A Risky Affair (24 page)

She lay beneath him, limp and exhausted with pleasure as he hung over her for several moments, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, his muscled arms quivering slightly as he supported himself rather than letting his weight down onto her. After another moment, he eased his penis from the snug clasp of her body and collapsed onto the rug beside her, then gathered her against him. She breathed deeply as he stroked her hair and her shoulders, and hugged her tightly.

For several minutes they lay without speaking, gazing into the fire as the logs burned and hissed, the heat from the flames spreading like a slow, thick liquid over their cooling bodies. Outside, the rain continued falling, punctuated by an intermittent rumble of thunder.

“Solange, Solange,” Dane murmured huskily, his soft lips nuzzling the nape of her neck. “What have you done to me?”

“Mmmm.” She turned in the circle of his arms and nestled against his warm, solid chest, wishing she could stay there forever. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

He angled his head to stare down at her with a fiercely possessive expression. “I've been going out of my mind all day, trying not to imagine you with that smug bastard. I don't know what I would've done if I'd pulled up tonight and found his car still parked here.”

She grinned up at him. “He left a long time ago. Right after we returned from lunch, as a matter of fact.”

Dane arched an amused eyebrow. “That was a quick visit.”

“I think he secretly feared for his life. You
were
a little menacing, Dane. No, make that terrifying. Downright terrifying. Even
I
was afraid.”

Dane chuckled softly, leaning down to brush his lips across her temple. “I've never been so damned jealous in my life. It turned me into a bloodthirsty, territorial animal.”

She made a face. “Well, Crandall didn't help matters any, introducing Lamar as my fiancé when I'd already corrected him about that several times before you even arrived.”

Sobering, Dane searched her eyes with his own. “What really happened between you and Rogers?” he gently probed.

Solange blew out a long, deep breath that stirred her already disheveled bangs. “We were together for three years, and then one night out of the clear blue, he broke up with me, telling me he needed space. Naturally I was hurt and confused. And then my parents died, and my relationship with Lamar, or lack thereof, got pushed to the back burner. Saturday night was the first time I'd spoken to him since the funeral. He called to tell me he'd made a mistake in letting me go, and he asked me to marry him.”

“Saturday night,” Dane murmured thoughtfully. “No wonder. When I saw you at breakfast the next morning, I automatically knew something had changed. That's why you were so grouchy when we went horseback riding.”

Solange muffled a laugh against his throat. “I was grouchy because I wanted to jump your bones, and I was fighting my feelings for you.”

Dane smiled a little. “But you were also considering Lamar's offer.” It was a statement, not a question.

She hesitated, then nodded. “My parents adored him. I was feeling a little vulnerable and lonely, being in a new place, embarking on a new life. I knew my parents would have approved of my decision to marry Lamar. I wouldn't give him an answer right away, so I guess he came here to demand one.”

“Can't say I blame him. I would've done the same thing if I'd let you slip out of my life the first time.”

Solange, warming with pleasure at his words, gave him a teasing smile. “If that's the case, then why didn't you cut Lamar some slack?”

Dane scowled darkly. “Any man who's dumb enough to let you go doesn't deserve any slack. Did you let him down easy?”

Remembering Lamar's sullen mood throughout lunch and during the long drive back to the ranch, Solange grimaced. “Let's just say we reached an understanding both of us can live with.”

Dane reached out, trailing a finger lightly down the length of her spine from the top of her neck to the small of her back. She shivered in response.

“Do you still love him?” he asked quietly.

She met his dark, penetrating gaze. “No. Not anymore.” She wanted to tell Dane she loved him, but fear held her back. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if her confession sent him fleeing for the hills?

Dane pulled her against him and kissed her forehead and nose before reaching her parted lips. She felt an intoxicating rush as his tongue delved inside her mouth and took hungry possession of hers. Heat and need flared instantly between them.

She moaned as his strong fingers swept down her back and grasped her buttocks, holding her tightly against his rigid erection. Her nipples hardened against his chest, and her thighs trembled.

“Spend the night with me,” she breathed against his mouth.

“What about Thorne?” Dane murmured.

“I don't care if he finds out you're here. I'm a mature, responsible—
Ohhh,
” she moaned as Dane's wicked fingers reached between her thighs and began stroking the swollen folds of her sex in an unbearably arousing caress.

“What were you saying?” he prompted between deep, silky kisses.

At that moment Solange could hardly remember her own name, let alone the declaration of independence she'd been making. “I was, uh, saying that I'm a mature, responsible adult,” she mumbled, her voice slightly slurred. “And although I'm, uh, living under Crandall's roof, I expect him to treat me like one. A mature, responsible adult, that is.” As Dane slipped a finger inside her, she gasped sharply and arched her hips, and the rest of her words came out in a high, breathless rush. “Besides, it's not as if he's my father or anything!”

Dane tensed against her, and for a moment his marauding fingers stilled. Lifting his mouth from hers—they'd been kissing and talking the whole time—he stared down at her with a sudden alertness she didn't know how to interpret.

In any case, it was unimportant at the moment.

She gave him a slow, sultry smile. “So you'll stay?”

When he hesitated, she reached for his hand between her legs. As he gazed at her, she drew his fingers into her mouth and tasted herself, deliberately reminding him of the way he'd licked fudge from her own fingers two days ago. In satisfaction she watched as his nostrils flared and his eyes grew hooded with desire.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He gave her a smoldering look. “Just try to make me leave.”

Rising from the floor and sweeping her into his arms, he strode purposefully toward the bed, and was buried deep inside her before their bodies hit the mattress.

T
he next two weeks passed in a dizzying procession of activities and social outings. With Christmas right around the corner, Solange bravely consented to another shopping excursion with Daniela—this time, thankfully, to buy gifts for others. They were joined by Daniela's sister-in-law Riley Roarke, an award-winning reporter for the
San Antonio Express-News.
Almost from the moment Riley swerved to a stop in front of Daniela's apartment building, narrowly missing the fender of Crandall's Rolls Royce limousine parked at the curb, Solange had liked the beautiful, spirited woman. Spilling from her car, she'd apologized for being late, smiled warmly at Solange and issued a warning to her sister-in-law that she would not be dragged into every store at the mall simply to satisfy Daniela's crazy shopping addiction. After hearing that, how could Solange
not
have liked the woman?

She also had an unexpected opportunity to bond with Tessa Philbin, who'd invited Solange to hear her speak at a luncheon sponsored by the League of Women Voters. They'd snuck out immediately afterward, choosing to stuff themselves on fried catfish and candied yams at a local soul-food restaurant rather than suffer through the bland fare served at the posh country club. If anyone had ever told Solange she would someday find herself sharing a bowl of collard greens with the elegant, well-bred wife of a former mayor, she wouldn't have believed it. Yet there she was, laughing and talking with Tessa Philbin as if they'd been acquainted for years. Although the older woman had sacrificed her own career in order to support her husband's, Solange knew she could learn a lot from Tessa. When they parted ways at the end of the afternoon, she'd eagerly accepted Tessa's invitation to join her for the opening of an art exhibit the following week.

Another highlight of the month was attending a holiday mixer at St. Mary's University with Daniela and Caleb, who took her around the room and introduced her to many of his colleagues, describing Solange as an “up-and-coming law student to watch for.” Afterward, when she'd tried to thank him for providing the wonderful networking opportunity, he'd laughed and told her that he and Daniela would gladly accept free babysitting services as repayment.

Solange's active social calendar kept her too busy to do any real work for Crandall—not that he seemed to mind. Other than to set up his weekly videoconferences and run an occasional errand for him, she didn't have many responsibilities, which left her wondering whether he really needed a personal assistant. She spent more time assisting Rita around the house, accompanying her to the flea market and baking apple cobblers to be delivered to the battered women's shelter.

On the Saturday before Christmas, Dane brought Jacob Tarrant's siblings to the ranch for a promised afternoon of horseback riding followed by a picnic. As an added bonus, they got to watch their cocky older brother hard at work repairing horseshoes, shoveling manure and mucking out stalls.

After taking the three siblings home, Solange and Dane returned to the ranch. Finding the house silent and empty, they hurried to her bedroom like a pair of horny teenagers, hoping to get in a quickie before Crandall and Rita came home.

“Let's do it out on the terrace,” Dane suggested, his eyes glinting with mischief as he led Solange toward the French doors. “I don't want you holding back if you need to scream once or twice over the next hour.”

She gave a throaty laugh. “My, my, what a naughty boy you are, Dane Roarke. An hour? We're supposed to be having a quickie.”

He sent her a sexy, wolfish grin. “We'll call this the extended version.”

Outside on the private terrace, with its breathtaking view of the surrounding valley, Solange melted into Dane's arms and surrendered to the slow, drugging sensuality of his kiss.

The moment was interrupted by a burst of loud, angry voices that reached them from the nearby courtyard outside Crandall's library.

“When are you going to wake up, woman? He doesn't give a damn about you, and I know you don't love him! What's it gonna take to convince you to finally leave the worthless bastard?”

“It's not that simple, Crandall!” cried Tessa Philbin. “We've been married for more than forty years! We've built a life together, made friends—”

“Some friends,” Crandall said scornfully. “They smile in your face, then tear you apart behind your back because they know you don't belong in their world of white privilege. And how can you stand there and defend that man after what he said to you today? He practically called you a whore and accused you of cheating on him!”

Tessa gave a low, bitter laugh. “Considering our history, Crandall, can you honestly blame Hoyt for having those suspicions after hearing that I attended a dinner party at your house while he was out of town? And while we're on the subject, you told me it was going to be a very small gathering, and you assured me that none of your guests would go back and run their mouths about my presence at the party!”

Solange and Dane exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Let's go back inside,” he murmured. “We shouldn't be hearing this.”

Solange nodded in agreement. But as they turned and started from the terrace, she heard her name—and froze.

“So are you saying that you regret coming that night?” Crandall demanded. “Are you saying you regret the opportunity to meet Solange?”

“Of course not!” Tessa cried tearfully. “How could you even suggest such a thing? How could I regret something as important as meeting our precious granddaughter?”

Solange stopped breathing.

What was Tessa saying? That Solange was their…
granddaughter?

She must be mistaken. She
had
to be!

But when her stunned gaze flew to Dane's face, he was already watching her with a quiet, grim expression that could only mean one thing.

“You
knew?
” she whispered faintly.

He hesitated, his jaw tightly clenched as he stared at her for what seemed an eternity. Finally he nodded. “I knew.”

The blood drained from Solange's head. The ground tilted beneath her feet and she swayed on the balcony. With a guttural oath, Dane reached out and caught her in his arms, hauling her roughly against him.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, burying his face in her hair. “You weren't supposed to find out this way.”

Solange shoved blindly against his chest. “Let me go!”

He reluctantly released her and took a step back, gazing at her with an expression of deep sorrow and regret. “Solange—”

She was shaking so hard she feared she might collapse at any moment. “You knew Crandall was my grandfather and you never told me? How could you keep something like that from me?
How could you?
”

“You have to understand—”

“How long have you known?” she demanded.

Dane hesitated, a solitary muscle ticking in his jaw. “Two weeks.”

Solange gasped.

Over the last two weeks he'd made love to her countless times, cooked dinner for her and escorted her to the movies and the symphony. He'd taken her home to meet his family and to attend the game in which her beloved Dallas Cowboys had wrapped up their season by beating the Houston Texans. As if that trip weren't memorable enough, he'd even surprised her with an incredibly romantic overnight rendezvous at the Riverwalk hotel where it all began.

And not once had he felt it necessary to tell her she was Crandall Thorne's granddaughter.

Dane took a slow step forward. “Solange—”

“Get out.”

Pain filled his dark eyes. “I love you,” he said, his voice achingly husky. “I've been too scared to say it before now, but it's true. I love you so damned much, Solange.”

Closing her eyes, she steeled herself against his words, the naked vulnerability in his gaze and the terrible anguish clawing at her heart, threatening to rip her apart from the inside out.

“Get out,” she said again, several degrees frostier. “Now.”

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.

Choking back a sob, she drew several deep, calming breaths, then turned and went inside the house. She marched purposefully through her bedroom suite and down the corridor to Crandall's library. Without bothering to knock on the closed door, she barged into the room and crossed to the French doors.

Crandall and Tessa stood in the middle of the small courtyard. They were locked in a passionate kiss, their arms banded tightly around each other like they would never let go.

When Solange cleared her throat, they sprang apart guiltily and stared at her in dazed confusion.

“I hate to interrupt this touching little reunion,” Solange said, bitingly mocking. “But I have a burning question for both of you that couldn't wait another minute.”

They exchanged wary glances. Crandall looked like a convicted prisoner waiting for the judge to pronounce the death sentence.

Tessa stepped forward with a gentle, tentative smile. “What is it, Solange?”

She glared at each of them in turn. “Just when were you planning to give me permission to start calling you Grandma and Grandpa?”

Later that evening, Solange stood at the window in the spare bedroom of Caleb and Daniela's downtown penthouse. With her arms folded tightly across her chest to ward off a chill that radiated from deep within, she stared down at the rain-washed street below, where holiday shoppers bustled along the sidewalks, their arms laden with last-minute gift purchases. A yellow cab hurtling around a corner nearly struck a pedestrian who'd darted out into the intersection, and a trio of festively attired mariachi singers serenaded passersby from the covered doorway of an old Mexican restaurant.

Solange saw nothing.

How could she, when her whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of minutes?

Four hours after her emotional showdown with Crandall and Tessa, her pain, confusion and shocked fury had finally given way to a feeling of numb resignation. She was no longer an orphan, as she'd come to think of herself in the year since her parents had died. She had family. Two grandparents, an aunt and uncle, and a cousin on the way, not to mention a bevy of other faceless relatives.

But the parents she'd never known and had secretly hoped to find someday were hopelessly beyond her reach. And her troubled young mother, in search of the truth about her own identity, had died at the hands of the man who'd deserted her so long ago.

It was like something out of a Greek tragedy—except it wasn't.

It was Solange's history.

Her new reality.

A gentle knock sounded at the bedroom door. She glanced over her shoulder. “Come in,” she said tonelessly.

The door opened, and Caleb—
Uncle
Caleb—stepped into the room. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his low-rise jeans, propped one shoulder on the doorjamb and regarded her in thoughtful silence for several moments.

Solange knew she must look a sight, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her hair still damp and matted from her mad dash through the rain to escape the ranch house earlier. She'd been running and stumbling along the gravel path, with no particular destination in mind, when the Rolls had pulled up alongside her, and old Mr. Bailey had buzzed down the window to peer worriedly at her. She'd been so shocked by the uncharacteristic display of emotion on his face that when he told her he'd been instructed by Caleb and Daniela to bring her to their downtown apartment, she'd climbed into the limo without argument.

Turning from the bedroom window, she reached up self-consciously and combed her fingers through her hair. “Thanks for letting me crash at your place for the night, Caleb,” she mumbled dispiritedly. “I had to get out of there.”

“You can stay as long as you like,” he said gently. “That's what family is for.”

She met his concerned gaze, then glanced away. After another moment, she walked over to the queen-size bed and sat down on the edge.

“Daniela and I were going to order takeout from somewhere on the Riverwalk,” Caleb said. “Any particular requests?”

Solange shook her head. “No, thanks. I'm not very hungry.”

“That's understandable. I didn't have an appetite for weeks after learning about my sister.”

My mother.

Solange lifted her troubled eyes to his. “What did you do when you found out?”

“Resigned from the law firm. Stopped speaking to the old man for five years.” Caleb lifted one broad shoulder in a shrug. “At the end of the day, though, no amount of running or hiding could change the past or bring Melanie back. So I did the only thing I could to get back some of my sanity. I forgave him.”

“How?”
Solange cried. “How could you forgive him for lying to you all those years, for not telling you that the dead homeless girl on your living-room floor was really your half sister?” Tears bit beneath her eyelids, and she blinked them angrily away.