Allison Leigh - Tycoon's Temptation - The Truth About the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Lady / HerTexan Tycoon

“I don’t want your money, Hadley.” He was starting to want something far more personal than that, which was so far out of the question he felt lower than pond scum even thinking it.

It wasn’t a sensation he was used to experiencing.

“Right.” She shifted, but his arm still anchored her in place. She started folding a towel across her splayed legs, her movements jerky enough that he knew she was not entirely comfortable sitting there on the floor in the hallway the way they were. “You just want to be on your way as soon as possible,” she said. “I understand, believe me.”

He didn’t deny it, and knew she’d assume she was correct. “You’ve wanted to leave Lucius yourself?”

“I did leave for a while. For college. Then my mom got sick so I came back home.”

And stayed to run Tiff’s. His palm spread over the small of her back. God, she was so slender. Yet she didn’t feel made of bones and snobbery the way his usual women did.

Hadley’s not usual, and she’s not your woman.

He mentally kicked the conscientious whisper in the teeth. “What’d you study?”

“Hmm? Oh. Business courses.”

“Dull.” He oughta know. Business for him hadn’t been interesting since he’d left behind the company he and Wood had formed to take on the mantle of Rutherford Industries.

She laughed a little and reached for another towel. Her soft breast brushed against his chest, feeling fuller than he’d have expected giving her habitually too-large clothing. “Dull is right. You probably studied something very exciting.”

The pain in his head had subsided to a muted throb. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you just said you were a race car driver, right? You don’t seem the kind of man who would be satisfied putting on a tie every morning and going to some stuffy nine-to-five.”

“I do wear a tie most days,” he assured dryly. Hell, Darby had called him the king of Armani. And he couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, his business day had been concluded by five o’clock.

“What is it that you do?”

“I own a business.”

“In Indiana?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. RTM was based there.

“Do you like it?”

“I’m good at it,” he said after a moment. “Liking it doesn’t have much to do with that.”

“Rather be racing?”

“Racing. Building cars. Fixing cars.” Exactly what he and Wood had planned so long ago.

“Hmm.” Her fingers plucked at the tidy stack of towels that had been growing on her lap, and her cheeks looked rosy. “Are you married?”

“Do I act married?” Irritation skittered down his spine.

“That’s not exactly an answer.”

“I kissed you, remember?” Had he read her so wrong, then? Was that moment of insanity only memorable for him?

“And you stopped.” Her cheeks were even redder, but her soft mouth was set. Resolute.

“Would you have preferred I continue?” He slid his palm up her spine. Threaded his fingers through her abundantly silky hair and cupped the back of her warm, slender neck. “Believe me, sweetness, it would’ve been no hardship.”

“You were just being nice. Kind. Because of what Charlie said and all.”

“I’m not nice, or kind,” he said evenly. Nice hadn’t gotten Rutherford Industries to where it was today. Kin d hadn’t been the words used by the companies he’d taken over. And nice sure in hell wouldn’t involve lying about his reason for remaining in Lucius. “I’m manipulative and controlling and I get what I want.”

The power of being a Rutherford. The name was pretty much synonymous with American royalty.

She looked skeptical. “It’s not a sin to be kind, you know.”

“It is in my father’s world. There’s no time for kindness there.” Only the business. Always the business. Whether he liked it or not.

Her lashes dipped. She nibbled her lip with the slightest edge of her pearly, white teeth. “I think that’s sad,” she said after a moment.

Dane didn’t want sympathy. He wanted payback. Pure and simple. And nice, kind men didn’t use perfectly innocent young women to achieve it.

Then her lashes lifted and her gaze found his. “Well? Are you married or not?”

He’d borrowed Wood Tolliver’s identity. He could easily have borrowed Wood’s wife, at least in name. It would solve one thing, at least. Hadley Golightly wasn’t likely to give him a second glance if she believed he had a wife somewhere. She’d do her level best to make up for the inconvenience of their accident, and she’d be hospitable while she was about it, but that would be all. He knew it in his bones. He could easily remove her from his own temptation, just by telling her one simple three-letter word.

Yes.

“No,” he said. “I’ve never been married.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened. She covered his hand, gently pressing against it, directing the damp washcloth more carefully against his cut. “That’s… good,” she finally whispered.

Oh, yeah. It was good all right. He felt her body against his from chest to thigh and felt as randy as a teenager as a result.

“What’s going on here?”

Hadley nearly jumped out of her skin at the tight voice. The stack of towels she’d refolded tumbled right off her legs and she scrambled from Wood’s lap, looking up at Shane and feeling as guilty as if she’d been caught running naked down Main Street.

Wood closed his hand over hers, preventing her from going far. “Your sister’s been rendering first aid,” he said smoothly.

Hadley’s face felt on fire. Her entire body felt flushed, for that matter, and not all of it stemmed from embarrassment at her big brother catching them.

“Mebbe you need to go to the hospital. I’ll drive you on over.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a decree.

Wood pushed to his feet, bringing her with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff. I’m pretty comfortable right here.”

Hadley looked from Wood to her brother. He hardly showed it, but she knew Shane was furious and for some reason Wood was egging him on. “Shane, what are you doing here?”

He eyed her. “You wanted me to split more logs for you before tonight, remember?”

Of course. She felt even more idiotic. Shane always went out of his way to make sure she had plenty of wood on hand in case the power went out, something the old house often suffered during a storm, and she’d specifically asked him to help her, given the current weather forecast.

“Mr. Tolliver can help me,” Shane went on.

She made a face. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. If anything, Wood should be resting. I nearly boxed Stu’s ears for letting him work at the garage this morning on that poor car of his.” She crouched down and swept up the linens in one huge armload and dropped the candles on top. “And I have work to do, if you don’t mind.”

She shouldered past Wood into his room. She dumped the blanket and fresh sheets on the head of the bed and rapidly folded the clean towels, yet again, to leave in a stack on the dresser near the bathroom door. She set out the candles, checked that there were still plenty of matches in the antique silver box of them on the dresser and then turned back to the bed, only to find Wood was already scooping up his paperwork that was scattered over the foot of it.

Aware of her brother still standing near the doorway watching with plain displeasure, she whipped off the green-and-yellow quilt. In minutes, she’d stripped and remade the bed with clean linens and the extra blanket. Then she smoothed the quilt top back in place, plumped the pillows a little and hurried to the door, the old sheets in her arms. “Sorry for interrupting your work,” she murmured to Wood, nodding at the sheaf clenched in his long fingers.