B00Z637D2Y (R) (14 page)

To her relief, he leaned back and resumed stroking Clancy. “I’m thinking about the first day we met.”

“When I set off the fire alarm and almost flooded your apartment.”

“Yes, but more specifically, when you imitated the noises you’d heard through my wall.”

Mia was hard to embarrass, but that did it. She’d moaned, and imitated sex sounds, and overall made a fool of herself in order to piss him off that first day. And it had worked…sort of. He’d left, anyway. And she had certainly surprised him and thrown him off guard, exactly like he had just done.
Shit.
Payback was hell. She turned her attention to the scenery zipping by outside the limo.

“I’d like to hear you do that for real.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“So you’ve said. But your fiancé would know what sounds you make.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Gray.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You’re wearing the silver-gray bra and panties.”

Too stunned to speak, she simply stared at his face and fought the urge to look down and see if perhaps the straps were showing or something.

“As your fiancé, I would know this. And I’m right, am I not?”

“How did you guess that?” She’d changed clothes while he was packing and she packed all her things after that, while he did some stuff on his computer in another room.

Her heart cranked up a notch as a knowing grin crossed his face, punctuated by dimples.

“No guessing to it. The gray bra is sheerest.” He paused for a moment. “Look down, Mia.”

She did. Her nipples were obvious points jutting beneath the soft layer of cashmere. His casual, sexy banter had turned her on. Hell, everything about him turned her on, which was why this entire trip was a horrible idea. She’d fallen hard for this guy, and she was going to pay the price. The whole freaking weekend was going to be a big
no
, when all she wanted to do was scream
yes
, just like her body was doing at that moment. But this was one-sided, and she knew it.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Stop it.”

“Okay. But we both know you don’t really want me to.” He leaned forward again. “You like it. And you’d like what I’d do to you if you’d let me touch you.”

“I can’t. I told you why.”

He relaxed against the soft black leather seat and simply stared at her. He had a pleasant expression—albeit determined. It was clear he wasn’t giving up, and honestly, he was right. She loved his flirting. Her fear was that he was so good at it she’d relent and end up with a broken heart…again. To him, this was nothing but a game—another deal to close. To her, it was so much more than that.

Two could play at this, though. “Black boxer briefs.”

He barked out a laugh and Clancy opened his eyes. “Someone’s been snooping.”

Of course she had. Black boxer briefs were all he wore, evidently. No variation in color or style. Some even new in the package. They were perfectly folded and stored right under his dress sock drawer that had individual compartments for each set of socks that were rolled up clockwise with the lightest being on the left, and graduating to the darkest pairs on the right.

In all seriousness, they did need to know each other better to pull this off. Her friends might not believe it even if their act was flawless. “Tell me about your brothers. I would know that if we were engaged.”

“Well, there are three of us. I’m the oldest. Will is next. He’s a Marine and as of last night, he’s engaged to Claire, a temp worker from my business. Well, she’s not a temp worker anymore, she’s the head editor of our auction brochures and she oversees all transactions involving Egyptian antiquities.”

“Wow. He got engaged last night?”

“He did.” Clancy closed his eyes again and laid his chin back on Michael’s thigh. “While I was closing the Kawashima deal, he was tooling around on the family yacht, promising his life to someone.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“That wasn’t my intention. I’m happy for him.”

He didn’t sound happy. “Maybe you’re jealous.”

“Absolutely not. My obligations preclude marriage. I’ve known it since I was young.”

Since he was young? His answer was too rehearsed. What kind of person would choose a business over a family? One with screwed up priorities, that’s what kind. And someone else had screwed those priorities up, if he’d been young. “It must be hard to be king.”

He stared at her for a moment, and she hoped she might have hit a nerve that would ruffle his perfect calm, but he shook it off and continued in the same level tone. “My other brother is several years younger. Chance is the company lawyer and a damn fine one. Like me, I doubt he’ll ever marry.”

“He’s a workaholic too?”

“No. He is just…indifferent. He has lots of friends and dates on occasion, but has never had a long-term relationship—at least not to my knowledge. It’s like he doesn’t even want to bother.”

“Like you.”

“No. I don’t have time. He doesn’t have the inclination.”

Which meant Michael had the inclination. He was opting to not get close to people under the guise of it being contrary to business success. It was all part of his businessman act, and she wanted to shake it out of him. Surely he wanted more than to build his empire and die alone. “What do you want, Michael? I mean really want.”

The second she asked it, she knew she’d stepped into quicksand.

“You know exactly what I want.”

She should shut this down and stop him before he drove her even crazier, but that impulsive, inquisitive side of her took the wheel and she waited, breath held and body humming, for his answer.

“What I want, Mia”—he gently moved Clancy off his lap, rose, and crouching like some big predatory cat, smoothly slid into the seat next to her, studying her reaction closely—“is to watch you peel that dress off so that I can kiss every inch of your body, including, but certainly not limited to, that freckle near your spine.”

Wow.
Well, that was far more specific than she’d expected. And holy crap, the imagery it created was as hot as her dream last night. The thought of his lips on her skin sent a shudder through her, and she crossed her legs to relieve the ache that had coalesced at her core. She was playing with fire, and it was unfair to both of them. She should have been more direct in her question and pointed it at life goals or something.

“This shouldn’t happen…can’t happen.”

“Shouldn’t and can’t are very far apart, Mia. Which is it?”

“I can’t.” She could actually hear her own heartbeat. “No” wasn’t an answer he was accustomed to, but then, Mia wasn’t his usual fare. There had to be a way to make him understand. “If it were two years ago, we’d be naked on the floor of this car.”

He groaned.

“But I’m smarter now. Jason taught me to never eat french fries.”

His eyes narrowed at the mention of her ex. “What do french fries have to do with having sex with me?”

“Everything. See, you’re the french fry. Delicious, salty, easy going down.”

He covered his face and groaned again. “Oh, God. Stop. You’re killing me.”

“But you’re terrible for me. The worst possible thing.”

“No. I’m not.”

“I need more than fast food, Michael. Like I told you last week on Bow Bridge, I need a true friend. Someone who wants me for me. Just like a french fry, you might be what I crave, but you’re not what I need as a regular diet to stay healthy.”

…

As Michael studied Mia’s sincere face, something in him shifted. This wasn’t a game anymore. She was no longer simply a conquest, and honestly, she hadn’t been for a while. A woman like her was as rare as the antiquities in which he dealt. She was an absolutely open book. No agendas. No dense layers of deception. She wanted him, and admitted it, but knew her limitations.

“You never answered my question,” she said. “What do you want? I mean, from life. Your big goals. As your fiancée, I would know.”

Relaxing back against the soft leather seat, he realized he’d never put much thought to it because his life goal had been so obvious. He’d only wanted one thing for as long as he could remember: to make Anderson Enterprises, specifically its associated auction business, robust, lucrative, and respected worldwide.

From the time his father would take him to the office as a child, it was all he wanted. He’d spent hundreds of hours sitting in his father’s—now his—office, drawing in coloring books while his father negotiated deals. Coloring books turned to model airplanes, to chapter books, to calculus and statistics textbooks. While other kids, including his brothers, were playing sports or having keggers, Michael was learning the business. He’d been groomed for this from birth. And as he looked back, he realized he’d never even had a choice in it.

“How does it feel to be king?”
she’d asked earlier. The woman was insightful. His father had made him the anointed one, and he’d never considered what he’d missed out on until now.

Then he realized something else: he’d already done it. It was an odd moment to discover his goal had already been reached. And for the first time in his life, Michael Anderson felt adrift—lost, but oddly lighter.
“What do you want?”
she’d asked. He had no clue.

She swiveled to face him. “It’s not a trick question.”

But it was. “You first,” he answered. “What do
you
want, Mia?”

Like sunshine, her smile lit up his mood. “I’m easy. I just want to be happy.”

She was anything but easy. “Too global. You need to be more specific.” And he found himself holding his breath while he waited for her answer, genuinely fascinated by what she’d say.

“Well… I love working with the residents at Heart’s Home. I want to keep doing that forever in some capacity—bringing joy through art.” She stared out the window. “When we’d travel, my parents would leave me in the care of random people during load in and rehearsals. The techies would give me leftover paints and materials to keep me occupied. Art was my best friend… It still is.”

“You studied art in Paris.”

“Well done. I see you finally got around to reading my file.”

More than once. “I did.”

“I learned scenic painting while traveling with my parents and their touring companies. By the time I was seventeen, I knew I wanted more than living on the road or camping out in random acquaintance’s living rooms while waiting for my parents to get cast in the next show. My parents kidded around that I’d defected when I applied for and got the scholarship.”

She stared out the window and light played across her skin, making her look like she glowed. Hell, she
did
glow. She had a spark inside her that fascinated him. He wanted to touch her and feel it—vicariously enjoy it.

“What I didn’t expect was to end up as nomadic as my parents.” Her eyes met his briefly, then she resumed her study out the window. “Housesitting and pet sitting are the only way I know to be able to afford to do what I love, with art therapy for the elderly.”

“How did you get into that?”

“Totally by accident. I came across a classified ad for a real estate company looking for someone to live in a home they were marketing. I picked up some dog walking jobs while I was doing that, which is how I met Sue. I walked her mom’s three French Bulldogs while they went to California. From there, I got jobs from referrals.” Her face clouded for a moment. “Well, after what happened with Ms. Braxton, it might get harder now.” She sighed and shrugged. “Anyway, I had a house and cat sitting job on the Upper East Side while the owners went to take care of some family business overseas. The next-door neighbors were the owners of Heart’s Home. They saw one of my paintings, and it just took off from there. They hired me to work with the residents and have commissioned some art. The tree you saw is one of the series. They own several of these retirement communities, and have hinted they will want more works from me. It’s kind of perfect for someone as flighty as I am.”

Michael cringed inwardly at her self-deprecation. Mia was forgetful when distracted, but there was nothing flighty about her. She had made a choice to change her life as a teen and went for it. She was also looking ahead. Planning, even though she would deny it. Maybe her aversion to organization and planning came from her childhood. It would be frustrating to make plans when you didn’t know where you’d end up next.

“What else?”

She shrugged. “That’s it. My needs are simple.”

“You want to live in other people’s homes and work with elderly people until you are old yourself.”

“No… Well, yes… And no.” she ran a hand through her hair. “You’re taking this question way too seriously, Michael.”

“And that surprises you?” He was fascinated and wanted to know more.

“No. I suppose not. You take everything too seriously.”

But he wanted to change that.
Now. Here. With her.
Startled by this revelation, he deflected by patting the seat. Clancy jumped off the facing seat and nestled in between them.

“What do I want…?” she mused, straightening the blue bow in the dog’s hair. “I want a home where I can put down roots and make friends that will last. And a studio where I can fling paint and not worry about screwing stuff up. I want…” She looked down at Clancy as if mustering courage. “I want a family and a home that’s permanent.” Her words flowed like she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “A life where I only travel because I want to. I want to come home to the same place and person every day. I want kids and dogs and romance.”

He didn’t say anything as her words caught up with her fantasy. Absolutely gorgeous, she seemed in a trance, staring straight ahead as she imagined her perfect future.

“Yeah, romance,” she continued, barely above a whisper. “Picnics on the beach and rose petals in the bed.”

Clearly, her idea of romance was far different than his. Not that he’d put a lot of thought into the concept. Now, seduction, he understood. And it had nothing to do with sand in his shorts and food, or making a mess of his bed with shredded flowers.

She shook her head as if pulling herself out of her revere. “Silly, huh? Especially coming from someone as flaky as me.”