Tycoon For Auction (HQR Silhouette Desire)

by Katherine Garbera

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t be? I’m very good at physical things,” he said.

  He was very good at them and she worried this was just one of the many things he had to win at. “Is sex just a sport to you?” she asked.

  She didn’t think so, but she needed to know now before she revealed herself to him.

  Cupping her face with both of his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. “I’m not playing with you, Corrine.”

  “I’m not playing, either. In fact, I want to ask you something.” She loved his green eyes, filled with satisfaction as he teased her.

  “What? Want to tie me up again?” he asked. Sex had unwound him, but she remembered a few days earlier outside the restaurant when he’d been so tense. There was more to Rand then he let the world see. Maybe because she loved him she was able to see past his facade, but she suspected it was only because of their mutual feelings that she could.

  As much as she’d love to spend the entire evening twisting on the sheets with him, she needed to settle some things before they went any further. She’d survived her upbringing only because she’d protected her heart. And she needed to know now if Rand was going to break her heart or help her find the kind of happiness she’d stopped believing in a long time ago.

  “Rand, we need to talk.”

  “Maybe later. This is, um…important.”

  Rand said nothing, but rather lowered his head to her neck and suckled against her skin. She buried her fingers in his hair and held him to her. She loved that he seemed not to be able to get enough of her. But at the same time she recognized his actions for what they were. A diversion.

  She knew that he was going to pull away again, to back away from her. She wasn’t sure she could take it. She shifted away from him on the pillow.

  “Rand?” He lifted his head, watching her warily. “I want to talk.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?” he asked, caressing her with an intent.

  “No.”

  He sighed, then shifted around, piling pillows against the headboard and leaning against them. He crossed his arms across his chest and gave her an aggrieved look. “Okay, talk.”

  “Why are you so surly?” she asked.

  He gestured to his erection. “One guess.”

  She was tempted to give up trying to talk to him and just let the moment lead them to ecstasy again. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  She cleared her throat. Now that she had his attention she was nervous. “I’m not sure how to say this.”

  “Just say it.”

  She twisted her fingers together, then shrugged her shoulders, unable to look at him when she asked him what was on her mind and in her heart. “Will you live with me?”

  He jerked upright and she glanced at him. He was staring at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. “What? Why?”

  Oh, God. Had she misjudged things? But he didn’t seem disgusted; instead he seemed…afraid. But that couldn’t be right. “I know we’d decided on a temporary affair, but I…I care for you and I’m tired of living alone.”

  He cursed savagely under his breath and stood, pacing around the room. There was a leashed violence in his movements that took her by surprise. “Maybe you should get a pet,” he said.

  “I don’t want a pet. I’ve never wanted a pet. Listen, just forget this,” she said, standing and grabbing his shirt to cover her nakedness. “I think you should leave.”

  “Ah, hell. I don’t want to leave.”

  “Well, you don’t want to stay, either.” She sensed his reluctance very clearly. She knew then that he’d finally noticed whatever it was that made people leave her. He’d found that flaw, and she wanted to ask him what it was so maybe she’d stop doing it and just once someone would stay with her.

  “I want to. Too damned much.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, facing him.

  “Come here.”

  She crossed to the bed and sank down next to him. “There are things about my life I haven’t shared with you. Things that make me less than desirable.”

  “Rand, please. I know you’re not just the fun-loving sports enthusiast that you like the world to believe you are.”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  “Of course I do. I love you.”

  “Don’t do that, sweetheart. I’m not the right guy for you.”

  “Yes, you are. I’ve never said those words to another person and I don’t say them lightly now. But my soul recognizes you and I need you. Asking you to live with me is a big, scary step. But I think we’re meant to be together.”

  “Corrine, you don’t know what you are asking,” he said.

  “Yes, I do. Will you live with me?”

  Deep inside Rand a part of him died. He was tempted by her in the same way that alcohol had lured him before. Not even a case of Cutty Sark could numb this feeling. His tension gripped him tighter and he fought the urge to go to her kitchen, where he knew she had brandy, and drink straight from the bottle.

  In that moment, he realized he was a fraud. He’d never learned to deal with his drinking, only how to hide from it and cope with it. And Corrine had torn that safe facade away and made him face the truth of who he was.

  That truth meant he could never live with Corrine. She made everything more vivid, more alive, and if she were taken from him the world would be a dull, gray place. And he’d always believed he wasn’t meant to be happy. There had to be a reason why he’d been spared death. The more he thought about it, he’d come to the conclusion that his life was a penance for those he’d lost.

  Happiness wasn’t meant for those in purgatory. There was no way he could face his own fear that he would fail. No way that a real man would ever put a woman he loved in jeopardy. And that’s exactly where she’d be. Because every day was a juggling act for him. He balanced work with an extensive amount of physical activity because it kept him busy, so he didn’t have time to dwell on matters that had led him to his addiction.

  He wasn’t one of those people who blithely drifted through life. Each day was a struggle. A struggle not to think, a struggle not to remember and a struggle to survive. That wasn’t something you invited a woman you cared about to share.

  But her words touched him deep inside and he knew he’d keep them close for a long time. He thought about the long, lonely road ahead of him and knew that he would always have the memory of Corrine to warm him.

  The cowardly part of him was glad she’d forced his hand now before he’d confessed his deep, dark sin. His eternal weakness that no matter how old he got he couldn’t escape. No matter how much money he made on his own he couldn’t buy his way out of it. No matter how often he drove home sober he couldn’t forget that one lethal drunken ride.

  “I can’t live with you,” he said at last, when he realized too much time had passed. What the hell was she thinking? He couldn’t read her face; she again resembled the ice queen her co-workers knew her to be.

  “Why not?”

  “Some people aren’t meant to have it all.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “I wish it were.”

  “Are you saying that I’m not meant to be happy?”

  “No. You deserve a great guy who loves you and will give you kids.”

  “But you’re not that guy?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “It’s me, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He hated that she doubted herself. Hadn’t she realized anything when he’d made love to her? He’d never be able to say the words he knew she needed to hear, but he’d shown her in the only way he could how important she was to him.

  “No, it’s not you,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

  “Tell me, Rand. I can take it. I know there is something about me that makes people not want to stay. Is it the insecurity that I try hard to hide, but people see anyway?”

  “No,” he said. Her words cut
him like tiny blades. He felt as if he was bleeding inside and knew from the pain on her face that she was bleeding, too. There was no way to make this right. No way for him to come back from the edge where he’d pushed her and himself. No safe place for him to hide anymore.

  The thing was, no living person knew about his struggle. He’d hidden it for so long that he’d never really had to talk about it. Roger had known; but he’d guessed, so Rand had never had to say the words out loud. And he didn’t know if he could. Even to stop Corrine from hurting, he didn’t know if he could say what needed to be said.

  “Is it my abandonment issues? I’m trying to get over it.”

  The sheen of tears glistening in her eyes made him feel like a coward. “No, baby. Stop it. It’s not you.”

  He cradled her close, holding her with a fierceness he denied even to himself. The people who had hurt this woman deserved to pay and he could only hope they were miserable, unhappy people.

  He was coming to realize what a risk she’d taken by asking him to stay. She’d said herself that no one ever had. And it humbled him that she’d taken such a risk and knew that her love for him had enabled her to do so.

  Rand wished he loved her in that moment. He wished he was able to let himself feel safe enough to admit out loud that he cared for this complex, beautiful woman who’d made a place for herself in his life without him noticing.

  “It’s not you. God, you humble me with your bravery.”

  “How am I brave? I’ve spent my entire life hiding.”

  “You don’t know what hiding is,” he said, knowing escape wasn’t going to work for him. He owed her more than a casual brush-off. He owed her the truth so she’d understand that the problem was him.

  “Then tell me so I can understand.”

  “I need a glass of water.”

  “Okay.”

  He left her in the bedroom and walked into her bathroom. The room was neat and cheery, very much like the woman who owned it. He gulped down two glasses of water before looking at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath and returned to Corrine.

  Shutting off the lights, he left the room bathed only in moonlight. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back facing her.

  “You asked earlier about my family.”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to tell you about my brother Charles for you to understand why we can never live together.”

  She said nothing, but he felt her shift on the bed. Felt the warmth of her body as she scooted closer to him. In his weakness he wanted to turn to her and hold her to him. To whisper his words against her sunny-colored hair so that he didn’t have to hear them echoing in the silence of the room.

  “Charles was my twin. We went everywhere together. Played pranks and got into trouble. We did the normal teenage things—partying, drinking, driving too fast. One night when we were sixteen, we combined all three of them and I woke up six weeks later in the hospital with a feeling deep inside me that something was gone. Charles had died instantly in the accident.”

  “Oh, Rand. You were little more than a boy.” She touched his back and he flinched away from her touch, knowing he still had more to tell her.

  “That’s no excuse. I was a Pearson and I knew what my duty was. After I was out of the hospital I returned to school. But life was different. Ah, hell, I started drinking to numb the pain and never stopped.

  “I’m an alcoholic, Corrine. Since that party I’ve never had a drink in public because I was aware of the danger involved. But it didn’t stop me from drinking,” he said. He didn’t tell her how he’d spent the evenings at home alone with Charles’s class ring in one hand and the bottle of Cutty Sark in the other. He didn’t tell her how he’d fought a battle with God and with the world. Why had Charles died?

  He couldn’t ask that question now. He still didn’t understand why he’d survived the crash when everyone said he should have died. And the pressure of living when he knew that death should have been his had left him feeling like an empty shell. And the only thing to ever fill the void had been the booze.

  “Have you been drunk since we’ve been together?” she asked. She still sat close to him, but she was no longer leaning toward him.

  Hell, he couldn’t blame her. If she’d confessed to being an animal with the scent of prey in its nostrils he would think twice about staying near her. And in effect that was all he was. He’d hidden his addiction from the world, but that didn’t mean he didn’t struggle with it every day, and Corrine was a very smart woman. She, more than anyone else, understood that some things never left a person.

  “No. I haven’t had a drink since six months after Roger died.”

  “Roger?” she asked. Sitting up, she crossed her legs and watched him in the dimly lit room. His shirt was draped over her, keeping her warm when he wanted to do it. This confession would be so much easier with her support. Knowing he wasn’t alone. But he didn’t want to make things easier on himself.

  “Angelica’s first husband. He was my best friend. He died in a waterskiing accident on his honeymoon.” He still missed Roger. They’d spent a lot of time together even after Roger had fallen in love with Angelica. And Roger had been the only person who’d realized Rand drank. Roger never said anything but had just started involving Rand in sports and challenging him to stay sober.

  “He convinced me to stop drinking in college,” Rand said at last.

  “You started again after he died?” Corrine asked.

  He couldn’t really explain it to her, but there had been that feeling of “why me” again. Why had he lived when he’d done nothing with his life? Why had he survived when he didn’t have a wife? Why had he remained? “Yes.”

  She scooted closer to him, kneeling next to him and touching his shoulder with just the tips of her fingers. He wanted to drag her to him and cling tightly to the warmth in her, because he felt so cold inside.

  “Does Angelica know?”

  “No,” he said, remembering that he hadn’t seen her after the funeral for six months and then she’d shown up on his doorstep. Tired of living with people who thought she needed to be cosseted, she’d presented him with a proposition to combine their backgrounds and knowledge. And Rand had found a way to repay his friend for years of support and friendship by helping his widow stand on her own.

  Corrine was quiet for so long that Rand was afraid to look at her—but she hadn’t stopped touching him.

  “I admire your strength,” she said at last.

  He snorted. “There is no strength in me. Every day I have to struggle with the urge to open the bottle.”

  She caressed his shoulder with a tender touch that made him feel exposed. More exposed than his confession had. Did she realize how much he’d come to need her?

  “We all struggle with things,” she said. He knew her struggle. It was in her living room lined with movies about families. It was in her cozy kitchen and her house in a family neighborhood. It was in the real Corrine that few people were ever allowed to glimpse.

  “Yeah, but if you give in to your struggle you don’t have the potential to harm someone,” he said.

  She slid down next to him on the bed, lying on her side and wrapping her arms around him. He shuddered at her touch and gave in to the urge to hold her.

  “I can’t see you doing that,” she said.

  “Sometimes I can.” He slipped his hands under her shirt and traced the line of her spine.

  “Rand, you’ve faced something that would have brought most people to their knees. The fact that you’re surviving it is remarkable.”

  The emotion shining in her eyes humbled him but still he knew he couldn’t risk it.

  She’d never expected that a man as strong and in control as Rand would have something so uncontrollable in his makeup. It only fit with who he was when she looked closer at the man she’d come to know. Then on an odd level it made sense. She sensed, though he hadn’t said it, that there was something he never talked about.

  Her h
eart ached at the thought of a sixteen-year-old Rand waking up to realize his twin was dead. Her heart ached to think of how he’d struggled to fill a void deep inside. Her heart ached with the thought that her love might not be enough for him to take a chance on caring again.

  She tugged him down on the bed next to her, holding him closely, needing to feel him next to her so that she’d still believe he was real. And to remind him that he was here with her in the present. He held himself stiffly and she realized now she was in danger of losing him. Before she’d only been focused on herself and her own shortcomings, ones that Rand didn’t seem to see in her. It was strangely reassuring.

  However, his critical eye was turned toward himself and she could do little to control what he saw.

  “Is your brother’s accident what you dreamed about?” she asked.

  “Sort of.”

  Still holding himself stiff, he wouldn’t look at her. “Tell me.”

  “I…I was driving the car, which was different because Charles had insisted on driving the night he was killed. And the car spun out of control, only this time I wasn’t in the car with my brother.”

  “Who was with you?” she asked, though a part of her felt sure of the answer.

  “You.”

  She shuddered. “I trust you, Rand.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I still want you to stay,” she said, unable to think of anything else.

  Rand cupped her face in his hands. He traced the line of her eyebrows, her cheekbones and her lips with his forefinger. She held still as their eyes connected.

  She felt her pulse beating a little faster. He always made her feel so feminine, so womanly, especially when she’d spent her entire life hiding that part of herself. Because that was where she’d always been the most vulnerable.

  “Losing you, Corrine, would put me over the edge,” he said, his voice husky and deep.

  Tears burned the back of her eyes. She’d waited so long to love someone and when she did… She had no idea what to say to make him stay. But she had to try something. She started to speak, but he covered her mouth with one finger.