Keep (Command #2) (16 page)

“How long were you married?”

“To Alicia? Three years.”

She should have left it alone. It was guaranteed to create more questions, but she did it anyway. “And, no kids?”

He straightened like he was uncomfortable. “No.” He went to the large, stainless steel fridge and pulled two bottles of beer, opened them and passed one to her. “I suppose I should tell you,” he said, his warm eyes on hers and his face serious, “I didn’t want to have children. We both thought I would change my mind about that, but I didn’t, and that was the reason Alicia and I got divorced.”

She took a sip of the beer to avoid saying anything.

“I know it’s a little late to ask,” he said, “but are you… doing anything to prevent that?” Since they’d had sex without a condom this afternoon.

“Sorry, no.”

He took a deep breath, and the struggle behind his eyes was fierce. Shawn had enormous wealth, and had been ensnared in marriage this way once before. Kara didn’t want to be cruel, and she didn’t make him wait.

“I suppose,” she said, “I should tell you that I don’t want to have children, either. Which is good, because it was never in the cards for me.”

He didn’t appear to understand right away. “You can’t?”

“Nope.” She took another sip of the beer, and for some reason it just came out. “Paul took me to every doctor to prove it.”

His face changed. Not pity, or sympathy, but understanding.

She didn’t have to tell him about the hormone treatments she reluctantly agreed to, the months of disappointing looks in Paul’s eyes, and why sex had been so focused on the end result and not the act of love. That was behind her now.

“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.

“All right. Are you still naked under that skirt?”

She hesitated. Once again, he’d put her off-balance. The air in the room was thin and made her swallow a breath. “Maybe.”

“Show me.” It wasn’t a request. He wore the same expression he had in the back of the limo, the one filled with want.

She set her beer down on the counter, lazily. “You don’t have any furniture in here.”

It’s like he could read her mind.

“But I do in the bedroom.”

-9-

Kara had turned her cell phone back on, and it was late when it buzzed on the nightstand beside the enormous bed. Shawn stirred beside her but didn’t wake. Her bleary eyes blinked at the screen and had to read it again.
Really?
The carpet was plush under her bare feet as she silenced the ringer and hurried out of the bedroom, far enough out into the living area not to disturb Shawn.

“What do you want, Paul?” Her quiet voice echoed in the empty space.

“I’ve been calling you for days, where have you been?”

“None of your damn business,” her temper said. “What do you need?”

“I’ve been worried about you. Scott Rhodes pulls a gun on you and then suddenly you take off the rest of the week? You never take time off —”

“I’m fine.”

He wasn’t listening to her. “Not even when you’re sick. I know you. Something’s going on.”

Paul thought he knew her? No, not anymore. “What do you want?”

“I have to tell you something about Scott.” The typical superior attitude coated his words. He was looking forward to revealing this shocking information.

“I’ve already heard.” It made her sad. She had liked Rhodes right up until the gun, and even after, he still didn’t deserve what happened to him.

“So where are you?” Paul demanded. “With him, Shawn Dunn?” He didn’t attempt to be subtle. That’s what this phone call was about. Paul’s curiosity, his jealousy.

“Why do you care?”

“Have you looked at this guy? He’s got a reputation for sleeping with anything that moves. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

He’d probably gone running to Google for everything he could the moment Shawn left the office with her. But the last statement was so absurd that Kara couldn’t process it right away. Then, she laughed.

“You don’t want to see me get hurt? Why? You think you’re the only one allowed to do that to me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“And why do you assume I’d get hurt? Maybe I’m just interested in fucking him.”

She’d shocked her ex-husband into sweet silence with her flat-out lie, but only for a few seconds.

“Nice. Are you? ‘Fucking’ him, as you so elegantly put it?”

She could see his face. The sneer covering the insane desire to know, eating him from the inside. He’d probably thought she’d never move on after him, and if she did, she certainly wouldn’t trade up. Dear god, she had. Paul had almost nothing in common with Shawn after all.

“I’ve gotta go.” She hung up while Paul made some sort of protest.

Then, she padded silently back into the bedroom. Soft moonlight lit the space that was mostly empty other than the large bed and the man asleep on it, the covers pushed down to expose his bare, toned chest. Kara slipped under the sheets, grateful to be back to Shawn.

Oh, she was in trouble. How the hell had this happened? A few months ago he’d sat beside her at a restaurant, and after a single look she’d instantly disliked him. A week ago he was the most annoying man she’d ever encountered. Now, her unexplainable feelings for him had grown into something she hadn’t wanted but was tired of fighting.

She’d stolen the
Forbes
from the hotel and stuffed it in her suitcase, not sure how long this thing between them was going to last. Unsure how long it would be before Shawn got bored and lost interest, and she wanted something of him to keep.

His heavy arm looped over her and pulled her close, molding her body to his. This was insane. Terrifying. But also kind of wonderful.

One night became two, and two nights then stretched through the weekend. Her days became Laurel’s, visiting her at the theater and helping her shop for the nursery, but the nights were always Shawn’s. On Monday morning Kara remained in his bed naked, her cheek pressed against the pillow that smelled like him while she watched him stagger the ends of his tie to begin knotting it.

“Stop looking at me like that.” A teasing smile darted across his lips.

She pretended to be clueless. “Like what?”

“Like you want me. You’re going to make me late. Again.” He looped the ends together. “What are your plans today?”

She frowned. Her company had given her another week of leave, but she’d been logging in remotely and working as much as she could since she’d left the hotel. She’d avoided talking about that with him, knowing another job offer or interview request loomed on the horizon. Jason felt confident that Kara could return to Maastricht on Wednesday if she wanted, and was finalizing the plans with her security team.

Every day that passed was another day with no new information about Scott Rhodes’ death. He’d been fine the night before in his holding cell, and dead in the morning from asphyxiation. There were defensive wounds so it wasn’t self-inflicted, Jason had said, but no other evidence of what had happened.

She pushed the thoughts away and focused on the breathtaking German man before her.

“I’ll probably work.” She had plans with Laurel later, but kept that to herself. “Why?”

He hesitated. “There’s an event tomorrow night.”

“Someone’s turning the big four-oh. I heard.”

His hands slowed and he grimaced. “Yes. As much as I like you naked, you’ll need something to wear.”

The sheet was gathered around her as she sat up. “You just assume I’m going? Maybe I have other plans.”

He smirked. “Like your plans of staying with Jason and L? How did that work out for you?”

She tried to look annoyed, but failed when a smile leaked out. “You’re kind of a jerk.”

He echoed back the same response from the limo. “Didn’t your sister warn you?” His hands tangled in her hair and drew her up onto her knees so he could lean down and kiss her. “I’ll have my assistant set up an account somewhere for a dress.”

This time the annoyed look came easily. “No, thank you. I have my own money. That would make me feel like a kept woman.”

His eyes warmed. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to keep you. Except,” he whispered, “maybe all to myself.”

By Tuesday evening Kara was a desperate mess. Alone in Shawn’s penthouse, she’d changed into a purple dress with a plunging neckline and stepped into the tall, matching four-inch heels, which she immediately regretted not breaking in. Her hands worried the button of her clutch purse as she dialed Laurel.

“You’re still at the theater?” Kara asked when she heard Laurel mutter something about rehearsal running long.

“Yeah, the choreographer is having difficulty with his
vision.
” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. “I’m heading to the brewery straight from here. What’s up?”

“Tell me I’m a crazy woman for getting involved with him. Be my voice of reason.” Because Kara was drowning in her feelings and she was going to get hurt. She wanted this rapid descent to stop, or at least slow way the hell down.

Laurel laughed lightly. “You’re the one that’s practically living with him, and you want me to, what? Talk you out of your feelings? Sorry, I like Shawn. He’s Jason’s brother. And he gave us his house.”

“Oh,” Kara said. “I didn’t know that.”

What she really wanted to say was that she didn’t
want
to know that. That sprawling and impressive mansion that Jason and Laurel lived in was actually Shawn’s. There wasn’t furniture in this apartment because he’d given it to her pregnant sister. He
was
capable of thinking of someone other than himself. That was about the only negative she had left and clung to, to keep her from going under.

“You’re no help,” Kara said. “That only makes me like him more.”

Her sister seemed to find that amusing.

Shawn had chosen to stay in the office all day since the event would be held on the front lawn of the brewery. At six-fifteen, she texted him to say she was on her way with Markus. The heels were a nightmare to walk in as she crossed the apartment lobby, but the goal was to stand almost as tall as Shawn did tonight. She liked being equal with him.

Markus held the main door to the building open for her and she stepped out onto the sidewalk, shielding the setting sun from her eyes with her clutch. “Which way is the car?”

“We go now,
Frau
,” he said under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” His hand on her elbow immediately guided her in the right direction.

“Someone waits.”

The shoes didn’t just hurt — they’d be impossible to run in and made her feet feel like they weighed five tons each. She hurried along as quickly as she could, letting Markus lead her down the pavement to a limo.

“Is he following?” she whispered when her bodyguard yanked the door open.

“Yes.”

It was unbearable, the urge to turn and scan for the man that had put Markus on high alert. She threw herself into the backseat, him following immediately and giving orders to the driver.

But before the limo started moving, her door flew open and a dark, enormous figure shoved his way roughly in, right beside her. The driver complained as Markus drew a gun from inside his jacket. The tall man was nearly on top of her, and then he
was
on top of her, leaning over and flattening her with his weight as he disarmed Markus immediately.

The tall man kept the gun in his hand but hid it from the driver’s view, ordering him to do something… probably to drive. Which the driver did as the man sat up and his weight was gone. Cold, dark eyes swept over Kara. He had a long face and dark hair, and an expression that said he was deadly serious. She cowered while Markus tried to get in between her and this man.

But the intruder was saying something that gave her bodyguard pause, and the gun Markus had drawn and that had been taken from him… it remained down. Not threatening.

“Miss Hayward, I’m a friend of the marshal’s.” His English was flawless, American.