by Francis Ray
“My staff takes orders from me.” Blade continued reading a leather-bound file and making notations in the margin with a pen.
“Then I guess you’ll have to stop being ticked at me long enough to go tell them.”
He flipped another page. “I’m busy, if you don’t mind.”
“If you were any other man, I’d let you remain in a huff,” she told him, and watched his pen pause. Rounding the desk, she eased on top of it and crossed her legs. The black silk rose up to above her knees. She swung one leg and watched sunlight catch the light of the rhinestone details on her ankle-strap sandals.
Blade looked as well. He was no longer holding the pen; he was gripping it.
“It occurred to me that I might have been wrong about you,” she began.
His head came up. His eyes were hard and as sharp as icicles. “Say what you have to and then leave.”
The words were meant to flay her, crush her. Instead they made her more determined. She leaned toward him. “Boys, then men, have been after me for as long as I can remember. You’re the first one who ever tempted me one minute and the next made me angry enough to tear into him.”
She watched, fascinated, as warmth pushed the coldness from his face. “If that isn’t bad enough, my family is worried about me. They say they trust me, but every night they all call to check on me. One hint that things have gone where they’re all praying it doesn’t, and my family will be here, and it won’t be pretty.”
His hand lifted toward her, then settled back on the book. “Your family means a lot to you.”
“Everything. I won’t disappoint them for a fling.”
“I—” Muttering, he shot up from his desk, paced away, then back. This time he did touch her, grabbing both of her arms. “I can’t promise you forever.” His laughter was harsh. “I can’t even promise you next month. I only know that I want you. I’ve never wanted another woman as much. I’m a selfish bastard to want you anyway, and hope that is enough.”
She watched his face as he uttered the words that could have sliced through her heart. They weren’t easy for him. “Who hurt you?”
He jerked back as if she had sucker-punched him. He retreated before her eyes. She eased off his desk. Whatever the cause of the pain, it was deep, the wound still open and festering. She ached for him. She wanted so badly to help him and couldn’t. She felt helpless. It wasn’t a feeling she was comfortable with or used to. “We’re overdue for breakfast.”
“Sierra, it can’t be the way you want,” he said, his voice tormented. “One day I’ll walk away.”
She pushed the hurt away. Blade wasn’t intentionally being cruel or trying to hurt her. Just the opposite: he was trying to save her. How could she make him understand that her growing need to help him drew her as strongly as the sexual pull? “I don’t recall asking you to stay.”
His eyes widened. Anger glinted back at her. “You’re not into casual sex.”
“I don’t figure it will be casual if it happens.” She took his hand, found it clenched, then worked it open to place against hers, palm to palm.
“I’d tear a man apart for taking advantage of you.”
“You won’t have to,” she said, leading him to the door.
His mouth firmed. “I suppose you’d take care of him yourself?”
Her free hand tenderly cupped his cheek. “No. I won’t have to. You won’t take advantage of me.”
His eyes shut. He pulled her tightly into his arms, his hold desperate. “I should send you away.”
“Try it and I’ll have my brother Morgan sue you for breach of contract so fast your head will swim.”
He started shaking. Concerned, Sierra lifted her head. Joy splintered through her. Laughter spilled from his mouth. Wonderful, sweet laughter.
“You paid the debt, and then some.” Her voice wobbled.
His hands gently palmed her face. “I wish I could give you what you wanted.”
“I could say the same thing,” she countered.
He kissed her, quickly, passionately, then pulled her into his arms. “You have. I was miserable last night and this morning until you pushed your way in here.”
“I did not push. Jenkins showed me the way,” she said, wanting to keep the mood light.
“He probably did. He and Martin are firmly in your corner.” Blade opened the door. Martin and Jenkins, their faces anxious, waited in the hallway. The men’s gazes went first to a smiling Sierra, then to an equally smiling Blade.
“See, I told you,” Blade said to Sierra, then to the men. “Martin, I hope breakfast is ready.” The chef took off and Jenkins started to follow until Blade called him.
“Jenkins.”
The man slowly turned. “Yes?”
“The next time I give you an order and Sierra counters it, what is your response going to be?”
The elderly man thought for a few moments before answering. “Why, the response that will make you the happiest, of course, sir.”
Blade glanced down at Sierra. “I’ve lost control of my staff, and you’re the reason.”
“You can thank me by hurrying to breakfast.” She pulled him down the hallway. Shaking his head, he followed.
EIGHT
The meeting with Bob Fulton, the head of the advertising agency; Jacques Fontaine, the decorator; Dominique; and Sierra went well, Blade thought. Fulton had arrived with solid ideas and an open mind. All of them agreed that a Web site was long overdue and would go up as soon as possible. Blade nixed the idea of him welcoming the viewer to his newest property and, instead, chose Sierra as the exclusive broker.
Dominique and Jacques liked the idea. In nothing flat, the meeting moved from Blade’s home office to the estate Sierra lived in. She quickly changed into a black Carolina Herrera suit, pearls, and a pair of black-heeled sandals to welcome the viewer into what Jacques called the Crown Jewel, an estate in a luminous palette of sand, gold, and cream.
Blade stayed out of the way as Dominique took photo after photo. With each of Sierra’s gracious smiles, the tilt of her face, Blade was impressed anew by how striking she was, how much heart and courage she possessed.
He admired her, respected her, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Sierra easily broke all the standards in regard to his relationship with women. In the past his infrequent times with women had always been purely physical and brief. And although he wasn’t status conscious, they were usually wealthy. There was less chance of problems later on. He didn’t pursue women, and certainly not his own employees.
Sierra had touched his emotions from the first time he saw her watching him. With lust, with need, with yearning, and the emotions continued to evolve, to grow. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about those feelings. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to spend as much time as possible with her.
For the last shot, Dominique asked Sierra to pretend to pour a thin flute of champagne, sink into a Louis XVI armchair in front of the oversized ecru silk damask curtains, then prop her feet on the gold-legged ottoman covered in Hermes leather.
Blade could see her there, with him. He could also picture her welcoming visitors. “I think we need to have a film crew in on this as well. Sierra can take them on a virtual tour, explain all the amenities.”
“I think you’re right.” Dominique lowered her Nikon. “This place is fabulous. Combine that with Sierra’s natural warmth and it will be a fantastic draw.”
“I can call and see if I can have a crew here in the morning,” Fulton said, making a notation in a leather binder he carried.
“This afternoon.” Blade straightened and unfolded his arms. “I want the Web site up by the morning.”
The rotund man’s eyes rounded. He swallowed hard. “Today? I don’t—” His voice trailed off at Blade’s unbending look. “This afternoon.” Fulton started for the door.
“Fulton.” His expression tense, the man slowly turned to Blade. “Good job so far. If you haven’t confirmed the film crew within the next hour or
so, let me know and I’ll have someone else look into it.”
Fulton’s shoulders straightened as he drew an audible sigh of relief. “I’ll take care of it.” He let himself out the door.
Blade crossed to Dominique Falcon-Masters. Dressed in a black linen jacket, white blouse, black jeans, and sneakers, she was a striking woman with golden-brown skin and a direct gaze. “Thank you for coming. I look forward to seeing your photographs.”
“I’ll have them back to you by early afternoon,” Dominique told him.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” Blade moved to Jacques, the slender man with the creative genius to ensure that the interiors of Blade’s properties exuded luxury, and held out his hand. “I’ve never appreciated your talent as much as today.”
The slender man’s sharp gaze flickered to Sierra. “Every beautiful thing needs a proper setting. Call me if needed when the film crew arrives.” Bidding good-bye to everyone, he left.
Finally, Blade stepped in front of Sierra and casually studied her upturned face. He could have looked at her for hours and never tired of doing so. “This is going to be a long day. Are you up to it?”
“You just get the film crew here before sunset. The evening sun falling across the pale parquet floors, the paintings, and the crystal chandelier is breathtaking. Then the shot of the terrace with the skyline will be stunning.”
Unable to help himself, he swept the back of his fingers down her velvet-smooth cheek. “Breathtaking. Stunning. I couldn’t agree more. I’ll see you later.”
Sierra’s breath fluttered over her lips. She’d caught Blade watching her during the photo session. It had been difficult to keep her mind on what she was doing and not on how magnificent he was, how much she would have liked to send them all away and let him take her into his arms.
“Yummy,” Dominique whispered as Blade left.
Sierra glanced up at her cousin, unaware of the frown on her face. “He is, isn’t he?”
“Problems?” Dominique unloaded the camera and stuck the roll of film into the pocket of her jacket.
Glad she could talk openly with her cousin, Sierra sank into the plush sofa near the terrace. “Besides my family being worried Blade is going to take advantage of me? Besides my caring for a man who has told me very clearly that he doesn’t want anything permanent?”
Finished storing her equipment in the case, Dominique took the ottoman at Sierra’s feet. “Men change their minds.”
Sierra blew out a breath. “You don’t know how much I’m hoping and praying that he does.”
Dominique stared at her cousin. “I have a feeling that you’re going to do your best to help him.”
“Of course.” Sierra leaned back in the sofa. “It scares me that I might not be able to. I learned watching my brothers fall in love that emotions are unpredictable. Not that I’m saying this is love, mind you.” She bit her lower lip. “I’ve failed in the past and gotten over it, but I don’t think this will be one of those times. He moves me, touches me on the deepest level.”
“When Trent learned I had money and wasn’t just a struggling photographer, he thought I had betrayed him and refused to listen.” Dominique drew one long jean-clad leg under her. “He came around when he thought I was in danger. He was so frightened for me. It was sweet. He picked me up and refused to put me down.”
Sierra knew the story well. Dominique had been slightly injured by a knife-wielding thug, but she’d disarmed him. “The men I dated in the past pale in comparison to Blade. My heart actually thumps when I see him. You had your happy ending. I’m not sure there will be one for me, or even whether what I feel is forever or just a lust-filled attraction.”
“Only you and time can answer that.” Dominique patted her pocket and came to her feet. “I’d better take the film to the lab. Blade doesn’t appear to be the type of man who accepts excuses. I’ll let myself out. If you need to talk, call.”
“All right. Thanks for everything.” Slipping off her heels, Sierra drew her feet under her. She didn’t know the answer to her question. She only knew he called to her in the most elemental way. Lust or true affection? Time would tell.
The photographs were as beautiful as Blade had expected them to be. In photograph after photograph spread across his desk, Sierra stared back at him, vibrant and beautiful. He reached out to trace the outline of her incredible face, then realized what he had been about to do and placed his hand on the desk instead.
“Sierra was right. You’re very talented, Dominique,” Blade said, finally lifting his head.
“Thank you.” She sat perfectly at ease across from him in one of the leather wing chairs in his office.
Blade noted she wasn’t awestruck by him, as too many people tended to be, in his opinion. But then with a brother like Daniel Falcon and her wealthy family background, probably few people or things intimidated her. In that she was just like her cousin.
“It helped having a woman as beautiful and as photogenic as Sierra doing something she loved in such a luxurious setting,” Dominique added.
“Yes.” Blade’s helpless gaze went unerringly back to the pictures. “Has Sierra seen these?”
“Not yet. I wanted to let you have the first look,” Dominique admitted.
His head lifted. “Why?”
“To see your reaction.”
He didn’t like that one bit. “Why?” he demanded.
Dominique met Blade’s hard gaze without flinching. “To see if I should get her as far away from you as fast as possible.”
There it was again, the protective, close-knit family. They were lucky to have one another. Luckier still to realize it. “Sierra would fight you as much as I would to see that that didn’t happen.”
“If I hadn’t seen your expression while you looked at those pictures, I might have put it to the test.” Dominique came gracefully to her feet. “I’ll stay out of it for now, but hurt her, intentionally or not, and you’ll be seeing me again, and I won’t be alone.”
He stood as well. “I have no intention of hurting Sierra.”
Dominique didn’t respond until she reached the door. “What is it they say about the road to hell being paved with good intentions?”
“Something like that.”
“I’d remember that if I were you. Good-bye.”
Almost as soon as the door closed, the sliding doors to his bedroom opened. “Looks like Daniel’s little sister can be just as scary as he is.” Shane gazed at the pictures scattered on Blade’s desk, then at the muscle leaping in his jaw. “You usually could care less when someone warns you off. What’s different?”
He and Shane had been through hell together. There were no secrets between them. “They might have a point.”
“So, get rid of her.”
Blade turned quickly, his eyes glacial. “No.”
Shane briefly laid his hand on Blade’s rigid shoulder. “You can’t have it both ways.”
A muscle leaped angrily in Blade’s jaw. “You think I don’t know that? You want to hear something crazy? She knows what a selfish bastard I am and she refuses to leave. She tried to make a joke of it, that she’d sue me if I tried.”
“She’s something,” Shane said, admiration in his voice.
“And not afraid of the devil.” Blade turned to Shane. “Whatever it takes, keep her safe.”
Shane straightened, all lazy deceptiveness vanished. “Has something happened?”
“No, but if word leaks out that we’re seeing each other, we both know that might change.” Blade took his seat. “So far she doesn’t mind dining in, but sooner or later she’ll want to go out. The press will jump on it, since they’ve been clamoring for years for a story on me, and that means it will be splattered in the print media across the country. If that happens, it might attract the attention of unsavory people.”
“We’ll keep her safe.”
Blade said nothing, just picked up a photograph. Just the thought of not seeing Sierra again or of her being hurt or in dang
er made his gut clench. Shane and Rio would do their best, but all of them knew there were times when your best wasn’t good enough and the innocent paid the ultimate price.
Sierra had a new respect for Sabra after the film crew left shortly after nine that night. It had taken them three hours to film five and a half minutes of video. The woman in charge had been exacting. Sierra had to take them through each of the furnished models. While she appreciated the woman’s talent, Sierra had been glad when she closed the door on the last person of the camera crew.
“Tired, hungry, or both?” Blade asked as she turned.
Through it all, he had been there, silently watching. “Both.”
“Then come and eat, and then get some sleep.” He held out his hand. She took it without a moment’s hesitation, then leaned her head against his broad shoulder as he led her to the kitchen.
“Thank you.” She wondered if he realized how much it meant to her that he watched over her and was concerned for her.
On the table were a large shrimp salad, fresh fruit, and a basket of bread. Because of appointments and the photo shoot and filming, she’d missed lunch and dinner.
“Please kiss Martin for me.” She smiled and quickly took her seat.
“I’ll pass.” Blade picked up her plate and filled it and his, then lowered his head.
Finished with the blessing, Sierra reached for the fork. “Will the Web designer be able to have the site ready by tomorrow?”
“Yes. He was just waiting for the video.” Blade stood. “Forgot the lemonade.”
“I’ll get it.”
“No, you’ve been on your feet enough.” Opening the refrigerator, he took out the glass pitcher. “Can you sleep in or do you have an early-morning appointment?”
“Not exactly an appointment, but I’m meeting Jess.” She tore off a piece of tomato basil bread.
“Jess?”
Her face saddened. “He’s a welder and, according to your construction foreman, one of your best. It’s kind of an unspoken thing that we meet every day before he clocks in for us to see how his wildflower is doing.”
