Читать книгу At The Playboy's Command - Robyn Grady, Brenda Jackson - Страница 13

Daniel was still holding on to the last of the I’ve-never-known-such-intensity feeling when, drawing a line down his shoulder and arm, Elizabeth asked, “Think I should take off my shoes now?”

His eyes snapped open. Thirty minutes ago he’d been ready to pack up and shove off. He’d decided Abigail and the Texas Cattleman’s Club might do better without his input. Rand, as far as he knew, had advised the pilot. And yet here he was, naked in a tangle of sheets. Elizabeth Milton lay beneath him, her hair creating a soft golden frame for her glowing face, and her legs wrapped around behind his, those sexy pumps hanging off her toes.

“If wearing your heels contributed to that experience,” he said, shifting to slip off one shoe then the other, “we’re on to something.”

After setting the pair on the floor, he scooped her close. As he searched her eyes, he wound hair behind her ear then leaned forward to tenderly kiss her lobe. At the same time, he caught the time on his wrist and frowned. Midday wasn’t far enough away. Elizabeth must’ve been thinking the same.

Sighing, she burrowed in against his chest. “I’m going to make you late.”

“You’re going to make me later yet.”

Cupping her jaw, he angled her face higher then kissed her again, but this time the pleasure his mouth on hers stirred was different. There was a tenderness and understanding. This morning was totally unexpected, as well as utterly off-the-charts amazing. He hoped she knew he would remember every moment … even if he couldn’t stay.

As the kiss slowly broke, he wished this could be some kind of beginning rather than an end. But there was no way around the fact that he was headed out. He’d decided it was best not to pursue the Cattleman’s Club project. He was done here. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was here to stay.

They lay together in the muted light, each in their own thoughts.

“Daniel, can I ask you something? Something personal.”

“Sure.”

“Why did you choose New York to settle down?”

His gut jumped and tightened. Yep, that was personal.

“That’s a long story.”

“I understand,” she said in a small voice.

His stomach tightened more and, relenting, he tipped up her chin and pressed his lips to her cooling forehead. “But I’ll tell you,” he said, and grinned, “if you promise not to be bored.”

Her expression melted and dimples appeared. “Cross my heart.”

Inhaling, he thought back. Not pleasant memories, but since when could memories hurt you? People who were supposed to care for you did that.

“My parents split when I was five. My mother never got tired of telling me that my father and his family were to blame.”

“That must have hurt to hear.”

He huffed. Big-time. But as a young boy he soon developed a tactic that worked.

“After a while I stopped listening.”

“Did your mother’s family come from New York?”

“Connecticut. She wanted me to live up there with her. My father was adamant I would remain under his roof.” Actually, it was “we.” He’d had a younger brother, a friend he missed dearly. But that was something Daniel never discussed. “Given my father was a lawyer at the time, I’m stumped how he didn’t win sole custody. The law isn’t about justice,” he told her, running a hand down her arm. “It’s about who has the most money. The most clout.”

“Your mother got custody?”

“It was split, straight down the middle. Half my time was spent in South Carolina in my father’s empty, angry mansion, having to contend with my grandmother calling my mother a—”

His throat constricted, he cut himself off. He’d leave it to Elizabeth to fill in the blank.

“And the other half you spent up north,” she said for him.

He thought back to last night at the Milton Ranch dining table. “You asked if my mother could cook.”

“I remember.”

“She was a health nut. Constantly lecturing about the body being your temple and pumping herself full of vitamins. When I left her home for the last time, I ate nothing but junk food for a month.”

Her grin was small and sad. “How old were you when you left?”

“I was eighteen when I told them both to go to hell.”

Elizabeth drew back. “Your parents?”

He lifted one shoulder, let it drop. He was sorry he’d offended her Southern sense of duty. He was sorry about a lot of things.

“By that time I’d had it up to here with being shuffled back and forth like a parcel with no voice.” No feelings.

His voice had grown louder and his hands had bunched. He breathed in deeply, pushed it all out and dragged his thoughts away from incidents that couldn’t be changed.

“When they both threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t come around, I said I didn’t want anything to do with their money. I put myself through college and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Have you seen them since?”

He set his jaw against the hollow, dark feeling rising from deep inside. “Not my father.” He couldn’t bring himself to speak to that egocentric, self-serving man again. “And my mother knows if she starts with telling me what’s best for her boy, it’ll be a long time before I darken her doorstep again.”

“It makes sense now. Why you had such a strong opinion about my parents’—” she searched for a word “—requests. If my folks had behaved like that, I’m not sure I’d be falling over myself to please them, either.”

Her situation was vastly different from his. “You love your ranch.” She wanted to stay. Or at least she’d convinced herself that she did.

As if she’d read his mind and had grown uncomfortable, she sat up, hugged her sheet-covered knees and made a confession he had no trouble believing.

“I do get a little restless by the end of the ten months,” she said. “I can break up the time I spend out of Royal, but I usually go through my two months away pretty well straight out the gate.”

“There are no loopholes?”

“I get more time if I want to study away but there are stipulations on that, as well.”

“Sounds as if they wanted their grandkids to be pure Texan.”

She cut him an amused look. “I’m not thinking about having a family just yet.”

That makes two of us.

“You’ll find your own way,” he assured her. Even if it turned out to be her parents’ way, too.

“Do you think so?” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not sounding so sure today.”

“You’re young.” He sat up, too, and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve got plenty of time to grow old and set in your ways.”

“Like you?” she teased.

“That’s right,” he said, only half joking.

“Guess you’ve earned the right given you’re, what? all of thirty-three?”

“Thirty-five.”

She covered her heart and pretended to lose her breath. “If I’d known, I would never have seduced you.”

His smile faded as the obvious question begged to be voiced. “Would it be impolite to ask your age?”

Please not twenty-two.

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Don’t tell me.” His lips twitched. “Twenty-six next birthday.” The idea of racking up another year wasn’t so appealing once you hit thirty.

She narrowed her eyes, but playfully. “I know what you’re thinking and ten years isn’t that big of an age difference. I’m well over twenty-one.”

A knot low in his gut pulled and he held that breath. They’d just made love, were sharing some secrets, but that last comment sounded a little too much like, Where do we go from here?

He tempered her challenging tone with a fact he’d come to appreciate more and more the older he got. “My father was ten years older than my mother.”

“Sounds like they had bigger problems than a gap in birth dates.”

“A lot of married couples do.”

A hint of suspicion swam up in her eyes and she looked at him hard. “You’re not a fan of the institution.”

He leaned back against the strong timber headrest. “That’s right.”

Her gaze searched his until Daniel felt her unwarranted pity seep into his bones.

“Your parents failed,” she murmured. “You didn’t. You don’t have to run all your life.”

Somewhere a phone began to ring. His heart thudding, Daniel snapped a glance to his left. The bedroom extension. Five minutes ago he’d have cursed the interruption. Now? It seemed this distraction was right on time.

He picked up and blinked twice at the voice on the other end. He’d expected Rand or one of the boys.

“Daniel, is this a bad time?”

“Abigail?” He brought the sheet up higher, flicked a glance at Elizabeth. “I was going to call.”

“I just wanted to let you know,” Abigail said, “despite yesterday’s hiccup, I have faith in you. You weren’t voted American Architect of the Year for nothing. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

Daniel was gnawing his bottom lip.

“Well, see, Abigail … that’s the thing—”

“Word around town is you’re seeing my friend, Elizabeth Milton,” she cut in, an interested and approving note in her tone.

His smile was thin. “Nothing like a well-watered grapevine for spreading rumors.” Photos would probably be in the Royal newspaper come morning.

Abigail laughed. “Anyone would think you didn’t want a gorgeous, refined lady like Elizabeth Milton hanging off your arm.”

He wanted to clear his throat. He’d done more than that this past hour. They’d got close enough for Elizabeth to assume she knew him, to tell him that he didn’t need to keep running.

She had it wrong. He hadn’t run away. When he was old enough, he’d finally stood up and pledged to do things his way and to hell with anyone who didn’t like it.

But then Daniel thought about that design, Abigail’s belief in him, the story behind that plaque. Mostly he thought about Elizabeth and the voice in his head telling him that, after what they’d just shared, he should do more than thank her for her time and bolt.

“When can we meet?” Abigail was asking.

“Let me get back to you, Abby. I have something to take care of.”

He disconnected and, after a contemplative moment, found Elizabeth’s gaze. Hugging her legs, her chin resting on her knees, she was grinning—grinning as if she could read his every thought.

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” she asked.

Hoping he wouldn’t regret it, Daniel tipped her back onto the sheets.

“Yeah,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m staying.”