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She’d be called a gold digger, a fraud, an opportunist, and an imposter. Lawyers would call her, attorneys with “her interests” at heart. She wasn’t interested. Not yet. The press would make her life a circus. The Danvers family would go after her with all the money they had behind them. They would try to dig up any rumors that might discredit her and they would look into her past, digging, always digging and looking for any glitch in her story, any inaccuracies in their attempts to disprove that she was London.
That’s what she wanted.
And what about Zachary?
Oh, Lord, yes. What about Zachary?
In her room, she stripped off her clothes, poured herself a glass of Chablis, then slid into a tub of hot water. She sipped her wine slowly and considered her half-brother.
Sexy.
Smart.
Rough.
Big trouble.
Zach Danvers was a man to avoid unless she wanted to lose her heart.
15
Half an hour later, as she eased out of the tub and buffed her skin dry with one of the Orion’s thick towels, Adria wondered about her mission—her quest to find her true identity. Was she London Danvers? Did it matter if she was? Did she really want to be related to any of those people—the Danvers kin? None of them appealed to her.
Except Zachary.
Not that she trusted him. He was no better than the rest, but she couldn’t wedge his image out of her mind. Rugged, whereas his brothers took pride in being polished; outwardly irreverent, while Nelson took pains to look as if he played by the rules. Zachary was arrogant because he didn’t give a damn; Jason was arrogant because he thought he deserved the money and power into which he’d been born.
Zachary was different.
Because of the blood flowing through his veins? Because he could be a Polidori? She grimaced at the thought, but found it intriguing. Her relationship with him would be easier to understand if he wasn’t part of the Danvers family. She rubbed the mist from the mirror with the edge of the towel and wondered about Zachary, what kind of man he was, what it would feel like to have him take her to his bed….
The thought was like a cold slap in her face. What was she doing fantasizing about a man who detested her, a man who could be her half-brother? Giving herself a swift mental kick, she stared into her reflection and told herself that she had to think of him as her brother: her irritable, woman-hating, problem of a half-brother who was, without a doubt, her sworn enemy.
Just like the rest of the clan.
She slipped into a T-shirt and climbed into the bed. The sheets were crisp and clean, but didn’t have the same country-fresh scent of those that were dried on the line at home. In Belamy. Funny, for years she’d wanted to escape. City lights had beckoned her young heart, but duty had kept her tied to the only town she’d ever called home. Not that it mattered, but the harsh Montana grassland didn’t seem so loathsome anymore, and for the first time in years she thought of her hometown and felt the pull of her heartstrings.
But she wasn’t running back to the safety and boredom of Belamy. Not when she’d come so far. When the going gets tough, the tough get going, she reminded herself as she plumped a pillow.
Closing her eyes, she heard the hum of traffic, an occasional shout and, every so often, the distant cry of sirens. She wondered where Zachary was, and then, irritated that she’d allowed him into her mind, she rolled over and tried to force him from her thoughts. What did she care about him, anyway? She was too smart to get involved with him. Even if he might not be her half-brother, even if he hadn’t been somehow involved with her mother, even if his last name wasn’t Danvers, he wasn’t the kind of man she could trust, let alone fall for.
Fall for? As in “fall in love?”
No way—nohow. He was just forbidden fruit, that was all. Seductive because he was taboo. Erotic because he was so wrong for her, so very wrong.
And yet, there he was—his image teasing her mind. She imagined his crooked, irreverent smile flashing against his rock-hard jaw, remembered how it felt to have his lips pressed hard and wanting against hers, could envision the play of light in his gray eyes, or remember the feel of his hands against her skin.
For God’s sake, stop it!
Forget him. He’s not someone to be attracted to! He’s the enemy! Just like the rest of his family! Think, Adria. Use your brain and be smart.
Somewhere down the hallway she heard the ding of the elevator and the rattle of a service cart. The heater rumbled as she drifted off to sleep fitfully. She dreamed—erotic, pulse-pounding fantasies of sweat-slickened bodies, wildly beating hearts, lips that caressed the most intimate of spots and fingers that whispered over fevered flesh. In her mind’s eye, she saw him hovering above her, his naked skin gleaming gold in the light of a dying fire, his hair wet with sweat and his eyes dark with a deep secret.
She wanted him so badly, and yet, there was something more, someone else in the room with them, a faceless presence, menacing and dark, lurking in the shadows.
There was a rustle and quick footsteps.
“Who’s there?” she cried, her gaze searching the murky corners, her heart pounding in fear. She looked back for Zachary, but he was gone and she was alone. “Zach!” But her voice only echoed back at her, bouncing off unseen walls.
