Читать книгу Her Lover's Legacy - Adrianne Byrd - Страница 9

Momentarily thrown off guard by the sight of the smooth, muscular, toffee-colored skin peeking from the open V of Malcolm’s burgundy robe, Gloria unconsciously licked her lips and fluttered a hand to her throat. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Malcolm’s groomed brows crashed together above his probing brown eyes a second before his rumbling baritone snapped impatiently, “What are you doing here?”

Stung by the rebuff, Gloria squared her shoulders and wielded a sharp look of her own. “Well, I certainly didn’t come here to stand out in the hallway.”

They stared at each other, locked in a stalemate.

Gloria had feared this would happen, especially judging how Malcolm went out of his way to avoid her at the funeral, but she had also resolved to camp outside his door if that’s what it took to get him to see reason.

Finally, Malcolm stepped back and allowed her to enter through a narrowed space. Refusing to be intimidated, she crossed the threshold. Her breasts brushed against what felt to her like molten steel; volts of electricity surged through her body. She jumped.

“Must be static from the carpet,” Malcolm explained, confirming he’d felt the charge as well.

She moved on, glanced around and was impressed by the simple decor and surprising cleanliness of a confirmed-bachelor’s pad. When she entered the living room, she froze and stared at her own image on the television screen.

Malcolm scrambled from behind her, grabbed the remote from the couch and punched the power button. Once the screen went black, the room roared with a strained and uncomfortable silence. “I, uh, was looking at some old campaign stuff and, uh, well, paused it when you knocked.”

“I see,” she said.

He tossed the remote back on the couch and faced her. “Okay. So you’re not standing in the hallway,” he said, reclaiming his previous impatience. “What is it that you want?”

Why Gloria’s gaze tumbled from his penetrating coffee-brown eyes to his deliciously plump lips at the question was beyond her. As to why her stomach looped into knots whenever she was around him? She didn’t even want to go there.

“First,” she began, and then cleared her throat from what felt like a sack of marbles clogging her windpipe. “I wanted to extend my condolences for your terrible loss, Malcolm.”

When he gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, she trudged on. “I know the past two years—”

“Stop.” Despite the soft tone, the order held the authority of a military commander. “I appreciate your coming here and all, but, uh, if you came looking for an Oprah moment, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

Slowly, Gloria tilted her head side to side and cracked the bones in her neck while she prayed for patience. What was it about Malcolm that got under her skin? From the first time they met, the sarcastic know-it-all rubbed her the wrong way.

Why had she thought tonight would be any different?

“Anything else?” he prompted.

His abhorrent rudeness forced Gloria to silently count to ten. However, Malcolm took her silence as confirmation that she was through. He grasped her by the elbow to direct her back to the front door.

The touch of his hand shot off a few more sparks, but Gloria planted her feet and jerked her arm free. “I’m not finished yet!”

Malcolm sighed, rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets, widening the V of his robe and displaying a larger swath of honey-brown skin.

Gloria licked her lips again.

“Well?” he said, staring. “I’m sure you understand I’ve had a very long day.”

“I need you,” she said. When his brows crashed together again, she realized what she’d said hadn’t come out right. “I meant, I need you to come to Harmon’s—I mean, your father’s—office and help pack up his things.”

He was laughing before she finished the sentence.

“Malcolm—”

“Sorry,” he said, still chuckling and shaking his head. “You’ve come to the wrong one. This is a job for Shawnie or Ty or maybe even Mom.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded. “You’re the oldest—the head of the family. This is your job.”

He went from laughing to scowling in less than two seconds. “I don’t need you to tell me what my job is, Ms. Kingsley.”

“Oh, really?” Gloria arched her brows and crossed her arms. “You think it was your job to hole up in this apartment for the past three days and watch old videos instead of being at your mother’s and helping the rest of your family through this difficult time?”

He said nothing, but Gloria saw a vein appear and twitch along his jawline.

Still, she continued. “The way I see things, the least you could do is help me with Harmon’s office.”

“The problem with the way you see things, Ms. Kingsley, is that nobody cares—especially me.”

His words were a verbal slap, but she reeled back as if it was physical. Her chin came up, but when her tears came unbidden, she barely held them in check. “If it makes you feel better to lash out at me, then please by all means, do so. You’re hurting, and I understand it devastates the male ego to show any type of vulnerability—especially around a woman. But when you’re finished attacking me for your personal issues, I still need for you to help pack your father’s belongings.”

They stood in a stalemate.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” she added, gentler this time. “Plus, there’s a lot of legal stuff that you would have a better handle on than I would. And it might be one last thing you can do for him.”

Malcolm drew a deep breath. The protruding vein disappeared, and for one brief moment, Gloria thought she saw his eyes soften. Had she hit the nail on the head?

“Two hours—tops,” she lied.

After a long silence, Malcolm nodded and surprised her. “Sorry. What I said was…I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Gloria relaxed enough to smile. “Truce?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Truce.” He opened his arms and she automatically stepped into his embrace. Arms like steel bands wrapped and pressed her against an equally hard body. His skin smelled fresh, like soap.

Gloria closed her eyes and drew strength and comfort from a man she’d often found herself at odds with—and she took it. Greedily.

She must have lost track of time because she jumped when Malcolm cleared his throat. She had to extract herself from his warm embrace, so they endured yet another awkward moment.

“So, um, Monday?” she asked.

“Monday it is,” he confirmed with a studying gaze.

She cleared her throat and straightened her posture. It was time to make her exit. She’d got what she came for: the first step of many in her master plan.