight.” His eyes flashed with pride and she felt her own heart welling with reciprocal satisfaction.
“But none in the States yet.”
“Not yet,” he said cryptically. “But I’m considering a hotel here, in New York.”
“So you might come back? For more than just this trip?”
His gaze caught hers and held. “Depends,” he said.
A flutter of awareness beat low within her belly. “On what?”
“You.”
She swallowed, the wine in her stomach heating with a surge of longing. Maybe she could snatch a few hours of pleasure before fate ripped Ethan away again. Maybe she could wrest a little joy from the barren future stretched ahead of her. Didn’t she owe it to herself to glean as much happiness as possible before the truth sent him away again?
Slightly tipsy, more than slightly aroused and starved for another of his bold kisses, Cate fantasized about how the night might unfold. With him. In the dark. In his bed.
What if they could make love without him seeing her scars? Without pity and disgust and regrets about the past rising up between them? She knew she couldn’t postpone the inevitable forever, but maybe, for a couple of idyllic hours, she could forget all the reasons things would never work between them.
They shared a decadent chocolate-chicory dessert and he watched her with burning eyes as she licked the final bit of chocolate cremeux from her thumb. Staring over the flickering candlelight on their table, she leaned forward to run her fingers around the base of her wineglass, a mere hairsbreadth from Ethan’s splayed hand. Her eyes drifted halfway shut as the quiet night closed around them, until the only sounds were their unsteady breaths.
He moved his hand so his fingertips brushed the ridge of her knuckles. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Desire hung between them, thick and intoxicating, and she wondered how he’d react, were she to lift her stocking-clad foot between his hard thighs. She wanted, oh, how she wanted, to launch herself onto his lap and feel him against her skin again. “And just so you know … I’ve changed my mind,” she heard herself confess. Emboldened by her own daring, she leaned forward to clarify, “About taking you to my bed.”
His fingers froze atop her hand, the shock of his response hovering in the air. He waited ten heartbeats before he slowly exhaled. “You’re a little drunk,” he finally said, extending his palm and standing. “Aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” she recklessly admitted, lifting her hand to his. “Does that bother you?”
His profile was shadowed as he pulled her to her feet and then directed her toward the small coatroom to collect her wrap. Ethan helped her into her coat and then curled his hands into her lapels before staring intently into her eyes. “It makes me wonder about your judgment.”
A fluttering nervousness beat against her throat. “I’m pretty sure I have none left to wonder about.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he led her outside, one hand braced at the base of her spine, the other curved gently around her elbow. After reaching the sidewalk, they we
re soon swallowed by the glittering night lights of the city.
Times Square was still alive despite the late hour, and inebriated Halloween revelers filled the streets. Some sang, some danced dizzily and still others took advantage of the festive atmosphere to indulge in sloppy public kisses. She shivered and Ethan drew her closer, his voice soft and warm against her ear. “Maybe we should walk a bit.”
“Okay,” she told him, leaning close to seek refuge from the cold. His tuxedo jacket carried the scents of fall and wine, coupled with the subtle aroma of a virile, aroused man. She could feel his heat, swallowing her up as fully as the surrounding night. As her eyes adjusted to the scene of revelry, Ethan’s surefooted steps guided her through the intoxicated crowd.
When she stumbled over a ridge of uneven sidewalk, he anchored his arm about her ribs, bracing her shoulder against his side. “Thank you,” she said with a grimace toward her transparent heels. “Cinderella apparently didn’t do much walking about the uneven sidewalks of New York.”
“Certainly not a tipsy Cinderella,” he agreed.
“Then it’s a good thing I have you here to save me, huh?”
Ethan stopped, then turned her to face him with a steadying grip against her upper arms. He waited until she raised her eyes to his and then said, “I’m no prince, Cate. You best know that now.”
“Oh, I do,” she told him before she licked her lips and lowered her gaze to his mouth. “You’re my wounded knight, hurting and angry at the world.” She leaned forward within his grasp, trying to narrow the distance between them. “You’re closed off and emotionally unavailable and I don’t care. I want you anyway.”
His fingers tightened, his thumbs scant inches from her breasts. The thought of him caressing her there, in all the sensitive places his hands had explored when they were young, made her breath quicken. She stared at him, adrift with longing, until the crests of his cheeks darkened and his nostrils flared. Sure that he’d kiss her again, she swayed toward him and her eyelids fluttered closed.
Instead, he pressed her upright again, dug out his cell phone, dialed and issued a low-voiced order. Snapping it closed, he returned it to his pocket and then guided her into a department store alcove, away from the chilling breeze. The lights of Times Square refracted off the chrome and glass, drawing lines on his lean cheek and casting his profile in shadows. “My car will be here in two minutes.”
