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He and Michelene had dated a few times, back when he was still trying to sort out what his role as the new duke should be. He’d gingerly tested the waters by stepping into William’s shoes with one of the leading candidates to be a future duchess. But then his work with Sunhill Investments had consumed him, and still grieving, he’d allowed himself to stop calling Michelene. It had been easy to do, since she hadn’t awakened any strong emotion in him. But then, in the past year, the idea of Michelene as the Duchess of Hawkshire had gained renewed life, thanks to his mother’s prodding.
“What game are you playing, Hawk?” Sawyer asked, going straight to the point.
Hawk kept his expression steady. Ever since Sawyer’s marriage of convenience to Tamara had turned into a real one, he’d been protective of her and her girlfriends, Pia and Belinda.
Pia.
Damn it, he was not going to discuss Pia with Melton or Easterbridge.
Yesterday had been the most passionate experience of his life—for the second time. Inexplicably, he felt a visceral connection to Pia. Maybe that explained why he’d never forgotten her…
She’d been a virgin, but if last night was anything to judge by, she’d learned a lot in the past three years.
He acknowledged as much with a punch to the gut. He’d been unprepared for the Pia of yesterday afternoon. She’d caught him by surprise—again. He’d intended to be the seducer, and instead had been seduced.
Yet…had he really intended to seduce her again? Despite all his noble intentions?
Certainly, by the time she’d entered his bedroom, his mind had turned toward kissing her and more. But the idea had been gaining steam well before then. Without a doubt, while she’d been giving him a tantalizing view of her luscious posterior all morning. And maybe even before then…when she’d been running across the grass toward him at the New York Botanical Garden, or when…
He wanted her. All he’d been able to think about for the past twenty-four hours was getting Pia in bed again. And now that they’d crossed the threshold to being lovers again, he admitted he also didn’t want to turn back. He wanted to remain lovers—unlike the first time three years ago—even if his relatively newfound principles were in jeopardy as a result!
They’d been forced to end their afternoon tryst yesterday when Lucy had arrived home. Otherwise, Hawk was sure that he and Pia would have spent all day in bed.
Instead, Pia had descended the stairs as if nothing untoward had happened—such as Lucy’s wedding planner having completely undone her brother—and had met with Lucy as if she’d arrived at the house only a little early and had been awaiting her.
Why was it so upsetting that their lovemaking left her so unaffected? He couldn’t fall into a too serious entanglement with her—not with all his responsibilities to his title.
Hawk noted belatedly that Sawyer was waiting for an answer, and even Colin looked intent.
“There’s no game,” he said, choosing his words with care.
Blast it, even he didn’t know what to make of his relationship with Pia. Not anymore. He had no compass.
Sawyer looked dubious. “Then you’re not p
ractically eng—”
“There is no game,” he repeated.
Sawyer eyed him, his expression thoughtful. “You might want to make sure Pia doesn’t get hurt, either.”
Right. If anything, Hawk thought, he was the one in danger here.
Pia felt a quiver of anticipation when her doorman rang and announced that Hawk was downstairs.
“Tell him to come up,” she said before replacing her receiver and turning away from the phone.
She hugged herself and glanced at Mr. Darcy, who was eyeing her like a friend resigned to watching her make the same mistake twice.
She could sense the feline’s disapproval—almost read his thoughts, if that were possible.
Wickham. Him again. Have we learned nothing?
“Oh, don’t look at me that way,” Pia said. “His name is not Wickham, as you well know. And I’m sure he has a very good reason for being here.”
Right. And a cat has nine lives. I wish.
“You’re way too cynical for a feline. Why did I adopt you from the shelter?”
