expected the jolt when he saw Harold Westchester again, but he hadn’t quite bargained on having all those emotions he’d spent years burying deep being wrenched back to the surface. The games he’d been playing with Kate had done a great job of taking his mind off the ghosts of his past.
He started to scroll through the emails on his laptop while letting the feeling of anticipation wash over him. The last few days of torture were going to be worth it in the long run. In fact, now might be a good time to turn up the heat on Kate. After that flirtatious little smile a moment ago, he figured she was real close to throwing in her hand.
‘It’s finished,’ Kate said. ‘Do you want to take a look at it before I print it out?’
‘Sure,’ he said, levering himself out of his chair. He braced his hands on the desk on either side of her, his cheek almost touching her hair. God, she smelled good.
‘This looks great,’ he said, scanning the copy and savouring the spurt of satisfaction when she tensed. Nope, it wouldn’t be long now before she folded. ‘I can’t see Hal putting up any more resistance,’ he said, inhaling the scent of her hair and thinking the deal with Westchester wasn’t the only thing about to get settled.
‘Who’s Hal?’ she asked, turning to face him.
‘Hal Westchester, the old guy whose hotel we’re buying,’ he said absently. She was close enough for him to see the beguiling rim of purple round her irises.
‘I thought his name was Harold.’
‘Hal’s his nickname. That’s what I called him when—’ He stopped, clamped his mouth shut. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d nearly blurted out something he hadn’t spoken about in more than twenty years.
What had he been about to say? Kate had never seen him flustered before, but he’d paled beneath his tan. He pushed away from her, straightened. ‘Why don’t you email the—?’
‘I didn’t know you and Harold Westchester knew each other,’ she interrupted, intrigued. What had put that haunted look in his eyes?
‘It was a long time ago.’ His face went hard and expressionless.
She swivelled in her chair. ‘Why did you both pretend you’d never met?’
His shoulders tensed. ‘Hal wasn’t pretending.’ His eyes flicked away. ‘He doesn’t remember me.’
Apprehension churned in Kate’s gut. What was really going on here? Why couldn’t he look at her? Was that guilt she’d heard in his voice? Did he have some ulterior motive for buying Westchester’s resort? Kelly had said he was ruthless in business. But how ruthless?
‘Why didn’t you tell him you’ve met before?’ she asked.
It occurred to her in that moment that, although she’d spent one unforgettable night of passion with this man—developing a major sexual obsession for him in the process—and had travelled all the way to California with him, she knew next to nothing about him. Because she hadn’t asked. It was about time she stopped letting her hormones make all her decisions for her.
He turned back, studied her face. ‘Stop looking at me as if I just drowned a kitten,’ he said impatiently.
‘Well, stop avoiding the question, then,’ she replied.
His eyes narrowed and he sank his hands into his pockets. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’
The curt statement hurt in a way Kate would never have expected. ‘I know that, but we have been lovers and…’ she hesitated, took a deep breath, knowing what she was about to say would end the game for good ‘…and we’re going to be lovers again.’
The flare of arousal turned his eyes a dark jade-green. Taking his hand from his pocket, he brushed a finger down her cheek. ‘Good to know you’ve finally accepted the inevitable.’
She pulled away from his touch. ‘What’s your history with Harold Westchester?’
He shoved his hand back into his pocket. ‘The connection between Hal and me is old news. It hasn’t got a damn thing to do with us.’
Kate acknowledged the hit. ‘Of course it does. I’m not about to jump into bed with a guy who might be doing something unethical.’
‘Unethical!’he shouted, genuinely outraged. ‘What the hell are you talking about? There’s nothing unethical about this deal. Westchester’s getting a good price for the resort, more than a good price. I would never cheat him, he means—’
He stopped abruptly, turned away. He gripped the terrace rail, his knuckles whitening. She wasn’t sure what she’d unearthed, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him lose that implacable cool. She wasn’t about to let it drop now.
He’d collected himself when he turned back. Crossing his legs at the ankle, he leant against the rail. She could see he was trying for casual indifference. ‘Look, Kate,’ he said. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘If it’s no big deal, why are you scared to talk about it?’
He shot upright, casual biting the dust in a big way. ‘I’m not scared, damn it.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘All right. Fine.’He threw up his hands, frustration pumping off him. ‘When I was eight years old, my old man checked us in here, then split. He didn’t show up again for six months. That’s it.’
Kate didn’t know what she had been expecting, but whatever she’d been expecting it wasn’t the anger that blindsided her. ‘Are you saying your father abandoned you here?’
‘No, not exactly.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Jean-Pierre wasn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s father. He was a gambler. When he was on a roll, he forgot about everything else. It’s no big secret. Now can we drop it?’
Not on your life, thought Kate. She’d caught a glimpse of the man behind that super-confident mask. It both stunned and fascinated her. ‘Where was your mother?’ she asked quietly.
He sat down opposite her, sighed. ‘Do we have to talk about this?’
‘Yes, we do.’ More than he could possibly know.
He shrugged and looked out at the dusky light. The evening was closing in, scarlet clouds bleeding into the blue of the ocean on the horizon. The shadows on his face weren’t just from the dying day, Kate realised.
‘My mother died when I was a baby. I don’t remember her.’ He looked back at her. ‘It was me and my old man and it worked fine, most of the time.’
‘Most of the time?’ she said, hating the feckless reprobate. ‘Did he forget about you more than once, then?’
‘Never for more than a couple of days.’ He shrugged. ‘Until we landed here.’
‘But that’s appalling.’ How vulnerable and alone he must have been. A little boy abandoned by the one person who should have been looking after him. Was that why he fought so hard for control now, because he’d once had so little of it as a child?
