Tycoon's Temptation. Katherine Garbera

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СКАЧАТЬ consequences of wondering.

      She paused near his door until he’d opened it, then followed him inside when he did. He went stock-still for a moment, but she didn’t look at him as she crossed to the dresser and set the lamp on it long enough to light the two fat candles she’d left there earlier that day. Then she slipped out of his bedroom again.

      “Good night, Wood.” In a half-dozen steps, she disappeared behind her own bedroom door, giving him no hint whatsoever of the room beyond her door.

      Probably pure innocence, to suit its occupant.

      He closed his own door and curtailed the impulse to thump his head against the wood in frustration. The candlelight flickered over the walls, casting enough light for him to see by. He dumped the jacket on the end of the bed, grabbed one of the candles and went into the adjoining bathroom.

      The delicate sent of flowers hit him with the subtle finesse of a two-by-four. He shoved the candle on the glass shelf above the sink and sat on the edge of the old-fashioned, deep tub. He knew if he reached down and touched the bottom, it would still be wet.

      His mind filled with the image of Hadley in the tub and he deliberately eyed his dim reflection in the mirror across from him to banish the thoughts. He was losing it, pure and simple.

      He didn’t like it.

      He yanked off his shirt and went to the sink, flipping on the faucet to douse his face with the frigid water.

      It seeped beneath the bandage on his forehead, setting off a fresh new pain, and it didn’t do squat to cool anything else. Swearing under his breath, he returned to the bedroom.

      There wasn’t even room to pace, and for a minute he wished he’d never started this damn quest. That he was still in Kentucky. He had plenty of space to pace there.

      In his office at Rutherford Industries.

      In his spacious, empty apartment where the only scent left behind by any woman was the expensive one his mother wore on her very rare visits.

      The women Dane knew didn’t smell of a field of wildflowers in the middle of the bloody damn winter. They wore designer clothes and designer scents and lingerie created with the sole intent of sophisticated seduction. They knew how to use others just as much as he did, he never invited them into his personal space, and he never had to worry that he’d hurt a single one of them.

      He wasn’t into hurting innocents.

      So he needed to get his head back in the game. He needed to find his control again. He needed to find Alan Michaels, since the police were clearly incapable of it, and make him finally pay for what he’d done all those years ago.

      Maybe some would consider being institutionalized punishment enough for kidnapping Dane’s little sister, but Dane didn’t. Darby had only been nine. And even though she’d been recovered, the effects of that time had torn apart their family. Michaels should have been rotting in jail because of it, not strolling the green lawns and calming corridors of an institution too sensitive and lax to even keep hold of one of their more notorious “guests.”

      Michaels would pay, and once he had, Dane’s life would be on course again.

      All he needed to do was keep himself focused.

      * * *

      “I think the focus is off.” Hadley peered through the binoculars that Wendell had stuck in her face. He’d shown up at church that morning, scooting into the pew beside her, and she hadn’t shaken him since. Not during church. Not after church when he’d insisted on driving her back to Tiff’s. And certainly not since then, because he’d pulled the binoculars out of his glove box and trooped after her into Tiff’s, despite her warnings that she needed to get lunch on for her guests.

      She started to adjust the binoculars again, but Wendell clucked and whipped the glasses out of her hand and looked through them himself.

      “No, I think it’s perfect,” he assured. His dress boots crunched in the snow as he stepped behind her. He lowered the binoculars back to her face, his arms circling her from behind. “Now look again.”

      Hadley didn’t want to look, and she didn’t want Wendell having his arms virtually surrounding her. But there the heavy black binoculars were, two inches from her nose, held firmly in place by Wendell’s knobby fingers.

      Which made her feel unkind, so she leaned forward, stifling a sigh. All she saw through them was a reflection of her own eyelashes and a blur of tree branches.

      “Well? It’s a perfect view of the cardinal, Had.”

      She closed her eyes for a moment, crossed her fingers inside her mittens. “A perfect view,” she agreed. Then she ducked underneath his circling arms and faced him. She’d tolerated him all morning, and she had things she needed to do. Important things. Like rearranging the soup cans in the cupboard.

      She felt unkind all over again. “So, Stu happened to tell you how much I enjoy bird-watching?”

      “Just yesterday.” Wendell lifted the binoculars to his nose and peered intently at the trees in the distance. His smile was so wide it nearly reached around his head. “I never thought I’d find a woman who’d fit so well into my life, Had. I knew we were well suited. When we’re married, we’ll be as comfortable as old socks.”

      She tugged on her ear. Hugged her arms closer, though the sun was climbing bright and warm against the cold day. “Wendell, I haven’t agreed to marry you.” Much less date the man.

      He waved a hand though the binoculars stayed glued to his narrow face. “Oh, I know, dear. Take all the time you need.”

      His tone was clear that he considered her capitulation a foregone conclusion. “I don’t really like old socks, Wendell.”

      “Did you say something, dear?”

      She shook her head. If he called her dear one more time, she might run screaming all the way to the state line. “I have to get lunch finished, Wendell.” She hoped to heaven he didn’t take that as an invitation.

      “Hmm.” He continued watching his beloved cardinals. She figured when she wasn’t standing there holding him back, he’d probably traipse considerably closer to the woods to get a better look.

      She stomped the snow from her boots and went up the back steps and in through the kitchen, tossing her good wool coat on the hook and not much caring when she missed. “I’m going to strangle him,” she muttered under her breath as she went to the stove and gave the homemade chicken soup a vicious stir. “Maybe whip him a time or two.”

      No wonder Stu hadn’t shown his face at church that morning. He probably wasn’t working at the garage as she’d heard from Wendell. More likely, he was just hiding out from her, knowing she’d be furious when she learned what he’d told Wendell.

      “Attack him with that deadly wooden spoon you’re wielding. Ought to be punishment enough for whatever he’s done.”

      She whirled around. Chunks of celery and carrot flew off her spoon and hit the counter with a splat. “Wood. I didn’t see you.”

      He lifted the newspaper in his hand. “Just walked in to get some coffee. СКАЧАТЬ