Fortune's Heirs: Reunion Read online

  As she embraced him, her skin prickled with heat, rivulets of sweat running to the floor. The weight of him made her dizzy but, still, she held him close.

  Wondering what would happen when sunrise came.

  Chapter Eight

  Afterward, Derek tried to seem as unaffected as possible, removing her shoes and tickling her feet, carrying her to the bedroom so they could spend the rest of the night there.

  Christina had just thrown him for a loop, that’s all. Come morning, she’d be out of his system. If they were lucky, Derek could even turn this experience to their advantage, erasing the tension between them, relaxing all the “what-ifs” and returning their main focus to business.

  That’s what he told himself, at least, as he watched Christina snooze once again.

  As with the other night in the office, she was sleeping the slumber of the innocent.

  Earlier, she’d turned on a dim lamp at his request, allowing him to enjoy every inch of her beautiful body as they made love a second time. Now, with her dark hair spread over the pillow, her face smooth, her hands cupped near her chin, he could hardly believe this angel was the same woman he’d made love with an hour ago.

  But, hell, it wasn’t much of a shock to Derek that she matched him in passion—he’d been banking on it.

  In his experience, in fact, it was always the prim and proper types who turned up the most heat.

  But not as much as Christina had.

  The way she’d cried out his name…the way she’d bitten his shoulder during the throes of climax…

  “So can we manage each other tomorrow?” he whispered now, skimming a finger down the elegant slope of her nose.

  Her only answer was a deep inhalation, a satiated “Mmm” as she stirred and resumed her regular breathing pattern.

  Truthfully, lingering in a woman’s bed was a new experience for him. Too bad he hadn’t explained his usual type of “date” to Christina before they’d come back to her place. When he’d promised to stay until sunrise, he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

  Still, he didn’t feel all that compelled to leave just yet.

  In all honesty, he could even sit here, listening to her sleep, until morning. There was something sublimely intimate about it, as if he were awake to protect her during the most vulnerable state of existence.

  Guardian of her slumber, he thought.

  Overcome, Derek bent down, gently nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers.

  Okay, wait.

  Derek backed away. Had he just been Eskimo-kissing a woman?

  With a sneaking sense of doom, he moved to the other side of the bed.

  The snuggle had been rash. He hadn’t meant it.

  Especially since it was something Sir would’ve done, back when Mom was alive. Back when she’d been lying in that hospital bed when he’d finally come home from that dirt-poor Third World hole where he’d been stationed.

  In fact, Sir had done the Eskimo kiss on Mom, avoiding all the tubes attached to her arms, leaning over her sleeping form, rubbing his nose against hers. At the same time, a tear had fallen from that hard bastard’s face and onto her pale skin.

  “Please don’t die,” the old man had said in a softer version of his Southern-fried bark. “Stay.”

  He obviously hadn’t known that Derek was awake and when he’d sensed his son’s awareness, there’d been hell to pay. Sir always needed to take out his disappointments on someone, and Derek was always pretty convenient for that.

  Dammit, he thought, trying to brush away the memory. Wasn’t there a cigarette or something around here that could buzz the pain away?

  Then again, he didn’t smoke. Too unhealthy. But maybe he should pick up the habit, just for moments like this.

  At a loss, Derek fidgeted, wondering if slipping out of Christina’s bed without saying goodbye would be considered bad form.

  She stirred, stretched. “Time for work?”

  Her voice was no more than a slurred mumble. When he glanced at his lover, she resembled an awakening kitten, fuzzed by slumber and too much warm milk.

  Here was his chance. He could thank her for a great night, explain his philosophy of noncommitment, then sweet-talk her into feeling good about herself anyway.

  But he’d never encountered a Christina before. She wasn’t Lite. Wasn’t someone he could so easily lead or dismiss.

  Derek didn’t stop to think about why that was.

  “We still have hours left,” he said, wanting to touch her so badly, yet not daring to. “Go back to sleep.”

  Coward.

  “Want something to eat?” Christina struggled up, holding the sheet over her breasts, hair a cloud of dark brown silk.

  “Only if you have potato chips,” he said, joking around. He knew full well that a health nut like her wouldn’t have any junk food on hand.

  She looked guilty.

  Laughing, Derek said, “You’re kidding. What’re you doing with bad eats in your house, Christina?”

  “I didn’t say I had some.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Quite naturally, he was back to feeling comfortable with her. “Be honest.”

  “Oh, boy…” She leaned her head on the cushioned headboard and scrunched up her face in defeat. “I’ve got a few chips around. Just crumbs, though.”

  “Really. So if I got out of bed and went to your cupboards…”

  He made a move to do just that, and she grabbed his arm.

  “All right, you caught me. I’m a food pig.”

  An image of her slim, rosy-skinned body, coated by a silver veil of moonlit sweat, crashed over him. Hers was not the figure of someone who snacked on too much fatty grub.

  “You could’ve fooled me,” he said, relaxing and sliding to a cozier position where he could lean on an elbow.

  Hey, shouldn’t he be going? Wasn’t that what his conscience was telling him to do?

  Now, it told him. Go go go—

  Yet…he wasn’t moving.

  At least, not in the way he should’ve been.

  Instead, he found himself reaching out to her half of the sheet, lifting it to peek underneath.

  She swatted it down, laughing. “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying every moment.” Until what they had together needed to end.

  Then he took a different tack, avoiding her reach by slipping his hand under an opening near her knee.

  “Derek!”

  Grabbing onto her, he squeezed, making her jump.

  “Calm down,” he said.

  “I’m calm.”

  But she giggled, telling him she was nervous about something.

  A bout of threatened tickling?

  Probably not.

  How things would work out in the office tomorrow?

  More than likely.

  He started to stroke her thigh. “Shhh. See, I mean no harm at all.”

  “You? Derek Rockwell?” She settled down under his soothing caresses, raised an eyebrow. “I think your self-perception differs from that of everyone else’s.”

  “Tell me then. What does the rest of the world think about me?”

  As his hand crept higher, she slumped lower, her bones seeming to soften.

  “About you? Well, I can only say what I think.”

  “Go on.”

  He massaged her upper thigh, and Christina closed her eyes, lost in his ministrations. Her blushed skin fascinated him, made him feel good about making her feel good.

  “From what I’ve heard and the little I’ve seen,” she said, “you’re a heck of a businessman. Great instincts. Wonderful head for numbers. Calculating in the way you go after what you want.”

  Calculating.

  It sounded too much like someone else he knew—cold, precise, demanding.

  “Is that how I come off?” he asked, trying to act like it didn’t matter.

  “You don’t appreciate the description? People work for years to establish such a business reputation.”

  Had he spent so much t
ime trying to avoid being like his father that he’d accidentally morphed into him?

  No. Sir had never indulged in a careless good time. Not with women, not with life. He wasn’t a risk taker.

  Derek was his own man.

  Taking his hand away from Christina’s thigh, he said, “I’m not just talking about my professional appearance.”

  His voice had been too quiet. Great, why not bare all his fears to her?

  Christina gauged him once again, sympathy in her gaze. She scooted over, coming face-to-face with him as she leaned her elbow on the mattress and rested her head in her palm, too.

  “The truth?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Out of the office,” she said, “you’re just as fantastic.”

  Derek tried to shut out the voices of the other women who’d cooed to him in bed. Somehow, he’d been born with the gift of knowing how to talk a smooth game, how to touch them in the right places and leave them happy.

  But that was all superficial, because he had no idea how to truly love anyone.

  And he was beginning to think that Christina deserved so much more.

  Hesitantly, she brushed her fingertips against his upper chest, playing with a few hairs.

  “You don’t have to answer this, but…” She paused, smiled. “I’m just curious about a superstar like you. Does a tycoon generally have time for girlfriends?”

  Here came the pillow talk. Was she trying to get a feel for how far tonight would extend into their daily lives?

  Since he’d failed to establish his boundaries with her before, now was as good a time as any to make the situation clear.

  “I don’t have a lot of time for dating, no.”

  “Me, either. I tell everyone I’m in love with my career.” Her laugh was forced. “Being good at corporate dealings sure makes it tough to put anything—or anyone—else first, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re right.” She seemed to be doing all the work for him, laying down reasons for why this night would be their only one together.

  While relief flooded him, regret did, also.

  “So,” she asked, “have you ever had any time in your busy schedule to fall in love?”

  Now was the time to tell her.

  “Come to think of it, I’ve never told a woman I’ve loved her.”

  He’d meant it to sound like a gentle warning, but instead, the confession shook him to the core.

  Even Christina’s eyes told him how damned sad it was.

  “Never?” she asked, as if giving him a chance to amend his answer.

  “Never. I don’t do well in relationships.”

  “Oh.” She removed her hand from his chest, laid it on the mattress.

  Already he missed the contact.

  After a pause, something seemed to kick in with Christina, a realization.

  When she shrugged good-naturedly, Derek lost hope, lost the fleeting thought that maybe a woman like Christina would have the power to turn him around.

  Right.

  “Actually,” she said, “I don’t do so well, either. In relationships, I mean. I guess I’ve always been too driven to put a lot of effort into men, much to Mama’s dissatisfaction.”

  Derek wished he still had a mother who was alive enough to give her opinions about his lack-of-love life. “You’re telling me that guys aren’t beating down your door?”

  She seemed taken aback. “Of course not.”

  Huh? Didn’t she know what a knockout she was? Or was Christina Mendoza one of those women who couldn’t believe the best about themselves?

  Inconceivable.

  He wanted to tell her that any man would be fortunate to win her love. That she should have confidence in what a great catch she was.

  But he could hardly say those things when he wasn’t willing to go any further with her.

  “Hey.” He ran a forefinger under her chin, flicking it, flirting. “I feel lucky to be with you tonight.”

  It was the best he could do without seeming like a fraud.

  “Thank you,” she said, brightening a bit.

  They both smiled at each other, and she went back to touching his chest.

  That was better.

  “I could live with your compliments,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “It’s an improvement over being called ‘cold’ or ‘removed.’”

  Derek frowned. “Someone said that to you?”

  “Oh, my first real boyfriend, actually. I was a late bloomer, always more into my books than I was boys, so I didn’t really begin a social life until college.”

  “Don’t worry. This fellow Army brat I knew when I was a kid acted the same way. And he was a guy. In high school, he took this personal oath that’d he’d make love only with the woman he married. That, of course, changed during his freshman year of college, but you’re not alone, Christina.”

  “Good to hear.” She crept closer to him, inserting a long leg between his own. “I never really minded my atypical dating behavior. As Mama always said, I was too independent to care—and too shy. Besides, I got my kicks from good grades and academic competitions, not sorority socials.”

  Derek absently ran his knuckles over her arm, watching the fine hairs rise off her skin. “And when did that end?”

  “Sophomore year. The first bloom of amour.”

  “Young love,” he said, sort of wishing he had a story or two to tell her.

  No chance of that. Derek had spent the tender years of dating in much the same way as he had his adult life—short, to the point, then bye-bye. In truth, he’d moved to so many Army bases that Derek hadn’t been given the opportunity to develop many relationships, but that wasn’t much of an excuse.

  “Well, my love story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending,” she said. “My boyfriend got frustrated with me and my ambitions after a mere two months, then told me that—let’s all say it together—I was…”

  She tapped Derek’s collarbone while she said the words. “Too cold and devoted to my work.”

  He wasn’t about to tell her that he’d had the same impression until recently.

  “After that,” she continued, tone studiously flippant, “I went into Christina World, where it was all about moving up the ladder of success.”

  “And you did pretty damned well.”

  She didn’t respond, only bit her lip.

  To get her attention again, Derek tugged at the sheet, exposing the swell of her breasts. The sight was like a punch to his gut.

  But a nice one.

  “So he was your only boyfriend?” he asked. “Ever?”

  “Seriously?” She swallowed as he pulled the sheet all the way down to her waist. “There was one more. Didn’t end well, either. Lots of misunderstandings, because I thought he was more into my sister Gloria than me.”

  “Then he’s a fool.” Derek’s voice was choked with lust as he scanned her body—the small, but full breasts. The tiny waist and flat belly. The slender, toned hips. The endless runner’s legs.

  He must be a fool, too, he thought.

  Probably able to read every wolfish thought in his mind and body, she casually covered herself with her hands. When she spoke, her voice was resigned, yet not unhappy.

  “I’ve learned a lot of lessons from those fools, Derek. When I was younger, I had so many pure ideals that I clung to—things I was taught by my family, my community. Then I got older, and waiting for love didn’t seem to make much sense anymore. I don’t expect much from men now.”

  He averted his gaze from her, thinking he was a letch for wanting to love her again after her frank admission.

  “As a matter of fact,” she added, laughing a little, “I’ve got a bet going with my sisters. None of us is supposed to date for a whole year. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  He could detect the question in her words: had she lost the bet by being with him?

  As he was thinking about the answer, she sighed, came to rest against him, body-to-body, holding him to her.

>   “But this definitely does not count,” she said, “me and you being together for one night. I’m off the hook if you don’t spread the word.”

  A thread of relief snapped inside of him but, at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

  So she’d never expected more of him than this, he thought. A one-time fling. Christina was as obsessed with business as he was, and their tryst wasn’t anything more than it seemed.

  She’d gone to great lengths to explain this.

  “You promised me the sunrise,” she whispered, then pressed her lips to his neck, kissing her way downward.

  And he took Christina’s loving for what it was worth: a single night of sheer bliss.

  She woke up alone the next morning to the ding of her doorbell.

  Groggy from lack of sleep, Christina practically rolled out of bed, wincing at the soreness of muscles she hadn’t used in years.

  After blinking herself awake and glancing at the clock—shoot, she’d forgotten to set her alarm and it was a half hour after her usual reporting time—Christina absorbed the sight of her rumpled bed.

  The evidence of Derek having slept there last night.

  The word sleep being debatable, of course.

  Was he still here in the condo somewhere?

  Two more dings echoed through the air. Maybe it was Derek?

  Christina smiled, a false sense of modesty causing her to grab a white terry-cloth housecoat, then stumble to the door.

  Their sex-a-thon must have made him as famished as she was. Maybe he’d decided to surprise her with coffee and hot buttered corn tortillas from the café next door?

  And to think she’d believed that she’d scared him off for a minute there last night. When he’d asked about old boyfriends, she’d only wanted to make light of her very thin book of love. Had wanted to put Derek at ease, since he’d seemed so out of sorts, slumped against the headrest on his side of the bed.

  But she’d also wanted to test the waters, she supposed, dancing around the subject of relationships. Seeing if one could possibly be in the cards for them.

  Then she’d started thinking that bringing him home had been a mistake. And that’s when she’d told him about the bet.

  As she’d hoped, the mention of it had relaxed him, brought them back to the lighthearted lovemaking she’d relished earlier in the night.