Читать книгу Six Of The Best Of Desire 2016 - Maisey Yates, Andrea Laurence - Страница 17

Eight

As the limo driver faded from view, Erika sped into the Hurricanes’ office building. She moved as fast as her legs would carry her, feeling less like royalty and more like a woman on a mission.

Twenty minutes ago, Gervais had called her. Urgency flooded his voice. He needed her in the office stat.

Pushing the heavy glass door open, she took a deep breath, feeling ever so slightly winded. The humidity was something she had yet to fully adjust to, and even small stints outside left her vaguely breathless. The rush of the cool air-conditioning filled her lungs as she crossed the threshold, a welcome chill after the New Orleans steam bath. Striding beneath the black-and-gold team banners hanging overhead, she struggled to figure out what was wrong that he needed her here.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she made it to the second floor and hung a right. Headed straight for the glass wall and door with an etched Hurricanes logo.

The secretary smiled warmly at her from her desk. Adjusting her glasses, she stood. “Princess Erika, Mr. Reynaud is expecting you—”

Extending a manicured hand, she gestured to another door and Erika didn’t wait for her to finish. Hurrying forward, she reached the polished double doors made of a dark wood. And heavy. She gave one side a shove, practically falling into the huge office of the team owner.

Currently an empty room.

Erika looked around, heart pounding with nerves. And, if she was being honest, disappointment.

Spinning on her heel, she practically ran into the secretary. Grace was not on her side today.

“My apologies, ma’am,” the secretary started in a quiet voice. “Mr. Reynaud will be back in a few minutes, but please make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything while you wait? We have water, soda, tea. And of course enough Gatorade to fill a stadium.”

“Thank you.” As the words left her lips, she settled down. Slightly. “I’m just fine, though.”

“Of course.” The secretary smiled, exiting the room and closing the door with a soft click.

So she was here. In his office without him. While not ideal, it did give her a chance to feel out what sort of man he was. At least in the business sense.

A bank of windows overlooked the practice field below, the lush green grass perfectly manicured with the white gridiron standing out in stark contrast. Silver bleachers glimmered all around the open-air facility with a retractable dome. Funny they didn’t have the stadium roof on today when it was so beastly hot outside, but perhaps the practice had been earlier in the day as there were no players in sight now.

Turning from the wall of windows, she paced around the office. She noted the orderly files, the perfectly straightened paper stacks on the massive mahogany desk. The rows of sticky notes by the phone. The walls were covered with team photos and awards, framed press clippings and a couple of leather footballs behind glass cases. The place was squared away. Tight.

Not too different from the way she kept her own living quarters, either. Impersonal. Spit-shined for show. They might not have done a lot of talking in London, but clearly they had gravitated toward each other for reasons beyond the obvious. After last night she felt as if they had more in common than they realized.

A tightness worked in her chest. So desperately did she want to trust him now that they found themselves preparing to be parents together. But trust came at a high cost. It wasn’t a commodity she candidly bestowed. It was earned—her most guarded asset. Years of being royalty had taught her to be suspicious.

Shoving her past aside, she approached a picture on the farthest corner of his desk. It was different than the rest. It seemed to have nothing to do with the Hurricanes. Or football, for that matter.

The photograph was faded, old—probably real film instead of digital. But she would have recognized him anyway. Gervais. His brothers. A woman. His mother, she assumed. But no Dempsey. Which struck her as odd.

She would have continued to stare at the picture as if it could give her the answers she was after if she didn’t hear a man clearing his throat behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, through the blond strands of her hair. Gervais stood in the doorway. And he looked damn sexy.

He was disheveled. Not nearly as put together as his office. His hair was still wet from a shower, and his shirt was only half buttoned. For the quickest moment she had the urge to finish undoing it. To kiss him—and more.

The urge honestly surprised her. She had promised herself yesterday that after a good night’s sleep, she would be levelheaded today. She needed logic to prevail while she figured out if he could be trusted. Only then could she decide what to do next.

Leaning against the desk, and looking at his lips with feigned disinterest, she asked as casually as possible, “What is the emergency? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, closing the door behind him. “Not really. I just wanted to speak with you privately about—” he hesitated “—a...uh...new development.”

Her smile faded. He was leaving. People always did. Her parents, who never remained in town with their kids for long. The vast majority of her friends who hung around only because she was royalty. The dozens of tutors who only helped for long enough to get a good reference before moving on to an easier job than five hell-raising sisters.

Schooling her features to remain impassive, she sat down in a leather wingback chair. She needed the isolation that chair represented. She didn’t need him tempting her by sitting next to her on the sofa or walking up to her to brush against her. Touch her. Weaken her resolve.

“Tell me.” She met his gaze. Steeled herself.

“Remember that I told you I called my father a couple of days ago to tell him about the baby?” His dark eyes found hers for a moment before he stalked toward the wall of windows and looked down at the field. “Apparently, he decided to make a surprise visit.”

“Your father is here? In the building or in New Orleans?”

The tight feeling in her chest returned, seizing hold of her. Erika was as unsure of how to deal with his family as she was her own. Selfishly, she had hoped they would have alone time together—without family making plays and demands—to figure out how to handle their situation. And to figure out if there was something there between them, after all.

“He was in the building but he’s taking his girlfriend out to lunch before coming to the house later. I wanted to warn you in person and couldn’t leave work.”

More confirmation she didn’t want to hear. But she felt compelled to hear it anyway. “Why do I need warning?”

“He’s not a good person in spite of being charming as hell when he wants to be. I just want to make sure you’re prepared. Feel free to steer clear of him.”

“I can take care of myself. If he becomes too much to handle, I will flip him with Krav Maga I learned in the military.” The warrior blood boiled beneath her skin. She would not be taken for a fool.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I am not incapacitated. But if you are concerned, I will simply pretend I do not understand his English.” Uncrossing her arms, she gave him a wickedly innocent grin. Eyes wide for full effect. “It worked on almost half the tutors who showed up at the Mitras household prepared to teach the rebellious princesses.”

“Good plan. Wish I’d thought of that as a kid.”

A laugh escaped him and he turned toward her, a good-natured smile pushing at his cheeks. Funny how that smile slid right past her resolve to let logic prevail. To be levelheaded. That shared laugh stirred a whole wealth of feelings that had been building inside her ever since she’d stepped onto the practice field to face Gervais Reynaud.

Thinking back to the photograph on the desk, she had to admit, she was curious about him. His past. What it was like growing up in New Orleans. She had so many things to learn about him that it could take a lifetime. And wasn’t it perfectly reasonable of her to learn more about him when her children would share his genes?

Emboldened by the rationalization, she thought she might as well begin her quest to know him better right now. “But you did not need to arm yourself with elaborate schemes to outwit the grown-ups around you as a child. You and your brothers are so close—or the three of you I’ve met.”

The faintest pull of unease touched his lips. “We weren’t always. Dempsey didn’t come to live with us until he was thirteen. Our dad... Maybe you already know this.”

“No, I do not.”

“That’s right.” He shifted away from the windows to move closer to her, taking a seat on the edge of the desk. “You’re not a big follower of football and the players.”

“I am learning to be. You make me curious about anything that relates to you.” Leaning forward, she touched his arm gently.

“I’m glad.” A small victory. She could see him struggling with his family history, despite the fact that it was, apparently, public knowledge.

“Why did Dempsey come to live with you later?”

“We have different mothers.”

“Your parents got divorced? But—” That certainly did not seem strange.

He met her gaze, his expression tight. “The ages don’t match up. I’m the oldest, then Dempsey, followed by Henri and Jean-Pierre. Dad slept around on Mom, a lot.”

“Gervais, I am so very sorry.” She touched his arm lightly, which was as much sympathy as she dared offer without risking him pulling away or shutting down.

“My father used to go to clubs with his friends. Remember, this was before the internet made it possible to stalk your date before you’d ever met.” He took another breath, clearly uncomfortable.

Erika’s eyes widened, realizing that he was opening up to her.

“All families have...dead bones in the closet,” she said quietly.

A smile pushed against his lips. “You mean skeletons?”

“Is that not the same thing?” She ran her hand over his.

“More or less, I suppose. Anyway, he hooked up with Dempsey’s mom, Yvette, at a jazz club. She got pregnant. Worked a lot of jobs to raise Dempsey, but never found my father, since he hadn’t even been honest about who he was, apparently. Until his image was blasted all over the sports page and she recognized his face. Yvette thought it was her ticket out of the slums. She arranged a meeting with my father. But he insisted Dempsey become part of the family. And Dempsey’s mother agreed. For a price.”

How horrible for Dempsey. And, from Gervais’s perspective, how horrible it must have been for him to assimilate a new brother almost his own age when they were both young teens. She avoided focusing on him, however, guessing he would only shift gears if she did.

“That had to be strange for your mother,” she observed lightly.

He bit back a bark of a laugh. “Strange? She wasn’t much of a motherly type. After one more kid got added to the mix, she left.”

“That is so much change for children.” Her heart swelled with sympathy for him. She had no idea that there was so much struggle in the Reynaud family.

“We didn’t handle it well. I was jealous. Henri was my shadow, so he followed my lead. We blamed Dempsey for breaking up our parents, which was ridiculous from an adult perspective. But kids can be cruel.”

“What happened?”

He looked at her sidelong. “We were living in Texas then. Staying at our grandfather’s ranch while our father chased our mother around, trying to work things out. Anyway, I dared Dempsey to ride a horse. The biggest, meanest horse on the ranch.”

“Oh, my.”

“You don’t sound horrified.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Remember? My sisters threw me out a third-story window. I know how siblings treat each other even when they have grown up together.”

“True enough.” He nodded. “Of course, he had no idea how to ride—not even a nice horse. So he was...completely unprepared for a high-strung Thoroughbred used to getting her own way.”

“That’s scary. What happened?”

“She threw him clear off, but he landed awkwardly and broke his leg. We both almost got trampled while Henri and Jean-Pierre ran to get help.”

“You did not mean to break his leg.” Ah, sibling cruelty was something that existed in all countries.

“Things were difficult between us for a long while, even once we all made up. I don’t want my children to live in a fractured family. Not if I can help it. I want them to have a firm sense of belonging, a sense of being a Reynaud.”

“And a Mitras,” she reminded him.

“Yes. Both.” He reached out to take her hands in his and squeezed. “I want your strength in our children. They will need it.”

His words warmed her even more than his touch, and that was saying a lot when a thrill danced over her skin.

Too breathless to answer, she bit her lip, unwilling to allow a dreamy sigh to escape.

“Erika, please stay here with me for a while. We need more time to get to know each other.” He drew her to her feet, his eyes pleading with hers at a time when her resolve was at an all-time low.

Her heart beat wildly, her lips parted. Anticipating the press of his mouth to hers.

He rubbed her arms, sliding them up until his hands tangled in her hair. They kissed deeply, with open mouths and passion. Tendrils of desire pulsed through her as he explored her mouth with his tongue, tasting her as she tasted him right back. She had not been passive in their lovemaking before, and she could already feel the urge to seize control driving her to the brink now.

It could have gone on like that for hours, for days even, if not for the sound of the door opening. She pushed back. Looked down. Away. At anything else but him.

While Gervais spoke in a low voice to his secretary, Erika used the time to collect herself. Straighten her dress. Find her purse. She had to figure this out soon. It was apparent there was chemistry simmering hot just beneath the surface. But now there was also a tenderness of feeling. An emotional connection. How would she ever forget that look in Gervais’s eyes when he told her about the guilt of seeing Dempsey hurt? Of course she understood why he wanted to keep his own family intact. His children connected.

That was admirable, and a deeper draw for her than the sensual spell he cast around her without even trying. It had been difficult enough resisting just one.

How would she ever keep her wits about her with both those persuasive tools at his disposal?

* * *

On the private plane to St. Louis later that week, Erika replayed the kiss in Gervais’s office over and over again. Of course, she had already relived that moment in her mind more than once, awake and asleep. Every look between them was filled with so much steam she could barely think, much less trust herself to make logical decisions around him.

At least they were on different planes today, so she could avoid temptation for a few hours. All the wives and girlfriends traveled first-class, while the team went on a chartered craft. Gervais had a meeting in Chicago first, something to do with corporate sponsorship for the Hurricanes. But he would arrive in St. Louis at the same time she did.

With any luck, she could use this flight to get her bearings straight.

But even as she tried to focus on being objective, her mind wandered back to the kiss in the office. A kiss that hadn’t been repeated despite the fact that they’d spent time together over the past few days. It felt as though he was always on the clock, managing something for the team or overseeing business for one of the other Reynaud family concerns. So he was a bit of a workaholic; not a flaw in her opinion. In fact, she respected how seriously he took his work. He expected nothing to be handed to him in life.

And when they were together, he was fully present. Attentive. Thoughtful. He’d even helped deflect an awkward run-in with his father and his father’s girlfriend because she hadn’t felt ready to face Theo after what she’d learned about him. And knowing how little his own son trusted him.

Erika’s instincts had seldom failed her. In London, there had been something between them. Something she hadn’t imagined. And the more she thought about the past few days, the more excited she was to be with him again. To have another kiss. To throw away caution as quickly as clothes peeled away in the heat of passion.

To make love again and discover if the fire burned as hot between them as she remembered.

Erika clutched a long silver necklace in her hand, running the charm back and forth. Just as she did as a child.

Fiona, Henri’s wife, gently touched her arm. “You know, we have a book club to help pass the time when we’re on the road with the guys.”

“A book club?” She glanced at the row across from her, to where Gervais’s father’s girlfriend stared intently at a fashion magazine.

Fiona scrunched her nose. “I should have asked. Do you like to read?”

“Which language?”

Fiona laughed lightly. “No need to get all princess-sy on me.”

“I apologize. That was meant to be a joke. Sometimes nuances, even though I speak all those languages, get lost. Tell me more about the book club.”

“We choose books to read during all those flights and then we have one helluva party while we discuss them.”

“Party?”

Fiona nodded. “Spa or five-star restaurant or even the best room service we can buy.”

“Did Gervais ask you to sit here and use the time to convince me it is fun to be on the road?” Try as she might, Erika couldn’t keep the dry sarcasm out of her voice.

“I am simply helping you make an informed decision. It’s not just about partying. We have homeschooling groups for families with children, as well.” Shadows passed briefly through her eyes before Fiona cleared her throat. “It’s amazing what you can teach a child when your field trips involve traveling around the country. Even overseas sometimes for the preseason. Our kids have bonds, too. There are ways to make this kind of family work. Family is important.”

Damn. That struck a chord with her. Maybe Fiona had a point. She had just dismissed the women of the group without bothering to really get to know them. And that certainly was not fair.

Maybe she could strengthen her ties to Gervais’s world this way. She already knew she wanted to explore their relationship more thoroughly—to take that first step of trust with him and see where indulging their sensual chemistry would lead. But in the meantime, why not work on forging bonds within his world? If things between them didn’t work and they ended up co-parenting on opposite sides of the world, she would need allies in the Reynaud clan and in the Hurricanes organization. Growing closer to Fiona would be a good thing for her children.

All perfectly logical.

Except that a growing part of Erika acknowledged she wasn’t just thinking about a rational plan B anymore. With each day that passed, with every moment that she craved Gervais, Erika wanted plan A to work. And that meant this trip was going to bring her much closer to the powerful father of her children.

* * *

There was nothing Gervais hated more than a loss. It rubbed him the wrong way, sending him into a dark place, even though he knew that a preseason loss didn’t matter. The preseason was about training. Testing formations. Trying out new personnel. The final tally on the score sheet didn’t count toward anything meaningful.

Opening the door to his suite, he was taken aback by what he saw on the bed. Erika in a Hurricanes jersey. On her, it doubled as a dress, hitting her midthigh. Exposing her toned legs.

His mind eased off the loss, focused on what was in front of him. “I wanted to catch you before you went to bed.”

She closed the book she’d been reading and uncurled her legs, stretching them out on the bed. “I am sorry about the game.”

“I won’t lie. I’m disappointed we lost this one. But I’m realistic enough to know we can’t win every time, especially in the preseason when we don’t play all of our starters or utilize our best offensive strategies. The whole point of the preseason is like a testing ground. We can create realistic scenarios and see what happens when we experiment.” He told himself as much, but it didn’t soothe him when he saw a rookie make poor decisions on the field or watched a risky play go up in flames.

“You have a cool head. That is admirable.”

Her head tilted sympathetically.

Gervais was floored. Unsure of what to make about Erika’s behavior. For the first time since her arrival in the United States, it felt as if she was opening up to him. But could that be?

She’d been so adamant on keeping distance between them, urging logic over passion. She was probably just being polite to him. After all, they would have to be civil to each other for the sake of the children. She had said as much more than once.

Still, damn it, he knew what he saw in her eyes, and she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. Back in his arms.

In his bed.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy the past few days.” He had taken a red-eye to Chicago to be there this morning for a meeting to secure a new corporate sponsor for the team. He was exhausted, but the extra hours had paid off, and he was one step closer to making the Hurricanes the wealthiest team in the league.

“You have been very thoughtful.” She leaned forward, her posture open, words unclipped.

Her gaze was soft on him. And appreciative, he noticed. So maybe he hadn’t been so off base. “I was concerned you would feel neglected having to fly in a separate plane.”

“I understand you have other commitments. And I had a lovely conversation with Fiona—in case you were wondering, since you made sure we had seats beside each other.” Erika raised her eyebrows as if daring him to deny it.

“Are you angry?” He couldn’t help that he wanted to give her reasons to stay in New Orleans. But he knew she did not appreciate being manipulated.

He’d never met a more independent woman.

“Actually, no. She was helpful in explaining the logistics of how wives blend in to the lifestyle of this team you own.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“She answered all of your questions?”

“Most...” Shifting on the bed, she crawled toward him. “I had cats when I grew up.”

All of his exhaustion disappeared.

His eyes couldn’t help but watch her lithe form, the way her breasts pushed against the jersey he’d given her. An unforgettable vision.

And the sensory overload left him dumbly saying, “Okay.”

“We had dogs, too, but the cats were mine.”

Trying his damnedest to pull his eyes up from the length of her exposed legs, he stumbled over the next sentence, too. Focusing on words was hard. And he had thought that tonight’s loss had left him speechless. That was nothing compared to the sight in front of him. “Um, what were their names?”

Erika’s lips plumped into a smile as she knelt on the bed in front of him. “You do not need to work this hard or pretend to woo me.”

“I’m not pretending. I am interested in everything about you.” And he was. Mind, spirit...and body. He tried to keep his mind focused on the conversation. On whatever she wanted to talk about.

“Then you will want to know the real reason why I mentioned the cats. I loved my cats. And yet my children—our children—will not be able to have pets when they are traveling all over the country to follow this team that is part of their legacy.” She gave him a playful shove, her smile still coy.

“Actually, I have a baseball buddy whose wife travels with her dog.” He deserved a medal for making this much conversation when she looked like that. “I think the guy renegotiated his contract to make sure she got to have her dog with her.”

“Oh,” Erika whispered breathily. Moved closer to him, hands resting on his arms. Sending his body reeling from her touch.

“Yes, oh. So what other questions went unanswered today? Bring it. Because I’m ready.”

“I do have one more question I did not dare to ask your sister-in-law.” Her hands slid up to his neck. Pulled him close. Whispered with warm breath into his ear. “Will it mess up your season mojo if we have sex?”