Forgotten Father (10 page)

Jenna babbled enthusiastically in response.

“I swear,” said the young woman sitting on the couch
next to a stack of folded baby laundry, “that child sounds like
she’s trying to talk to you.”

“Of course, she is,” Delanie agreed, tickling
Jenna’s cheek as the baby crawled onto her lap. “We have our own
language, don’t we Jenna-love?”

“How did it go this morning?” Connie asked, folding
another tiny shirt.

Pausing to smack a kiss against Jenna’s tummy,
Delanie said, “Pretty well. This situation is going to be
interesting.”

“Is hunky Mitchell Riese welcoming you into the
family business?” the other woman asked in a wry tone.

Delanie shot her a sardonic glance. “Not exactly,
but we did survive our first skirmish.”

“I knew you would,” the other woman said, stacking
the last of the clean laundry in a nearby basket before she got up
and began unloading books from a packing box. “He’ll be no match
for you.”

“You’re faith is touching,” Delanie responded in a
teasing tone. In actual fact, she thanked her lucky stars for the
day she’d hired Connie Stanton as her assistant. With very little
discussion and few questions, the woman had been her savior in the
days after Delanie had learned of her pregnancy.

A lot of design assistants would have resented baby
duties being added to their job, but Connie had begged to spend
time with Jenna.

“How’s the unpacking going?” Delanie enquired,
balancing Jenna on one hip as she rose from the floor.

“Pretty well,” Connie said. “The bathroom’s done. So
is Jenna’s room.”

She paused, reaching out to tweak the baby’s toes.
“I’ve left your room for you to do, of course, and mine won’t take
any time. So we just need to get the living area organized and
we’re set for a while.”

“You are a gem,” Delanie said, hugging her friend.
“We’d be lost without you, wouldn’t we, Jenna?”

Connie emerged from the embrace, her cheeks flushed
with pleasure. “You might not say that when you find out I’ve left
the kitchen for you to unpack.”

Delanie laughed.

“Not a problem.” She kissed the top of the baby’s
head. “Jenna and I will do it together. She loves to play with
plastic ware.”

Connie laughed. “Well, you two get to it.”

With the baby still on her hip, Delanie went to her
bedroom, pausing only long enough to change into a t-shirt and
jeans before heading into the kitchen.

As she unloaded the boxes and kept a watchful eye on
her blond bundle of energy, she thought again of Mitchell Riese and
his blue, blue eyes.

In the circumstances, he had a right to be angry.
Most people, no matter how rich they were, wouldn’t like a property
as valuable as The Cedars to be left in shared custody with a
stranger.

But the intensity of anger in Mitchell’s eyes
puzzled her. She didn’t mind the sparring dialogue, the civilized
jostling for position. He’d sat there at the conference table,
outwardly calm, if a little uncompromising. His words had been
measured and reasonable. He’d acted like the skilled businessman he
no doubt was.

Yet, when the others had left the room, when it was
just the two of them looking across at each other, she’d felt the
oddest impression. As if the enmity in his eyes was very, very
personal.

As if she’d somehow outraged his soul.

And that puzzled her.

She wasn’t even sure Mitchell Riese had a soul.

She didn’t really know him and yet, he hated her
with a vengeance. Hated her and wanted her.

Why?

CHAPTER FIVE

“I was surprised you asked me to dinner,” Delanie
said, patting her mouth with her napkin before returning it to her
lap.

She met Mitchell’s enigmatic gaze across the table
two days after their first management meeting.

“Were you?” He sat leaning comfortably back in his
chair, his big muscular body relaxed. “Surely not…with all we’ve
meant to each other?”

She frowned at him, not sure what to make of his
last soft murmur.

“Yes, I’m surprised.” She glanced around the small,
exclusive restaurant. “Just the two of us? In such an elegant and
private surroundings?”

He took a sip from his glass, his expression
difficult to read. Was there heat lurking in the back of his eyes?
A predatory male sort of something that sent a shiver up her
spine?

He’d been nothing but agreeable throughout their
dinner, no hint of the tightly-controlled anger she’d sensed in him
at their previous meetings.

“What are you up to?” Delanie challenged lightly. “I
know you resent my inheriting half-ownership of The Cedars.”

“Do you? Yes, I was initially upset by my
grandfather’s will,” Mitchell said with surprising equanimity, “but
I’m not one to beat my head against the wall.”

“You can’t overset the will,” she concluded.

“Not without a great amount of expenditure, which
you must have known,” he concurred with a lazy smile. “What cannot
be changed, must be dealt with.”

“Endured?” She chuckled.

“Dealt with,” Mitchell repeated, his gaze lingering
on her face.

Delanie looked back at him, amused. “And just how do
you plan on ‘dealing with’ me?

“There are,” he murmured after a moment, “many
possibilities.”

She felt the stroke of his glance on her bare
shoulders as if he’d actually touched her. His molten smile and the
edgy heated challenge in his eyes sent an answering flash of heat
prickles through her body.

Mitchell Riese was playing a new game, she thought.
And this one felt deliciously dangerous.

All through dinner, he’d sent out signals that he’d
willingly act on the lush awareness between them. But with an edge
that intrigued her. He still resented her, despite claiming
otherwise. Anger that blazing hot didn’t just evaporate.

“Yes,” she said, willing to follow the flirtation
between them and see where it led. She knew how to play games, too.
“There are many, many possibilities for dealing with me. Where
shall we start?”

“Perhaps,” he suggested, his tone dry, “we could try
something new—some managerial cohesiveness?”

Delanie opened her eyes wide. “I don’t know what you
mean. I’ve been careful, in the two weeks since I got here, not to
step on your toes.”

She smiled at him.

“And you’ve given that impression,” he said with a
hint of grimness in his face. “Sweetness and light being mistreated
by the big bad wolf.”

A ripple of laughter escaped her. “Oh, no!
Really?”

“Really.” Mitchell regarded her from across the
table, a faint smile on his lips. “But then the staff doesn’t know
everything between us.”

“I don’t suppose so. Are they hostile toward you?”
she asked, amused. Of course, she’d known that the staff leaned in
her direction. She wasn’t oblivious and Mitchell had a
perfectionistic, no-nonsense style about him that only helped her
popularity.

He lifted his glass again before returning it to the
snowy tablecloth. “The executive staff is careful around me. Yet I
don’t believe I’ve been an ogre to anyone.”

“But you have the possibility to be so,” she told
him, lifting her brows in inquiry. “There’s an unspoken level of
insistence on…total competence. Surely you know that?”

He smiled, adjusting the cutlery remaining next to
his plate.

“A certain amount of decisiveness is needed in
business.”

“True,” she said with another smile. “I’ll mention
that to the staff.”

He looked at her, swift comprehension in his eyes.
“When the chips are down, my sort of management tends to be
comforting to people. They want to know someone is taking care of
things.”

“You’d been very good at that, I suppose,” Delanie
said, watching him thoughtfully.

“Thank you,” he responded with the hint of an
unpleasant smile. “But the fact that we’re sitting here together
belies that.”

She considered him. Some quivering sixth sense told
her he wasn’t as relaxed here alone with her as he’d like her to
think. Still, she knew the urge to test the waters.

She may not get everything she wanted on the first
strike, but it didn’t hurt to shake things up and see the
response.

“Okay, let’s have a ‘managerial’ discussion,” she
suggested suddenly, catching the hint of surprise in his eyes. “I
want to renovate the villa.”

“What?” His quick frown didn’t bode well for the
project.

“Renovate the villa,” she said slowly, enunciating
the syllables.

“There’s no point in that, as I said before,”
Mitchell declared, his brows snapping together. “We don’t yet have
full occupancy of the main building. It wouldn’t be cost effective
to pour money into the villa.”

“It could be, if we market it right,” she insisted.
“Besides Donovan talked to me about it a number of times. He wanted
it renovated.”

Mitchell’s glance was sardonic. “And you have such
devotion to Donovan’s wishes.”

“Yes,” she said directly. “They do carry weight with
me.”

“Then I suppose,” he said casually, “at some point
in time, we need to discuss the possibilities of renovating the old
house. At least, we can look at money projections. Do you want
dessert?”

Following his rapid change of subject, Delanie shook
her head.

“Good.” He dropped his napkin on his plate and
glanced around for the waiter, who’d hovered assiduously throughout
the meal, but was now nowhere in sight.

Mitchell’s gaze returned to her for a long moment.
“You look very beautiful tonight.”

Startled by the abrupt compliment, she murmured her
thanks.

To her own wry amusement, she’d put a lot of effort
into her appearance for this dinner with her enemy. The short topaz
silk dress had an empire waist that cupped her breasts before
falling to a spot above her knees. She’d hung her grandmother’s
antique pendant around her neck, the stone echoing the color of her
dress, dark against her pale breast.

She couldn’t help a moment of satisfaction at his
praise and the accompanying burn of interest in his eyes. But where
was he going with all this? Mitchell hadn’t really resigned himself
to sharing his birthright with her. She knew that much. Did he have
another agenda behind the heat in his eyes?

In her assessment, the lust was genuine, even if his
supposed acceptance of her wasn’t. She felt the flicker of it in
each glance, the hovering question, the tightness in the air when
they were alone like this.

He wanted her and she had to admit to the tingles he
sent through her body, despite her awareness of his resentment.
Tall and well-built with that sardonic smile adding the spice of
challenge, he tweaked her feminine interest more than she
liked.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man brought
this kind of breathlessness to her body.

“Why do you dislike me?” she asked suddenly.

Mitchell paused in the middle of removing his credit
card from his wallet. A lazy smile hovered at the corner of his
mouth. “Have I been acting like I dislike you?”

“Not tonight,” she said, letting her skepticism
glimmer on her face.

“But before tonight, I did?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think,” he said, handing the card to the
waiter who’d materialized next to him, “losing a million dollar
property like this is reason enough for a little…chagrin?”

“To most people,” she agreed.

“But not to me,” he finished, still smiling. “I’ve
got so much money that I shouldn’t care about a stray million or
five? It shouldn’t matter how that loss is…arranged?”

She shook her head, studying him. “I don’t know. I’m
still figuring you out.”

He reached out, lifting her hand and, to her shock,
brought it to his lips.

She saw his dark head dip briefly over her hand,
felt the warmth of his breath, the press of his lips on her skin
and drew in a quick hard breath. Desire flashed over her like
lightening. Desire, intrigue and an alluring sense of the forbidden
mingled together in an intoxicating mixture.

“Some things you, of all people, should know about
me. But let me assure you,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers.
“I’ve got you figured out.”

Delanie pondered this enigmatic, borderline
offensive comment as they left the restaurant. She could only chalk
it up to his lingering dislike of The Cedars split ownership. Did
he assume she’d somehow angled for the bequest?

In a short span of minutes, they left the restaurant
and went into the darkness of the night. Situated as they were,
away from the lights of the big city, the blackness held a warm,
luxuriant sense to it, as if the night were holding its breath.

Mitchell drove along the curving country roads, his
hands confident on the wheel. Inside the opulent interior of the
sedan, classical music played faintly.

Delanie steeled her nerves against the silence
between them and tried, instead, to focus on the amusing thought
that being here with him like this was like living out a luxury car
ad.

Only humor didn’t blunt the buzz in her veins, the
rising sense of consciousness of the man. She sat next to him,
hearing the hush of the tires on the pavement, reminding herself of
the consequences of acting on very foolish sexual impulses.

Who would know better than she?

With her laughing child waiting at home for her, she
wasn’t likely to suggest Mitchell Riese spend the night. She
couldn’t afford to go there with him.

Besides, what woman would want a lover who resented
her?

But she kept wondering what it would feel like if he
took her in his arms. Drew her close against him.

Would his kiss hold that same hint of rage she
sometimes thought she saw in his eyes?

The subtle scent of his cologne drifted to her as
they drove, a familiar smell, some brand she’d smelled before, that
wove its way into her senses like a thief with a key to her
padlocked desires.