1925 - Millionaire's Secret Seduction (5 page)

Bella frowned. “You mean, like, if you asked for my father’s research…” She blinked. Her Diet Pepsi bubbled in her nose.

“The thought did occur to me.” He sipped his iced tea.

Her heart squeezed. “Would you do that for me?”

“Nope.” He took another bite. Chewed it, inclining his head to the sun again. Light and shade danced over the hard planes of his face and glinted in his black hair.

Bella tried to keep her breathing steady. “Why not?”

“Because if I did he’d figure out who you are and sue your dress right off you for breach of contract.”

Her dress tickled her hot skin. “Breach of contract?”

“As an employee you are contractually obligated to support the best interests of the company. What you’re doing is no different than a store clerk sticking their hand in the till.”

“The only contract I signed was the one agreeing that any scientific discoveries I make here are the intellectual property of Hardcastle. I already told you I don’t want to take that.”

“Doesn’t matter. You came here to take something. You think that’s legal? Check your employee handbook.” He sipped his tea without looking at her.

Employee handbook? She recalled a thick, red, spiral-bound book she’d filed away unopened. She wasn’t planning to run for Employee of the Month.

“Are you saying I can’t sue Tarrant, as I will be in breach of a contract I didn’t sign?”

“I didn’t say a thing.” He popped the last piece of hot dog in his mouth and chewed it. His dark eyes never left her face. “Want another?”

“No.” She glanced down at her uneaten hot dog. Her appetite had vanished. “So what should I do?” Her voice was shaky.

“You’re asking me how to screw over my own dad?” His dimples appeared. “You may look hot in that dress, but I have my limits.”

As if to test those limits, he gave her a once-over that threatened to scorch her skin. “Okay, so maybe I’m not sure where those limits are, but I’d give up your Quixotic quest to save the family fortunes if I were you, and enjoy the good gig you have going.” He tilted his head. “Perhaps that’s what your dad would have wanted.”

He said the last part softly. Not a hint of accusation or condescension. The thought turned over in her brain—which instantly rejected it.

“My dad lived for his work. It was everything to him. Without it he felt like an empty shell. He begged Tarrant to allow him to continue it here, but Tarrant wouldn’t let him.”

Dominic exhaled. “That does sound harsh.”

“I guess a white-haired scientist who still wears suits from the nineteen sixties didn’t fit his company image.” She dropped her unbitten hot dog and its wrapper into her lap. “If he’d just left my dad alone and let him continue his work, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be doing my own thing somewhere else. But as it is? I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”

Dominic looked at her steadily. “Regaining his research won’t bring your dad back.”

But it could bring my mom back.

She swallowed. “I know that. But to know his work is in safe hands, that it won’t be forgotten, that’s priceless to me.”

She held out her hot dog. “Here, you have it. I’ve lost my appetite.”

She placed it in his wide palm and his fingers closed around it. “I’m not letting you go back to work until you eat something.”

She shrugged. “Hot dogs aren’t good for you, anyway.”

“Come on.” He stood and tugged her to her feet. “I’m taking you somewhere for a real lunch.” He tossed the hot dog in a wastebasket and strode for the park exit. Her hand imprisoned in his, she hurried to keep up.

Ignoring her protests, he hailed a cab as soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk, then almost pushed her into it.

“Where are you taking me?” She slammed down on the vinyl seat, gasping for breath. She didn’t hear what he said to the driver.

Dominic eased his big body in next to her. The fine wool of his suit brushed her bare arm. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“How do I know you’re not going to keep me a prisoner in your hotel room?”

Why had that image sprung to mind? And why did it trigger an alarming shiver of anticipation.

She glanced at the cab driver to see if he had rescuer potential. His rhythmic head bobbing didn’t look to be a good sign. An iPod earphone peeked out from beneath his turban. Was that even legal?

“Hmm. Good idea.” The dimple nearest her made an appearance. “Except I don’t have a hotel room.”

“Where are you staying?” She gripped the door handle with an unsteady hand as they headed downtown, weaving back and forth through Fifth Avenue traffic in a way that made her stomach lurch.

“A friend’s place.”

She wondered if it was a female friend, then cursed herself. What did she care? She was hardly hoping for a relationship with Dominic Hardcastle.

She needed him to head straight back to Miami and her to find the file—ideally today.

This little detour was not helping.

He rolled down the window and inhaled a lungful of exhaust and secondhand cigarette smoke. “Damn. I do miss this city. We lived here until I was ten, then my mom got a job that moved us all over the place.”

“Are you thinking of moving back?” Her empty stomach cramped.

“Are you trying to say you’d miss me if I went home?”

“Not in the least.”

“I’d miss you.” He gave her a long-lashed sideways glance.

Flirt
. “You don’t even know me.” She ignored the funny feeling in her chest.

“I know you have a beef with Tarrant Hardcastle. That gives us something in common.”

“You said he’d give you anything you want. Figure out what you want and ask him for it.” His attempt to find common ground with her made her palms sweat. Was he setting her up for something?

“I know what I want.” A tiny frown etched his forehead as his gaze drifted over her cheek and chin. “I wonder if Tarrant would give
you
to me if I asked nicely.”

She whipped around to face him, her fingers tingling to slap his arrogant, handsome face.

He was grinning.

She fought a bizarre urge to laugh. “Oh, stop it. You have me where you want me because I was stupid enough to blab my whole sob story to you.”

“Yeah. You should be more cagey.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime.” His black eyes roamed insolently over the front of her dress, where the patterned fabric clung to her breasts.

A sudden stray image assaulted her. His mouth on her breast. His tongue making a dark circle on the silk.

She lifted her head and stared out the window. She could feel her nipples peaked hard inside her bra. Wondered if he could see them.

She wanted to suck in a deep breath but she knew that would only draw her dress tighter over her breasts. “I do have work to do, you know.”

“Sure. Rifling through the drawers in my family’s business.”

“Actually, we have a new product coming out.” She wanted to prove that she earned her keep. “Two of my researchers have perfected a powder that creates the illusion of perfectly smooth skin. At first it didn’t work because oil in the skin broke it down, so the effect didn’t last long on a lot of people. Anita came up with a compound that absorbs oil and now we can offer a twelve-hour guarantee.”

Dominic looked politely interested. That irked her. “This stuff is effective enough to cover deep scarring. It will change a lot of people’s lives.”

“That’s great.”

“You think it’s silly.”

“I don’t. It’s a heck of a lot less silly than most of what Hardcastle tries to foist on its consumers. Though, if they sold you that dress I’ve got to thank them.”

“I bought it at Ann Taylor.” She smoothed the skirt and hid her smile of satisfaction.

“You would.”

They were stuck in traffic. Dominic still had the window open and a chorus of honks pummeled her ears.

“I bet your dad would be really proud of what you’re doing with his work.” His tone, warm and intimate, made her breath catch.

“He wasn’t interested in cosmetics. I think he’d have loved to work for the military, but they wouldn’t hire him.”

“Why not?”

“He was politically radical for a while after he came to the U.S. Belonged to some fringe Marxist group. He was out of politics by the time I was born, but I guess the stain lingers in the CIA files.”

“That’s a shame.” His sympathetic look almost affected her. “Maybe you inherited his risky passion for lost causes.”

Her back stiffened. “It’s not funny.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t want to see you screw up your life over something that can’t be changed.”

“Did you drag me out of my lab to lecture me?”

“Among other things. Feeding you and kissing you were higher on my agenda, but we seem to have gotten out of order.”

He leaned forward and slid the partition aside, tapped on the driver’s shoulder and gave him some incomprehensible directions. They headed east on Fourteenth Street.

“Since we’re working backwards, can I kiss you now?”

The question was straightforward.

Her answer more so. “No.”

B
ella’s pulse picked up. Would he force her? Hold their “deal” over her head?

His expression serious, Dominic raised his thumb and brushed it gently over her lips. “Shame.”

How dare he?
Her mouth quivered under his insolent touch.

How would he feel if she reached out and—say—ran her fingers through his hair? His thick black hair was combed back, but a natural wave pulled it into disorder that begged to be “fixed”. Her palms tingled.

Bella jerked her focus off him and stared out the window. The cab was taking them into the gridless labyrinth of the West Village. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going. Wouldn’t that be polite?”

“You know by now that I can be quite rude when the occasion calls for it.” Humor thickened his voice.

“Why do I feel like I should be calling a cop?”

“Maybe you should be.” He leaned forward and muttered something to the driver, who pulled over outside a small brown-stone storefront.

She climbed out onto the sidewalk, self-conscious in her smart dress among the jean-clad people perched on the edges of sidewalk planters.

He held out his arm, gallant. Aware of all the eyes on her, she took it. He led her up some concrete stairs. Inside people packed in front of a narrow counter. A chalkboard menu covered the far wall. Delicious aromas wafted in the air and she could hear the clatter of pans.

“Best food in the city.” Dominic squeezed her arm in his.

“What kind?”

“Italian, of course.”

Of course.
And to compound his crimes of arrogance, he ordered for both of them without even asking her what she wanted. Or liked.

Or even if she was hungry. Which unfortunately, she was.

He chatted with the guy behind the counter as if they were friends, but didn’t introduce her. “Let’s sit outside.”

Of course, Your Lordship.

“You know, you
are
a lot like Tarrant.” She arranged her skirt on the hard bench that ran under the storefront window. “You do everything you damn well please and don’t care what anyone else wants.”

“There’s a lot to be said for being decisive.”

“In business, yes, but it can be hard to take in personal relationships. Look how many times your dad has been married.”

That got his attention. Dominic’s lips pursed like he was about to say something. Then he looked thoughtful. “How many times
has
he been married?”

Regret rippled through her. She’d forgotten that Tarrant was
a virtual stranger to him. She probably knew his father better than he did. “Samantha is number three. Have you met her?”

“Yes. Seems nice.” He uncapped a bottle of San Pellegrino and poured her a glass. “Young.”

“I think she’s my age.”

Dominic blew out a short breath. Shook his head. “Why would any man want to marry a woman less than half his age?”

“Are you kidding? I thought all men wanted that. Besides, maybe I’m actually fifty, with really great skin.”

He chuckled. “Nah. If you were fifty you’d be tougher.”

“I am tough!”

He swallowed a draught of the sparkling water. “Yes. You kind of are. I like that.”

His smiling friend appeared with two steaming plates of lasagna.

“As good as Mama’s?” she asked, once he’d gone back inside.

Dominic leaned toward her. “Not quite, but don’t tell Alfie that. He might cry. You know how emotional we Italians get.”

“Yeah. Right.” Dominic Hardcastle was as emotional as his father’s gunmetal Porsche Turbo.

She dug her fork into the thick-layered pasta.

Fast cars, fast women and a fast buck. That’s all this type of man cared about. She didn’t feel bad about going behind Tarrant’s back at all. If she had to play his son’s little games, she could do that too.

She knew what was truly important.

Spicy fresh tomato, aromatic ground beef, and basil exploded over her tongue. The pasta was cooked to perfection and the vegetables still crispy. “Mmm. Not bad.”

He shot her a long-lashed sideways glance that almost made her lick her lips. But not quite.

A big drop splashed on her nose. She looked up, and another caught her in the eye.

“It’s raining.”

Everyone grabbed their plates and glasses. Bodies crowded into the tiny storefront, which had only standing room at a counter.

Dominic hadn’t budged. Black dots of rain marred the smooth gray wool of his suit. “The apartment I’m leasing is in the building next door.” He gestured toward a brick building with a nod of his head. “We’ll go up.”

Will we, indeed?
She opened her mouth to protest, but a thunderclap bruised her eardrums and rattled windows in nearby buildings. A flash of lightning floodlit the darkening sky. She shivered.

“Bring the water,” he commanded, as he seized both their plates and marched away.

She picked up the bottle and glasses from the bench. Shook her head, which was getting wet, and followed.

He held both plates deftly in one large hand while he opened a plain metal door with a key. He motioned for her to go first.

She dove through the door out of the rain. “Phew. I wasn’t in the mood to get drenched.” Goose bumps rose on her skin. From the cool raindrops, of course. Not from anticipation of what might happen next.

“I think that dress would look good drenched.”

“It might shrink.”

“Yes.” A gleam lit his eyes like the eerie lightning outside.

“You
are
evil.”

“Shame you’re all alone in a strange building with me.” He led the way up the stairs. “I hope the power doesn’t go out.”

Why could she envisage those dimples so clearly when she was behind him?

Bella paused and shook her head, then she followed. She felt safe with him, which was totally ridiculous. She usually had good
instincts about people, and she had no reason whatsoever to trust Dominic Hardcastle. He had her between a rock and a hard…

Whatever.

They walked past the row of metal mailboxes not unlike those that ornament the hallway of every walkup in Manhattan. They crossed the old black-and-white tile floor and mounted the standard-issue scuffed marble steps. Weird that a man so wealthy would stay in an ordinary rundown tenement building.

He unlocked a battered door on the second floor and ushered her in.

“Whoa.” Inside, the space contradicted every expectation. They stood on a landing with only a minimalist railing where the floor dropped away in front of them to reveal three open stories of space.

A skylight in the roof flooded the tall interior with the spooky half light of the thunderstorm.

“Let’s go up.” Dominic led the way up a half-spiral staircase rising toward the skylight. She gripped the glasses and bottles, trying not the think about vertigo.

They arrived on a wide platform. White ultramodern furniture gathered around a sort of indoor fire pit.

“The ultimate bachelor pad.”

“Yeah. And since my pal who owns it now has a three-year-old and an eighteen-month-old, it’s available pretty much whenever I want it.”

“Definitely doesn’t seem like a good space for kids.”

“Not unless they’re wearing rappelling equipment. But he designed it himself and he can’t bear to part with it. I think it’s kind of weird to take a perfectly good building and scoop it out like a tub of ice cream.”

He put their plates down on a low table near the fire pit and settled into a wide, white chair. He shrugged out of his jacket.

Rolled his sleeves over thick forearms. He glanced at her. “Go on, eat.”

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“It pains me to see good food grow cold. I guess because food is my business.” He tilted his head and fixed those dark wicked eyes on her. “Pretty please.”

She scowled at him, trying not to smile. Picked up her plate. “How did you get into selling food?”

“I like to feed people. It’s that nurturing thing.”

Yeah, right.
She peered at him. “I guess food never goes out of style.”

“Nope, and it hurts my soul that processed junk is cheaper and easier to buy than real food. I’m working to change that.”

“And make a profit.”

“Sure, or I wouldn’t be in business.” He took a bite of lasagna. “My goal is nothing less than world domination.” His relaxed expression suggested he almost took it for granted.

“Like father, like son.” She eyed him cautiously.

“We do seem to have a lot in common.” He put down his fork. “Including a taste for beautiful and difficult women.”

Dominic loosened his collar with a finger. Bella’s wary gaze drove him crazy. She was only here because she was afraid he’d spill her secret. She was trying to play him.

That should make him mad.

This girl thought she could swindle Tarrant Hardcastle out of research he’d paid for and distract her enemy’s son with a few fluttering eyelashes?

He should teach her a lesson for making that kind of mistake.

He’d already warned her off. Told her she was looking for trouble and likely to find it. But she didn’t back down, or even pretend to.

She stared at him again through those gold-tipped dark lashes. Her gray eyes so calm, cool. A perfect industrial spy—except that she didn’t seem able to tell a lie.

What other secrets was she hiding, that she might spill if he just asked the right question?

A crash of thunder shook the old building, and a blast of lightning brightened the open space of the apartment. Dominic put down his plate. He’d lost his appetite for food.

She’d refused his kiss, but her lips had swollen and trembled under the pad of his thumb. He suspected he could stimulate a similar reaction in the rest of her body.

He did love a challenge. The prospect of licking her skin—aroused, hot and salty with exertion—made his mouth water.

“Would you like some wine? My friend has a good cellar left over from his partying days.”

“I don’t drink during the day.”

“Very sensible.” He took her plate from her lap and put it on the table. She hadn’t taken a single bite since they came here.

He had an irrational urge to throw Miss Cool and Controlled a curveball. “Have you ever been in love?”

She blinked. “No. Have you?”

Her answer surprised him. It ended the line of questioning he’d anticipated, and his own question, thrown back at him, caught him by surprise.

“Sure.”

Bella smoothed the skirt of her dress “Did she make you so suspicious of women? I bet she broke your heart.”

“I’m not suspicious of women. Half my employees are women.”

“Perhaps you snoop around trying to figure out what
they’re
up to as well.”

“I don’t. Something about you raised a red flag.”

She pursed her lips. That irresistible cupid’s bow crimped into two sharp points. “Maybe I remind you of the woman you used to love?”

“No.” He shifted in his chair. “You’re nothing like her.”

She leaned forward. A slight frown marred her perfect skin. “Why else would you pay attention to a nondescript chemist when you’re in a twenty-story building packed with the world’s most beautiful women? Was she a scientist too?”

Irritation prickled under his skin. “She’s a doctor now.”

The hint of a smile played about her lovely mouth.

“Hey, I haven’t seen her in years. I barely remember her.” He undid another button at the neck of his shirt. The AC wasn’t turned up enough.

“I don’t believe you. I bet you were engaged, weren’t you?”

He frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Just curious. I have a feeling about you.”

“I hope it’s a sensual feeling.” He tilted his head.

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s a feeling that you’re the kind of man who’d cherish his first love and place her on a pedestal.”

“I’m Italian.”

She smiled. “Only half, apparently. You’re going to have to come up with another excuse.”

“Okay, so I loved her. I was crazy about her. I wanted to marry her and have babies with her. That what you wanted to hear?”

Her impudent expression slipped a little. “How long were you together?” she asked quietly.

“Five years.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow. That’s a long time. What happened?”

He tilted his head and stared at her. “That’s my business.” He got up from the chair and strode across the platform to adjust the AC. He was starting to sweat.

He’d loved Patricia’s sharp mind as much as her lush body.
Her dream of being a doctor had excited him and he’d done everything he could to help her—paying for their apartment while she was in school, bringing home the groceries—all while struggling to get his business off the ground.

She wouldn’t marry him until she’d graduated, and he’d had that date engraved on his heart.

Then, two weeks before she was due to pick up her diploma, she announced she was taking a residency in California and would be going alone. She wanted a high-octane career, not the demands and responsibilities of a family.

He was glad the gloom of the storm hid his expression. Since then he’d concentrated his energies on his own business. He didn’t need anyone else to complete his life.

He heard Bella get up from her chair. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to pry. I’d better get back to the lab.”

“Of course. You have an
agenda
.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.

“Yes.” Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes as she smoothed a wrinkle in her dress.

Desire flared in him at the way the fabric clung to her rich curves. She’d worn that dress to attract attention. To arouse.

“Do you get pleasure from tormenting men?” He stepped closer to her. He could smell her skin, warm and sweet.

“I…no.” Alarm shone in her eyes. She blinked.

The lightning and thunder had stopped, but the dim half-light of the overcast sky enveloped them in shadow. A ray of sun pierced a cloud and shot down to divide the air between them.

She looked away, as if searching for something. The light caught her cheekbone, high and sharp, highlighting the satin sheen of her skin.

She said something, but he couldn’t make out the words because his attention was too intently riveted on her mouth. The
sharp angles of her upper lip and the soft pink fullness of the lower absorbed him completely.