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She blinked, a rapid fluttering of her false eyelashes. One of her tells, which meant she was about to straight up lie.
“Don’t.” One hand forestalled her. “I’ve had enough of your BS. Just give it to me straight.”
“Fine. How would you like to become not only CEO of Colton Oil, but a multimillionaire?”
Though these were all things he could get on his own, he decided to play along to see where she might be going with this. “I’m listening.”
“Let me work on it.” Confident again, she reached out and touched his arm. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to flinch away from her.
“Make it worth my while,” he said. “And I promise I’ll make sure it’s worth yours.”
With a smile and a brusque nod, she spun on her heels and left his room, closing the door firmly behind her.
After she’d gone, he debated taking a long, hot shower. Even pretending to go along with her made him feel unclean, like no amount of soap or water could wash the stain away.
Instead, he found himself crossing the hall to stand outside Fiona’s room. He tapped lightly, in case she’d fallen asleep. A second later, she opened the door with the wild hair and wide-eyed yet sleepy look that he found sexy as hell. She still wore the outfit she’d put on to have dinner at the Coltons and hadn’t yet washed her makeup off.
“Did I wake you?” he murmured.
“No,” she lied. “I might have just closed my eyes for a minute or two.” Stepping aside, she gestured at him. “Come on in.”
He did. Once she’d closed the door, he took in her room, a carbon copy of his but in reverse. Odd how a few items here and there could make her space so feminine. She’d clearly made an attempt to decorate, which for some reason surprised him.
“It’s not much, but I tried to make it feel like home,” she said, correctly interpreting his thoughts. “I mean, why not? I knew I was going to be living here, after all.”
“Micheline just left,” he began.
Fiona quickly shook her head, one finger against her lips to quiet him. She moved forward, wrapping herself around him. “Not here, not now,” she murmured, so quietly he had to strain to hear it. And then she kissed him.
Instantly aroused, he let himself drown in her, the contradictions of her athletic yet soft body, her sensual nature and the air of innocence she managed to maintain despite no doubt having seen things that would give grown men nightmares.
She was wild yet restrained, beautiful and smart and the most interesting woman he’d ever met.
Still kissing, they helped each other get rid of the clothing that stood between their skin. Naked, eager, they rushed to press their bodies together once more.
Later, much later, he held her in his arms as she dozed, wondering how the hell he was ever going to be able to let her go.
Waking in the early morning, Jake gathered his clothing and crept back to his room. Good thing he did, because no sooner had he gotten out of the shower than Micheline knocked on his door.
He couldn’t help but remember how he couldn’t even get her to talk to him when he’d first arrived.
“Here.” She shoved a cardboard cup of coffee at him as she breezed past. “Drink up. I want you awake when we hammer out the details.”
Details. At any second, he expected her to whip out a contract for him to sign.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he eyed Micheline fidgeting near the doorway. The coffee—whatever it was—tasted rich and expensive. It certainly wasn’t what they served in the lunchroom or the lobby. “What is this?” he asked, making sure his appreciation showed in his voice. “It’s amazing.”
“I have it flown in from Jamaica,” she said, drinking deeply of her own mug. “My own personal blend.”
Noting the way her hands shook, he wondered if she was on something. Or perhaps, off her meds. He had no idea what she might be taking or for what. One thing was for sure—he didn’t believe she was doing anything for her supposed cancer.
Finally, she stopped moving long enough to perch on the single chair. “I’ve thought about several possible scenarios,” she began. He couldn’t help but notice the way her pupils seemed enlarged. Definitely drugs, he thought. Though what kind?
He took another drink of the rich coffee, allowing himself to savor it. “Go on,” he replied, his tone neutral. He realized how little Micheline truly knew about him. Did she really think he’d go to such lengths to avoid the work of getting to know his family?
“You could sue the Coltons,” she announced. “They owe you for all the years of lost benefits. I bet they would have paid for you to go to college. And your rinky-dink little cattle ranch—they probably would have bought you a much nicer one. You should take them to court and make them pony up. I bet they feel so guilty, they won’t even fight you.”
Was she high? Because that was the craziest bunch of nonsense he’d ever heard her utter.
