Payback Affairs: Shattered by the CEO

Was she wearing panties?

Was prancing around out here in her skimpy clothing part of her hook-a-husband plan?

As if she’d guessed his thoughts, she hitched up her pants. “Most of it’s going toward my mother’s medical bills. If I don’t get them paid off soon the creditors are going to put a lien on the house.”

“The house she wanted you to keep.”

“Yes.”

“Just in case your father came looking for her,” he said, repeating her ridiculous story. “What kind of woman loves a man who walks out on her?”

“The kind who vowed to love, honor and cherish until death parted them. We never had proof that my father died. Mom kept her vow.”

So had his mother, he realized. The sobering thought knocked Rand back a step. His mother had loved her jackass of a husband despite his repeated infidelities.

Tara sighed. “Rand, did you need something? Because I’d like to get this finished before the forecasted thunderstorms roll in.”

As if to reinforce her point, thunder rumbled in the distance. Sweat glued the fabric of his polo shirt to his torso. “I’ll hire a landscaping crew and have them onsite first thing Monday. You don’t have to do this.”

She shook her head. “Yes, I do. The yard is something my mother and I always worked on together. I need to do this. For her. For me.”

Crap. Another Hallmark moment.

It was bad enough that pictures littered the flat surfaces in the house—pictures of the happy kind of childhood Rand and his siblings hadn’t had. Pictures of the kind of life Tara had told him she wanted five years ago. With him.

Face it. She lied about loving you and you fell for it. Get over it and move on.

Curses ricocheted around his skull and every instinct told him to retreat inside and get back to work. She was sucking him into suburbia and into a relationship against his will.

He did not want to share her home, her chores or her life. But he could hardly sit inside in the air-conditioning while Tara toiled away in the summer heat. He wasn’t a freeloader.

And since you’re not paying your way with sex—

Dammit. He wasn’t pissed off that she hadn’t approached him since the night she’d blown his … mind. He didn’t want to be her gigolo.

“How can I help?” The words clawed their way up his throat.

She tilted her head and considered him for several seconds. “If you’ll mow, I’ll handle the Weed Eater.”

Rand studied the machine. He knew nothing about lawn-mowers or mowing grass. Kincaid Manor had always employed a team of gardeners. Since moving out of the family house more than a decade ago, he’d lived in high-rise urban condos surrounded by concrete. If there had been any plants in his complexes, he hadn’t noticed them.

But he’d spent one summer working in the engine room of a 160,000-ton cruise ship. He could handle one small push mower. “Okay.”

Tara’s gaze drifted over his shirt and khaki pants. She did that often—looked him over from top to bottom. And his body reacted predictably. Every time. He resented the ease with which she pushed his buttons when no other woman’s come-hither looks did a thing for him—unless he allowed it. Fighting the unwanted response, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You’ll need to change first. You’ll roast in long pants.” Without waiting for his reply she walked away.

His gaze remained riveted to the sway of her behind until she disappeared into the shed that looked like a small chalet in the back corner of the property. Cursing silently, Rand returned to his bedroom, changed into an old sleeveless T-shirt, gym shorts and running shoes and went back outside.

Even before he finished reading the instructions printed on the machine’s handle, he’d sweated through his shirt. He peeled off the soggy, clingy cotton and tossed it onto the patio, then bent and pulled the mower’s cord. The motor sputtered but didn’t start. He cursed and tried again. Another sputter. Another curse.

A slender leg entered his peripheral vision. He tracked that sleek, lightly tanned skin upward, past a shapely thigh, a hip, the indenture of her waist and the swell of her breast. Tara stood beside him carrying a Weed Eater and wearing safety goggles on her brim-shadowed face. She looked like a model from the pages of a handyman’s sexy calendar—the kind a guy would hide in his gym locker or his garage. Any red-blooded male would want to roll in the grass with her in that getup.

“Have you ever used a lawnmower?” she asked, her eyes raking over his bare chest.

“No. But I can handle it,” he said through clenched teeth.

She smiled and squeezed the two handles together. “Safety feature. If you let go and the handles separate, the mower shuts off. Now pull the cord.”

He did, conscious of her nearly naked body beside him and of those blue eyes tracking his every move. The engine roared to life. He fastened his fingers around the vibrating bar. Tara nodded and leaned forward until her breast bumped his elbow and her lips touched his ear. Fire sparked in Rand’s groin. His hand slipped and silence once again descended on the yard as the engine died.

She dropped back on her heels. “Stick to the grass and stay out of the flower beds. I’ll get the hard to reach stuff.”

And then she sashayed away, leaving him to master the machine. She fired up the Weed Eater. The alluring play of muscles beneath her skin as she whirred her way along the fence enclosing the yard held him captive. She hadn’t had those muscles five years ago. He knew, because there wasn’t an inch of her he hadn’t explored. With his hands. His lips. His tongue.

Rand blinked and pivoted away from her distracting presence. He restarted the mower and shoved it forward, focusing on plowing straight lines through the thick emerald carpet of grass. If he didn’t pay attention, he’d probably cut off his foot.

The contradictions in Tara’s behavior nagged him as he worked. She still drove the same car she’d owned when they dated. She wore old clothing better suited to a rag bag, did her own yard work and paid her mother’s bills.

He glanced once more at the woman who’d blackmailed him into being her house and bedmate. Had he been wrong about Tara in the past?

No, dammit. He’d seen her coming out of his father’s bedroom with a hickey on her neck, a flushed face and messed-up clothing. Regardless of what lie she’d concocted, she’d been intimate with his father.

Add in that she hadn’t accepted the KCL job until Rand offered a salary that was quadruple the industry standard and agreed to play house, and it was clear Tara Anthony was up to something. The question was what?

She had to be looking for a sugar daddy.

But she wouldn’t find one in him.

For Mitch’s and Nadia’s sakes Rand would be smarter this time around. Because he had a hell of a lot more to lose.

“Good morning, Rand.”

Tara caught the almost imperceptible hitch in Rand’s step and the brief flash of surprise in his eyes when he turned the corner into their office suite and realized she’d beaten him to work Monday morning.

Mouth tight, he nodded and resumed his course. He had to pass her desk to get to his office. “You’re in early.”

He’d hibernated in his room for most of the weekend. She’d barely seen him except for the time he’d mowed her grass Saturday evening. They couldn’t build a relationship that way.

He looked delicious in a taupe suit and light blue shirt. A fresh tan from that hour of yard work darkened his lean face, and the memory of how he’d looked shirtless and sweaty made her temperature spike.

She rose. His pace faltered again as his hazel eyes roved over her new wraparound dress. She loved the way the fuchsia fabric hugged her breasts and waist and floated just above her knees. But she loved his nostril-flaring reaction even more.

Working primarily from home since she’d left KCL meant she had an extremely limited professional wardrobe. Most of that was too big. She’d spent Sunday afternoon shopping because she needed both work and cruise wear. By the time she’d returned from the outlet mall last night Rand’s door had been securely shut. He’d left a note in the kitchen telling her he’d already eaten dinner.

He snapped his head forward and stalked toward his inner sanctum, but not before Tara noted the appreciative expansion of his pupils. Encouraged, she gathered her notepad and followed him.

“We have a ton of stuff to get through before we leave for the cruise on Friday. The first brand’s most recent financials are waiting on your desk, and the president and VP are due at eight-thirty.”

Four more nights and she’d have him all to herself … along with 2800 people on the ship, that is. She almost danced in her new d’Orsay pumps with anticipation.

Rand stopped so quickly she plowed into his back. His heat and scent enfolded her, but she righted herself and smoothed the spot where her pen had touched his suit coat, checking for a stain. None. Good.

He stiffened and stepped out of reach. “What is that?”

She tracked his gaze and stated the obvious, “A coffeepot. When you’re not using it the roll-down door will conceal it.”

He turned his thin-lipped frown from the new addition on the shelving unit to her. “Where did it come from? And why is it here?”

“I picked it up this morning at your favorite coffee shop, along with a pound of freshly ground beans. The pot has a timer. I’ll set it up so your coffee will be ready each morning when you arrive, and since you insist on leaving home without breakfast, I’m having it delivered from the KCL cafeteria every day at eight because you’re cranky when you’re hungry.”

Her announcement earned her a darker scowl.

“I’ve chosen this week’s menu, but you’re welcome to make adjustments if you like. Here are the chef’s suggestions for next week after we return from our cruise. Of course, I didn’t tell him why we’d be out of the office since that would defeat the purpose of an incognito inspection.”

She offered him the list of choices. When one of his hands clenched the handles of his leather laptop bag and the other remained fisted by his side, she put the paper in his in-box.

“Tara—”

“You’re welcome,” she interrupted. She’d learned by his growls that he didn’t like her doing things for him such as his laundry or preparing meals and leaving them in the refrigerator. But she had to cook and clean for herself. Doing so for one more wasn’t a bother. In fact, after a year of silence and solitude she liked having someone else to look after.

She crossed to the pot and filled a mug, which she then set on his blotter. “I’ve already dealt with most of your e-mail, but I flagged a couple for your attention. Do you need anything else before you tackle your in-box?”

She could almost hear him grinding his teeth as he opened his bag and withdrew his computer. “No.”

“I’ll bring in your breakfast as soon as it’s brought up, and I’ll let you know when the first management team arrives.”

She turned on her heel and retreated to her office.

“Tara, it won’t work.”

She pivoted and examined his hard face. “What won’t?”

“Buttering me up.”

She frowned. “Buttering you up implies I want something.”

He closed the distance between them in two long strides, not stopping until he was so close she could see the gleam on his freshly shaven jaw and smell his cologne and a hint of mint toothpaste. “You’re after a wedding ring.”

Her breath caught and her heart skipped. He didn’t know that for sure. He was only guessing. What would he do if she confirmed his suspicions? He couldn’t fire her without jeopardizing his part of the will. But he might fortify the walls barricading his heart, and she had a formidable battle on her hands already.

“I’m after a mutually satisfying relationship. That’s it.” And it was everything. Five years ago he’d been her playmate and her bedmate. She wanted both back. And she wanted more. Much more.

His intense gaze made her want to squirm, but she’d told nothing but the truth.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well … that’s certainly honest. My mother always claimed trust was built on actions, not words. So I guess I’ll have to prove to you that I’m not after anything that you won’t willingly give.”

The trick was convincing him to give willingly.

Tara had given Rand space this past week and he’d used it to avoid her. That ended now.

Excitement and anticipation quickened her pulse and dampened her skin late Friday afternoon. She had three nights at sea with Rand to look forward to. Three nights and four days of sharing a cabin. And a bed.

She could hardly wait. The Miami-to-the-Bahamas Rendezvous trip would be her first cruise and her first real vacation in six years, but neither was the main attraction. The man ahead of her held that honor. She wanted to get Rand to relax with her, to leave the world of work, tailored suits and tightly knotted ties behind. His current navy twill pants, white polo shirt and baseball cap were a good start.

She followed him into their assigned cabin, mimicking his moves of inspecting the closet and the tiny lavatory, which contained a sink, toilet and compact shower/bath stall. Definitely not large enough for two.

Reserving a middle-of-the-road cabin—not the cheapest, nor one of the luxury suites—had seemed the best way to blend in. The room was smaller than she’d expected. But then what did she know about cruising? Nothing. And the cabin’s limited size could work to her advantage. There was literally nowhere for Rand to hide.

Besides the bed, there was a love seat, two tiny bedside tables and coffee table, as well as a wall unit with drawers, a minifridge and a television quietly playing a show about the proper use of life jackets. Seeing those life jackets in the center of the bed reminded her that she’d soon be out of her depth. In more ways than one.

Rand set his cap on a shelf, snapped off the TV and inspected the narrow rectangular space with his hands on his hips. He crossed the carpet and slid open the glass door. Warm sea-scented air flooded the air-conditioned room. Tara joined him on a private balcony about the size of a single bed and looked over the railing. Lifeboats hung from the sides of the ship just below their balconies.

The theme song from Titanic launched in her brain. But even that chilling intrusion couldn’t dampen her enthusiasm. She wanted to bounce and giggle. Instead, she trailed Rand back inside. He didn’t look happy.

“Is there a problem?”

His gaze landed on the bed they’d soon be sharing before returning to hers. “The room is clean, uncluttered and suitably equipped for the price point. The textiles could be fresher.”

He seemed more tense than usual despite his casual attire. “Are you worried about being out of the office? Mitch’s PA assured me your brother could handle everything until Tuesday when we return.”

“I’m sure he can.”

“Rand? Are you okay?”

He looked at her, his gaze running over the flirty strapless apricot sundress that left her shoulders and most of her legs bare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me.” She tilted her head and her new dangly gold earrings tapped the sensitive spot on her neck—the one that drove her wild when Rand grazed the skin with his teeth. She couldn’t wait for him to do it again, and if this trip went according to plan, he’d do so often.

She’d dreamed about strolling hand in hand on the beaches during the day and on the deck by moonlight, quiet dinners and sharing his bed.

They hadn’t been intimate since that night she’d pleasured him. Instead of spending quality time together this past week they’d had an endless series of meetings with the executive staff during the day, and he’d spent evenings in his bedroom working on his laptop. They probably hadn’t had two hours total of private face time since Monday morning. That didn’t mean she hadn’t been aware of his every movement both at home and work.

She was counting on the forced togetherness of the cruise making it impossible for him to keep his distance. “I’ve never cruised before. I can’t wait for you to show me the ropes.”

Cruising wouldn’t be the only first she’d shared with him, but telling a commitment-phobic man she’d been a virgin before they’d slept together that first night hadn’t seemed like a good idea at the time. She was pretty sure the revelation would have ended not only their evening but also their relationship.

His eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you the one who claimed the discounted rates made cruising affordable?”

“I’ve never had anyone to go with.” Except him. “My mother was afraid of the water and Nadia wasn’t interested.” She dug in to her carry-on and pulled out the cruise materials. “We need to sign up for our shore excursions.”

His frown deepened. “I’m here to work, not play. You’re here as camouflage. You’re on your own except for the lifeboat drill and dinners where we’ll need to present ourselves as a couple. Do whatever you want. Go ashore. Use the spa. KCL will cover your expenses. Reasonable expenses. No jewelry. No designer clothing.”

Taken aback by the rapid unraveling of her plans, she struggled to regroup. If she didn’t change his mind, their romantic getaway would be a solitary vacation. She’d been alone enough since her mother died. “But … how will you find out the reasons bookings are down if you don’t do the full cruise experience?”

“I know what to look for.”

“I could help.”

“If this is your first cruise, then you won’t recognize substandard issues.”

He had a point. “You could teach me.”

“Tara—”

“What about the welcoming party?”

“I need to check the ship and the chaos of castoff is the best time.”

His hard gaze pinned her in place. She scrambled for a valid reason to be with him.

“Do you really want to tip your hand and let them know you’re here on our first day? I mean, I realize the check-in associate saw your name, but you had on your hat and your passport still lists a California address. I don’t think she recognized you or made the connection to KCL. We should stick together. You said yourself we’ll draw less attention as a couple.”

His lips thinned in irritation. “Fine. But don’t expect to play inseparable newlyweds throughout the cruise.”

Newlyweds. The word sent her temperature skyrocketing. Her gaze bounced to the bed, then back to Rand’s face. The banked heat in his eyes made her shiver, and the obvious fact that he wanted her kept her going.

She licked her dry lips. She would soon have him exactly where she wanted him, but could she make him happy to be there? Could she make him yearn to share her bed the way he used to?

That was the mission she intended to accomplish over the next three nights.

Seven

Rand slid his key card into the lock. He’d deliberately stayed out well past midnight to avoid sharing the domesticated get-ready-for-bed routine.

As soon as he crossed the threshold a sense of confinement doubled his pulse rate, constricted his lungs and pushed sweat from his pores. He’d spent months at sea working all over KCL ships and in almost every capacity and slept in cabins barely large enough to turn around in. Three nights of sharing a balcony cabin wouldn’t be a problem.

If his roommate were anyone else.

His claustrophobic reaction had nothing to do with the dimensions of the room, and everything to do with the woman he’d left in the bar hours earlier. But even though the comedian onstage had been entertaining, Rand had needed to get away from Tara’s laugh. It brought back too many memories—memories of a time when he’d let his guard down.

He eased the door closed and entered the unlit room as silently as possible. Would she be waiting up for him? Or had she gone to bed?

Bed. The heavy throb of his heart echoed a yard lower.

He searched the mattress in the darkness. The white terry-cloth elephant sitting in the center of the spread was the bed’s only occupant. Rand had spent nine months between his junior and senior years of college working as a cabin steward. Back then he’d known how to form a dozen different animals from rolled and folded bath towels.

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he noted the empty lavatory and his suitcase sitting on the love seat. He stopped in his tracks. Empty bed. Empty chair. No Tara. Another possibility snagged him like a briar ripping along his skin.

The Rendezvous brand primarily targeted couples, but there were always singles on board. Had Tara given up on landing him and lingered in the bar to hook a more willing victim?

An uncomfortable burn settled in his stomach. He scanned the deserted cabin once more. The fluttering bottom corner of the curtain caught his eye and pulled him forward. He pushed back the panel and found Tara sitting on the balcony. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light.

That wasn’t relief filling his lungs. The sea air simply made it easier to breathe. He shoved the sliding glass door open the rest of the way. “Seasick?”

She lifted her face. Moonlight washed her cheeks. She’d removed her makeup, but not her dress. From his vantage point above her, the strapless bodice revealed a tempting shadow of cleavage, and then the ocean breeze caught her zigzag hem, drawing his gaze from her sexy sandals to an arousing length of sleek thighs. “No.”

“Then why aren’t you in bed?”

“I forgot my nightgown.”

Her reply hit him like a kick in the crotch, propelling the air from his lungs. Did she think he was stupid enough to fall for that? “How convenient.”

She winced at his sarcasm. “Our luggage wasn’t delivered until almost nine. By the time I unpacked and realized I’d left my nightie in the dryer, the gift shop had closed. Can I borrow a T-shirt tonight? Unless you don’t mind if I sleep naked.”

The lower half of his anatomy responded with resounding approval. Luckily, his brain kicked in. Tara had always been good at making her lies sound believable. Too bad he hadn’t known that then. But he made a mental note that the luggage had been delivered late. “I’ll get a shirt.”

She rose. “Thank you.”

He backed inside and headed for his luggage. Two flicks later it opened. He withdrew a white T-shirt and handed it over.

“Thanks. I’ll only be a minute.” Tara crossed the shadowy cabin quickly and disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed.

Something about watching her pad across a bedroom hit him like a double shot of espresso. Sleep would be a long time coming.

Rand eyed the bed and debated stripping to his boxers and getting under the covers before she returned. Stripping … the way Tara was currently on the other side of that wall. He gritted his teeth against another below-the-belt pulse of arousal.

Moments later the door opened. Tara returned, leaving the lavatory light on. Despite the extra-tall size, his shirt only covered her to the tops of her thighs, leaving a mouthwatering amount of leg bare. Even in the moonlight he could make out the shape and jiggle of her breasts beneath the loose white fabric as she hung her dress in the closet. When she turned toward the bed he saw the raised texture of her erect nipples and silently swore.

Was she wearing anything at all under there? Or would he be able to slide his hand beneath the cotton and cup her bare bottom?

You’re not cupping anything.

“Which side?” she asked.

It took a few seconds for his brain to engage and figure out she meant which side of the bed. “I don’t care.”

She picked up the elephant and smiled. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“The more creative the animals, the better you’ll tip your steward at the end of the voyage.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Spoilsport.”

The childish gesture reminded him how much fun he’d had with her before she’d betrayed him. Few Florida residents hadn’t visited the proliferation of theme parks and tourist traps dotting the state like mushrooms. But oddly enough neither she nor he had. They’d spent a lot of their time visiting amusement parks and acting like kids during the day and igniting the sheets like very naughty adults at night. Screaming on roller-coaster rides or in passion made it easy to avoid personal topics, and playing tourist with Tara had been like having the childhood he and his siblings hadn’t had.