Chapter 5
The kiss bothered her. She had tried to be sophisticated about it in the time they had spent at his grandfather's place, and she believed she had succeeded.
But inside the vehicle while he was transporting her home, she had had to work very hard to try to ignore the fact that she was affected, and far too much so.
Much too much. She had firmly told him not to touch her again, because of self-preservation.
If he touched her again, she would fall into his arms like a ripe plum.
It was just business, and to mix business with pleasure would be a recipe for disaster. So, the attraction was still there.
After all these years, the intensity of the passion was there; that much was proven earlier.
The very reason she had run like a scared rabbit and told him, a little carelessly, that she wanted to end things, was still very much... there.
Kicking off her shoes, she headed straight for the tiny kitchen and found the half bottle of Chianti that her brother had brought on his last visit to her place.
Pouring a generous amount into the glass she had hunted up, she sat at the small counter and took a sip. She was going to be moving.
It was a charming enough place, and the neighbors had grown on her, but she would not be devastated; mildly sad, perhaps, but she would quickly recover.
She wondered why he hadn't asked her why she chose to live here and what happened to the money she had earned in her various careers.
Sipping wine, she recalled bitterly how her mother had suffered, while that- that goddamned monster who called himself her father was sailing through life, collecting wives like trophies.
Her sweet, kind, and caring mother who had loved the bastard until the very end had suffered for months before the cancer claimed her life.
The very disease that had wiped out all of her savings and left her destitute. Dylan, bless his soul, had helped as well, but his own mother, quite the bloodsucker and still very much alive, was always hitting him up for money.
"Oh God! What a pair we are," she whispered hoarsely.
Taking another sip, she rose and wandered aimlessly around the small room. She had not regretted spending money on her mother, and if she had to do it again, she would, gladly.
Rachel Graham had loved not only her, but Dylan as well, and had never shown an ounce of resentment and anger towards the boy and the man who had happily ridden off into the sunset and turned his back on them.
His wife and children. What a bastard!
She was getting agitated, and she had promised herself and her brother that she would let things go. Donald Graham wasn't worth it in the least.
He wasn't worth the time of day or her tears, ones she had shed too many times to count when she was a child.
She was a grown-ass woman now, she mused angrily, taking a gulp of wine. She had made something of her life, no thanks to him.
Yes, she had no money to show for all of her hard work, but her savings had been put to effective use.
Her mother had been a homemaker, and nothing was wrong with that. It was that man who had convinced her that her place was at home taking care of the children and catering to his needs.
She had left a promising job as a librarian to make a home for them, and in the end, he had betrayed her, leaving without a backward look, forcing her to scramble to find a job to keep the roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
Oh, he had skated under the radar, afraid of being saddled with child support and alimony payments.
He had used charm and persuasion to convince her mother and his first wife not to rake him over the coals.
Regina knew her mother could never do anything like that. And he had known how to get around her.
The bastard had known that she loved him still.
So, he had sent the bare minimum, forcing her mother to make up the rest by finding a job in the local florist shop, a place near enough to home so she could hurry home and take care of them. And beneath all of it, she had been pining for the worthless bastard.
Regina had heard her crying, silent tears in her bedroom when she thought she and Dylan were asleep. She had heard the sounds of grief and pain and loneliness, and it had wrenched at her.
It was then, she had vowed, never ever to give a man that amount of power. She would take the power instead, and use it.
And so far she had succeeded in keeping her heart intact. Until Craig Muldoon.
He was the only one who had come close to making her throw away her resolve. And now she was going into an arrangement with him.
She had told herself that she could handle it and him. Until he touched her, until he kissed her.
Damn him! She poured more wine.
But she needed the money. If that weren't the case, she would be running in the opposite direction.
She rose and started pacing. Darkness had finally descended, and she could see the lights of the city from her kitchen window.
She was an urbanite and made no apologies. She loved the bright artificial lights, the crowd of pedestrians, and the galleries and restaurants within easy reach.
Turning back to the counter, she dug out her phone and sat back down, just staring at it. Then, hissing out a breath, she made the call.
*****
He drove around for more than an hour and had to force himself not to turn around and go back to her. He could force the issue.
He was experienced enough to know when a woman was into him, and by God, she was. He'd had his hands on her, hadn't he?
He had felt her reaction to his kiss, the tremors, the sighing act of surrender, and the way she leaned into the kiss. Christ, the taste of her was still on his tongue, driving him clear out of his mind.
Turning off the main road, he headed for solitude, the place that always gave him the most peace. He could not go back to the manor.
He wanted her, but that was entirely his problem, wasn't it? Parking the car in front of the rustic cabin, he alighted and decided to go around back to sit on the deck.
He might take the dinghy out, just to let the scent of the river wash over him.
It was not just the kiss, he decided as he hoisted himself up to sit on the planks, feet swinging inches above the water. It was the way she had handled herself with his grandfather.
He had witnessed the old man's shock and then reluctant admiration. The man had also been dazzled by her beauty.
Who wouldn't be? he wondered wryly.
Regina Graham was in a class of her own. She was fearless and outrageously blunt.
And she was strong as well as damaged. Severely damaged.
He stared sightlessly over the rippling tides; the wind had picked up, cooling the stifling night. This was his little slice of paradise and solitude, and he appreciated it.
The place made him feel closer to his parents, especially his father. He had come from a loving home; even the tyranny of his grandfather had never been able to take that away from him.
His parents had made certain he was loved and knew it.
He could not imagine a kid enduring the rejection of a parent, but that's what Regina had gone through: a father who had been careless with her love and had slowly killed it over the years, which made it all but impossible for her to show or accept love herself.
And thinking of pushing the arrangement into something more personal would be a hell of a mistake.
It would do well for him to stay clear.
She wasn't going to budge. The most important man in her life had rejected her; she wasn't simply going to open herself up to another.
She would guard her heart fiercely. Leaning back against the stout column, he closed his eyes briefly and realized that it had been decided for him, not just now, but all those years ago.
He had tasted her once, and nothing, no one, over the years had managed to take that taste from him. He was bloody stuck, he thought with a sigh.
That much had been proven tonight.
*****
She was hollow-eyed after a restless night and had to apply more makeup than usual. Damn all men to perdition, she thought viciously as she wielded her mascara brush.
The person she was planning on having lunch with would notice even a smudge under her eyes. Leaning forward, she peered into the mirror critically.
She had creamed her skin, used the foundation and skills she had acquired over the years.
Her skin looked dewy and perfect, or at least to her it did. She was wearing something flamboyant.
A cotton dress with thin straps and an uneven skirt that she had designed herself. With a hammered gold belt cinched around her small waist and ropes of gold chains around her neck, it would hopefully take away from the fact that her eyes looked a little tired and too bright.
She added her collection of bangles and colored stones at her lobes. The nose ring glinted in the light from the sun streaming through the window.
She could hear the stirrings of her upstairs neighbors and children streaming past her window, no doubt on their way to the nearby park.
She hadn't been for her usual morning run because of her restless night and the fact that she had overslept. Another grievance to add to the ones she had with Craig Muldoon.
Damn him. Turning away from her reflection, she marched into her overpacked closet and selected a chic red and blue jacket and considered herself ready to face her lunch date.
*****
Kelly Takahashi had simply improved with age. The stunning former model now turned restaurateur walked with the loping graceful walk that had earned her the title of supermodel several years ago.
Now she was a mother, entrepreneur, and wife to a very besotted Japanese-American, who was heir to a fortune which included five-star restaurants, real estate, and hotels all over the world.
But to Regina, the woman was a friend and a very good one at that, in spite of the age difference. A smile touched her lips as she watched Kelly stop to chat up a nearby table, her easy rolling laugh echoing around the room.