Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1) (12 page)

The
beige sundress with coral flowers and snug jacket bared her throat and
flattered her slim figure. The skirt of the dress buttoned along one side, but
the fastenings were open from mid-thigh on down, exposing a glimpse of skin
that taunted the semi-erection that had plagued Wyatt in recent weeks.

At
last, she spotted him, smiled and even laughed a little, before sprinting
headlong in his direction. To his surprise, she threw herself into his arms.
Desire slammed through him with a force more powerful than any he’d felt since
he’d been sixteen and under the combined stimuli of raging hormones, a pint of
scotch swiped from his father's liquor cabinet, and his first encounter with a
naked female body.

If
he didn't control the long and involved kiss that accompanied their full-bodied
clinch, he’d wind up with the same embarrassing result right in the middle of
Hartsfield-Jackson International. When his hands began edging their way up her
sides toward the fullness of her breasts, Wyatt pushed Kara away.

“Cool
shades.” She smiled as she pulled them off his face. “But I want to see you.”

Their
eyes met and communicated their mutual frustration at such a public meeting.
Reluctantly, he put more distance between her body and his. Wyatt needed to get
her some place private as soon as possible. He was too well-known in Atlanta to
risk such a PDA, no matter how much he hungered for her.

“Luggage?”
he asked, praying she’d say no.

“Checked.
Sorry.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’ll
get the car.” He motioned for her to stay put when she moved to follow him.
“Wait here for your bag, and I’ll pull up outside.”

“All
right.” The agreement was followed by a nibble on her lower lip.

“What?”

“I
want to come with you.”

He
looked around. The baggage carousel remained inactive. Travelers milled about
everywhere. It seemed like half of them had nothing better to do than watch
Wyatt and Kara’s reunion like they were the lead story on the six o’clock news.
The longer they waited, the greater his chance of being recognized.

“Come
on. I’ll send someone for your bag later.” He grasped her elbow and pulled her
from the airport, through the muggy early evening air to the Bentley
convertible.

Kara
made an appreciative face. “You call that a car?”

He
stroked the tender underside of her arm as he helped her into the front seat.
“It’s my sister’s. She had to go out of town for a few days.”

“Uh
huh,” Kara murmured.

Wyatt
shot her a look as he started the car. He thought they’d settled her suspicions
about Allison. “She’ll be back later in the week.”

“I
can’t wait to meet her.” Taking herself off-limits for the time being, she
snapped her seat belt.

Wyatt
lowered the top. He wondered how strongly she’d object to making love in a
parking garage. If pressed, she might think that sounded like fun under certain
circumstances, but right now he wanted to give her the best that he and Atlanta
had to offer. She deserved more than a clandestine grope and a poke that would
be over in a flash of hurry and hide. Regretfully, he started the car.

The
brutal traffic on I-85 forced Wyatt to concentrate on driving rather than on
the woman sightseeing out the window just inches away from him. Not a moment
had gone by since she’d left him at LAX three months ago that he hadn't wanted
her.

He’d
gone out with a few women, but none of them had appealed to him. Despite his
perpetual state of arousal, it seemed like no one but Kara would do. If she
hadn’t been agreeable about coming to him, he had been prepared to engineer a
rendezvous in New York.

At
first, the idea of bringing Kara to his mother’s domain seemed like the worst
possible scenario. But then he’d decided he’d happily settle for any situation
that involved being naked in a room alone with Kara.

Now
he realized that one perfectly preserved old woman with a will of iron probably
wouldn’t have any effect on his ardor. Mother was already pissed at him for abandoning
work for Kara’s visit. He half-worried about the form her revenge might take,
but not enough to be manipulated by it.

Sitting
primly beside him, Kara’s hair blowing in the wind nearly drove him wild. An
expanse of smooth flesh showed below the slit along the side of her dress and
made him want to howl. Wyatt ran his hand along her thigh and under her dress
to the curve of her hip. Only the knowledge that they were very near the hotel
kept him from pulling over.

At
the hotel entrance, he hopped out, leaving the keys in the console for the
valet. Without a backward glance, he towed Kara through the dramatic
three-story lobby and past the grand staircase to the elevators.

“Don’t
we have to check in?” Kara gestured toward the registration desk as they sailed
past it.

“Already
taken care of.” Wanting to hurry the elevator along, he pressed the call button
repeatedly.

The
doors eased open and they stepped into an empty car. No sooner had Wyatt
selected the appropriate floor than their bodies came together with a
single-mindedness no force on earth could have averted. Their mouths sealed in
place and tongues united. Their arms coiled around one another like bands of
steel. Kara’s thighs sought the firm pressure of Wyatt’s. He placed his hand
beneath her knee and lifted it to his hip.

Absorbed
as he was in their reunion, Wyatt didn’t notice anything else until the sound
of a throat being cleared registered on his sex-fogged brain. He raised his
mouth from Kara’s and turned his head toward the now open elevator doors. A
tall, skinny matron stood in the corridor next to a short man shaped like
Humpty-Dumpty. The two strangers gawked. The woman’s eyes contained an
expression of disgust. Humpty’s gaze held admiration.

Unaware
of their audience, Kara nibbled on Wyatt’s ear. His first thought was annoyance
at the interruption. His second was to spare her embarrassment. “Excuse us.” He
pressed the button to shut the doors.

The
woman stuck out her arm and drawled, “I believe this elevator is intended for
guests of the hotel to go up and down in.”

Wyatt
had been the recipient of far more cutting scoldings from a much sharper mouth
than this aging Southern belle could ever hope to equal. He resorted to the
irreverent defense that had generally infuriated his mother. “Goin’ up and down
is exactly what I had in mind, ma’am.” He matched her drawl for drawl.

The
woman’s spine stiffened.

“Don't
mind him.” Kara removed her hand from inside Wyatt’s shirt and smoothed the
wrinkles from her dress. “We just got married this afternoon, and we got a
little carried away.”

“Congratulations,
I’m sure,” came the unbending response, “but that’s no reason for public
displays of this nature. Affectionate demonstrations are best performed in the
privacy of the marital bed, behind closed doors, and in the dark.”

Wyatt
groaned and hit his forehead with the heel of his hand in mock dismay. “I
wondered what we were doin’ wrong.” He pulled Kara out of the elevator while
the stuffy couple gaped at them. “Come on, darlin’. We’ll just have to try it
again.”

While
Wyatt inserted the key card into the door, Kara pressed against him. He swung
the door open and lifted her in his arms. “I think this is the customary mode
of entrance for honeymooners.”

“I’m
sorry about—” He cut off her apology with a kiss as he stepped across the
threshold, kicking the door shut. His humor fled in a rekindling of desire.
Although he removed his arms from beneath her knees, Kara kept hers around his
neck in a maneuver that resulted in maximum contact. She lifted her legs and
wrapped them around Wyatt’s waist.

Her
heat against his stomach sent him reeling back against the door. The instinct
to fuse their bodies together before they melted directed Wyatt’s actions.
Thrusting his hand under Kara’s skirt, he pushed aside the damp wisp of lace
that covered her. She hung onto his shoulders while he unzipped his pants and
freed himself. Without removing a single article of clothing, Wyatt lifted her
and pushed his way inside her. Hot, wet and ready, she fit him like a glove.
Their gazes met, fierce and primal, as Kara rode him into oblivion.

Orgasms
shook them for what seemed like an eternity until Kara collapsed her weight
against him. Small shudders continued to rock them both. He hugged her body
close to him until the sexual haze cleared.

He
didn’t know why he should be surprised that their meeting hadn’t played out
according to plan. He should be thankful they’d made it into the suite, a
detail that had been in doubt more than once. Chuckling, he remembered the
encounter in the elevator.

Against
his neck, Kara mumbled, “What?”

“We
have privacy and it’s nearly dark. Do you think this is what the biddy had in
mind?”

“Her
advice definitely included a bed.”

“There’s
so much to remember.”

Too
late now for sensitivity and foreplay, but if his knees held out, Wyatt thought
he could get them as far as the bedroom. With more than a little good fortune,
he managed it. He placed her on top of the covers and then stretched out beside
her with a contented sigh.

“Recite
something poetic.” She poked him in the ribs. “We’ve got the sex down pat, but
we’re a little lacking in the romance department.”

He
looked upward, searching the ceiling for inspiration. “‘How like a winter hast
my absence been from thee.’” He rolled her to face him. She smiled, something
she had done precious little of in the past.

“Missed
me, huh?” Kara bent her elbow and propped her head on her hand.

He
mirrored her pose and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, momentarily
content to have her at his side. “How could you tell?”

“There
was a certain, uh, enthusiasm in your greeting.”

He
winced. “Sorry. I planned something with more finesse.”

Raising
her eyebrows, she feigned shock. “You had a plan? What was it?”

“As
we drove in from the airport, I intended to point out places of interest while
I supplied a brief narrative on the history of Atlanta.” Wyatt brought her hand
to his mouth.

“Frankly,
my dear, it wouldn’t have mattered. It’s not that I don't have any interest in
Atlanta, but I’ve read Gone With the Wind, drink Diet Coke, and watch CNN, and
ever since you picked me up at the airport, I haven’t been able to think of
anything but having my way with you.”

He
gave her a rogue’s smile that caressed her to her toes. “After that, I was
going to impress you with lavish surroundings.” He gestured around the elegant
suite toward the sitting room that revealed champagne chilling in ice beside a
lush bouquet of sweet-scented gardenias. His lips nibbled on her fingers.

She
gulped. “Was that all?”

Leaning
in, he whispered. “Then we were going to get naked.”

“Naked
sounds good.” She pulled his knit shirt up and stroked her hand along ridged
stomach muscles. “For what purpose?”

Summoning
all his powers of concentration, he recalled, “The next step required me to
drag a slow tongue over every inch of your delicious body.” He hardened against
her.

Kara’s
eyes drifted closed. “I’m sorry I missed that. Maybe we should pick things up
at the naked part.”

He
tugged on the sleeve of her jacket. “Maybe we should.”

As
his fingers made quick work of the buttons of her dress, she suggested, “And
maybe this time we can do it the way the woman suggested. Private, bed, dark.”

“‘Fraid
it's still going to be two out of three.” Wyatt reached across her to switch on
the bedside lamp. “I definitely intend to leave the light on.”

After
they shared the lengthier, more intricate details of lovemaking that their first
frenzied coupling had lacked, Kara dozed. Wyatt moved to the other room to
conduct some business. He removed his phone from his ear when she padded into
the sitting room wearing a hotel robe.

“Business
or personal?” She stretched and yawned and the robe gaped open.

“A
little of both.” With a hand on her elbow, he returned her to the bedroom.
“Issuing instructions.”

“About
dinner I hope.”

“Are
you hungry?” He stroked his fingertips across her cheek and smiled. “Would you
like to go out or stay in?”

“Since
my only clothes are lying in a heap on the floor, staying in would be the
better choice. How is it that when I’m with you I always end up where my
luggage isn’t?”

He
loosened the robe’s belt. “Good luck on my part, but don’t worry about being
held captive here for the week. I was on the phone sending someone to get your
luggage when you came in.”

Wrapping
her arms around his neck, she stretched on tiptoe to kiss him. “Who?”

“Someone
who works for my family.”

“But
about dinner...”

“Right.”
He turned to the hotel phone to order room service.

Opening
the drapes and sipping Dom Perignon, Kara looked down at Atlanta’s famous
Peachtree Street. Giving a mental eye roll, he realized it was too late for him
to close the drapes and lead her away. She immediately noticed the flagship
store across the street. A distinctive purple logo emblazoned the name
“Wyatt’s” across the structure in dramatic script.

She
gestured toward the sign on the building across the way and smiled. “Are you
named for the store or is named for you?”

“Neither.
Wyatt is my mother’s maiden name.” Gritting his teeth, he prepared to reveal
some of his background. He watched her carefully, ready to gauge her response.
“The store and I both are named for her family.”

“What?
I was just kidding.” Her eyes widened. “You’re a Wyatt from the Wyatt’s
Department Store chain?” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Then why don’t
you live here in Atlanta?”

“It
would be a long commute to class.” Wyatt hoped she’d find some humor in his
comment, but she made a disgruntled face. Damn, here we go again. The name
always ended up making a difference. It made people look at him differently.
Greedily. Speculatively. He put his hands on her shoulders, but dreaded looking
into her eyes. “Does it matter to you?”

“Of
course not. I just feel so foolish. I mean it was always obvious you lived
beyond a college professor’s means, but I would never have guessed the heir to
one of Atlanta’s oldest family-owned businesses works anonymously thousands of
miles away from home as a college professor. That makes no sense. Why didn’t
you tell me?”

He
drew an easy breath, relieved by her puzzlement. Relieved that she hadn’t
started looking at him like she needed a meal ticket and he was an
all-you-can-eat buffet. He should have known the money wouldn’t impress her,
but she might feel it wedged a greater distance between them. “Sometimes it
makes a difference to people, and I don't like the way they react.”

She
stiffened and stepped away, carefully retying her belt. “Clearly, I cultivate the
acquaintance of wealthy individuals in order to accrue personal and financial
gain.”

He
blushed, an uncommon reaction for him. “My instincts said you wouldn't, but
I’ve been fooled before into thinking people were more interested in me than my
money. Once you agreed to this trip, I thought I’d tell you as soon as you got
here, but you know what happened.”

Kara
blushed in return. “I’m sure wealth and position have their drawbacks as well
as their benefits, but aren’t you proud of your long and interesting family
history?”

“The
history of Wyatt International is long, all right, but not all that
interesting.”

“Wyatt
International? Is it more than just the stores?”

“It
started out during Reconstruction as just the stores, but during the fifties,
my grandfather and Great Uncle Davis spearheaded a growth that diversified the
company into areas beyond retail.”

“Like
what?”

“Catalogue
sales, manufacturing, and shipping. All fields that were a natural progression
from their primary revenue.”

She
plucked at her lower lip for a moment. “How did you and the store come to have
the same name?”

“Each
generation in our family gives their firstborn son the mother's maiden name.”

“Always?”
Her eyes twinkled up at him. “What if someone marries a Frumkin or a Pifflemeister?”

“That
would call for a family intervention.” Wyatt chuckled. “My Great Uncle Jarvis
married a Snively from Virginia, but luckily, they failed to reproduce.”

“No
black sheep?”

“Not
until now.” His fingers began sketching tiny circles below her ear. She reached
up and stopped him.

“Are
you saying you're a black sheep?” She wrinkled her brow. “Do the elder Wyatt’s
expect the next generation to take control of the family-owned business?”

“That
might be Uncle Jackson’s intention. He’s mother’s brother and enjoys living the
good life. He would probably be happy to turn everything over to his son Chase,
sit back and sip mint juleps, and follow the horses. But my mother won’t allow
anyone but me to have control of her share of Wyatt’s. And I don’t want it.”

“A
classic impasse. But you’re involved in the company in some way.”

“Very
cursory.” He hoped his clipped tone declared his boredom with the conversation.
“If Mother is as smart as I think she is, she’ll groom my sister Allie to fill
her shoes. Her temperament is more suited for a business career than mine, and
she’s welcome to it. But she’s incapable of standing up to Mother, and
sometimes she enlists my aid in that area.” Untying Kara’s robe, he
back-stepped her toward the bedroom.

“Also,
Mother doesn’t like to admit that she’s bred any child who isn’t interested in
her life’s work. So she expects me to present myself front and center whenever
a show of family unity is called for.”

“And
you do.”

He
climbed back into the bed and she settled in beside him. “It’s a small enough
price to pay for independence. And it keeps the peace.”

“Did
you never want to manage the family business?”

“Never.”

“And
you didn’t want to follow your father’s footsteps into the law, either?”

“Not
really.” He shifted her head to a more comfortable spot on his broad shoulder.
“I always loved reading and the power of words crafted effectively, so I may
have toyed with the idea for a while when I was at Duke. But in the end, I
found the study of law too tedious.”

“Was
your father as disappointed by that decision as your mother was about your
refusal to go into her family business?”

“He
probably would have been, if he’d been alive to see it. Entering the legal
profession is as long a tradition in the Maitland family as retailing is in the
Wyatts.”

“It
must have been difficult to go against traditions on both sides of the family.”

If
she only knew. “There was no way I could have fulfilled their lofty
expectations, so I didn't even try.” He bent his head and nipped her shoulder.
“And just now, I’m wondering why you’re so interested in decisions that were
made a long time ago.”

Again,
she evaded his distraction tactics. “The only thing we have in my family that
my parents have owned longer than their refrigerator is a replica of the Eiffel
Tower my grandfather bought in France when he was in the Army. I can’t imagine
walking away from so many ties to the past.”

“Oh,
honey, I didn’t walk away, I ran. If you live with them too long, all those
ties feel more like chains holding you back from your real future.”