Читать книгу In The Enemy's Embrace - Mindy Neff - Страница 11

When they got home from the mall, Jessica remembered to check the messages on her cell phone. Two from her parents and one from Abbie—her college friend and now her cousin Mac’s wife—who’d heard about the fire and wanted to check on her.

Nick made several trips carrying in her new wardrobe, then backed out of her bedroom and stood in the hall as though he didn’t trust himself to be in the same room with her and a bed.

Attraction? she wondered. Or simply not interested and determined to keep his distance lest she get the wrong impression? Because she wasn’t absolutely sure, she became flustered.

“Um, my dad called twice. I guess I better call him back.”

“I thought you said you phoned him this morning.”

“I did. But I got the answering machine.”

Nick stuffed a hand in the pocket of his pants, and his brows drew together. “You left a message on your parents’ answering machine about your apartment burning down? They must be worried sick.”

The censure in his tone annoyed her. “I left a detailed, reassuring message, told them exactly where I was and what I planned to do today in case we missed connecting.” Criminy, the man even found fault with the way she made a telephone call. “I think I know how to talk to my own parents, Nick.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry. I saw the destruction of the fire firsthand. It haunts me.”

Just when her temper was about to soar, he said something to knock the wind out of it. She hadn’t thought about what he’d seen conjuring images of horror for him, as well as her.

“Apology accepted and one rendered,” she said. “Censure and bossiness pushes my hot button. I spent a lot of years getting my cousins Alex, Cade and Mac to realize I didn’t need their guidance, input and overprotective gestures at every turn. I’m a little touchy in that area.”

“Then we’re probably going to have a problem. I am who I am, Jess.”

She leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, grinned when he took another backward step into the hall. “There’s no probably about it, sugar. But if I can train three cowboy sheikhs, it shouldn’t be too much of a pain to do the same drill with you.”

“Don’t try to handle me, Red.”

“Likewise.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded and turned away. “I’ll be in the study.”

Jessica moved back into her room and sat on the bed, her legs threatening to give out. Why did sparring with Nick affect her so? Her knees felt like overcooked linguini.

Taking a calming breath, she punched in the number for the Desert Rose Ranch. She half expected the housekeeper, Ella, to answer the phone. Instead, both her parents’ voices came over the line, her father’s a half a beat after her mother’s—obviously from two different extensions.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Jessica! Honey, are you all right?” Vi Coleman’s voice trembled ever so slightly. She was one of the strongest women Jessica knew. To hear the emotion brought tears to Jess’s eyes.

“Didn’t you get my message, Mom? I told you everything was fine.”

“I know. But I’m a mother. If I can’t see and touch one of my children, I imagine the worst—even if you tell me different.”

Jessica was Vi’s only biological child. But Vi had raised her husband’s nephews, Alex, Cade and Mac, from the time they were young boys. Born to Arabian royalty, they’d come to live with their aunt and uncle when danger had threatened their lives. Vi truly considered them her own. And although Aunt Rose was now happily back in their lives after they’d believed her dead all these years, Vi was still the one who held most of the memories of the boys growing up, the one who’d been the main influence in shaping the men they’d become.

“I’m okay, Mom. None of my clothes survived, but I remedied that problem with a trip to the Galleria.”

Vi gave a chuckle that ended in a hitch. “I just had the most ridiculous urge to ask if you’d been wearing clean underwear.”

Jessica laughed, felt her heart open wide. She was so darn lucky to have such great parents. “Gosh, I love you.”

“And we love you,” Randy Coleman said, taking over for his wife who seemed to have developed a frog in her throat all of a sudden.

“Hey, Dad.” Jess cleared her own throat. “Guess that apartment building is one investment Coleman-Grayson should rethink.”

“The insurance company will make it right.”

“The building, perhaps, but not the lost rent.”

“That’s the least of my worries, honey. I’m just thankful you got out unharmed. We saw the photos in the Bridle paper this morning.”

“I figured you would. That’s why I called early. Where were y’all, anyway?”

“Khalahari had some trouble this morning and we were out in the stable with Alex and Hannah.”

“Is she all right?” Jessica knew the highly valuable Arabian mare wasn’t due to foal yet. But Khalahari had a history of tough pregnancies and foaling early. Khalid’s birth was a prime example. If it hadn’t been for Hannah Clark-Coleman, they’d have lost both Khalahari and Khalid. But Hannah, the young veterinarian her cousins had teased as a kid, came through for them all and saved the day. She’d also tempted the sheikh, and now she and Alex were married and the proud parents of four-month-old twin boys.

“Khalahari’s fine,” Randy said. “It was a false alarm. But you know how Alex is over that mare.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m glad you’re staying with Nick, sweetheart,” Vi said. “He’ll do right by you.”

Jessica wound the phone cord around her finger and refrained from commenting. Her parents had an entirely different perspective of Nick Grayson from hers.

“It shouldn’t be for very long. Once I get a car rented—or lease a new one—I’ll get out and look for a new place.”

“Oh, honey. Don’t rush it. Promise me,” Vi said. “Stay for a couple of weeks. Your father and I, at least, need that much time to recover our nerves.”

Jessica was sure they didn’t realize what they were asking of her. Her own nerves might not survive a two-week stay under Nick Grayson’s roof. Besides butting heads at nearly every turn, the uncontrollable adrenaline rush of desire she experienced at a mere look or touch was wearing her out.

“Okay, I won’t rush off.”

“I’m sure you have a hundred things to do, so we won’t keep you with any more of our worries. You call if you need us, you hear?” Randy said.

“I’ll call, Daddy. And let the rest of the family know that everything here’s fine. I love you guys.”

She disconnected the call, then dialed the guest house at the Desert Rose, where Abbie and Mac had moved into after they’d married. Might as well take care of all the calls at once.

Twenty minutes later, she still sat on the edge of the bed, her nerves humming from retelling the horror of the fire. She’d played it down of course, but her own vivid memories wouldn’t be quieted.

Action was what she needed, she decided, and she got up to put away her new wardrobe. She ought to exercise her independence and go to a hotel. But she’d promised her parents she’d stay with Nick. It made them feel better. Her father was proud of her, truly wanted her to follow in his footsteps, but sometimes he hurt her feelings by insisting she rely on Nick.

Still, she hadn’t slept well last night—or rather the hours left of the early morning—because she’d kept seeing smoke and flames and terror every time she’d closed her eyes, hearing the scream of alarms and the wail of sirens.

This house had fire sprinklers hidden in the high ceilings, plenty of windows and doors to get out of in a hurry if the need arose.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she felt better knowing someone else was in the house. Even if he did frustrate the very devil out of her at times.

About to stuff her new black bikini in the drawer, she changed her mind, pulled the tags off and slipped the two pieces on under her sundress. Struggling a bit with the top, she managed to get it in place.

Water had always been a stress reliever for her. Be it the bathtub, shower, a swimming pool or a lake, it revived her.

Carrying her sandals in her hand, she skipped down the richly carpeted staircase and went out the back glass doors. She bypassed the resortlike swimming pool and made her way down the grassy slope of lawn toward the lake.

Clouds gathered in the sky overhead, the humidity hovering at a sticky eighty percent. The unique, familiar smell of the lake surrounded her, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort much the way the smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies evoked warm memories of family gatherings in the kitchen at home on the ranch.

Honestly. She wasn’t homesick after only a couple of months. She was just feeling…displaced. That was all.

The boards of the dock that extended out over the water were smooth beneath her feet. Someone had recently slapped a coat of resin over the wood, ensuring bare feet would remain splinter-free.

She glanced longingly at the expensive powerboat, the sun glancing off its white hull. The duel outboards would really make this baby scoot. Jessica loved to go fast—cars, horses, boats. It was so exhilarating, that feeling of being on the edge of danger, free.

Sitting down, she dangled her feet in the cool water, then pulled her sundress over her head, laid it aside and slipped into the water feetfirst.

She gasped as water closed around her. Warmed by the sun, the first foot or so was deceptive. After that, it was icy cold. Her body adjusted after a couple of minutes and she began to swim, reveling in the way the lake caressed her skin, holding her as she rolled over and floated on her back.

She might have dozed for a minute, but something brushed her leg beneath the water and startled her. Heart jumping, she glanced around, realized it was just a reed tangled around her ankle.

About the time she relaxed again, she looked up and saw Nick coming toward her on the dock.

Carrying a towel.

For some reason, that annoyed her. Oh, sure, she’d forgotten to bring something to dry off with, but the fact that Nick was the one to provide it touched a nerve. Besides, what was wrong with letting a body air-dry in the warm sunshine?

He still wore his suit pants and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. Didn’t the guy believe in getting comfortable?

“The swimming pool too civilized for you?” he asked.

She treaded water, looking up at him. The sun was behind his head, making it difficult to see his expression. She imagined he had a fine view of her, though.

“Lake water’s much nicer to my skin. Besides, it’s what I’m used to. I swim in the lake at the Desert Rose, so this feels like home.”

He crouched down, shifting out of the direct sunlight so she didn’t have to squint. Or wonder what expression he wore.

The traditional scowl. Figured.

It bothered her even more that those rigid scowls turned her on. Sheesh.

She reached up for the edge of the dock, afraid she’d drown herself with the way this man affected her limbs and her breathing.

“Want a hand?” he asked.

“I’m good, thanks.” She saw his gaze dip to her cleavage. Heck, even if she ducked her shoulders under the water, he’d still be able to see through the clear lake water. She’d churned up the water just enough to have it lapping softly against the dock, each buoyant ripple gently lifting her breasts.

And he still looked.

Honestly. Talk about ruining all the benefits of the stress-relief swim. “On second thought, maybe I will—”

Before she could finish her sentence or advise him to step back so he wouldn’t get wet, he hooked his hands beneath her arms and lifted her out of the water as though she weighed little more than a leather saddle.

She grabbed for his arms, then flattened her palms on his chest to steady herself on her feet, leaving wet handprints on his upper arms and front of his shirt.

“Criminy. Warn a person, why don’t you.” She reached for the towel, dabbed at the water on herself, then dabbed at his shirt.

He stepped back. “I’ll dry.”

“Well, it serves you right. I could have gotten out just fine by myself and saved you a change of clothes—though why you’re still wearing your business clothes is beyond me.”

“Jessica?”

“What?” She blotted her face and chest with the towel, held it in front of her.

A dimple winked in one of his cheeks. He picked up the end of the towel, dabbed at her jaw. “You missed a spot.”

She could hardly draw a breath, much less speak. After standing frozen like a dummy for a full three seconds, she snatched the towel back from him and wrapped it around her torso, covering herself from chest to knees. “Thank you. I can get the rest.”

He stepped back and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Of course not.” Absolutely.

“Then how come you get that little twitch beside your eye when I get close?”

“Annoyance, probably.”

His lips curved ever so slightly. “I came out to tell you I’ll be placing that conference call to the West Coast in twenty minutes.”

“Oh. Thank you for reminding me. I’ll be right in.”

“You’ve got time still.” He turned, started to walk away, then paused. “Hey, Red?”

She’d just picked up the edge of the towel to blot her hair. “Yes?”

“I like your suit. It’s, uh…sexy.”

She dropped her arm and the corner of the towel she’d lifted, her jaw going slack when he winked.

Doggone it, she was going to figure this man out, learn to keep her emotions on an even keel around him. Otherwise, the way her heart kept leaping, she’d have a heart attack at the ripe young age of twenty-five.

On the other hand…sexy was much better than the bland “nice” he’d uttered over the red dress at the mall. It was definitely better than “kiddo.” And calling her Red…now that was about as unoriginal as you could get when faced with a woman like her with bright red hair.

In all honesty, she kind of liked the nickname. It was friendly, more intimate. Much better than kiddo, that was for sure, though not as good as darling or sweetheart or…

Criminy! Get a grip!

FIVE MINUTES BEFORE the scheduled call, Jessica knocked lightly on the open door of the study and went in when Nick gestured her forward. He was speaking on the phone, and since the conversation sounded like a personal one, she wandered around the room.

She trailed her fingers over dark, rich woods, oversize, comfortable furniture and shelves of books. On the wall was a photo of Nick’s brother, Chase, at the helm of a sailboat, and another one of him holding a trophy beside a race car. There were several poses of his parents, as well as pictures of beautiful Arabian horses that she knew for certain had come from Desert Rose stock.

For a guy who seemed to be all work and little play, the pictures on the walls painted him as a family man. There were none of the priceless, stuffy art pieces that a lot of wealthy people treasured. Instead, the paneling was adorned with images of his parents, his brother and the sleek Arabians he loved. Interesting.

She shoved a stray curl off her forehead. Her hair was still damp from her swim, so she’d pinned it in a loose knot on top of her head. She saw Nick’s gaze pass over her, saw his frown and could just imagine what he was thinking—that a barefoot woman in a short sundress wasn’t his idea of a businesswoman to be taken seriously.

But honestly. She wasn’t about to put on panty hose, a suit and heels just to listen to a business meeting over the speaker phone. This was one of the things that annoyed her—being judged by appearance.

Before she could get totally carried away putting thoughts in his head that, in all fairness, might not be there, he hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair.

“Change of plans. The CEO at Lusklow had an illness in the family to attend to.”

“Oh, I hope everything’s all right.”

“Yeah, me, too. They suspect his wife has cancer. He’s dropping everything and staying home with her until they get word.”

“I like him already.”

Nick raised a brow. “That surprises you—that a man would put his family ahead of business?”

“No. It doesn’t surprise me. I just said I liked that about him. The men in my family put their personal lives above business. It’s what I’m used to.”

She sat down on a leather chair, felt the dampness of her bathing suit seep through onto the back of her sundress. Great. Now she’d have to find a way to back out of the room without looking like a total dork.

“You’ll learn that I generally do business only with people I like and respect.”

“Are you saying if a company came to you with a surefire moneymaking proposition, no way to lose, and you didn’t like the major players, you’d turn down the opportunity?”

“Yes. There are plenty of deals out there.”

“Do you ever run into a situation where somebody doesn’t like you?”

“Sure. Same holds true. If we can’t get along, no sense mingling our business.”

Jessica wondered if that “we” was actually aimed at her. Heck, they could hardly sustain a truce for twelve hours. And they were already business partners.

That worried her. Was there room at the top of Coleman-Grayson for both of them? Their personalities were totally different from their fathers. Just because Jared Grayson and Randy Coleman meshed as a team didn’t mean Nick and Jessica would. Their fathers had formed a partnership based on like ideas—and had chosen each other.

Nick and Jessica were tossed into the arena by birth, not forethought.

All around, this could be a risky thing.

Though it was a risk Jessica was willing to take.

After graduation, she’d put off coming to work in Dallas, sure that she’d miss the ranch. But as her cousins got married and their wives became more active in the horse-ranching business, Jess had begun to feel out of the loop.

That was probably just the push she’d needed, because she’d realized immediately that working at Coleman-Grayson in the city appealed to a reckless, hungry side of her she’d always known was there but never fully trusted or given rein to.

She loved every facet of the corporate world she’d been introduced to so far.

Now if she could just get Nick Grayson to get with the program and give her more responsibility, she could set about sating that hunger.

First, though, she needed to finish putting the pieces of her charred life back in order. Starting with wheels. She’d promised her folks she’d stay at Nick’s for a couple of weeks. She wasn’t going to rely on him for transportation, too.

“Well, since the afternoon is so conveniently freed up, I think I’ll go change and call a cab to—”

“What do you need with a cab?” he interrupted. “I’ve got plenty of cars.”

She laughed. “That sounds really snooty. Cars plural. Shame on you.”

“What’s wrong with having more than one car?”

“Nothing, I guess. But since I don’t have even one at the moment, I need to hit the dealership and remedy that. Then I thought I’d drive by the apartment building and see if there’s anything left of my stuff.”

“First off, you should lease a car in the company’s name. So I’ll need to go with you.”

She kept a lid on her temper. It was an effort.

“You forget that I’m a board member and major stockholder. I think I can lease a car on my own signature. However, if you want to stand by my side and do your big-scary-guy scowling thing, that’s fine by me. It’ll save me from having to haggle so hard with the salesman.” There. She’d spoken pleasantly enough.

He ran a hand over his forehead, right where the crease showed his emotions, and spoke as though she hadn’t said a word. “Second, I don’t think you should go back to the apartment yet. I doubt the fire officials have finished going over the scene.”

“Strike two, Grayson.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m well past the age of being told what I can and can’t or should and shouldn’t do. We’ve covered this ground before, you and me, and it dismays me to have to repeat the lesson—every few minutes, I might add.”

He stared at her as though she’d grown an extra head. Then he shook his head and the corner of his lips twitched. “Did your cousins actually put up with this sass?”

She grinned. “Absolutely. So, hey. If royalty can get in line, so can you.”

He bowed like a commoner before a queen. “Very well, Ms. Coleman. I shall be out front by the car, awaiting your instructions.”