Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) (8 page)

“Is it?”

“Is it what?” she asked.

“Insurance fraud.”

“You know it is. You and I aren’t related.”

A flash of understanding crossed his serious face. “Oh, that. I didn’t put you on my policy. I put you on the one that covers Erik. He is your brother, isn’t he?”

Charlie felt the blood drain from her face. She pushed off the desk with one hand and swiveled the chair to look out the window into the darkness. Why hadn’t Erik warned her? “He told you.”

“He didn’t mean to. He had an argument with mother and it came out.”

“Oh great.” She could imagine what came out of her normally passive brother’s mouth when he was angry.

“Charlie. Would you turn around and look at me?”

She spun back around and rested her arms on the desktop. “What else did he say?”

“I think that bombshell was enough for one night. He had a lot to say about your father, though.”

She picked up a paperweight and thumped it against the desk. “Peter Lawson was never my father. He was just a man who made my mother pregnant. Let’s drop the subject, Damian.”

“I know what he did was lousy. I won’t try to defend it. But I’d like to explain my mother’s behavior.”

She waved her hand to cut him off. “Forget it. I have.”

“I can’t forget it. It was inexcusable. But it was a shock for her. Knowing about you is not the same as being presented with the proof of her husband’s affair. A husband she worshiped.”

He had a few of his facts mixed up or he had been misinformed. Whichever reason, Charlie didn’t want to get into the details of her past. “I asked you to drop it.”

“You don’t want to see her side, do you? It’s easier to look at everything though your tunnel vision and stay mad at the world,” he accused angrily.

“There’s a hole in your theory, pal,” she snapped. “My mother never had an affair with Peter Lawson while he was married to your mother. She had more class than that.”

“Are you denying that you are Erik’s half-sister?”

She met his stare. “No. But I’m three years older than Erik. Peter married your mother knowing that my mother was pregnant. Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed sitting around swapping loving family stories with you, I have to get back to work.”

* * * *

Damian rose at the same time as Charlie. The conversation hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. Of course, he was still missing a lot of the facts. How many more surprises was he in for? Until he knew everything, he wasn’t going to be able to get through the solid steel barricade she erected whenever he got close.

“Give me the key to your apartment.”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“Would you rather I remain here until you get off from work?”

She rolled her eyes and exhaled slowly. “I’m very tired, Damian. What’s the point?”

“We need to talk.”

“Are you afraid I’m after something?” she asked defensively.

He wished she were after something. At least she would get part of what was rightfully hers. “It never crossed my mind. I guess I’ll just wait in the bar until you finish.”

“No! I’ll give you the key. Just let me finish my shift in peace.”

He stifled a triumphant smile. “I guess I’ll see you about . . . two o’clock?”

She slipped the key off the ring and held it beyond his grasp. “You’re twenty years too late, Damian. I don’t need some big brother telling me when to come home. I’ll get there when I get there.”

He snatched the key out of her hand in mock vexation. Brotherly? There was nothing brotherly about what he felt for her except the desire to protect her from further hurt. “We’ll discuss my role in your life later Charlie.”

“That will be a short discussion,” she muttered on her way out of the office.

She sure could exit a room in a way that made his pulse rate skyrocket. She vented her frustration with him by stomping her feet, giving her a sexy wiggle as she crossed the hallway. He couldn’t take his eyes off her any more than he could get his thoughts off her. Charlie confounded more than his hormones. She confounded his mind. And it had been a long time since he had felt challenged by anyone or anything.

In a move that betrayed her I-couldn’t-care-less-about-you bravado, she turned back to see if he were watching her. She might be annoyed, but she wasn’t indifferent.

* * * *

Charlie pounded her fist against the door. “Damn it. Open up.”

Damian grinned vindictively and took his time walking across the room. If she wanted to play games, waiting until almost two-thirty to come home, then he’d make her wait, too. He knew the bar, which was less than one mile from her apartment, closed at two o’clock.

“You jackass,” she shrieked as the door finally opened up. “What took you so long?”

He glanced at his watch. “I could ask you the same. How long does it take you to get home?”

“Five minutes if I peddle fast.”

“The bar closes at two.”

Charlie stormed past him and threw her purse on the sofa. “Yes, it does. That doesn’t mean I leave at two. There was a group of guys hanging outside the bar after closing. I’m not stupid enough to step out alone into a parking lot in front of four intoxicated men.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back.” He should have remembered that she didn’t own a car.

“I didn’t have a problem getting home, just getting in my own damn door!”

Damian grinned boyishly and tossed his hands in the air. “I’m slime.”

The trace of a smile touched her lips. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

Damian let out a low groan. “You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Delivering your insurance cards. By the way, you can use your insurance policy for your contact lenses.”

“How did you . . .” She glanced at the jars on the counter. “You’ve been going through my things!”

“I was looking for a cookie. Have me arrested. Should we have that little chat now?”

She slumped back against the kitchen counter and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, go on. Get it over with so I can get some sleep. I’ve been up since seven o’clock this morning.”

“Control your enthusiasm.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pointed her in the direction of the sofa. “Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

She whirled around. “You’re not sleeping here again.”

“Don’t make me resort to drastic measures.” He removed two airline-sized bottles of gin from his pocket. “I’ll drink it if I have to.”

“You wouldn’t!” she said in disbelief. But she seemed to know he would. He didn’t make idle threats. “You’re sleeping on the floor again.”

“You let me sleep on the bed last Sunday.”

“I did not.”

Damian ran his finger along her cheek. She flinched before she could stop herself. So much for the progress he thought he had made when she gave him the key. She was still afraid of him.

“You curled up in my arms and slept like a baby next to me all night,” he reminded her. She had trusted him on an unconscious level. In time, would she see she could trust him on every level?

She drew her eyebrows together in question. “I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

Red color flooded her cheeks. “I was sick. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll sleep on the cold, hard floor, risking exposure to splinters and maybe even throwing my back out.”

“You don’t get splinters from linoleum, you idiot.”

* * * *

Charlie shook her head. She had to give the man credit. He was tenacious and not easily sidetracked. So, why had he set his sights on her, and what did she intend to do about it?

“Why didn’t you wait a few years to have your midlife crisis, Damian? You’re not supposed to go nuts for at least another ten or fifteen years.”

He chuckled and nonchalantly slid his arm across her back. She didn’t pull away. Surprisingly, she enjoyed the closeness and the human contact “What am I supposed to be doing now?”

She rested her head on his shoulder and moaned. “I don’t know. You should be dressing in your silk pajamas and slipping between the satin sheets of your king-sized bed with some lucky society woman.”

“Then I’d promptly slide off the other side of the bed, hit the floor, and break my hip. I’d spend the next few months in traction while my society woman moved on to a more agile suitor. Satin sheets and silk pajamas are a dangerous combination.”

Charlie feigned annoyance at his patronizing retort. But as she began to unfold the sofa bed, she couldn’t hold back a laugh at the mental picture.

When she noticed Damian watching her, she sucked in a deep breath and pulled a serious face. “I’m sorry. I had no idea that your life was filled with such hardships. I’ll remember to thank the Lord tonight for my flannel nightgown and cotton sheets.”

“Go to bed, Charlie.”

“I’m so riddled with guilt that I couldn’t sleep like this.”

“You’re going to share the bed?” He raised one eyebrow hopefully.

“No. I’ll move the coffee table so you can sleep on the carpet”

“You’re too generous.”

“If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.” He grabbed a pillow and tossed it on the floor. She knew he wouldn’t leave, just like he knew she would let him stay. She only hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

* * * *

Damian glanced at the illuminated face of his watch. Four o’clock. What had awakened him? He shook his head to clear away the sleep.

The room was silent. Then he heard a soft whimper, like that of a child. He sat up and looked toward the bed. The light of a street lamp cast a beam across the bed where Charlie sat huddled in a ball.

“Charlie?” he whispered. He moved to the edge of the bed and tried again. “Charlie.”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her nose was running. She wiped the back of her sleeve across her face.

“Sorry,” she choked out, followed by a series of hiccups. The apology cut like a knife and added to the guilt that was already gnawing at him.

He sat down and slid his arm around her shoulder. She tensed and he stopped where he was. She didn’t move away. “Did you hear something outside that frightened you?”

She shook her head. “Bad dream.”

His hand stroked her arm tenderly, reassuringly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do you want to go back to sleep now?”

Charlie sniffed. “No. Can’t I just stay like this for a minute?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Her body trembled from the cool breeze filtering in through the window. He retrieved the cotton quilt that had fallen on the floor and placed it over her. She snuggled against him, her body molded against his. Her delicate scent enveloped him. He held her close, stroking her back in slow, rhythmic circles until she relaxed in the cradle of his arms.

He felt a feather-light kiss on his neck, so small that he might have imagined it. She raised her head and kissed his cheek. Her lips were as soft as silk against his face. Did she know what she was doing?

Reminding himself that the objective was to comfort and calm her, he stroked her hair, her arms, and the delicate curve of her tiny waist. With a sigh of pleasure, she arched in closer. Heat radiated from her, igniting his own need, and he lost sight of the objective. He turned and claimed her mouth, slowly savoring the sweet taste of her.

Charlie, on the other hand, seemed hungry for more. Pulling herself into his lap, brushing against him, she tested his control. Did she want him? She seemed to know what she was doing. Her kiss was inviting, given freely, and without hesitation.

He wrapped his arms around her to draw her closer. The possessive gesture had an adverse effect on her. Desire turned to panic and she struggled to free herself.

“Stop,” she cried out.

In trying to reassure her he’d managed to scare the hell out of her. As he loosened his grip, she pushed free of his arms and slid down to the floor, muttering an apology under her breath.

“Don’t you apologize. You have every right to tell me to stop.”

She sat against the wall with her arms wrapped tightly around bent knees. He hunkered down in front of her. She looked more embarrassed than frightened. “I feel so ... I can’t explain . . .”

He ran one finger over her lips and shook his head. “You don’t have to.”

“But I started it.”

“It doesn’t matter who started it. If it makes you uncomfortable, then that’s where it ends.” Damian tilted his head to look under her lowered lashes. He brushed away a tear with his thumb. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m the one who crashed the party.”