Seducing the Heiress (4 page)

The only “angle” Trey Steel wanted to work was the horizontal tango. “Really, Trey? You throw in a cheesy pickup line when you ask me to a working dinner? Where'd you learn that? Caveman Practices 101?”

“A brother's got to try.”

“Not really,” Farrah said, laughing. “You can try, just not with me.”

“But a sister also has to eat,” he hedged.

“Thanks, but I have other plans already. Why don't you just email your ideas and I'll take a look at what you have in mind?”

“Rain check?” he asked with one raised eyebrow.

“Let's just focus on the response.” Farrah got up and headed to the door.

“I never give up, you know,” Trey declared, and she recognized it for the challenge he meant it to be.

“Of course I know,” she shot back. “That's why we became attorneys in the first place.”

His laughter followed her from the conference room.

Chapter 4

F
arrah drove into the underground garage of the Blake & Montgomery office building and parked in her assigned space. She turned off the ignition and laid her head back against the headrest of her new white Porsche 911 Turbo Coupe. Farrah believed in working hard so she could play equally hard, which meant having some really cool toys—fast cars, a beautiful boat and vacation homes all over the world. Her most recent purchase was a prime piece of real estate in Paris, France, with views the length of the Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe.

Farrah pushed up her sun visor and caught a glimpse of her image in its mirror. The sight of her lips summoned the memory of the kiss she'd shared with Robert. “What the hell's wrong with you? This is exactly why you have to either learn to control yourself or stay the hell away from him,” she said to her reflection.

She noted that Robert's car was missing from its space. They drove the same kind of Porsche, but his was a startling black. He, too, had a thing for enjoying life and a few expensive toys. Something that should make them gravitate toward one another, but his capacity to make her feel inadequate about her work was the very thing that drove her away. She couldn't understand why he didn't just trust her ability to handle their court case to its end.

Farrah exited the car, entered their building and made her way to the floor where the administrative offices of Blake & Montgomery were located. In addition to their company, their building housed her and her sister's personal residences as well as several additional apartments. Farrah walked past the midlevel cubicles as she headed to her office after being stopped only once.

Farrah's office was designed exactly like her sister's, only her furnishings were less traditional and more contemporary. A large oval-shaped curly-redwood desk with a turquoise inlay was the focal point of the room. There was also a six-seat, round curly-redwood conference table with red leather high-back chairs, and bookshelves that held a mixture of books and antique art pieces. In a corner stood a small, fully stocked bar and an antique hidden safe.

She had just powered up her computer when her office door flew open and only partly closed, allowing Paul White, the Blake sisters' part-time stylist, to make a dramatic entrance.

“Where have you been? I've been dying here. How did Francine's ultrasound go?” Paul asked, excitement written all over his clean-shaven face as he placed an electronic tablet and coffee cup on Farrah's desk. He used his hand to brush his curly black hair from his face.

Paul also happened to hold the title of Francine and Farrah's assistant, best friend and unofficial brother. They'd been friends throughout grade school and when Paul's family abandoned him after he came out his sophomore year of college, the Blake family had welcomed him with open arms, making his college years less lonely—his words exactly.

“You need a haircut,” Farrah said.

“I know. What happened?”

“You mean she hasn't called you yet?” Farrah said, frowning as she leaned back in the Herman Miller chair.

“Yeah, she called while I was on the phone taking care of everything for your New York trip, so she had to leave me a message.” Paul slipped his tall, lean frame into the chair across from Farrah's desk—his favorite spot. “All she said was that she had ‘big news' and that she'd call me later because she was taking the rest of the day off to celebrate with Meeks. So...” Paul's hazel eyes had widened and he was rotating his index finger. “Spill. What are they celebrating?”

Paul leaned in, eyebrows rising in comedic fashion.

“The ultrasound revealed that...” She paused for dramatic effect.

“Woman, don't make me kill you up in this fancy office of yours!”

“They're having twins—a boy and girl.”

Paul flew out of his chair and started dancing around the room. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At that moment, Robert's face flashed through her mind again, and she felt a pain in her chest that she didn't dare give a name. Would she have been happy if she'd gotten news that she was carrying Robert's child? Would they share doctor's appointments, quarrel over baby names before compromising over the best ways to prepare to bring their child into the world?
No, that can't be. What's wrong with you?
Why was he always in her thoughts these days?

“Thank goodness,” Paul said with a relived sigh. “I figured it had to be something. I just knew she shouldn't be that big already.”

“Really, Paul... Really?”

“What?”

Farrah shook her head, welcoming their banter to distract her from thoughts of her soon-to-be ex-that-no-one-knew.

Paul gave a dismissive wave and sat back down. “Francine's body changing that much because she's having twins is one thing. Gaining weight for no reason other than she decided to let herself go is something else.” Paul picked up his cup and took several sips.

“You act like she's as big as a house or something.” Farrah turned her attention back to her computer, but couldn't help grinning at the mental image of her sister's rounded belly and the smile and happiness that seemed to accompany Francine everywhere she went these days.

Paul took a swig of his coffee. “Girl, Francine's four months and she looks like she's six or seven.”

“She's five months and she's the perfect weight for an expectant mother of twins,” she corrected, choosing not to look directly into Paul's face.

Paul tilted his head slightly. “What's wrong? Why do you seem a little...off?” he asked, frowning as he returned the cup to its former place.

Farrah's hand automatically flew to her mouth as though her lips could tell the story all by themselves.
Damn, you act like somebody's parent. You notice everything, even the slightest change.

“Did you and Robert have a quickie before coming in today?” he asked, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that sent a shiver of unease up her spine.

Farrah got up and went to close her door completely. “Keep your voice down. And no, we didn't just have a quickie.”

Farrah returned to her desk and looked fiercely back at Paul, who was eyeing her suspiciously.

“What?” she asked holding out her hands and hunching her shoulders.

“You tell me,” he said in a serious tone she wasn't used to hearing from him. Paul had once been very serious...too serious. He'd spent years fighting and hiding who he really was and he'd nearly lost himself in the process. Paul's relationship with the Blake sisters and their family, as well as finding love and marrying his partner John in a lavish ceremony hosted by his new sisters, had kept Paul's love for life alive and his heart light.

Farrah looked down at her bare left hand and slowly shook her head.

They both sat in silence for several minutes before Paul reminded Farrah of something that she already knew. “Everyone needs a go-to person to confide in, and I know that's your sisters, but for some reason you've chosen to share this secret with me—”

Farrah looked up. “You know you're like a brother to us,” she affirmed emphatically.

“Then talk to your brother. What's wrong, Big Sis?” he asked, leaning forward, taking both her hands into his.

Farrah closed her eyes, took a deep breath and released it slowly. She slowly opened her eyes and said, “Robert kissed me after we left the doctor's office.”

“So?” Paul said, with a bewildered expression.

“So!” Farrah said, pulling her hands free. “Have you not been listening to me all those times we've discussed this? Paul, the man's kisses are earth-shattering. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would have let him take me right there in the elevator...again.”

Paul grinned. “Earth-shattering!” A small laugh escaped before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

Farrah glared at him. Paul often enjoyed her rare moments of insanity. “It's not funny. I mean, it's like I'm under some type of spell whenever he trains those beautiful blue eyes on me.” Just the thought had certain parts of her body coming to attention. And right now, she couldn't afford to have anyone getting that attention...she had work to do.

“Why are you fighting this thing between you two so hard? You want him and he's obviously crazy about you.”

“Yeah, right now...
maybe
. We both know how quickly his interest in women can change, how his eyes begin to wander...not to mention everything else—his lips, hands, his...”

Paul's eyes widened to the size of golf balls.

“Sorry, TMI. Besides, we're too much alike and we want different things.”

“Do you? Like what? Because the way I see it, you want the exact same things. I mean, you both love what you do, you love to travel, and you spend money on crazy expensive toys—”

“Like what?” Farrah demanded, sitting up straight in her chair.

“Like that old-ass gun you spent fifteen thousand dollars on last month,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“It was an antique that's already increased in value,” she defended. “So it's an investment.”

“Yeah, like the
antique
double ceiling fan that Robert bought for his office a couple of weeks ago. How much did he spend on that thing?”

“Ten thousand dollars, but it was a great deal. And it has also increased in value,” she explained.

“See what I mean. Something else you have in common, spending money on old...” She raised an eyebrow and he quickly amended, “I mean, antique stuff you really don't need.”

Farrah stood and looked out her window at the view of downtown Houston. “Robert and I wouldn't be together long-term and I won't risk...”

“You won't risk what...your heart?” In the silence that ensued, Paul left the chair and came to stand next to Farrah at the window and snaked his right arm around her waist.

Farrah laid her head on his shoulder. “Girlfriend, you have to be willing to risk everything if you want everything in return,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Farrah rifled through a set of scenarios of how that would work, how she'd manage physical compatibility without mutual trust. Regardless of how she might feel about Robert, it just wasn't enough. “No...not with Robert. He was crazy in love once and got his heart handed to him.”

Paul gasped and Farrah raised her head and met his gaze. “Meeks told Francine all about it, and I'm her sister so of course she eventually told me. After that, he swore off love completely and proudly clipped on his playboy badge.”

“What crazy fool let him get away? He's gorgeous and rich. She had to be blind, deaf, intoxicated and stupid,” he proclaimed. “And not exactly in that order.”

Farrah giggled, lifting the image from her mind. “I don't know about all that, but after he found out she was only after his money and was sleeping with someone he thought was a friend at the same time, he ended it and vowed to have no more serious relationships. All he wanted to do was party. And unlike Meeks, he doesn't even care about having an heir. He's leaving all of his money to charity,” she said in a wistful tone.

“But—”

“How can you expect me to risk my heart with a man who'll never risk his?” Farrah said, extracting herself from his hold and returning to her chair.

Paul leaned against Farrah's desk and watched as she turned to her computer and began reading over some legal documents.

“Ignore me if you want, but that won't change a thing. That's just one more thing you two have in common, you know—having experienced a broken heart in college. Need I remind you of Jimmy Long and declaring,
I'll never fall in love again
?” he said in a dramatic interpretation of a Southern belle—with a hand over his heart for effect. “After you found out he was only dating you because you fit his family's idea of the perfect mate, someone beautiful from a good family that was on the same social and financial level as them, when all the while he was still seeing his
real
girlfriend from the other side of the tracks.”

Yes, Jimmy Long had put up such a really good façade that even her family had fallen for it.

“Whatever happened to him?” Paul asked.

“He married her and I hear they have three kids. His family finally came around, I guess.”

“Well, good for them—now back to you.”

Farrah turned and gave him a defiant look. “I was twenty at the time. What the hell did I know about love? Anyway, I didn't say I'd never fall in love again. I said I'd never fall
foolishly
in love again. Big difference.”

“Is there really any other kind?” Paul asked, frowning down at her.

Farrah ignored his question as she continued, “In fact, I plan to love and get married one day to—”

“To someone weak that you can control and loves you more than you love them,” Paul said.

Farrah flinched, but then had to laugh. There was a little truth hidden in those words.

“You'd be bored silly. Safe from heartbreak and no real passion. Not like the out-of-control passion that you feel for Robert. That same passion Francine and Meeks have for each other. Hell, what I feel for John.”

Out-of-control is right; if you all only knew just how out of control I'd been.
Thoughts of their first night together came to mind.

Robert having her in the private elevator, taking her fast and hard in the living room of their suite before finally gently making love to her until dawn in one of the biggest beds she'd ever seen. The feeling of contentment that engulfed her as she lay in his arms and wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.

Farrah released a wistful sigh and turned back to the documents that required more of her attention than her lack of a love life did at the moment. “Is everything set for New York?”