Forbidden Passion
With her heart and head reeling she tried to come up with a logical response. “I have no training.”
“You’ll learn.” The set of Sawyer’s jaw promised an argument if she refused his offer—an argument she couldn’t contemplate right now.
“I’ll think about it. Now, please have a seat at the table. I have something to show you. I have to get it from the bedroom upstairs.”
His gaze locked with hers and then shifted to the archway beyond her shoulder—the one leading to the foyer and the stairs. Heat flashed in his eyes.
Her breath caught and her heart pounded. Warmth flushed her skin. She turned away, but not before regret tightened Sawyer’s features. “I’ll get the box.”
After bracing himself, Sawyer lifted the lid of the cheap wooden box on the table in front of him. Gold, silver and other precious metals lay jumbled together without regard for the scratches the heirlooms might receive.
“Did you pack these?”
Lynn hovered near the coffeepot. Her gaze danced to his and then away again, never holding for more than a split second. Pink climbed from her neck to spread across her cheeks. Her nipples peaked, proving she remembered what happened on the other side of that archway, the same way he did. His pulse leaped. Her quick glances told him she wanted to ignore the passion between them, and if he were half as smart as the business magazines said he was, he’d let her.
“I didn’t even know Brett had this treasure chest until I searched for the will. I found the box buried in the back of the closet, but I saw your name on a couple of items and thought you might be interested. I’d hate to sell something that holds sentimental value for you.”
She flitted from one side of the blinding-white kitchen to the other and back again—probably afraid he’d jump her if she remained stationary. She fiddled with her plants and straightened the already straight row of canisters. He cursed himself. His loss of control had made her a nervous wreck.
“You never found a will?”
“No. The attorney checked the courthouse, the bank and every other logical place where a will could be stored, just in case Brett had done one of those home kits. He found nothing, and I’ve already searched the house twice.”
Another detail his brother had neglected. It infuriated Sawyer that Brett had been so careless with Lynn. If a man loved a woman, he looked out for her, provided for her…and any children they might have.
Shutting down the disturbing thought, he carefully withdrew a gold watch and chain from the tangled mess in the box and traced his finger over the name engraved in the metal. Warm memories swamped him—memories of looking at this watch with his own father and anticipating the day when he would be entrusted with the heirloom. “This pocket watch belonged to my great-grandfather, the first Sawyer Riggan.”
She set a mug of steaming coffee in front of him and darted back to the other side of the room. “Why did Brett have it?”
“He asked for it.” And God help him, he’d tried to give Brett everything he wanted after their parents’ deaths.
“But why give it to him if it was intended for you?”
“I owed him.” Owed him a debt he could never repay.
“Owed him what?”
Hadn’t Brett told her? “I killed our parents.”
Her brow pleated. “Your parents died in a car accident.”
“With me at the wheel.”
Sympathy softened her eyes. “I thought a drunk driver ran a stop light.”
“He did, but if I hadn’t shot off as soon as the light turned green, if I’d looked twice before accelerating into the intersection instead of being the lead-foot my dad always accused me of being—”
She returned to the table, slid into the chair at a right angle to his and laid her soft hand over his clenched fist. His words dried up. “Sawyer, the accident wasn’t your fault. Brett showed me the newspaper article. The other driver didn’t have on his headlights. You couldn’t possibly have seen him.”
Her touch burned his skin. He sucked in a deep breath. She snatched her hand back and tucked it into her lap as if she regretted the gesture, but the imprint of her fingers lingered.
Since Brett’s death Lynn had quit wearing her heavy perfume, and God help him, he could smell her. Her light honeysuckle scent was ten times more potent than perfume anyday. She’d also quit teasing her hair into that just-out-of-bed, sex-kitten style. Today she’d brushed it in a satiny wave over her shoulders. His hands itched to tumble her hair into the same disarray it had been when he’d made love to her on the stairs. Not made love, he corrected, had sex. Making love implied he had lingering feelings for Lynn from their earlier relationship, and he didn’t.
Clearing his throat, he refocused on the jewelry box, digging around until he uncovered his mother and father’s wedding bands. He closed his fingers around them, feeling the loss of his parents as if it had been yesterday instead of ten years ago, and then his mother’s last words rang in his ears. Take care of Brett. Whatever you do, don’t let them separate our family.
He opened his hand to study the intricately carved bands and traced the pattern on his mother’s ring.
Lynn leaned closer. “They’re lovely. The engraving is quite unusual.”
“Brett said you refused to wear Mom’s wedding band.”
Lynn’s brows arched in surprise. “I never saw the rings before this week.”
He lifted the smaller band. “He didn’t offer this to you?”
Pain clouded her sky-blue eyes and she looked away. “No. Maybe he wanted to keep the set together. You know Brett chose not to wear a wedding band.”
It didn’t make sense. Brett had begged for the pocket watch and the rings, and yet it would seem his brother had never used any of the pieces.
A delicate silver locket caught Sawyer’s attention. He set the rings back in the box and picked up the locket, flicking it open to reveal two tiny pictures, one of him as an infant and the other of Brett as a three-year-old. “This belonged to my mother. She always planned to give it to her granddaughter, if there was one someday.”
His gaze met hers and then traveled slowly over her breasts to her flat belly. His child—his daughter—could be growing inside Lynn. His chest tightened, and he lifted his gaze to hers once more. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Her lipstick was long gone. The need to lean across the distance and touch his mouth to the softness of hers blindsided him. He sucked in a slow breath and sat back in his chair.
Neither of them spoke of the baby she might be carrying, but the knowledge and the tension stretched between them. He couldn’t explain the mixture of emotions clogging his throat. Fear? Excitement? Dread? Anticipation?
Lynn’s fingers curled on the edge of the tabletop until her knuckles turned white, and then she stood and carried her cup to the sink. “If you ever have a daughter, I’m sure she’d be proud to wear the locket. It’s lovely.”
The other items in the box held less value, but Sawyer found a favorite pocket knife he thought he’d lost in high school and the ID bracelet his ex-fiancée had given him. Why did Brett have these? And why had he tossed each piece in a cheap box like yard-sale junk?
Lynn paused behind his shoulder. “These are your memories, Sawyer. They should stay in your family.”
“The Riggan family will end with me—unless you’re carrying the next generation. When will you know if you’re pregnant?”
Eyes wide, she stared at him and then her gaze darted away. Her face paled as quickly as it had flushed. “In a week or so, but let’s not borrow trouble.”
“You’ll tell me as soon as you know.” It wasn’t a question.
She hesitated and his heart stuttered. “Yes.”
“Do you want a baby?”
Worry clouded her eyes. She took a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted children, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And not knowing who—” She bit her lip and tucked her chin.
“I’ll stand by you, Lynn—no matter whose child it is.”
“Um…thank you.” She didn’t look reassured.
The doorbell rang. She frowned and turned.
“That should be dinner. I called the Chinese place while you were upstairs.” Sawyer rose and strode past her to the front door. She remained in the kitchen while he paid and tipped the delivery man and returned. He set the bag on the counter and opened it. Tantalizing aromas filled the room.
“You didn’t have to buy dinner.” Lynn inhaled deeply and then licked her lips.
Hunger for Lynn replaced his need for food. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself why he’d called the restaurant. “You need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”
Her spine stiffened. “That’s not your concern.”
“I’m making it mine.”
Three
A polished woman in her fifties guarded the closed door with Sawyer Riggan, CEO, engraved on the name-plate.
Lynn swallowed her nervousness and crossed the threshold of the office. “Excuse me. I’m Lynn Riggan. I’d like to see Sawyer.”
The woman’s frank appraisal made Lynn want to fidget. She clutched her purse tighter when what she really wanted to do was smooth her French twist and straighten the skirt of her fitted emerald-green dress. She shifted her weight in her three-inch heels, hating the clothes Brett had chosen for her, but until she could afford to replace them she was stuck.
The woman rose. “I’m Opal Pugh, Sawyer’s assistant. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Riggan.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Opal.” This was the woman Brett had referred to as Sawyer’s dragon lady.
“I’ll see if Sawyer’s free.” Opal tapped on Sawyer’s door before disappearing inside.
Lynn hated depending on Sawyer for a job, but everywhere she’d gone the answers had been the same. Not hiring. Twisting the strap of her purse, she examined the tastefully decorated office. Thick steel-gray carpeting covered the floor. An oak coffee table gleamed in front of a burgundy-damask-covered loveseat and chairs, and the landscapes on the wall looked like originals.
Before she could step nearer to read the artists’ signatures, the door opened and her stomach dropped. Opal motioned her forward. “He’ll see you now.”
Lynn’s legs trembled as she closed the distance. She wished she could blame her fluttery nerves and agitated stomach solely on her dismal financial situation, but the man rising from behind the wide oak desk in front of her contributed more than a little. Sawyer seemed larger than life here on his own turf—every inch a mastermind who’d taken an idea and turned it into an internationally renowned company. He’d shed his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. The loosened knot of his tie and opened top two buttons of his shirt revealed a glimpse of his dark chest hair.
“Good morning, Lynn.” His baritone voice sounded deeper than usual. It skipped down her spine like a caress. His intense blue eyes glided over her slowly, thoroughly assessing her.
“Good morning.” Her dry mouth made it difficult to form the words. She cursed the heat flaring in her face and other places she’d rather not acknowledge and tugged at her dress. She’d always tried to ignore her clingy clothing, but after her steamy dreams last night—dreams featuring Sawyer—her skin was hypersensitive to the brush of the fabric against her breasts, hips and thighs.
With a subtle lift of his square chin, he motioned for Opal to leave them. The door closed and the room suddenly seemed smaller, more intimate. Airless. She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided to take you up on the job offer…if it’s still open.”
“Certainly. Welcome aboard.” Leaning across the desk, he offered his hand.
If she could have thought of a polite way to avoid the handshake, she would have. Instead, his long fingers closed around hers. She tried to focus on something besides the memory of how those warm, long-fingered hands had cradled her bottom while he thrust deep inside her, first in her foyer and then again in her dreams last night.
A hint of his spicy aftershave teased her senses, and an image of his passion-glazed eyes flashed in her brain. Her heart jolted into a faster rhythm, and her cheeks weren’t the only parts of her that were growing warm. Brett had accused her of being a prude, but her thoughts certainly weren’t prudish now.
She pulled her hand free and blurted, “I need to make it clear that I’m only looking for a job…not anything else.”
He reared back. The nostrils of his straight nose flared, and she cringed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. That was—”
“We agreed that what happened was a mistake.” He gestured for her to take a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.
Feeling utterly foolish, she collapsed into the visitor’s seat. Of course he didn’t want more of her. No man did.
“And your job here will never be based on…fringe benefits, but you’re a co-owner of the business, so we will be working closely together. Will that be a problem for you?”
Would it be a problem to work beside him every single day? Yes. “No.”
Sawyer settled in his chair behind the wide desk and laced his fingers on the polished surface. “When would you like to start?”
She swallowed to ease the dryness in her mouth. “Today? Tomorrow? But first, I’d like a little time in Brett’s office…if that’s okay?”
Sympathy filled his eyes, and she felt like a fraud. She wasn’t a brokenhearted widow. She’d done her share of grieving over her marriage months ago. Now she just felt foolish for having wasted more than four years of her life on what had obviously been a losing proposition.
“You know where it is?”
“I think so.” Brett had rarely brought her to the office and never during regular business hours.
She walked down the short hall on shaky legs and into her husband’s office. She didn’t have to turn to know that Sawyer had followed. Her personal radar was keenly attuned to his presence just one stride behind.
He reached around her to lift a crystal picture frame from the desktop and his shoulder brushed hers. Her breath hitched and her skin prickled at the point of contact. “I’ve asked Opal to bring in some boxes. You’ll want to take Brett’s personal items home—including this.”
She took the picture from him and stared at the blond-haired and blue-eyed couple as if they were strangers instead of Brett and herself. Her eyes glowed and she smiled as if someone had just handed her the world on a platter. How long had it been since she’d felt even a fraction of that hope and happiness? But she’d believed in her marriage vows, and she’d tried to make the relationship work.
Why hadn’t she noticed before that the emotion captured in her husband’s eyes wasn’t love, but possessiveness? How stupid of her not to realize sooner that she’d been nothing but an accessory to Brett. He’d expected her to dress to suit his tastes, to maintain the perfect house and image, to be seen and not heard. But why her? His journal made it clear he hadn’t been motivated by love.
The warmth of Sawyer’s hand on her shoulder jerked her attention back to the concern and sadness in his eyes. Not for the first time she noted the difference between the two men. Brett’s eyes were pale blue and his hair sandy blond. Sawyer’s eyes were intensely deep blue, shades darker than Brett’s, and his hair was raven’s-wing black.
Right now he was frowning at her. “Are you all right? Would you like for me to have someone else handle the packing?”
“I can do it. I’m okay,” she lied, and stepped away, but her skin tingled where he’d touched, and the urge to lean on his broad shoulders nearly overpowered her.
Looking back on it now, she realized she hadn’t been okay since the second year of her marriage when her husband had started systematically eroding her self-confidence. He’d begun with suggesting she dye her hair a more attractive color and then he’d progressed to urging her to get breast implants and collagen in her lips. She’d refused the medical procedures but she’d experimented with hair colors. None had satisfied him, and she’d recently returned to her natural blond.
She’d wanted so desperately to have the family Brett had promised her before they married, wanted so very much to please him and to turn him back into the man who’d charmed her right out of her disappointment over the end of her relationship with Sawyer. She’d failed on all counts.
She shook off her depressing thoughts. “Could I have a few minutes alone?”
“Of course. I’ve spent some time in here myself.” The pain in Sawyer’s voice made her heart ache. She wanted to reach for him but didn’t. With obvious reluctance he backed toward the door. “My extension’s marked on the phone. Ring if you need anything.”
As soon as the door closed, Lynn lay the photo face-down on the desktop and stepped behind the polished surface. She rifled through the drawers, but she didn’t know what she was looking for. Additional bank accounts? Signs of Brett’s infidelity? A tap on the door made her jump guiltily. She closed the drawer. “Yes?”
Opal stepped inside with an armload of boxes, which she set in the visitor’s chair. “Would you like some help packing?”
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