Читать книгу Claimed: The Pregnant Heiress - Day Leclaire - Страница 6

She was here.

Chase stood in the shadows of the portico just outside the banquet room of the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club. The room glittered and sparkled with both people and jewelry, the people in full cocktail-party mode, the jewelry, too, he supposed. Dead center in the middle of all that glitter and sparkle stood Emma, the woman he’d spent a single incredible night romancing, seducing … and then losing.

While dance music played in the background, voices rose and fell, determined laughter taking the edge off the rocky undercurrents that flowed around the room. Ostensibly the cocktail party celebrated the impending sale of Worth Industries to Chase’s stepbrother and closest friend, Rafe Cameron. But old grudges and past secrets stirred restlessly beneath the surface. As his brother’s money manager and one of those involved in negotiating the purchase of Worth, tonight marked the start of a rough and treacherous passage.

Chase studied Emma while he sipped a thirty-year-old Laphroaig that his brother had stashed for those not interested in the free-flowing champagne. The single-malt Scotch whiskey went down as smooth as silk. Almost as smooth as Emma’s skin. She had a good portion of that skin on display, the pearl-gray silk dress she wore clinging to curves he’d do just about anything to uncover once again.

Her dress appeared vaguely Grecian in style, one shoulder bared while the silk draped from the other shoulder across her breasts. It hitched in a clever knot on her hip before flowing to just beneath the knee. Continuing with the Grecian theme, she wore toothpick-heeled sandals with straps that wrapped around narrow ankles and trim calves. With her ice-blond hair swept into an elegant chignon, she looked like a goddess. Like a player.

His eyes narrowed. Which begged the question … what the hell was she doing here? Since the guests were all connected in one way or another to either Cameron Enterprises or Worth Industries, she was, too. Either that, or she was the “plus one” gilded on to a guest’s invitation.

Maybe he’d wander over and find out. And maybe while he was finding out, he’d ask her why the hell she disappeared the way she had, leaving him ripping apart all of New York City in a fruitless search for the mysterious Emma With No Last Name. Before he could, Ronald Worth, soon-to-be ex-owner of Worth Industries, joined Emma and placed a proprietary hand on her bare shoulder.

Chase straightened, his mouth settling into a grim line. No way. Surely she wasn’t the arm candy of Rafe’s nemesis. Oh, hell, no. She couldn’t possibly be sharing a bed with that sixtysomething-year-old bastard. But based on the way good ol’ Ron lowered his head and whispered a loving comment in her ear and the affectionate manner in which she leaned into him and kissed his cheek, that was precisely what she was. Son of a—

“Don’t even think about it.”

Chase glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Rafe’s voice, his pale blond hair giving away his location in the darkness. “What?”

“The Princess. I see you staring at her, and I’m telling you. Don’t even think about it. That one will eat you up and spit you out just for the sheer pleasure of it.”

Chase fell silent, a tactic he’d learned during those rough, early years when he’d gone to live with his father. He turned to face his stepbrother, careful to conceal the anger surging through him. “You know her?” he asked mildly enough.

“Emma Worth, aka Spawn of Satan.”

Chase lifted an eyebrow, relief replacing his anger. So she wasn’t Ronald Worth’s mistress, but his daughter. “I gather Worth is cast in the role of Satan?”

Rafe’s grin lacked even a shred of humor. “What can I say? It comes naturally to him.”

“And the daughter? What do you know about her?” Since Chase didn’t want his brother to think he had a personal interest, he added, “Is she a factor in the sale?”

“She better not be a factor or she’ll find herself moved out of the way by whatever means necessary,” Rafe responded with characteristic ruthlessness. “But I don’t think she’ll be a player in any of this. She’s shallow. Overindulged. Pure useless fluff.”

“A party girl?”

Rafe hesitated. “A little lower profile than that. You don’t see her plastered across the scandal sheets. More of a private party girl.”

Chase turned and studied Emma once again while he considered this latest information. A private party girl. That fit with his experience, even though he hadn’t picked up on the cues when they’d been together. Nor had she come off as shallow. But considering they’d only spent one night together, what the hell did he know?

More than anything he wanted to confront her, demand an explanation for her disappearing act. But perhaps he already had his answer, courtesy of Rafe. She was a party girl. One-night stands were as common to her as shopping for groceries was to the average woman. Even so, he hated being made a fool of, another throwback to his formative school years.

At the ripe age of ten, when he’d first arrived in New York to live with his father, Chase had been dubbed Barron’s Bastard. That might have had something to do with the fact that his driven, world-renowned businessman father and his laid-back, California-mellow mother had never formalized their affair with traditional “I dos.” He’d soon had the “California” knocked out of him by his peers at the private school where he’d been dumped and learned to keep his emotions and personal opinions under tight control. It was a lesson he never forgot and one that had helped propel him to the top of his field as a money manager.

His gaze narrowed on Emma in careful assessment. As Rafe suggested, she exuded wealth, privilege and glamour. From the elegant twist of her pale blond hair to the discreet glitter of diamonds at her earlobes and wrist, she sent out signals that mixed a sultry come-hither sexiness with an Ice-Princess touch-me-not facade. It all boiled down to one compelling objective. Chase wanted her with an unrelenting hunger. And one way or another, he’d have her again.

Tonight.

“How are you feeling, Dad?” Emma asked quietly, slipping her arm through her father’s. “The party isn’t too much, is it?” “Don’t fuss, sweetheart. I’m fine.” Ronald Worth softened the testy edge in his voice with a smile. “It’s a minor heart ailment, as you know damn well.”

“Oh, really?” she challenged. “Apparently, it’s bad enough to convince you to sell Worth Industries to Rafe Cameron.”

He grimaced. “That’s only one factor in my decision. I keep telling you, if you’d step in—”

“—which I won’t, as I keep telling you.”

“Well, there you have it. I could continue chugging along for another decade or two.” He glared down at her. “Don’t give me that look, missy. I’m only in my mid-sixties. The prime of my life.”

Emma smothered a smile. “I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She sighed, giving his arm a swift hug. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Even if running Worth isn’t something I’d care to do, you don’t have to sell if you’d rather not. You could delegate more. Hire someone to handle a greater portion of your day-to-day responsibilities.”

“That’s an option.” Ronald’s jaw firmed. “Selling is the one I chose instead.”

“But selling to Rafe Cameron, of all people. From what little I’ve seen of him, he puts the a in arrogance.”

His thick silver mane of hair glinting beneath the overhead lights, her father turned to glance in Rafe’s direction. “Nothing wrong with arrogance when you have a solid pair of brass ones to back it up.” A wistful note colored his words. “I was just like him at his age.”

“Dad—”

“Enough, Emma. It’s practically a done deal.” Lasersharp ocean-blue eyes gazed down at her and his harsh expression softened. “Have I told you how lovely you look this evening?”

She allowed her head to rest against his shoulder for a moment. “Just a chip off the old block.”

He snagged her chin and tipped her face up to his. “You have all my best qualities and none of my worst. Same could be said about your mother. You have her staggering beauty but none of her weaknesses.”

Emma’s eyes misted. The fact that he’d mention her mother was startling enough. But for him to say anything positive about his late wife, even if it came across as a rather backhanded compliment, was downright shocking. Now if she could just get her father to reconcile with her brother. They weren’t completely estranged. After all, her brother managed the family ranch at Copper Run Ranch. But it had been more than a decade since the three of them had sat down like a family and talked to each other. Painful, irreversible events from the past prevented that from happening.

“Dad …”

He must have guessed the direction of her thoughts because he shook his head. “Forget it, princess. Not going to happen.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Business calls. It’s going to be a late night for me. Need to get out there and shake hands, kiss babies and steal lollipops. Will you be all right? If you want to leave early, you can take the car. Just send it back for me.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ll find my own way home.” She gestured toward his executive assistant with a smile. “Kathleen’s coming over. I’ll ask her for a ride.”

She could tell he’d already shifted gears. “Fine, fine. You do that. I have a few questions for William.”

He made a beeline for Rafe Cameron’s chief financial officer, William Tanner, a tall, gorgeous New Zealander who’d flown in for the party. He exuded a ruthless power similar to his employer’s. Her father’s departure left Emma standing alone, shaking her head. Not that she was alone for long. Kathleen Richards descended on her, snatching her up in an exuberant hug.

“Well, hello there, Emma. Aren’t you a picture?” So was Kathleen. With her flaming red hair, bright green eyes and feisty personality, she never failed to light up the room, especially when dressed in eye-popping amethyst. “I swear, the only girl prettier than you is my granddaughter, Sarah.”

Emma smiled, playing along. “Considering she’s the image of you, that must make me the third prettiest girl.”

Kathleen chuckled, the laugh unfettered and downright contagious. As always, heads swiveled in her direction at the trademark sound. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you. You look upper crust, but you’ve always been real folk, same as that adorable brother of yours.” She spared a swift look in Ronald’s direction and lowered her voice. “How’s he doing, by the way? I swear I haven’t seen him in a solid fifteen years.”

“Neither have I. Since he decided to walk out on us, we—”

Emma broke off and inhaled sharply. No! It couldn’t be. Of all the men in the entire world to show up out of the blue, Chase was the last one she’d ever expect to see. She’d spent every single day of the past two months trying to get this man out of her head, with zero success. And yet, there he was, walking toward her with the sleek, predatory prowl of a cougar, his ruffled blond hair the exact same golden-brown shade as a mountain cat’s pelt.

“What’s wrong?” Kathleen demanded. She glanced over her shoulder and chuckled. “Oh, I see. Let me tell you, Emma, I had the exact same reaction when Chase Larson walked into your dad’s office. Took me a solid minute to find my jaw and pull it up off the floor. Tell you what. Why don’t I introduce you?”

“No, you don’t—”

She waved a hand at Chase. “Mr. Larson? I’d like to introduce you to Ronald’s daughter, Emma.”

“You don’t have to—” Emma hastened to explain in an undertone. But it was too late to stop her. Far too late to stop him. “Chase and I have already met,” she finished lamely.

“You’ve met?” Kathleen’s gaze darted from one to the other and she grinned. “Well, then. Isn’t that interesting. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you two get reacquainted on the dance floor, while I get out of your way?”

“An excellent idea,” Chase said. There was an unmistakable darkness edging his expression and lending a harshness to the deep timbre of his voice. He took her hand in his and gave a sharp tug, jerking her into his arms. He stared down at her, his blue eyes full of threat and promise. “Dance with me, Emma.”

But all she heard was “Gotcha.”

Chase took her in his arms, pulling her far too close. “Do you mind?” Emma attempted to ease back a precious few inches, only to have him tighten his grip. “In case you’re unaware, breathing is a necessary component to dancing.”

“If I don’t hold you close you may run away again.”

“I didn’t run away before,” she instantly denied.

She spared Chase a swift look, then wished she hadn’t. At a smidge over six feet, he was an impressive man, his features attractively chiseled with a firm chin, strong, nicely shaped mouth and intelligent gray-blue eyes. She’d grown up around tough men and this was one more example of the breed, despite the patina of sophistication that cloaked him like a second skin.

When they’d met while flagging down a cab on that fateful November day the weekend before Thanksgiving, he’d been so charming that they’d ended up sharing the taxi. Granted, the charm had been rough-hewn and deliciously edgy. But that had only added to the romantic ambiance of the lovely fall weather. They’d ended up spending the entire day together, followed by the entire night.

Chase swung her around in an easy circle, his hand resting tantalizingly low on her back and sending frissons of temptation racing through her. “Funny. As I recall, you were there when I fell asleep and you were gone when I woke up. No goodbye kiss. No note. No way to find you.”

Her brows drew together. “Then how did you?”

He gave a short, hard laugh. “You think I’m here for you?”

A hint of warmth drifted across her cheekbones. “I take it you’re not,” she said drily.

“I’m here to help finalize the Worth deal, Ms. Worth.” He leaned on her last name. “Our meeting tonight is sheer coincidence since you didn’t even bother to tell me who you were when we first met.”

“I don’t recall you asking. Nor do I recall you sharing your name at the time,” she replied with impressive calm.

“Now you know it. It’s Larson. Chase Larson.” The name rang a vague bell, but she couldn’t quite place it. As though aware of that fact, he added, “I’m Rafe Cameron’s brother.”

She missed a step and Chase supported her weight while she recovered her footing. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Problem?”

Where did she begin? Or perhaps she shouldn’t begin at all. If Chase was anything like his brother, whatever she said would definitely be used against her. “Suffice to say the list is long and detailed.” She focused on the knot of his crisp red bow tie, not daring to look at him in case her gaze reflected her distaste for his brother. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your involvement in the Worth Industries purchase?”

“I own Larson Investments, a financial investment firm. I’m helping Rafe put the purchase together.”

No wonder his name sounded so familiar. She’d heard of Larson Investments. Who hadn’t? That also meant that he was the illegitimate son of business tycoon, Tiberius Barron. Dismay filled her. How could her father possibly hope to negotiate a fair contract for the sale of Worth Industries when Rafe controlled such powerful factions? She moistened her lips. “I assume you’re in favor of the deal?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, his expression giving nothing away. “Now that we’ve finished discussing our unexpected business connection, answer a personal question for me. That night we spent together, would you have told me your last name if I’d asked?”

Emma lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “I don’t see why not.” She glanced up at him and caught his guarded expression. “What about you? Would you have told me your last name?”

“Not our first night together.”

She stiffened, offended. “I see. I’m supposed to be forthcoming with you, but—”

“I’ve discovered it’s wise to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing. “From what? Sexy little things who have an itch they’re hoping you’re rich enough to scratch?”

“Something like that.” His gaze impaled her. “Are you a sexy little thing?”

How could she have found him charming? He wasn’t the least bit charming. “Do you mean, am I after a wealthy husband or lover?”

“Are you?”

“No, thanks. You can relax. I have my own money.”

“See?” He flashed a smile that was all too—yes—charming. “Now I’ve insulted you. It’s not an easy question to ask on a first date, is it?”

She released a sigh. “Shall I assume that if I answered incorrectly when we first met there wouldn’t have been a second date?”

“No, there would have been.” Hunger flickered through his eyes so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it. “With you there definitely would have been.”

She scanned his expression, understanding dawning. “But it would have come with strings. Or should I say, a lack of strings? You’d be willing to share my bed, but I’d better not get any ideas.”

“Come on. Be fair, Emma,” he chided. “Is it any different for you? Aren’t you concerned that when men hear your name, learn of your connection to Worth Industries, they see you as their perfect shot at a life of leisure? To relax on a nearby beach sipping endless rounds of mai tais?”

Anger swept through her. “You give me far too much credit. Why would I object to that when it’s clearly my goal in life, too? At least, that’s your brother’s opinion of me, something he’s made abundantly clear the few times we’ve spoken.”

“I believe that’s because Rafe and I earned our fortunes the hard way.”

“Whereas I inherited mine?”

She could tell him that she chose to devote her spare time to working at It’s Time, the local women’s shelter, but why should she be forced to defend herself when she’d done nothing wrong? Exhaustion swept over her worsening the headache, which had been gnawing at the edges of her consciousness all day. “Are we through here, Mr. Larson? I’d like to go home, if you don’t mind.”

“First, my brother’s opinion does not reflect my own, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t color me with his brush. I prefer to form my own opinion about you, just as I expect you to form your own about me. And second, you still haven’t answered my question.”

She wondered if her desperation to escape showed. She’d had years of experience maintaining a calm, remote demeanor. But for some reason, whether the man or the occasion, she couldn’t pull it off tonight. “What question?”

“Why did you leave without a word?”

She really didn’t feel well. And now that she thought about it, it occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. That, combined with the few sips of champagne she’d consumed, was leaving her seriously off-color. “Sorry, Chase, but we’ll have to save this for another day.” She pulled free of his arms. “You know who I am now and how to get in touch with me, assuming it’s even necessary.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t eaten,” she admitted. “I’m feeling a bit light-headed.”

She should have known better than to offer so much information to someone like Chase. He instantly took charge. “There’s a buffet across the room. Why don’t we find something that will help?”

She couldn’t bring herself to look in that direction. Not when the scent of seafood drifted off the gleaming tables. “What I’d really like is to go home, put my feet up and fix myself some tea and toast.”

“Fair enough. How did you get here?”

“With my father,” she reluctantly admitted.

“You live with him?”

“Yes, but—”

“His estate is a few miles south of here, isn’t it?”

She eyed Chase sharply. “How do you know that?”

“I get paid to know things like that.” He cupped her elbow. “Come with me.”

After collecting her wrap from the cloakroom, he drew her toward the wide-flung doors exiting onto the portico. A stunning view of beach and sea spread like a carpet beneath the bluff on which the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club perched. A setting crescent moon dipped toward the Pacific Ocean, gilding the waves in silver.

He escorted her around the building toward the valet stand. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“You need tea, toast and quiet. That’s what I plan to provide.”

“What I need is to go home,” she insisted gently.

And yet, somehow she found herself ensconced in the cherry-red Ferrari Fiorano Chase had rented. With the windows open, the chilly air helped clear her head. The instant he hit the freeway, he headed north, instead of south.

“Where are we going?” she asked, though at this point she wasn’t sure she cared anymore.

“To get you something to eat.”

Emma surrendered to the inevitable. She had a feeling that when it came to Chase there wasn’t another option. Five minutes later he pulled in to a circular drive protected by an electronic gate and lined with palm trees. The instant he killed the engine, he helped her out of the car and escorted her to the front door of the beachfront condo.

“Is this yours?” she asked, impressed.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s a rental.”

She wandered deeper into the condo. “This is gorgeous.”

“I didn’t bring you here so you could tour the place.” He ushered her into the main living area, a huge room banked with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean. Stripping off his tux jacket, he slung it across the back of a chair. “Sit and relax. Tea and toast coming up.”

As much as she wanted to insist that Chase take her home, she didn’t have the energy. She sank onto the couch and leaned against soft, thick cushions that molded themselves around her like a pair of warm arms. Despite all her attempts to remain alert, her eyes drifted closed. It wasn’t until she heard the rattle of glassware that she opened her eyes again.

She glanced around, disoriented. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Just for a minute.” He set a cup and saucer on a table at her elbow, followed by a plate with several slices of lightly buttered toast, cut into manageable bite-sized pieces. Pale greenish tea steamed gently from the clear glass cup. “Whoever stocks this place is big on herbal teas. This one’s chamomile and peppermint. According to the package, it’s guaranteed to relax and soothe.”

“Thank you. Just what I wanted.” Before she could take so much as a sip of tea her BlackBerry rang. She pulled it out of her purse and checked the caller ID. “Excuse me. I should take this. It’s my dad.”

The conversation was brief. But then, when it came to her father that was often the case. “Where are you?” he asked without preamble.

“With Chase Larson.” She spared him a brief glance. “He offered to give me a ride home.”

“Thought you were going with Kathleen.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Fine. Saw her here and I didn’t see you, so I wondered.”

She smiled, softening. “Thanks for worrying, Dad.”

“Of course I worry,” he retorted brusquely. “You’re my little girl, even if you are all grown up. Good night, sweetheart. Don’t stay out too late.”

“‘Night, Dad.” She disconnected the call and dropped the BlackBerry on the table beside her tea and toast. She caught Chase’s undisguised amusement and lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry. It was identical to her own. “I use the same ringtone, too,” he said. “Great minds.”

“I guess we’ll have to be careful not to get them mixed up.” She buried her nose in the delicate cup, inhaling the mild aroma. Then she forced herself to look at Chase. “Why are you doing this? I mean, why am I here? Why are you feeding me tea and toast instead of taking me home?”

He allowed his expression to say it all. “You know why.”

She shook her head. “There’s no point, Chase. You might be here long enough to put Rafe’s deal together, but then that’ll be the end of it. We live on opposite sides of the country. We want different things in life.”

“How do you know that?”

She sighed and reached for a square of toast, nibbling on it. “Because I’ve met men like you before.”

His eyes narrowed, the grayish-blue as turbulent as a stormy sea. “Men like me,” he repeated softly, a disturbing tension rippling through his voice. “Would you care to explain what you mean by that?”

She took her time, finishing the slice of toast and washing it down with a sip of tea. She wanted to moan in pleasure, but didn’t dare. Not when the gaze he turned on her still contained a whisper of desire mingled with a hint of intimidation. “Driven men. Men who put business ahead of everything else in their life. Men who live large and take whatever they want.”

Amusement replaced his tension and, to her alarm, the whisper of desire became a shout. “What’s wrong with taking what I want, especially if it gives you as much pleasure as it gives me?”

“Nothing. It makes—made—for an incredible night. But that’s over now. I’ve returned to my life. You’ve returned to yours.”

“And yet, here we are together again.” He joined her on the couch, sitting far too close. “As long as I’m here, why not enjoy another incredible night or two?”

How did she answer that, explain the conflict over wanting a man so closely connected to Rafe Cameron? How did she explain she didn’t want another incredible night? That getting over the first incredible night had been next to impossible? That if they spent another night together she might lose the final vestige of protection standing between her heart and her common sense?

She couldn’t afford to fall for a man like Chase. She’d watched what living with a man like him—her father, to be exact—had done to her mother. It had destroyed her. Emma had taken the lesson to heart. What she and Chase experienced in November had been a lit match. Taking the next step might turn the affair into a dangerous wildfire, one that could consume and destroy instead of pleasure and warm.

She smiled, fighting to keep the moment light and easygoing. “Thanks so much for taking care of me, but it’s time for me to go home. It’s long past my bedtime.”

“No problem.”

Before she could guess his intention, he stood and swung her into his arms. “What are you doing?” she demanded in alarm.

“Since it’s long past your bedtime, I’ll see to it you turn in. Now.” He carried her down a hallway and into a huge bedroom with views as spectacular as the living area. He released her so she dropped the few feet to the mattress. She bounced once before falling backward into the welcome embrace of the down-filled comforter. “And I’m turning in with you.”