Читать книгу At The Playboy's Command: Millionaire Playboy, Maverick Heiress - Robyn Grady, Brenda Jackson - Страница 10

The next morning, dying for coffee, Daniel entered the Royal diner. The concierge at the hotel must have passed on the same recommendation to his crew. Rand sat in a corner booth near the jukebox, polishing off a plate of ham and eggs. As Daniel crossed over, the younger man lifted his fork in greeting.

“Hey, we missed you at dinner.”

Sitting down heavily, Daniel suppressed a yawn. He hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“I left a message,” he said, signaling the waitress.

Grinning, Rand finished munching a mouthful of toast. “You had a better offer?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m guessing from that doll in the fur.”

“Her name’s Elizabeth Milton.”

“Whatever her name, from the look, she didn’t take you back to her trailer for soda and chili dogs.”

The waitress brought over a cup and poured a steamy black coffee that smelled like heaven. “What’ll it be, sugar?”

“Coffee’s good,” he said, sliding the menu aside.

He’d been told anything ordered here was tasty and filling, but his appetite was lost, wondering what Nita had whipped up for breakfast this morning. Not to mention his obsessing about whether Elizabeth had tossed and turned all night, too.

He hadn’t been able to get that confounded kiss out of his head.

Of course, that could never happen again, Daniel told himself, scalding his tongue on a long pull from his cup. He was having a hard enough time making this trip a positive experience without throwing a gorgeous heiress held to ransom by her deceased parents into the mix.

Was he ever pleased that part of his past—having no say in where he went, how long he stayed—was well behind him. After the constant struggle of being shuttled between homes, between states, no way could he tolerate Elizabeth’s situation. And while nothing would change the fact that he found Miss Milton beyond attractive and interesting and charming, truth was he’d lost a little respect for her. If his parents had tried to blackmail him like that at her age, he’d have told them to go to hell in a handbag.

Rand was dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “What are you planning to do about the design?”

“Scrap it.”

Reaching for his cup, Rand froze. “You mean everything?”

“You were at the meeting. The black plague was a bigger hit.”

“Personally, I thought that model depicted the Old West at its best.”

“Point is this isn’t the Old West. Not anymore.” Daniel finished his coffee and signaled for another. “Abigail’s a friend but maybe I ought to retract my offer to submit.”

Hell, he should be home, preparing for next month’s visit from a client who needed a design for a new supermall, not downing coffee in a diner that looked like a reject from the fifties.

Leaning over the table, Rand dropped his voice. “You don’t need this job, boss. Your friend will understand.”

Understand? Abigail would most likely kick her heels if he suggested she might like to try someone else. The jet was fueled, ready to shoot them back to New York the moment he gave the word. Daniel took in the red-and-white upholstered booths, the diner’s sleepy clientele.

What the hell was he doing wasting his time here?

Across the table, Rand nudged his chin at the entrance. “Look who just walked in.”

A shiver running up his spine, Daniel spun around. Elizabeth Milton was sashaying inside like she’d been doing it all her life, which she had. Daniel told his heart to quit pounding. He didn’t know how she did it, but the woman looked even hotter this morning than she had last night. A pale pink dress with a matching short-sleeved jacket and pumps that drew the eye up over the splendor of those long, shapely legs. Tiny waist. Ample bust. Every line, every crest and valley was perfection. Then there were those lips …

When a throb kicked off low in his belly, Daniel panicked and pushed to his feet. He’d pretty much made up his mind to pull up anchor. That Elizabeth Milton had strolled in now made no difference. They’d already bade each other goodbye and good luck. They had nothing more to say.

While he slapped a few bills on the table, Elizabeth stopped to speak with a woman by the counter. From her relaxed body language, it was someone she’d known a long time. Daniel shoved his wallet in his back pocket while Rand collected his laptop and sidled out of the booth, too. Elizabeth had her back to them. If he hurried, he could save them both an awkward moment and duck out before she was any the wiser.

He headed for the door, Rand hot on his heels.

“I can make myself scarce,” Rand said, “if you want to, you know, say hi.”

Still striding, Daniel glared over his shoulder. “We’re leaving here together, packing up and saying goodbye to Royal for good.”

Rand’s mouth swung to one side. “You can tell Elizabeth Milton that. She’s on a crash course, headed this way.”

Daniel realigned his vision at the exact moment he plowed into something … someone. On reflex, his arms shot out and caught Elizabeth’s upper arms as she emitted a cry of surprise and toppled backward. Daniel swore under his breath.

Idiot. He should’ve watched where he was going. Now, not only did he and Elizabeth have to face each other, they’d made physical contact, skin on satin skin, and that was bad news. Those big green eyes, that fresh sweet scent. If they’d been alone, he’d have gone against every scrap of common sense he possessed and kissed her again.

He made sure she was steady on her pretty pink heels then, pasting on a smile, he released his hold and dug both hands safely away into his trouser pockets.

“Elizabeth. Hey, what a surprise.”

“You here trying some of our world-famous breakfast tacos?”

“Just coffee this morning.”

“Pining for Nita’s cooking?”

He slowly smiled. “That’s probably it.”

After the way they’d parted last night, why was she being so friendly? He wasn’t getting even a hint of frostiness. No sign of embarrassment. In fact, she radiated confidence. It was as if that moment last night in the moonlight had never happened. She said she’d been kissed before. Maybe this kind of thing was a regular occurrence.

Rand was easing around them. “I’m off. Lots to do.” He sent a smile to Elizabeth, a conspiratorial wink to Daniel, and made a beeline for the door. Daniel scowled after him. Traitor.

But if Elizabeth was big enough not to hold a grudge, considering he’d been the one to make that rash move in the first place, shouldn’t he show manners enough to give her a polite moment now? Not that he intended to drag it out. He had a phone call to make. Packing to do.

So why, when he had every intention of saying, Well, nice to have met you, have a great day, did it come out, “Would you like a coffee?”

At his offer, barely-there dimples appeared on either side of a dazzling smile. “I’d love one.”

The waitress and her coffeepot materialized beside them. “You two lovebirds need a table?”

Daniel suppressed a cough. He could take her calling him sugar, but lovebirds? Southerners were far too familiar. Talk like that could cause gossip. And gossip meant trouble.

Making certain to stand an arm’s length away from Elizabeth, he indicated the booth he and Rand had shared. “I was sitting over there.”

“Then let me clear those plates.” The waitress walked over with them, addressing only Elizabeth when next she spoke. “Word is those pesky flamingos have ended up on your front lawn.”

“I was going to make my donation today, but I thought I might keep them around a couple more days.”

The woman laughed, a throaty relaxed sound. “To scare the cows?”

“Who knows?” Elizabeth said with a cheeky grin. “They might come back in fashion.”

“Not where I come from,” Daniel muttered, sliding into that booth.

When the waitress looked at Daniel, Elizabeth explained, “Barb, Daniel here is from New York City.”

“Really? I’m hearing a lilt of an accent. South Carolina. Got an aunt from round that way.”

“I call New York home now.”

She deadpanned, “Whatever you say, sugar.” Her focus jumped to the other side of the booth, where Elizabeth was making herself comfortable. “Can I fetch you a menu, hon?”

“Just coffee,” they said together.

The waitress inspected her near-empty pot. “Need a fresh one.” She headed off. “Back in a flash.”

Elizabeth set her handbag down then clasped her hands on the table. “Now that we’re here, I might as well go ahead and tell you the story behind the club’s plaque.”

If he hadn’t left so abruptly, she’d have told him last night. But the situation had changed.

“No need,” he said.

Her smooth brow furrowed. “Oh? Why not?”

Because I’m throwing in my hand. Giving up and going back to where I belong. But he didn’t need to spill his guts, just because she was sitting here across from him, making him feel all jumpy, that amazing mane of hair cascading over her shoulders while she radiated curiosity and “you know you want to hold me again” vibes.

When he realized he was leaning over the table, stomach muscles clenching, he cleared his throat and lied. “A pressing matter’s come up. I need to get back to the city as soon as possible.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Just business.”

“Then I’d best not keep you.”

She made to stand but instead of doing the smart thing and letting her go, he lightly caught her hand. That same jet of sensation swam up his arm and, while he wanted to hang on, he let go fast. Physical contact was out, but now that coffee was ordered, he might as well sit back and listen.

“I really wouldn’t mind hearing that story,” he admitted.

She considered him for a moment before her expression eased and she lowered back down. “Well, if you have time. It goes way back to the War with Mexico. Did you notice the park next to the club headquarters?”

He got comfortable. “Sure.”

“Back in the early eighteen hundreds, just beyond that park, a parcel of missionaries set themselves up. The adobe church is still there. You’d know all about those.”

“Vaulted ceiling,” he said. “Naves that were slightly taller than they were wide. Few windows although the light was organized to illuminate the altar to dramatic effect. The walls needed constant remudding to stand a chance against the New World elements.”

She sent an impressed smile. “Ten out of ten.”

Sitting back, they let Barb fill their cups before going on.

“Back in the War with Mexico,” she said, when the waitress had left, “around 1846, a Texas solider found a fallen comrade. The soldier tried to save his life, but it was too late. It wasn’t until he was burying the body that he came upon the jewels. A black opal, an emerald and a red diamond. The dead man had no identification so the solider decided he’d take the jewels back with him to Royal. They’re so rare, each on its own is priceless, back then as well as now.”

“Did anyone ever find out why the fallen soldier had them?”

“Never, which makes the legend all the more mysterious, don’t you think?”

He grinned, spooning sugar into his cup. “So how do these gems relate to the plaque?”

“Apparently red diamonds are the gems of kings. That’s how the first quality of the plaque came to be—leadership. The black harlequin opal is perhaps the rarest. It’s said that this particular type of opal possesses healing powers and also an inner light that illuminates honesty, integrity or, more simply, justice.”

“The plaque’s second quality. And the emerald?” he asked, thinking of how her eyes were sparkling like priceless jewels as she spoke.

“For many centuries around the world emeralds have been thought to be the stone of peacemakers.”

“Leadership, Justice and Peace.” He nodded and smiled. “Nice. So where are these mysterious jewels now?”

“No one knows for sure. The story goes that the soldier had wanted sell them, buy an even bigger spread, build himself a whopping great mansion. But when he got home he struck oil.”

“Black gold.”

“Ended up he didn’t need to sell the jewels to make it rich.”

“Has anyone ever tried to find them?”

“Way back, even before Tex Langley’s time—”

“The founder of the Cattleman’s Club.”

“That’s right. A group of men got together, the legend goes, to guard the stones. Others say they were simply some of Royal’s leading citizens who’d made a pact to protect the town and its citizens. There are even some disbelievers who say those men just made up the story to build their motto around.”

“You don’t believe that?”

Her eyes flashed. “The legend’s far more exciting.”

“So, if the jewels exist, where do you think they are now?”

“Somewhere safe. Not that Royal’s big on crime. We’re big on oil and cattle.”

“There are always visitors,” he said, looking at her over the rim of his cup as he sipped.

She sent him a teasing look. “Are you aiming to go treasure hunting?”

He laughed and set his cup down. “Not this visit. You look as if the thought of a treasure hunt excites you.”

“I like finding new and beautiful things. A painting I can look at all day long. A song that gives me goose bumps because the words and tune are so full of meaning. Know what I mean?”

He smiled, nodded. Yeah, he knew.

“What’s your favorite piece?” he asked.

“Of music?”

“Of treasure.”

She stared into her cup for a long moment, considering. “I don’t know that I have one.” Her glittering eyes met his. “At least not yet.” She tipped forward. “Do you have any hidden treasures?”

The question took him aback. He did have one. Something he rarely took out because it was that precious. It mightn’t make sense to some, but the feelings it evoked … he could barely bring himself to look at it. But Elizabeth didn’t need to know any of that.

“No,” he lied. “I have nothing like that.” Straightening, he finger combed hair fallen over his forehead. “Any more Royal stories I should hear?”

“It’d take all day to go over this town’s history.” She glanced at the clock above the jukebox. “And you have a flight to catch. Have you told Abigail you’re leaving?”

“Not yet.”

“She’ll be disappointed.”

Or relieved.

He set aside the pang of guilt and disappointment in himself and laid another bill on the table. Glancing at his empty cup, he angled his legs out from beneath the table.

“Better get back to the hotel to pack.”

“I’m headed that way. Mind if I tag along?”

He should have at least hesitated. He was leaving. No need to prolong this impromptu meeting. Get any more involved. But as he found his feet, he heard himself say, “Not at all.”

That waitress stopped taking an order to watch them walk by and, it seemed, every other person they passed as they strolled down the street gave a curious smile and tip of their head. But Daniel didn’t care how many tongues would wag. Soon he’d be back home where a person could truly lose himself in the rush, although he wasn’t looking forward to the cooler weather, particularly after today’s pleasant change. Rather than shrugging into his coat, he folded it over an arm and, with a valid reason, inspected Elizabeth’s attire.

“No need for your fur today.”

She flashed a cheeky smile. “It’s not a real fur.”

He tucked in his chin. “Not real? It looks so …”

“Expensive? It is. For a fake.”

“That foxtail belt?”

“Imitation, too. One thing I did change at home was the so-called trophy room.” Despite the sun, she visibly shivered. “From as far back as I can recall, I’ve hated the thought of those walls.” She shot him a look. “Was your father into hunting?”

“He used to be.” When his stomach swooped a sick loop, Daniel cleared his throat and changed tack slightly. “He’s into the law now more than ever. He’s a judge.”

“Did he want you to study the law, too?”

“He demanded that I did.” Glaring dead ahead, he set his jaw. “Only made me more determined not to.”

She pretended to gape at him. “Why, Daniel Warren, you’re a rebel.”

“It’s not rebellious to want to live your own life.”

Decide when to come and when to go. He caught her downcast look. That last comment had obviously got her thinking about her own predicament, and so he swerved the conversation back onto a higher note.

“I wanted to do something different.”

She nodded a greeting to a middle-aged couple walking their dachshund then asked, “What got you interested in architecture?”

“My typical male brain. I like to build things. I thought about studying to be an engineer but a friend’s father was an architect. He showed me a few of his drawings one summer and I was hooked.”

“So, you’re a bit of an artist?”

“Couldn’t paint a landscape to save my life.”

“Ever tried?”

“I don’t set myself up for failure.” Seemed that monster steer-horn club design was an exception.

“You must have painted when you were a child,” she said.

“I’m not a child anymore.”

But a memory of someone else who’d loved his paint and easel at a young age pushed its way into Daniel’s mind. Clenching his stomach muscles, he embraced the image for just a heartbeat then forced himself to shunt it aside. He kept walking.

“I don’t paint,” he said. “Never will.”

“Not even to make someone you love happy?” she teased.

He answered with the utmost confidence. “Not even then.”

“I’ve tried. Unfortunately I sucked.” Something warm in his chest tugged at her soft laugh. “My dream is to one day own a Monet Water Lilies.” A diamond bracelet glittered in the sun as she wound a long wave behind an ear. “How long have you been working for yourself?”

Daniel shook off the image of Elizabeth looking stunning, standing before a panorama of those famous flowers to reply.

“I started the company five years ago.”

“From what I hear, you’ve certainly come a long way.”

“I put in a lot of hours,” he said, matching his pace to her languid stroll. “I made the right contacts and things came together.”

“You work hard,” she affirmed.

“Always.”

“Ever give yourself time off for good behavior?”

“I treat myself when I’m on location.”

“You mean when you’re away from home. Like now?”

He looked at her twice. Was that a leading note to her voice, or simply wishful thinking on his part? Concentrating on the path ahead, he thought again and laughed at himself. Get it together, Warren. The lady isn’t propositioning you. She’s staying true to her hospitable heritage and being polite.

“Most of my work comes from up north or overseas,” he pointed out.

“You don’t get down this way often?”

“This is the first time I’ve been in the South in over a decade.”

“Then maybe we’ll bump into each other again—” she gifted him a wry smile “—in ten years or so.”

The numbers tallied up in his head. In ten years he’d be forty-five. God willing, his business would still be going strong. But other than that …

Would he still have the same circle of friends? He’d probably still be a bachelor. Fact was he’d never contemplated marriage. After his abomination of an upbringing, he’d go so far as to admit he shuddered at the idea. If a woman he was seeing began to slow down whenever they passed the diamond rings laid out in a jewelry store window, he quit calling. Harsh, perhaps, but necessary. He wasn’t looking for a wife. Didn’t want a family or a son “to follow in my footsteps.” He’d sooner put a gun to his own head.

They arrived at the hotel, the oldest and best respected in Royal, so the maître d’ had told Daniel this morning on his way out. Elizabeth had stopped before a monster of a potted palm, looking like an earthbound angel as a dry breeze combed her long fair hair.

She peered up at the hotel’s stone facade. “Well, this is it.”

He braced his legs, shoulder-width apart. “Yes, it is.”

“Good luck again.” Her tone was sincere.

So was his. “You, too.”

“Don’t work too hard,” she said over a slender shoulder as she turned and walked away.

Daniel watched as those sexy pink heels clicked a provocative tune all the way down Main’s wide pavement. When she’d disappeared around the next block, he sucked down a breath and moved inside the quiet, high-ceilinged lobby then crossed the plush Oriental carpet to the lifts. In his suite two minutes later, he stopped to study his Cattleman Club’s mock-up and grunted. Giant steer horns. Not one of his better ideas.

Decided, he snapped his cell phone from his belt. No use delaying.

Abigail’s number was ringing when the doorbell sounded.

He tossed an impatient glance over. Damn. He’d meant to put out the Do Not Disturb sign. Housekeeping could make the bed after he’d vacated.

He strode over and fanned open the door. Rand stood in the corridor, surprise on his face.

“You’re back already?”

Daniel huffed. “No thanks to you.”

“Boss, you pay me the big bucks to read your mind. You might not have wanted me to leave but you most definitely wanted to be alone with Elizabeth Milton.” Crossing his arms, he leaned up against the doorjamb. “How’d it go?”

“Actually, very well,” Daniel conceded. “We had coffee. Chatted about the town’s history, how that might play into a new design.”

Rand straightened. “Are we back on?”

“No. We’re out of here,” Daniel confirmed. “Let me make a call and I’ll get back to you in ten with an exit plan.”

“Want me to let the pilot know?”

“Midday takeoff, if he can do it.”

Rand pivoted away and had disappeared inside his own suite next door when the elevator pinged. Daniel’s door was halfway shut when the earth stopped revolving and, off balance, he nearly toppled sideways.

What the devil was Elizabeth doing here?

She emerged from the elevator like a star stepping onto a red carpet. Spotting him, she bowled him over with an innocent, dimpled smile.

“Why, Daniel, you look stunned.”

He remembered to breathe. To think.

“Stunned would be the word. Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”

Had Abigail sent her for some reason? No, that made no sense. Her being here didn’t make sense at all.

A mysterious glint in her eye, she moved closer. “Invite me in and I’ll tell you.”

He got his whirling thoughts together enough to step aside and motion her in. She brushed past, that irresistible scent drifting over him, and, breathing deep, he closed the door.

“Is something wrong?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

She continued on toward the center of the room, her behind hypnotizing him as it swayed in the pale pink fitted skirt. He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.

“I’d offer you a drink but nine a.m. seems a little early.”

Pivoting around, she shrugged. “If I wanted a drink I’d have stopped at a bar.”

“What do you want?”

“Guess there’s no way around it,” she said, “except to come straight out and let you know.”

As she closed the distance separating them and stepped into his personal space, Daniel’s respiration cranked up and sparks began to fly. When she pushed up on tiptoe, looped her arms around his neck then brought her lips to within a whisper of his, those sparks transformed into a more dangerous form of heat. Then, to really confuse him, she gifted him with a kiss that turned that heat into a world of fireworks. Compared to this, last night’s experience was child’s play.

As her breasts pressed in and her tongue wound out to loop sensually around his, a steamy rush of carnal pleasure swept through him, something similar to the back draft from a twenty-story fire. Hypnotized, he shaped a palm over the back of that silken hair and followed his instincts. He held her tighter, kissed her deeper and told himself to hell with consequences.

As she continued to curl around him and his every inch grew hard, Daniel couldn’t stop imagining the next step. The bedroom. Clothes falling off. Urgent cathartic sex first. Long and slow and gloriously deep sex after that.

When she reluctantly pried her mouth from his, Elizabeth’s breathing was ragged, too.

“I couldn’t have you leave without letting you know how much I enjoyed last night.”

His heartbeat booming, he stole another smoldering kiss. “Up until our discussion on family.”

“That had nothing to do with us.”

“I’m obviously slow, but I didn’t realize there was an us.”

“There can be—” she lavished a lingering kiss on the beating hollow of his throat “—in a here and now kind of way.”

Surging testosterone levels through the roof, he cupped her behind as she pressed against him.

“I know a man in this situation shouldn’t worry about questions,” he admitted as her soft, sweet lips brushed his again, “but where did this come from?”

His gut said she wasn’t the type to make a habit of offering herself up on a plate like this.

“I wanted to get to know you a little better. And with you planning on leaving today, that doesn’t give me much time.” Her lidded eyes searched his. “If you’re available, that is.”

Before his mouth slanted over hers again, he growled, “Oh, I’m available.”