for the one woman who could bring him back to life.
Taylor.
The shower shut off. Shaking his head, he pushed off the wall and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. After her assault tonight, Taylor would hardly be reassured if she found him waiting for her outside the bathroom, blatantly aroused and more than ready to peel off her single layer of clothing. He didn’t know if he could control himself around skin pink from heat, body naked and touchable under the robe. His robe.
Then, minutes later, she walked into the kitchen, wrapped in that damn robe. “Is that coffee I smell?”
He’d kicked off his shoes in the living room and saw that she was barefoot, too. “You’ll get cold on the tiles. I’ll find you some socks.” He didn’t even to try to fight his protective instincts toward her.
She came to stand next to him, holding out a hand for the cup of coffee he held. “Coffee first.”
“This is…mine,” he finished, as she stole the cup and took a big gulp. He watched her swallow, heard her sigh in appreciation and felt all sorts of things harden in his body. Her fresh, womanly scent made him want to strip her down to her glowing skin and crush her body under his, while his hands stroked and kneaded. Frowning, he backed off a couple of steps. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She turned, cradling the cup in her palms. “Donald didn’t really scare me—I guess I just felt betrayed.” Disappointment edged her tone.
He understood. “You’re safe here.”
Her smile was glorious. “I know. I trust you.”
Dio! he thought. No way in hell could he seduce her now. “I’ll get you those socks.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go in the living room instead.” She put down the now empty cup. “Are you coming?”
Bemused, he followed her into the spacious room. A small music system was arranged in wall brackets on the left, while a large sofa upholstered in blue sat against the opposite wall. However, the main feature was the floor-to-ceiling window immediately in front. Stretching from one end of the room to the other, it looked out over the sea to the dormant island volcano of Rangitoto. Tonight, the weather obscured most of the view, allowing only a glimpse of crashing breakers.
“It’s so open.” She walked across the plush dove-grey carpet to spread her palm against the glass.
He came to stand beside her. “It’s reflective. No one can see inside, even if they get into the grounds.”
Next to him, Taylor’s profile was clean and pure. The curling hair around her face looked like it would be incredibly soft to the touch. The urge to reach out and test his theory was so strong that he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and clenched them tight.
“Your home’s very tidy.”
To him, it looked barren. “I don’t live with a kid.”
She smiled fondly. “He is a tad messy but I suppose muddy sneakers come with little boys.”
“I’m surprised you let him go on the camp.”
Her eyes moved from contemplating the turbulent sea to fix on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He raised a brow. “You’re very protective of Nick.”
“I’m his only family.” Her defensiveness was clear. “I can be protective if I want.”
He left the topic for now, aware how touchy she was about her brother. He’d tried to broach the subject with her while she’d worked for him, but she’d frozen him out. At the time, he’d been frustrated at having to accept that he didn’t have any rights over her brother…or over her.
Yet.
He wouldn’t touch her tonight, because he’d promised her safety and he would never renege on that assurance. But, after tonight, all bets were off, because he wanted rights over Taylor. All sorts of rights.
Three
“One of the spare rooms is made up. It’s to the right of the upstairs bathroom. My bedroom’s across the hall if you need anything.” Jackson’s tone was businesslike.
Taylor knew a dismissal when she heard one. “Yes, boss.” She looked from the tumultuous weather outside to the powerful man standing next to her. He could be just as dangerous as the storm winds.
“I certainly never heard that when you were working for me.” His words were light but the look in his eyes was intensity itself, hot and possessive.
She knew what that look meant and had from a very early age. She just didn’t want to deal with it. Heart thudding, she said an abrupt, “Good night,” and left.
There was no lock on the bedroom door but she didn’t worry. Jackson would never assault her. That didn’t mean he didn’t want her. In the past, when life had threatened to become too bleak or lonely, she’d hugged the awareness of his desire to her, safe in the knowledge that nothing would ever come of it. She wasn’t that kind of woman.
And Jackson wasn’t that kind of man. His personal code was stronger than lust or passion. He wouldn’t have broken his wedding vows no matter what Bonnie had done. But now his wife was gone and he’d acknowledged the smoldering fire between them, if only with his dark eyes.
Confused by her warring emotions, Taylor started to get ready for bed and then realized she had nothing to sleep in. About to search the closet in the room, she heard a heavy tread outside her door. A curt knock followed.
Opening the door, she found Jackson holding out a white shirt. “Thought you might need this.” His voice was low and that banked fire in his gaze wasn’t apparent.
Her heart turned over. “Thanks.” Just as she took the shirt, her cell phone, which she’d dropped into the pocket of her robe, rang. Immediately, worry shot through her. “That might be Nick. Hold on.”
Unfortunately, it was her stepfather, Lance Hegerty, on the line. “Where are you, Taylor? No one’s answering at your place. Where’s my son?”
She knew he’d said the last deliberately—a cruel reminder that Nick was only her half brother. No matter that she’d raised him, in the eyes of the law she had less of a right to Nick than Lance, his biological father.
“Why are you calling? It’s late.” Her voice threatened to tremble. She crushed the shirt in her hand.
“You haven’t responded yet.”
She knew her face was losing its color. Turning her back to Jackson, she said, “I have two more weeks.” A bare fourteen days before time expired to file legal papers in opposition to his claim for sole custody.
His laugh was cruel. “We can do it easy or we can do it hard but I’ll win. Remember that and don’t forget your place, brat—you’re nothing but a rich man’s castoff. My son deserves better than a life with you.”
She hung up, hand shaking. Lance could reduce her to tears with a few well-chosen barbs, but she prided
