She sank down to collapse onto his chest and he held her close, then rolled her onto her back. Still breathing heavily, her eyes stayed closed as she murmured, “I’m like jelly. I can’t move. Ohhh my God.”
With a satisfied grin, he reached for a pillow and lifted her hips for her, sliding it beneath her in the necessary position. She whispered thanks. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, then flopped down beside her. They lay side by side for a few minutes as their bodies quieted. When he started to almost doze off, he made himself push up onto his elbows. “I better get going, or I’m going to pass out here.”
“You can if you want,” she said. Her eyes half opened to look at him, tired and sated. He felt a spark of pride that he’d made her look that way. She was captivating.
But he said, “I think it’s best that I go home.”
She looked at him for a long beat, then said, “All right,” and let her eyes slide closed again. “Is it okay if I don’t walk you to the door?” she whispered.
“Of course. Go to sleep.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then reached to pull the comforter up over her. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Okay . . .”
He watched her for a minute. Her breathing turned slow and deep, and her features relaxed completely. He envied her sleep; he was ready to sleep for a week. He thought about just lying back down and doing that. It was tempting . . . She was tempting . . .
Nope. They weren’t lovers. Lovers stayed the night. Friends with benefits didn’t cuddle or sleep over, no matter how mind-blowing the sex had been or how much they genuinely liked each other’s company. He gazed at her beautiful face for a few seconds longer, then got out of bed and went to get dressed.
Chapter Eighteen
Tess put down her brush and stepped back to better survey the canvas. Painting was both her love and her infinite frustration. She could never quite get onto the canvas the exact vision she had in her head, no matter how hard she tried. It seemed elusive. But she loved the process, the actual painting itself... She always lost herself in it.
She went to add some more cobalt blue to her palette when her cell phone rang behind her. She didn’t answer it; she never answered it when she was painting, letting the call go to voice mail. Her head tipped to the side as she studied her work, trying to decide what to do next. She was so close to being finished with this painting, and it meant a lot to her. It wasn’t often she gave away her artwork as a gift, but she had a feeling—hoped—this one would be appreciated. Her heart was in it.
The phone rang again two minutes later. And again two minutes after that. Annoyed, she finally stomped over to look at the screen. It was her father. “Hello?”
“Finally!” Charles II bellowed. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Why aren’t you leaving me a message when I don’t?” she shot back.
He paused. “Well. Having a good morning, are we?”
“I was, until this.” She so wasn’t in the mood for him today.
“My, my. You sound a bit testy.”
“I’m painting. You’re interrupting. You know how I get.”
“I do. So I apologize for interrupting.” Her father almost sounded earnest. “But I’m tired of leaving voice mails and not getting a return phone call. I deserve better. I don’t like being ignored.”
“Sorry,” she said. With a sigh, she sank into the armchair in the corner. She wouldn’t be able to paint now, her concentration had been broken. “But what if I was on the slopes? Would you have kept calling for hours? Just leave me a voice mail, Dad.”
“I told you, I’m tired of your not answering them.” His tone gained a steely edge. “You’ve been away for six weeks. This is ludicrous already. It’s time for you to come home, don’t you think?” Ah, that was the Charles Harrison II they all knew. Demanding, surly, arrogant, expecting the world to stop on a dime at his command.
“No, I don’t think,” she said. “In fact, I’ll definitely be staying here through March, possibly April too.”
“What?” he shouted. “Why?”
“Because I have some things going on here,” she said mildly, unfazed by his anger. “And until I see them through to completion, I’m staying here. I can do my work for the foundation from here, I’m not slacking. I’m just not physically in New York.”
“What the hell’s so important there that you’re staying?”
“That’s . . . my business. Sorry.”
Blistering silence from him. She could almost feel him thinking, trying to work out an angle, trying to figure out how to find out what she was doing in Aspen. God knew he had the connections and wherewithal; if he dug hard enough, he could probably find out. He certainly had in the past. Her personal life was rarely her own; he’d dug into her business more times than she could count. Being his only daughter hadn’t been easy, ever. The sense of ownership and entitlement where she was concerned hadn’t been clear to her until her college years, but once she’d realized it, it’d been an eye-opening game changer.
“A secret lover? Good for you.”
“It’s no one’s business but mine.”
“Aha! Struck a nerve. Must be a yes.”
“Stop,” Tess snapped. “Now.”
“I’ll come out there myself if I have to,” he finally warned in a low voice.
“Oh my God. Seriously? I’m turning thirty-eight in a few weeks,” she said, fighting not to lose her cool. “What are you going to do, force me onto your private jet and take me home? Been there, done that. It’ll never happen again.”
He hissed out a stream of air in frustration. “You were what, twenty-one then? And still bringing that up? Come on.”
“Twenty-two,” she corrected him. “And being literally dragged onto a plane in Milan by your goons is something I’ll never forget.” Or forgive you for, she added silently. “So why are you coming out here? For what purpose? To bully me into coming home, aka doing what you want? That ship sailed long ago.”
“Listen to you. My goodness. Is that really what you think of me?” he asked.
“Yup. Based on your track record.” A burst of anger shot through her veins. “I’ll never forget what you did. You’re lucky I ever spoke to you again after that stunt.”
“Let’s not go off the rails, here. The past is the past,” he said dismissively.
“Really? Past events affect the present.”
“We’re fine in the present.”
“I am,” Tess said. “But how about you? How’s your family, Dad?”
He grunted in response.
“You lost Pierce,” Tess said. “Dane and Charles barely talk to you. You ready to put me on that list too? The past matters. As for the present, don’t you threaten me that you’re going to come out here, because I have my own life. Don’t threaten me, ever.”
“I’m not threatening you!” he yelled.
“Wish I could replay the tape,” she said. “Sure sounded like it to me.”
“Excuse me for missing you,” he spat. “For being concerned for you.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re not. You know I’m fine, or you would’ve heard otherwise. You just don’t like that you don’t know why I’m choosing to stay in Aspen, what I’m doing.” She sighed. “You still want to control my life, even now. Nothing’s changed.”
“That’s not true,” he proclaimed.
“Sorry, Dad, but it sure sounds and feels like it.” She rose and started pacing the studio. Stress wasn’t good for her. She drew long, deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. “If you simply missed me, you would’ve left me a voice mail saying so. Not called me a bunch of times, been obnoxious about it, then made demands when you reached me.”
“I’d say you sound like your brothers,” Charles II said, “but apparently you haven’t been in contact with them very much either. You’re not talking to any of us.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, but felt a pang. The truth was, she hadn’t been good about returning texts and
calls. It wasn’t like her. Why was she shutting them all out this way? It was something she needed to examine more closely. “Dad, I’m fine. I didn’t want to argue with you. Let me get back to painting, okay?”
“You haven’t even asked how I’m doing.”
“You sound fine to me. Same as always.”
He snorted. “Sorry to bother you. Excuse me for caring.” He hung up.
She growled as she set the phone down. Pierce didn’t understand why she still talked to their father, why she stayed loyal and tried to keep communication open. Days like this, she didn’t understand it either.
She went to the low table for her water bottle. As she sipped, she stared out at the scenic view outside the glass wall. Acres of evergreen forest stretched before snow-capped mountaintops in the not-too-far distance . . . The majesty of it never failed to move her. She gazed at it all as she calmed herself. She had been testy, and went straight into combat mode. But her father was capable of things . . . She knew him all too well.
Of course her mind went back to Milan. She’d gone to Italy the summer after graduating NYU, to travel and paint and find herself a little more. She spent a week in Venice, two weeks in Rome, then went on to Milan. There she’d met Paolo, on her second night in the city. She couldn’t help but smile now as she recalled him. Handsome, sweet, sexy as hell, and nine years older than her, they’d hurled themselves into a passionate fling. She was only supposed to stay in Milan for a week. She ended up staying for three.
It would have been longer, perhaps. But her father somehow caught wind of why she’d changed her plans, and didn’t like it. He’d sent his people—security goons—to Milan to bring her home. The memory of those three men, standing in her small flat, watching her pack her things, still made her blood boil. She’d had no say in the matter. She’d barely even been able to wish Paolo a tender but tearful goodbye, but at least she’d been allowed that much. She’d never forget the way he caressed her face and whispered sweet nothings in Italian against her ear as he hugged her that last time.
They’d lost touch soon after she returned home. It hadn’t been a great love, but it had been an intense connection, and Tess had hoped it wouldn’t die out so fast. She figured he’d been turned off by her father’s interference and couldn’t really blame him. It wasn’t until years later, after she got engaged to Brady, that she’d found out the truth. Glad that she’d found someone suitable to marry, her father told her how he’d threatened Paolo to make him stay away from her. Paolo had been indignant, but Charles II had won. Their relationship had healed and gotten past the whole debacle, but she’d never fully forgiven her father for it.
There had been other incidents over the years, big and small. There had been the way he treated her brothers as well, Pierce in particular. He claimed everything he did was for the good of the family, out of love. But the years of limitless power had warped his mind. She remembered him being a loving father when she was very small . . . but that had been before her parents’ marriage had blown sky-high. Now, the bottom line was: Charles Harrison II was controlling, egomaniacal, and ruthless. His children, though grown, were like trophies as much as people. The heart attack had softened him some. She’d seen that. But not enough. A seventy-year-old leopard couldn’t change his spots.
Now she wondered what he’d do if he found out her current plans and didn’t like them. Would he somehow shut down the clinic? Put Dr. Fuller’s career in jeopardy? Find Logan and threaten him within an inch of his life? She took a long sip of water. Yeah, she had damn good reason to keep her dreams and plans to herself.
She knew her brothers would never tell their father her plans if she asked them not to. They were loyal to her above him, without question. But . . . what if they didn’t approve either? They all had their own wives now, their own families. If they started with the maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet, give it more time crap, she’d pull her hair out. Maybe she wasn’t giving them enough credit. But she just didn’t want to argue or defend her position to anyone. She’d made this decision on her own, and was handling it on her own. It was how it had to be.
Because she knew what her brothers already knew, though none of them had said it aloud. The Harrison money and power was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. All the money in the world couldn’t buy happiness, or the love of your family. Their own parents were both walking proof of that. Biggest cautionary tale ever.
The four siblings always stuck together, understanding one another in a way outsiders simply couldn’t. And all four of them had fought through the murky parts to blaze their own paths to happiness—finding love, creating family. Her three brothers had somehow found their happy endings. It was her turn, dammit.
Logan had signed the initial papers waiving paternity rights. There’d be more to sign once she was actually pregnant, but he’d been completely agreeable every step of the way. And, if all went well, he was even willing to freeze a few samples so later on, a year or two down the road, she could give her child a sibling or two.
She’d given up on finding romantic love, but she could create a family and have that joy, that bond, on her own. That was all she wanted now. And she wasn’t ready to share that with her brothers, or her father, or anyone. For now, anyway.
Aspen had been a welcome retreat so far. Everything about it, from its quiet natural beauty, to spending time with Logan, to painting and reading and just . . . being on her own. The exhilaration and thrill of leading her own life away from the watchful eyes of her family was astonishing. The freedom . . . she’d never known how much she needed to break away from the Harrison clan until she’d done it. Being a dutiful daughter, a constant source of support as a sister, the face and responsibility behind the Harrison Foundation . . . being away from it all was revitalizing. A powerful renewal.
Movement outside caught her eye and she focused on it. A large, dark bird soared above the trees, cutting through the bright blue sky. A hawk? She narrowed her eyes and watched . . . No, it was an eagle. A bald eagle. Her breath caught as she watched the magnificent bird sail on the wind. Free to soar. She smiled as she watched him fly.
* * *
Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Fuck. Again Logan raked his hands through his hair as he thought about it. Tess hadn’t mentioned anything . . . He wasn’t sure if he should do anything; they weren’t a real couple. But an agreed-to bargain or not, they were sleeping together. A lot. And mutually enjoying it. And enjoying each other as friends. Not to mention if he didn’t do anything, his mom would be suspicious.
Doing a little something for Tess couldn’t hurt, right? He was surprised to find that he wanted to. Best of all, since she hadn’t brought it up, she likely wasn’t expecting anything. So that would be fun too, to surprise her.
He was out on a work call, on the other side of Red Mountain. He had wood to chop up for the Andersons, but texted her before he could rethink it. Hey there, Long Island Lady. Hoping you don’t have dinner plans for tomorrow night? Then he picked up his axe, swinging with precise movements. He savored the burn in his shoulders, his arms, and the muscles in his back as he took in lungfuls of cold, fresh air and chopped at the logs in the snow.
It was a good workout. He’d just started to break a sweat when his phone buzzed in his pocket. But he set down the axe, curious to see Tess’s answer. She’d responded: I have no plans for tomorrow night, Thor. I was thinking you were just going to come over and try to get me knocked up.
He burst out laughing, then texted back: Can I do that after a nice dinner? It IS Valentine’s Day. If I don’t take my best fake girlfriend out, Mom will be suspicious.
Good point. Yes, dinner would be lovely. She sent a wink emoji, then added, I’ll dress up pretty for you, valentine style. One sexy red dress, coming up.
Oh man, he wrote, his blood racing at the thought. Well then, while you’re at it, consider this my official request for lingerie underneath. If not on Valentine’s, then when?
Request g
ranted. I’m on it.
Best news I’ve heard all day.
You know, we’ll probably have a better Valentine’s Day than most real couples have. No stilted silences, guaranteed sex at the end of the night . . . We win!
He laughed again. Her sense of humor never failed to delight him, and her vibrant personality . . . It had put some light into his life. She brought light to his dark. He was grateful for that. Smiling, he texted back, We SO win.
When he got to her door the next evening, he realized he was more than relaxed, he was almost . . . chipper. Maybe a bounce in his step. He was looking forward to a nice night ahead. It was great to be able to spend Valentine’s Day with a woman who wasn’t expecting anything from him but companionship, a good meal, and hot sex. Not just any woman, but a genuinely amazing woman, one he liked more with each day. Tess was . . . special. A rare gem. He wanted the night to be nice for her. She deserved that.
So when she opened the door and her eyes lit up at his offering, he felt like he’d scored a slam dunk. “Oh, Logan . . .” She smiled brightly as she looked over the enormous bouquet of two dozen red roses. “These are gorgeous.”
“Just like you.” He hadn’t wanted to go the dozen-red-roses route; it seemed too cliché for a woman as classy as Tess. At first, he’d asked the florist to mix together different types of red flowers, but it looked a little odd. So, two dozen roses, then.
He followed her inside as she said over her shoulder, “Let me just put these in water, and then we can go.”
His eyes greedily traveled over the tight red wrap dress that clung to her body. Long sleeves, low V-neck, it accentuated every graceful angle and curve. Falling above the knee, it also showcased her knockout legs down to her red stilettos. He let out a long, low whistle of appreciation. “You . . . that dress. Wow.”
She tossed him a flirty glance and grin. “Glad you like it,” she said before disappearing into the kitchen.
Between You and Me Page 22
