shot to his feet before she could touch him and gathered his discarded clothing. “Then good night.”
“But, Rand, you didn’t—”
He slammed the bedroom door, cutting off her words.
No. He hadn’t. But he’d come close.
Too damned close to forgetting why he was here.
Blackmail. His father’s. Tara’s.
And he’d almost forgotten who he was, what was at stake and that she’d lied to him before.
And that was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make.
Four
Why had Rand left without finishing? Tara wondered as she swiped on her mascara Wednesday morning.
He’d been lost in the passion with her. She was sure of it. She’d felt his heat, his hardness, the rapid slamming of his heart and the trembling as he tried to slow his pace. And then he’d just…stopped.
Had she done something to repulse him?
Her idea of getting closer to Rand by getting closer to Rand had failed. Sex hadn’t brought them together. It had driven them further apart, and now her emotions about last night were a tangled mess. He’d given her exactly what she asked for, but despite the climaxes, she wasn’t satisfied. Physically or emotionally. In fact, she felt a bit…icky.
Not that the sex hadn’t been good up until he’d walked out. But making love was supposed to be about two people. Not one. She needed more than just a superficial encounter.
She needed to know she mattered to someone.
In her experience Rand had never been the cuddle-until-morning type, but in the past he’d held her afterward at least until their pulses slowed and sometimes until she’d fallen asleep. But this time he’d—
She stopped midthought and stared at her reflection as realization dawned. She’d done it again. She’d let him walk away without demanding an explanation. Why?
Because she was afraid of what he might say.
The sobering reminder that she lacked courage when it counted chilled her. She’d learned the hard way that being a coward and taking the easy way out left too much room for regret. And hadn’t she vowed not to do that again? If she wanted to make this relationship work, then she’d have to find the courage to ask what went wrong.
No more avoiding conflict. No matter how much she preferred not to make waves.
She put away her makeup and left her bedroom determined to ask difficult questions and possibly receive hard-to-hear criticisms. She paused in the hallway to gather her nerve and silence settled over her like a heavy, smothering quilt. An old, familiar emptiness filled the house. Rand wasn’t here. She knew it even before she tapped on his door and didn’t get a response.
Nonetheless she turned the knob and pushed open the panel. He’d made his bed. No discarded clothing littered the floor and no personal belongings cluttered the furniture surfaces. Only a lingering trace of his cologne hinted at his occupancy.
Desire and disappointment, relief and regret mingled in her belly. Since Rand had apparently left the house before she’d awoken for the second morning in a row, she’d have to ask her questions at the office. Not the ideal place for awkward morning-after encounters or private conversations.
Had he planned it that way? Was leaving before sunrise his way of keeping the walls between them intact?
She left his room and went downstairs. Last night’s black silk dress draped the back of the rocking chair instead of lying puddled on the floor where she’d dropped it. Only Rand could have put it there.
She entered the kitchen. Like yesterday, Rand hadn’t left any signs of his passing through. There weren’t any breakfast dishes cluttering the sink or drain board, and the coffeepot stood cool and empty. If not for the slight tenderness between her legs, she’d believe she’d dreamed up his reappearance in her life.
She forced herself to eat a yogurt and drink a glass of juice even though hunger was the last thing on her mind. Her stomach churned over the encounter to come. She had to confront Rand and find out why he’d held back and why he’d left her. And then she’d find a way to make the next time better. For both of them.
Unfortunately, the pre-rush-hour drive to Kincaid Cruise Lines’ towering waterfront building overlooking Biscayne Bay and the Port of Miami remained uneventful, giving Tara plenty of time to think about all the ways this affair could go wrong. By the time she pulled in to her assigned parking space her nerves had tied themselves into knots a Boy Scout would envy.
The security guard waved her through and then the glass elevator whisked her all too swiftly up the outside of the building to the top floor. Even the amazing view of the bay and the boats couldn’t distract her from the encounter ahead.
She entered her office—the same one she’d used when she’d been Everett’s PA. She was going backward, in many respects, to move forward. And yet nothing was the same. Especially not her.
The click of computer keys and rustle of paper carried through Rand’s open office door, affecting her pulse like a starting gun and sending it racing. She stashed her purse in a drawer, took a bracing breath and gathered her courage before crossing to the doorway.
“There are eight brands under the KCL umbrella,” Rand said without looking up from his laptop. “All are profitable except the Rendezvous Line. Reserve the first available balcony cabin for us on a three- or four-day cruise. I want to see for myself why those bookings are down when that price point is the fastest growing market for our competitors.”
From the look of his rolled-back shirt cuffs and the two to-go cups from a nearby coffee shop chain shoved toward the corner of his desk, he’d been here a while. “Us?”
His hazel eyes lifted and met hers coolly as if he hadn’t been in her bed and inside her body last night. Unease prickled her scalp. Had sleeping with her meant nothing to him?
“It’s primarily a couple’s cruise. I don’t want any fanfare or special treatment. I want to travel as an average Joe, not the company CEO.”
The idea of taking a romantic cruise with Rand made her pulse flutter and warmth pool beneath her skin, but his all-business face erected barriers larger than the Rocky Mountains between them. She had to get past those barriers. If sex wouldn’t do it, what would?
“I’ll make the reservations in my name and through a travel agency if that will help with anonymity,” she offered and he nodded.
“Give me the dates when you have them.” His gaze returned to the computer screen, dismissing her.
Determined to get the awkward conversation over with before the rest of KCL’s employees arrived or she chickened out, she tangled her fingers and approached his desk. “Rand, about last night—”
His jaw turned rigid and his head snapped up, corking her questions. His eyes met hers before slowly raking over her as if he were visually stripping away the red sleeveless dress and matching bolero jacket she’d worn to boost her confidence. His pupils expanded and her heart shuddered.
“What do you want, Tara? A roll on the company couch?”
Her breath caught and heat arrowed through her belly. A tumble of confusing emotions rumbled through her. She glanced at the leather sofa that had been delivered Monday along with the rest of the office furniture then back at Rand. Was he serious about sex in the office? Did she want him to be?
And how could she possibly desire him when he was being this cold and distant? Was she that needy?
He calmly checked his watch. “Mitch will be here in five minutes. You’ll have to wait until tonight. Unless you want him to join us. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on one of the Kincaid men.”
His insolence left her speechless. Fury flooded her