Cathy Gillen - The Heiress

Daisy shrugged her slender shoulders, attempting unsuccessfully to break free of him once again. “I have to give them something to talk about. The way I see it—” the corners of her lips turned down mutinously “—I have just enough time to get arrested and make the morning papers.”

Not on his watch, she wasn’t, Jack thought. Not after what she had already pulled earlier, when she had gotten past him and crashed the Deveraux-family gathering. Using his firm but gentle grip on her wrist, he reeled her in, not stopping until she was positioned close against him once again. With his free hand, he smoothed the silky blond hair from her cheek and tilted her face up to his. They weren’t even kissing yet, and he was already throbbing. “This is really what you want?” he said, making sure they were clear. “To go to bed with me?”

“Yes,” Daisy said even more stubbornly. “It is. But if you’re not going to play—”

“Oh, I’ll play all right,” Jack said. If it was the only way to keep her out of jail and out of the papers. “I’ll play,” he repeated softly. And then he did what he had been wanting to do for what seemed like forever. He traced the sexy bow-shaped outline of her lips with the pad of his thumb and slowly, deliberately, lowered his mouth to hers.

IN THE PAST, the only thing Daisy had changed more than her colleges or her clothes was the men in her life. With the exception of one disastrous roll in the hay, which was over almost before it began, she had no sexual experience with guys, save the occasional boring kiss—and with good reason. She got rid of her dates before they could make demands or try to get close to her, place demands on her.

Now, as Jack Granger wrapped her in his arms and folded her against the warm, strong length of him, kissing her hotly and thrillingly all the while, she wondered what she had been saving herself for. It wasn’t as if she believed in marriage. Or even, at this point, love. On the other hand, sex was supposed to be great. And Jack Granger was the kind of man who knew what he was doing in the sack, she reasoned securely, the kind of man who could and would give a woman pleasure. And right now Daisy was desperate for even a smidgen of happiness in her life, no matter how fleeting. She wanted that and she wanted revenge on all those who had hurt her. Jack Granger was perfect for both. And they both knew it.

Moaning softly, she let him guide her over to the bed. He let her go long enough to throw a sheet over the bare mattress, and while she watched, dry-mouthed and trembling, shuck his clothes. The next thing she knew, that Adonis-beautiful body was next to her again, and the two of them were tumbling down onto the bed. It had felt lumpy earlier. Now, with Jack draped overtop her, kissing her, touching her, their berth felt like sweetest heaven. She had never experienced desire like this, and an overwhelming flood of emotion swept through her, as timeless, as unstoppable as the tides, as he stroked her, gently and ephemerally, until something wonderful was happening to her, something beyond her control. And yet, even as he spread her thighs and prepared to enter her, she wasn’t afraid. She could feel his iron control as he entered her with aching slowness, kissing her all the while, letting her body adjust to the size and pulsing heat of him.

He took his time possessing her, lifting her hips in his hands, adjusting the angle of penetration until it was just so, until she was kissing him back madly and rocking urgently in rhythm with him. Until he was reaching that sought-after inner place, the one guaranteed to send a woman over the edge. And he did, Daisy thought as she moaned softly and shattered and fell apart in his ever-so-capable hands.

Seconds later, Jack followed in a blissful, overpowering rush of sensation and the two of them collapsed together, breath still coming rapidly. Unhappily, though, the physical release did little to ease the deeply lonely and conflicted way Daisy was feeling inside. Too late, she realized, even having a fling with an accomplished lover would do nothing to make her forget or feel better. Oh, Jack knew the moves, all right. He could even make her come, without half trying, which was something no one else had ever even come close to doing, but he couldn’t touch her heart or her soul. And without that, Daisy realized sadly, there really was no connection. Not one that meant a damn anyway. Once again, Daisy mused as she extricated her body from Jack’s and curled onto her side, facing away from him, she was adrift and alone. She knew who she was now, where she’d come from. She’d even made love with a man successfully. But sadly, nothing of importance in her life had changed.

TOM SLEPT very little during the night. At 6:00 a.m., he finally got up and shaved, showered and dressed. Going down to the kitchen, he found Theresa getting a tray of lemon-blueberry muffins out of the oven. He nodded at the sugary confection. “Pack a half dozen or so of those in a paper bag for me, please.”

Theresa did as he asked and handed it to him wordlessly. Relieved his longtime housekeeper was sensitive enough to appear not to recall what had happened the night before, Tom murmured his thanks and walked out to his Jaguar.

Banking on the fact that Grace had been no more able to rest than he, given the tumultuous turn their lives had taken, Tom drove the short distance through the downtown Historic District of residential homes to the single house Grace had leased from their daughter-in-law, Lauren. As usual, parking in the area was limited. It took him a while to find a space. When he did, he doubled back to her place, saw a light on upstairs and what looked to be movement behind the lacy white curtains. Feeling more confident now—that his ex-wife was not only awake but up, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. Grace picked up on the second ring. Working to conceal his uneasiness, he said, “It’s me. I’m on the front stoop.”

He stepped back so she could see him. Saw the curtains part. He lifted the bag of muffins and continued speaking quietly into the phone. “I brought breakfast. We need to talk, Grace.”

“Tom…” Just one word. Her reluctance was evident.

Refusing to take no for an answer, Tom said, “Come to the door, Grace,” and severed the connection before she could argue further.

Seconds later, he saw a slender silhouette coming down the stairs through the frosted glass on either side of the portal. The lock turned and the door opened. Grace was in a satin robe and, it appeared, to Tom’s discomfort, little else. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips unusually red, almost chapped. “This isn’t a good time.”

It was a perfect time, Tom disagreed silently, aware all over again how sexy Grace was when she had just tumbled out of bed, with her hair mussed and her eyes still soft with slumber. Their divorce had done nothing to limit his desire for her. Tom knew he would always want her. Even if she never again wanted him. That was just the way it was.

Grace continued to regard Tom resentfully.

Which wasn’t a surprise to Tom, either.

For years, he and Grace had had this secret hanging over them, curtailing their closeness. Now that Daisy’s parentage was out in the open, at least as far as the family went, anyway, the two of them could finally begin dealing with his infidelity and Daisy’s presence in their lives. Tom knew there was anger and disappointment in him among Grace and their kids, but even that was probably less than the disappointment he felt in himself. Even now, years later, he found it difficult to believe he had been foolish enough to throw it all away for one clandestine tumble in the sack. But he had, and like it or not, they all had to deal with that, and hopefully, at long last, just move on.