“Thanks for the signature,” was all she said.
He blinked, snapping his eyes to hers. In a voice of steel, he said, “No problem.”
She left and he sagged in his chair. Categorizing Taylor as his coworker and family friend wasn’t working. Especially when she was impassioned. Worked up over Lowell or insisting Addison like her again—both made her more tempting.
Royce couldn’t allow himself to be tempted. He had to work—and focus on the company’s naming a new CEO. Turned out after his lecture about being responsible, Taylor had taken his advice and smoothed out the issue with Bran. He should be glad.
So why wasn’t he?
* * *
Royce left the office earlier than his usual six o’clock. His father, Jack, had requested he join him at Rust and Boar, a steakhouse known for its elitist lounge. Fine by Royce. He couldn’t concentrate on a damn thing anyway.
Usually over cigars or brandy, or both, Jack Knox made the deals he’d become famous for—the same ones that’d made ThomKnox billions. Jack wasn’t one for cigar smoking, though. That’d been Taylor’s father Charles’s passion more than Jack’s. Jack held tight to tradition, however, and liked that even in California, where it rained granola, they could still discuss business over a slab of meat and a stiff drink.
Royce smiled to himself as he recalled the last business meeting that went down in Rust and Boar, mainly because Taylor had come in her father’s place. She’d done her father proud. ThomKnox was not and never would be a boys’ club. Taylor was as respected—if not more respected—than any man in the company.
He frowned when he thought of how much he liked that about her. How it made her tantalizing in a way other than physically. A woman he should be admiring from afar for her stellar work ethics had somehow worked her way under his skin. It didn’t match his ethos and that was possibly more disturbing than anything. Royce was always in control. For Taylor to pop him at the seams... It made no sense.
Stress. He could blame stress. The possibility of being named CEO was a big deal. Brannon and Royce not getting along for a few days was a big deal. Lowell Olsen was a thorn in their sides.
Yes. Blaming stress would work fine.
Not calling himself on his own BS, he stepped inside the restaurant. He spotted his father at the bar, white head tossed back and laughing heartily with the woman next to him. The woman was a very big part of ThomKnox’s success and Royce’s first love: his mother, Macy.
“Royce!” She threw her arms up when she saw him.
He came close and kissed her cheek. “You’re looking beautiful this evening.” Then he turned to shake his father’s hand. “Dad. Good to see you.”
“Our table is being prepared.” Jack grinned, his smile bright and genuine. Brannon definitely had that side of Jack—the lighter, more infectious side. Royce had inherited his dad’s cunning instincts and head for business.
Can’t win ’em all. Besides. Royce was better at rigid and unapproachable. Call it an art.
“Mr. and Mrs. Knox, your room is ready.” A suited man, black leather menu boards in the crook of one arm, turned to lead them from the bar to a private window-filled room. Nicknamed “the sun room,” the upstairs private room actually belonged to ThomKnox and was often used for special occasions. Royce assumed it’d be where they held his father’s retirement party. If Jack ever got around to announcing it.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked his parents once they were seated by the window, a breathtaking view of mountains and blue skies in the backdrop. It was rare to have dinner just the three of them. Usually Bran, Gia and, when they were married, Jayson Cooper, were present as well.
“Wine first. Then we’ll discuss.” Decree made, Jack took his time tasting different vintages before settling on a bottle for the table. They ordered the chef’s special of almond-crusted rainbow trout with wilted greens and were halfway through their dinners when Jack was suddenly ready to talk.
“I’m naming you CEO.” He made the announcement without fanfare, after forking a bite of trout and chewing thoughtfully.
Royce, napkin in hand, slowly lowered it to his lap and exchanged glances with his mother. Her genial smile suggested she knew what was coming and approved of the decision.
“An announcement will be at the office. I’ll hold a meeting and we’ll make it official. I wanted you to be prepared. Give you some time to digest the news. I know you’re slower to accept change than Bran or Gia.”
“Do they know?”
“They will soon,” answered his dad.
“Gia doesn’t want CEO,” his mother chimed in. “She never has. She has aspirations. If you ask me, they’re not in marketing. She had to move somewhere after hers and Jayson’s divorce.”
“Mark my words,” Jack said, “she wants to take over the technology department.”
“Coop will love that,” Royce muttered under his breath. Jayson Cooper wasn’t above being ruled by a female, but his ex-wife was next level.
“Brannon wants CEO. And we know that,” his mother said.
“But you want it more,” his father said.
Royce shook his head, but it was for show. Everything in him leaned forward as if shouting YES. Jack raised a hand to stay anything to the contrary Royce might’ve said.
“You deny yourself what you truly want. You always have. You’re our ambitious firstborn and yet so ready to sacrifice for your siblings,” Jack said with a proud smile. “But you can’t deny you want this. You’re ready.”
“It’s our way of saying that it’s past time to say yes to yourself,” Macy added.
“It’s also completely selfish.” Jack placed his fork and knife on his plate. “You’re the one who should be running ThomKnox, no one else. You’re the one who can level up with the company. I’m going to be busy building a private resort on an island for your mother and myself to vacation. No time or desire to care about the future of ThomKnox.” His father winked to show he was exaggerating.
Hearing the words “no time or desire to care” made Royce’s shoulders draw back in pride. He did care. He had the time. Since graduating high school and doggedly pursuing a college degree he’d been invested in ThomKnox. Not to say that Bran didn’t love his family or the business—he did, and so did Gia. But this was about what was right for the company. Who would be more dedicated, more available. That person was obviously Royce.
He wasn’t encumbered with a wife or a girlfriend. And now that this was almost settled, there would be no limbo. He could move forward and put the snafu between him and Taylor behind him.
He wanted CEO. Down to his very marrow.
Jack let out a soft chuckle and patted his son’s cheek like he had when Royce was a kid.
“There he is,” Jack said to his wife. “Told you he’d love it.”
Macy nodded. “Yes. You did.”
Only then did Royce allow himself to grin. To feel the buzz of satisfaction throughout his entire body.
CEO was his.
He would make his parents proud.
Nine
Taylor hung her silk shirt in the closet and fingered the delicate fabric, her mind on Royce. He’d been checking her out today. His not mentioning her popped button had nothing to do with respecting her as a coworker. What was it with men and their complete denial of what was right in front of them?
She shook her head. It’d been a long day. Best not to analyze that stumper. She stripped off her slacks and hung them as well, sliding one hanger then another to the side in search of her favorite pair of comfy leggings.
What was Royce trying to prove today? That she was objectively unattractive? She swiped another hanger, remembering the moment she’d caught him looking. Really looking.
“Eating me up with those deep brown eyes...” And then denying it.
Vehemently.
“What’s he
afraid of?” she asked her closet.
What are you afraid of?
Valid point. Why hadn’t she called him on it? Why hadn’t she confronted him the way she had Bran? Was it propriety? Was it procrastination? Or was it some latent, misplaced loyalty to her father’s wishes?
Ding! We have a winner!
It wasn’t like her to not go after what she wanted. Until now, however, Royce had never given her a reason to pursue him. He’d never looked at her the way he’d looked at her today. It’d been exhilarating watching him at war with himself, the silent battle pulling the sides of his mouth into a frown. It was as if he’d been giving himself a stern talking-to. Worse, she’d let him off the hook. All because her father had once suggested that Royce was not the man for her. At the time, she’d found it funny. Royce hardly gave her a passing glance.
“Today, it was more than a passing one.”
She really needed to get a cat. Or a goldfish. Muttering to herself alone in her apartment was a recipe for a straitjacket. She slid another hanger and encountered a garment she’d forgotten about.
Seth Wheeler had been a longish term boyfriend for Taylor. They’d nearly made it to a one-year anniversary, and she’d believed they might even get married and have a family someday. Her parents liked him and Taylor herself felt stirrings of love after only a month. When Seth finally uttered those three words to her, she’d happily returned them. They were together but separate people, both busy professionals who prioritized their careers. Then Seth, an engineer, had been offered an opportunity in Dubai the very same day Taylor had learned of her father’s cancer diagnosis.
Her life abruptly changed for the worse. In so many ways.
Seth was ecstatic about the “once in a lifetime opportunity.” He was also unwilling to stay in California. Taylor refused to leave her father’s side. She’d expected Seth to turn down Dubai. To stay here with her while her father fought for his life.
Seth instead left her behind. He’d been apologetic but oh-so-selfish. “What’s between us, Tay, it may not work out long-term,” he’d told her. “But Dubai? It’s a sure thing.”
Mind returning from the past, she fingered the delicate lingerie. She’d purchased the luxurious La Perla slip specifically for her and Seth’s one-year anniversary. The black slip sailed over her body like a whisper, making her feel undeniably feminine. The hand-embroidered floral design framing the neckline and the low V-shaped dip in the back made the piece a work of art.
And since she bought it for the way it made her feel, not because Seth would’ve liked it, she kept it. She told herself that someday there’d be another man in her life who would make her want to slide into the seven-hundred-dollar garment.
As she rubbed the silky material between her fingers, she thought of Royce’s reaction to hearing the news that she’d talked to, and hugged, Brannon. Royce had looked like he wanted a few carpenter’s nails to gnaw on. She’d bet he was suffering from the same green-eyed monster as Addison.
Royce was jealous.
“Like silk, do you?” She pulled down the black velvet hanger, a positively delicious idea popping into her mind. Maybe it was time—past time—to challenge her father’s opinion about whom she should or shouldn’t date. She loved her father. She respected him. Her dad had the best intentions when it came to her. But he also could’ve been wrong.
Royce wanted her. She wanted him.
What more did she need to do?
Prove it. That’s what.
The flirty short skirt showcased her toned thighs. The skinny straps framed her shoulders. The boldness of showing up unannounced wearing it would be Royce’s ultimate weakness. No way could he deny his attraction then.
It was past time she did something because she wanted to do it. Not what her parents wanted. Not what her friends wanted. She’d been dating the wrong guy in some misguided effort to please her father, for heaven’s sake. Enough was enough.
Sparks didn’t come along every day. And the ones that flew between her and Royce were so rare, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything like it. Not even with Seth.
She unearthed a snow-white, thigh-length trench coat next, and from the shoebox on the top shelf of her closet, pulled down her highest black heels. The little ankle straps would go nicely with the acres of leg showing beneath the coat.
Wearing only a mischievous smile, she climbed into a warm shower for a quick rinse. Twenty minutes later she was in her car driving to Royce’s house.
Uninvited.
* * *
Royce arrived home and tossed his key fob into the decorative bowl in the foyer. A lush green plant sat next to the tall narrow table in the entryway, its leaves shined to glossy perfection by his housekeeper. She also left a bowl of lemons on the kitchen counter along with a vase of fresh flowers in the dining room.
He appreciated those kinds of details. Living alone was fine with him, but he liked life breathed into the space that he returned to each day after work. It gave him a sense of not being alone, but he was never required to converse. Which he also liked.
At least he usually liked it.
Since his parents had shared the news that he was CEO, Royce had been elated. Practically buoyant. Talk about two emotions he didn’t feel often, if ever. His mother had taken a car home and he and his father retired to the bar for a scotch. Jack had reiterated that he would tell Gia and Bran personally, asking Royce not to say anything of their clandestine dinner. “Rumors can destroy a company,” he’d warned.
Didn’t Royce know it.
“You’re brilliant,” his father had added. “Hell, all my children are. But you are thoughtful and slow to speak. Careful in the right ways. That is what will make you a great CEO.”
Royce had agreed with that assessment. Then his father said something that made Royce frown.
“You’re also careful in the wrong ways. Being reckless is okay from time to time. The world won’t come off its axis if you do something wild.”
His mind arrowed back to—who else? Taylor Thompson. The kiss in the closet that never should have happened. It had been wild. Barely restrained. And while the world wasn’t knocked from its axis, it had been given a solid shove.
Taylor was an indulgence. An indulgence he was supposed to have forgotten about by now. An indulgence that should’ve been satisfied a week ago. An indulgence that was making him itch like he was wearing a new wool sweater. He needed to do something, but he had no idea what.
He tossed his jacket onto the back of the dining room chair and removed his cuff links. He didn’t typically undress in his kitchen but before he did anything else tonight, he was celebrating. A glass of wine would be nice. Then he could toast to himself.
He bent to pull a bottle of Old Vine Zinfandel from its home in the wine rack and admired the sleek black bottle with the pewter emblem on the neck. His house, normally welcoming and quiet, felt like a soundproof cocoon. He was happy but had no one to celebrate with—he couldn’t call up Gia or Bran—so he was stuck with his own company.
Keeping secrets from his siblings didn’t sit well with him, though he understood his parents’ motivations. They needed to tell Gia and Bran in their own time and in their own way. Royce respected that. He opened the bottle and poured a few inches of the red into a wineglass.
Unsure what to do with himself, he flipped on a table lamp and sat on the new-but-made-to-look-worn leather sofa. Strumming his fingers on his knees, he spotted the remote for the fireplace. In the click of a button flames flickered to life. Wine in hand, he sipped, struck by how odd it was to sit here without work in front of him. He set the wineglass aside, lifted a magazine off the table, also left in place by his housekeeper, and idly flipped through it before setting it aside as well.
He grunted what might’ve been a laugh. His father was right. Royce really didn’t know how to unwind.
The doorbell chimed and he jumped off the couch, almost embarrassingly eager to invite whomever it was inside. Even if it was one of his siblings, he could still share a glass of wine if not the reason behind it. Shared wine with company was a hell of a lot better than sitting here alone.
The black-and-white security screen in the kitchen showed a woman standing on his front porch but she was too tall to be Gia. He leaned in for a closer look.
“Taylor?” His first thought was that something awful had happened. Why else would she stop by unannounced? His second thought, after he’d yanked the door open, was that she was at the wrong house.
Her tiny trench coat was belted in the middle and hiding what he guessed was a very short dress. Her legs were smooth and tan, ending in a tall, spiked pair of heels. Her hair was slightly wavy, the same way it’d looked at the office except...bouncier.
Turned out he’d have someone to celebrate with after all.
Be practical. Practicality came as naturally as breathing for him.
But it wasn’t easy to be practical with Taylor in front of him looking like sex in stilettos. She teetered, those tall spindles nestled in the crooks of his cobblestone porch. The shoes were black and wrapped enticingly around her ankles with delicate straps and tiny gold buckles. Those delicate straps led to shapely calves, cute knees and up, up to a pair of plush thighs.
An eager part of his anatomy gave a peppy jerk. He warned himself to stop staring—to be practical—but as in his office this afternoon, he was incapable of either.
His eyes reached the short, white, belted coat with big black buttons and continued to dark blond hair framing her beautiful face. A staggeringly gorgeous face. A face he’d have sworn to his brother before last weekend was passably pretty.
A lie.
Taylor, with her slightly parted full lips, high cheekbones dusted pink and long black lashes shielding shimmering brown eyes wasn’t “passably” anything.
She was an absolute knockout.
His Forbidden Kiss Page 6
