got the better of her. She opened the door farther. “Come in.”
His brisk stride carried him past her and straight into the den. The same cologne he used to wear encircled her like a long-lost friend. A friend who’d stabbed her in the back.
No, that wasn’t right. Rand had told her before their first date that he wasn’t interested in forever. She was the one who’d broken the rules by getting emotionally involved. But how could she help herself when he’d been everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man? Fun, sexy, intelligent, attentive, gentle, good in bed. Correction. Amazing in bed.
She couldn’t help wondering if she could have changed his mind about their future had she kept her mouth shut and let the love and trust sneak up on him. But she’d never know because three months into their affair she’d slipped up after making love and blathered out her feelings for him and her dreams for their future like the besotted twit she’d been.
Her ill-timed words had launched the next Ice Age and the fastest dumping in history. Rand had left her apartment so fast it’s a wonder he hadn’t burned tracks in her carpet. And then he’d left the country.
A frown line formed between his eyebrows as he examined the room’s furnishings. “This looks nothing like your old place.”
So he did remember. Her stupid heart skipped erratically. She scanned the room. The traditional furnishings were not the light-and-airy wicker and chintz she’d had in her apartment. “It’s my mother’s house and it was my grandparents’ before it became hers.”
His gaze sharpened and shot to the archway leading to the kitchen. “Is your mother at home?”
Tara’s heart squeezed with pain and guilt that seemed like they would never end. “She’s dead.”
“Recently?”
She gave him points for trying to be civil, but she didn’t want to discuss her mother with him. The wound was still too raw. “A year ago. But that’s not why you’re here. Could you get to the point, please? I have plans tonight.”
Sad, solo plans, but that was the story of her life these days. Other than a few regrettable exceptions in those lonely months immediately after her mother’s death when Tara had needed someone to hold her, someone to keep the loneliness at bay, men had been a nonissue for her since Rand had dumped her. She’d never found the passion or the connection she’d experienced with Rand with another man, nor had she found the solace she’d been seeking on those lonely, regrettable nights. The physical acts with near-strangers had left her feeling emptier and more alone than before, so she’d quit looking.
Tension crackled in the air between them. Rand didn’t sit. Neither did she. “Everett’s will requires me to return to KCL as CEO—”
“Return? You left Kincaid Cruise Lines? When? Why? The company is your life, your legacy.”
“Yes. I left.” His expression turned even more formidable. The lines bracketing his mouth carved paths through his five o’clock shadow. She used to love to feel that stubble beneath her fingertips and on her breasts. The memories made her pulse quicken and her skin flush.
“My father insists you come back as my PA for one year.”
Rand’s shocking revelation made her willing to overlook the fact that he hadn’t answered all of her questions. “Me? Why? And why would I want to?”
“If you don’t, then Mitch and Nadia will lose their home, their jobs and everything else.”
Regret settled heavily in Tara’s chest. For three years Nadia had been her friend, probably the closest one Tara had ever had. But a fissure had formed between them when Rand abruptly ended his and Tara’s affair, and then Everett’s proposition had finished what was left of the relationship. Tara had been so filled with shame and self-loathing she hadn’t been able to face Nadia—or any of the Kincaids for that matter—again.
“I don’t understand. Why would Everett insist on me returning to my old job? And why now?”
“Who knows what was going through his twisted mind? He has each of us jumping through hoops. He’s harassing us from the grave.” Bitterness and fury vibrated in Rand’s voice.
What had happened to drive the men apart? Rand and his father had always been competitive, but she didn’t remember Rand hating Everett. It sounded as if he did now.
“Can’t you do something about the will?”
He shook his head. “I had a team of top-notch lawyers go over every word. The will’s airtight. I’ll pay you ten thousand a month, plus benefits.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”
“No.”
That was double what she’d made when she last worked at KCL and more than three times her current salary.
It had taken Tara four months after she’d left Kincaid to find a job. It hadn’t been easy without a reference, but she hadn’t dared ask for one after the way she’d left without giving notice, without even returning to empty her desk. Her replacement had done that and shipped Tara’s belongings to her.
By the time Tara had finally found a position, she’d wiped out her savings, given up her apartment and moved in with her mother. The new job had paid less, but Tara had taken it because of the flexible hours and the opportunity for telecommuting gave her the time she’d needed to care for her mother during the grueling courses of chemotherapy.
Tara definitely planned to leave her current job. Her newly promoted boss was an arrogant, condescending jerk who had decided Tara’s “flexible hours” meant she was at his beck and call 24/7. She just hadn’t worked up the energy to start looking for a new position yet.
But working with Rand again… Too risky given that tiny flicker of joy she’d experienced earlier. The man had already broken her heart once. She’d have to be a fool to return for a second helping of that kind of agony. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”
“Fifteen grand a month,” he offered without hesitation.
Tara caught her breath at the obscene amount and her knees nearly buckled. Carol Anthony’s job as a hairstylist hadn’t provided health or life insurance, and Tara had inherited her mother’s debts along with her home and possessions. With that kind of money she could pay off the exorbitant medical bills her mother had left behind and stop the increasingly threatening collection notices.
She was more than a little tempted. But why, oh, why did it have to be Rand Kincaid making this offer? “It’s not about the money, Rand.”
He punched his fists to his hips, shoving his suit coat away from the flat plane of his stomach—a stomach she’d once been free to touch and taste. “Look, we both know you don’t give a damn about me. But do it for Nadia and Mitch. They don’t deserve to have the rug ripped out from under them. Name your price, Tara.”
Tara wavered. Common sense said refuse. But a minuscule, insistent part of her reminded her how good she and Rand had been together. When she’d been with him she’d felt special and important, as if happily-ever-after might actually be possible.
She’d never had time to come to terms with his abrupt ending of their
