Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride (9 page)

Lauryn winced, thinking of Cassie. No, her new friend definitely wouldn't be welcome here.

“Who's the father, Brooke?” Adam sounded fierce. Angry. Protective. Lauryn filed that surprising facet to her new husband away.

“I'm a grown woman, Adam. I don't need my brothers to fight my battles for me. Suffice to say, the father is not going to be a part of my baby's life or mine and leave it at that.”

Bonita slammed her glass on the table, sloshing half the clear liquid—she'd refused the champagne—onto the damask cloth. The smell of gin filled the air. “Don't expect Garrison money to support your mistake.”

She rose unsteadily and left the dining room in a huff with Lisette hot on her heels.

Adam broke the uneasy silence. “Brooke, how are you going to manage the condo complex and take care of the baby alone? The bastard responsible should help—at least financially.”

His sister's chin lifted. “I don't want his help, and I'll have day care or a nanny like any other parent.”

“What about maternity leave?” Brittany asked quietly.

Brooke looked at the faces around table. “Look, I'm not saying I have all the details worked out. This was a surprise for me, too. But I am having this baby with or without my family's support. Now can we
please
talk about something else?”

Lauryn could feel Adam's tension across the space between them, and she was touched by his need to charge to his sister's aid, but now wasn't the time. Brooke looked too on edge.

Lauryn covered the hand fisted in Adam's lap to draw his attention. When he met her gaze, she silently urged him to change the subject. He inclined his head slightly and turned back to his siblings.

“We have to do something about Mother's drinking. It was bad before, but it's worsened since Dad died.”

Lauryn noticed Brooke looked relieved by the diversion.

“What do you suggest?” Parker asked. “Locking the liquor cabinet? It won't work.”

“What about rehab?” Megan, Stephen's wife, suggested.

Adam's hand fisted on the table. “It's our best shot. She's not going to quit on her own.”

“She's not going to go to rehab voluntarily, either,” Brittany added.

“Tough.” At that moment Lauryn thought Adam looked hard enough to force his mother into capitulating—as hard as his mother had looked at Lauryn earlier.

A frisson of unease slithered up her spine. Adam wouldn't make a good adversary.

Several tense, silent moments passed, and then Brittany cleared her throat. “On a positive note, Emilio and I plan to get married at Christmas. We'd like you all to be there.”

Parker scowled at Emilio and then shifted his attention to his sister. “Is that wise considering we have a spy within Garrison, Inc. feeding information to your fiancé's family?”

“Dammit, Parker,” Emilio growled, “Jordan does not have a spy in your company.”

“How can you be certain when you've admitted you and Jordan aren't on speaking terms?”

“I could look into it,” Adam offered.

“Forget it. I'll handle it,” Parker snapped back.

“You're not handling it,” Adam insisted. “The information leak has been going on for months. A fresh set of eyes—”

“I said, I'll handle it.”

Adam persisted, “I want to help, and I'm more persuasive than you.”

“Forget it,
little brother.
We're not talking about charming the panties off women. This is business.”

Lauryn's cheeks burned with embarrassment.
She
was one of the women Adam had supposedly charmed out of her clothing.

Adam turned rigid beside her. The men looked ready to come to blows. Lauryn rested a hand on Adam's forearm and then glared at Parker. “You shouldn't dismiss Adam's business acumen. Estate is extremely profitable because of him, and the employee turnover rate is next to nil. He knows what he's doing and he knows how to read and manage people.”

All eyes turned on her.

Her stomach sank. Good grief. She'd reacted like one of Pavlov's dogs again with another conditioned response. Why had she opened her mouth? Because Parker's insulting tone hit one of her hot buttons. But this was not her fight and arguing wasn't the way to make a good impression with the in-laws.

Parker drilled her with an unblinking stare—nothing new to Lauryn since her father used to do the same—and when she didn't cower or look away he scanned the rest of the party.

“I don't need Adam's help because I'm looking into brokering a deal with Jordan Jefferies just to keep the peace between our families.”

Almost everyone at the table gaped at Parker in surprise…everyone except Brooke, who looked relieved, probably because her pregnancy was no longer the topic of conversation. Lauryn glanced at Adam and found him watching his sister with a frown puckering his brow.

Lauryn only half listened while Parker outlined the potential deal.

Something very important had just happened at this table. And it wasn't Parker's announcement.

And then she remembered the research she'd done for a college psychology paper. She'd been fascinated by the way birth order affected personality and behavior—mainly because she'd needed to understand her own twisted family dynamics and her hackles-raised response to her father's edicts.

If she remembered correctly, the textbooks said middle children often reported feeling invisible and overlooked. It wasn't unusual for them to seek recognition.

She studied her husband.

Gulp. Her
husband.

Adam seemed far too confident to need anyone's approval—other than the business council's nominating committee, that is. He'd claimed it wasn't the council presidency that mattered, but what it represented.

She fingered her champagne glass. What did that position of responsibility represent?

Recognition of his success from the Miami business community?

Or respect from his family?

L
auryn had defended him tonight.

Adam couldn't remember the last time someone had stepped up to the plate for him. Not his father, his mother or his brothers. He didn't expect his sisters to because as the older sibling it was his job to look out for Brooke and Britt.

And yet Lauryn had gone to bat for him without hesitation and without him asking her to. That flash of fire in her eyes when she'd stared Parker down had been downright sexy. It made Adam desire her even more.

Would she be as passionate a lover?

With his thoughts fixated on the woman making use of his bathroom, he sat on his bed in his loft bedroom staring blindly at the half wall that overlooked the living room below. Lauryn wasn't the first female to shower here by a long shot, but she was the only one who'd ever made him want to pull up a chair and watch the water stream over her naked curves. Better yet, join her and let his hands and mouth follow the water's path.

That's because by the time a woman uses your shower you've already had her, and you're eager to put her into a cab and send her home.

His women didn't sleep here. Lauryn would be the first.

Moments later the bathroom door opened and Lauryn emerged in a cloud of steam. She'd pinned up her hair, but damp tendrils clung to her freshly scrubbed and flushed cheeks.

How could he have ever believed her mousy? She looked so damned desirable wearing the shapeless baggy shorts and worn T-shirt his teeth ached.

“Why did you defend me tonight?”

She jerked to a halt and hugged the black dress she'd worn to dinner tighter against her chest. The garment had covered her from neck to knees, outlining an hourglass shape that made his mouth water and his hands itch to explore. The sexy little slit in the back hem of the skirt had had him groaning at each glimpse of thigh. He saw more skin on the Estate dance floor every night, but because Lauryn dressed conservatively, that flash of taboo territory had hit him like a bouncer's taser.

She shifted her weight from one long, lean leg to the other. “Something in your brother's condescending tone ticked me off. He reminded me of—”

She mashed her lips together and shook her head as if regretting her words and headed toward the dresser.

He rose, blocking her path and putting them face-to-face with barely a foot between them. “Of who?”

She tipped her head back, met his gaze and then sighed. “Of my father. He was a control freak, too. Very his-way-or-the-highway.”

The thought of Lauryn being browbeaten into submission lit a bonfire of anger in Adam's belly. Was that why she was so conservative and quiet now?

“Lauryn, I don't need you to fight my battles for me,” he said softly.

“I'm sure you don't.” She ducked around him, tossed her dress over the back of his valet chair, and then with her back to him, dug around in her suitcase as if she'd find buried treasure inside.

Adam crossed the loft, stopping behind her. Her scent filled his nostrils and her warmth drew him like a fire does a shipwrecked sailor. He rested one hand on her hip and traced a damp lock clinging to her nape with the other.

She stiffened, but not soon enough to still feel her tremor.

“I don't need your defense, but I appreciate it,” he said against her ear.

“It's what a wife would do, isn't it?” she asked without moving.

“No clue. I'm flying blind here.”

She slowly turned. He detected a flicker of hunger in her eyes and his lungs jammed.

“Adam…You laid it on a bit thick tonight. I know making your family believe this is real is—”

“You kissed me back. On the beach. By the pool. In the driveway.”

Her expression turned wary. “Maybe I'm as good an actor as you.”

“You can't fake the arousal darkening your cheeks or widening your pupils.” He lowered his eyes to the stiff nipples tenting her shirt. “You can't fake that.”

She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “And your point is…?”

“You want me.”

“Me and a hundred other women. But part of being an adult is realizing you can't have everything you want.”

He spread his arms. “You can have me. Any way you want me.”

She hesitated for a moment, catching her bottom lip with her teeth and then her mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “So I've heard.”

Not the invitation to share the only bed in the condo he'd been hoping for. “Is that what this is about? You're waiting for the blood test results?”

“No. I'm adhering to our agreement.”

At some time during the miserable family dinner he'd forgotten about convincing his siblings he'd settled down, and he'd started looking for excuses to touch Lauryn, to make her breath catch, her skin flush. He'd actively sought opportunities to kiss her because kissing her filled him with an excitement and anticipation he hadn't felt for anyone or anything in a very long time.

How many kisses had he stolen tonight? Four? No, five. After that last one by the car he'd been so hard he could barely fold himself into the Beemer to drive them home.

“Agreements can be amended.” He cupped her nape, savoring the warm silkiness of her skin against his palm. “Let me show you how good it could be between us, Lauryn.”

Her lids fluttered closed, and then she sucked a quick breath and popped them open again. “No.”

It wasn't as if he'd never heard “no” before, but he'd never heard it from a woman who'd almost eaten him alive on three separate occasions. He could accept Lauryn's refusal and walk away if she didn't want him. But she did.

So why the mixed signals? Why make them both suffer?

He wanted to kiss her until she begged him to peel off her clothing, toss her onto his king-size bed and bury himself in her wet heat.

He'd bet she'd be as hot as her mouth.

No. Hotter. Wetter. He broke a sweat just thinking about it.

As if she'd read his mind her eyes widened, her lips parted on an unsteady inhalation and color washed her face and neck, warming the skin beneath his hand.

Oh yeah. She wanted him. He pulled her forward.

“Your family's approval,” she blurted when he was an inch from her delectable mouth. Her palms spread on his chest and pushed. “That's why you want to win the business council's nomination. Isn't it?”

Talk about a mood-killer. He straightened and released her. “That's personal.”

“So you keep saying. But, Adam, the day I became your wife I became part of your personal life. If you don't tell me what's going on I can't help.”

He wasn't going to get laid tonight. Unless he changed her mind he'd be sleeping downstairs on the sofa.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he turned and walked toward the half wall and braced his arms on the ledge. He debated how much to reveal. But like she'd said, she was part of this now. “I want a bigger stake in Garrison, Inc.”

“Why? Isn't Estate enough?”

“No. It's not. My father kept me out of the Garrison offices when he was alive and now Parker's doing the same. And I'm sick of having to prove myself only to be denied an equal share in the family business.”

She joined him by the rail. “But why does that matter? You're successful without Parker's approval.”

“I don't want his approval.” His frustrated growl sent her eyebrows skyward. “I was groomed to take my place in the family business. I have the education and experience to take a more active role. I can't help wondering if I was denied a place at Garrison, Inc. because I knew about my father's affair with Cassie's mother and had the balls to call him on it.”

“You think you're being punished because you didn't keep quiet and take one for the team?”

“Exactly. But I'll never know. Will I?”

“You do realize you're not being kept out because you lack business acumen, don't you? I wasn't lying when I told Parker you run a first-rate organization. I've worked in several places that weren't, so I know what I'm talking about.”

Her support expanded something inside his chest.

She tilted her head and considered him in silence for several moments. “You're a typical middle child, you know.”

“What does that mean?” And was it an insult?

“Middle children have to find their own niche, their own way to excel, to stand out from the crowd.”

“That's…accurate. Parker and Stephen were always tight with each other and with our father. Brooke and Brittany had the girl thing going. I learned early on to entertain myself and go after what I wanted. Alone. If I wanted my parents' attention I had to do something grander, wilder or louder than my siblings. In the process I earned a reckless reputation I can't seem to live down even though I quit that juvenile behavior years ago.”

“And you think having a wife will help you shake the bad rep?”

“The right kind of wife, yes.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle and turned toward the two-story window wall opposite the loft. He followed her gaze. The lights of a cruise ship leaving the Port of Miami via Government Cut twinkled against the night sky. The ocean view had been a prime draw in his purchase of the condo. But the view couldn't soothe him tonight.

He looked into her eyes. “You're an only child?”

“Yes.”

“And what are typical onlies like?”

Lauryn shifted, glanced away. “Onlies can go one of two ways. Conformist or rebel.”

“Which were you?”

Her cautious gaze found his again. “Which do you think?”

He considered her conventional clothing, her restrained hair and body language and her solitary life. “Conformist. Which is a good thing since a woman with a wild reputation is the last thing I need.”

And yet the urge to make her wild
in bed
had him aroused to the verge of wanting to say to hell with his no-sex promise. He turned abruptly, crossed the loft and yanked back the comforter. “Let's hit the sack.”

She remained by the railing. “I told you I'm not sharing your bed.”

“Lauryn, there's only one bed. Since we're moving to the estate tomorrow, I didn't convert the study into a bedroom.”

“If I were willing to share then we'd be staying at the Sunset Island estate tonight. I'll take the sofa. Do you have a spare pillow?”

“What's the matter? Don't trust yourself not to jump me?”

Another long stretch of silence filled the air before she averted her gaze. “Maybe.”

Her honesty hit him like a sucker punch.

But he wasn't sure he could control himself if she was in bed beside him, either. As badly as he craved her body, he wasn't taking her until she was wet, willing and begging.

Until then, he could survive a few sleepless nights. “Take the bed.”

Lauryn's pulse raced and her palms dampened. Standing at the top of the stairs of the Sunset estate, she weighed her choices.

Three hallways radiated off the balcony encircling the foyer like the points of the mariner's compass inlaid in the foyer floor below. Left? Right? Dead ahead? Which hall led to her birthmother's bedroom?

Downstairs Adam closed the front door behind the departing movers. He'd insisted on emptying her apartment, and the crew had stored most of her furniture and belongings in an empty staff apartment above one of the garages. They'd left her and Adam's suitcases in the foyer.

She heard Adam's tread on the stairs and turned to watch him ascend. Worn jeans and a white T-shirt fit him like a second skin, outlining a body worthy of a pin-up calendar. His biceps bulged under the weight of her overstuffed luggage.

Sexy.
Her mouth dried.
But just sex isn't enough anymore. Remember? No more meaningless affairs. You promised.

But promises couldn't prevent the fine hairs on her body from rising like antennae whenever he was near. She'd never been so aware—so
constantly, completely
aware—of anyone before. And the more she found out about him, the worse her fascination became.

“Found the master suite yet?” he asked as he reached her side.

“Um, no.” Her feet had refused to carry her beyond the landing. Now that she was where she'd longed to be for the better part of a year, she was afraid she'd discover this was nothing but a wild-goose chase and the diaries weren't here.

But what if they were? She didn't doubt the outcome—whichever it might be—would change her life. And maybe not for the better.

He tilted his head. “This way.”

She followed Adam down the wide center hall toward the back of the house. Her gaze dropped from his broad shoulders to his butt doing a fine job of filling out his jeans.