Lovers Only. Christine Pacheco

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СКАЧАТЬ her hands on her capital; she didn’t need to be enmeshed in litigation for months and months. Clay did possess the power to make her life hell. And ruin everything she’d fought to gain.

      “You’re impossible.”

      “Yep.”

      Dropping her damp hand, she quietly said, “Don’t play games.”

      “No games.” He raised his left hand. “I’m making you an offer. I’ll leave your shop alone and give you half of Landon Construction—”

      “If I give you a month.”

      “That’s a hell of an investment, Cat,” Clay said softly. “A few hundred grand, maybe more, free and clear, for thirty days of your time. Catherine’s Den of Antiquity would be the best with that kind of money. And you wouldn’t have to give me a dime. Think about it.”

      She allowed the door to take the weight of her shoulders. Lord knew she couldn’t support herself with her thoughts spinning like this.

      “Come away with me. We’ll go to the cabin. Get to know each other.” He stared at her intently. “Again.”

      She blushed. The way he was looking at her meant he had only one thing on his mind.

      “Let’s find out if we’re still good together.” He took a step toward her.

      She stood straighter, wishing she had someplace to retreat. Struggling for survival, she said, “Having good sex doesn’t mean anything.”

      “Great sex,” Clay corrected.

      “Great sex?” she echoed. “It’s been so long—”

      “Let’s change that.” With a few strides he demolished the distance separating them.

      Thick carpeting muffled his footsteps, but the sound of her thudding heart filled the air.

      “Clay,” she breathed as his callused thumb brushed a curled strand of hair from her cheek.

      He leaned closer. Then stroked the column of her throat with his thumb and forefinger.

      Softly she cursed him.

      She was lost.

      As he’d known she would be.

      Tears threatened again. He eased back up her throat, thumb hovering near the thundering pulse point.

      “Give me a month, Cat. Then you can have your freedom.” He touched the pulse point then. “If you still want it.”

      He snared her wrists in one hand and drew her a few inches away from the door. With his free hand he began plucking bobby pins from her hair.

      The first floated toward the floor.

      Followed by the second.

      His fingers on her scalp felt so wonderful, so captivating. So enticing.

      Catherine issued a reminder to herself to keep her heart hidden from Clay’s purposeful intent. She might never have stopped loving him, but he’d stopped loving her.

      He tossed the final bobby pin. It clinked on top of the others.

      Never releasing her gaze, he shook her hair, fluffing it.

      “Feel better?”

      “Yes,” she answered, before realizing how much she’d given away.

      “And this suit...” He fingered the top button of her blouse. “Cat, you’re made for flowing dresses and short shorts, not uptight suits.”

      “Clay, stop.” Rationally she told herself this was as threatening as his earlier words. And in the end she would be hurt just the same, maybe worse.

      But in his usual way he’d trapped her as surely as he had any opponent. No way out existed, except his.

      She couldn’t believe she was actually considering accepting his ridiculous proposition. A month in seclusion, at the small Rocky Mountain cabin his father had purchased, the same cabin Clay said he’d intended to use as a retreat. And never had.

      Alone.

      Clay at his seductive best? She didn’t know if she possessed the wherewithal to resist. “Don’t do this to me, Clay. Please.”

      “Don’t do this to us,” he countered.

      One of the lawyers pounded on the door again.

      Clay clicked the lock into place. Then, before she recovered her equilibrium, he returned to her.

      “If you walk away at the end of a month, I’ll give you your damned divorce. And the money. No questions asked.”

      Did he feel the way her pulse raced? Did he know what he did to her?

      “Look at me, Cat. And give me your answer.”

      She looked up. Read the raw intensity he no longer hid. Noticed the dark shadow that bruised the tender area beneath his intensely blue eyes. Saw the evidence he hadn’t shaved.

      Clay always shaved.

      Unless he’d been awake all night.

      As if totally in tune with her thoughts, he said, “Two nights.” Marginally he loosened his grip on her hands. “I haven’t slept in two nights.”

      More incessant pounding continued on the door.

      The tension elevated between Clay and Catherine.

      She reached one hand to his cheek, tracing the stubble, outlining the determined jaw and finding the slight indentation—he refused to name it as a dimple-in his chin. Business was the only thing Clay lost sleep over.

      Wasn’t it?

      “I don’t know what went wrong, Cat. But I intend to find out. And fix it. If you’ll let me.”

      “Two weeks,” she countered.

      “A month.”

      His expression lightened. He knew he’d won, but obviously didn’t intend to gloat. Thank goodness.

      “Two and a half.”

      He folded his arms across his chest. “A month.”

      Clay stood so close. Too close. He filled her vision, her thoughts. Stole her breath. “But—”

      “You said it yourself. It’ll take time to sort through what went wrong.”

      “You want to spend the entire month at the cabin?”

      He nodded.

      “Is there a phone?”

      “No.”

      Her СКАЧАТЬ