An Heir For The Billionaire. Kat Cantrell

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СКАЧАТЬ phrase in over a decade. How had she remembered that joke? Or maybe a better question was: why had he put it in the note?

      Maybe he’d intended for this to go down exactly as it had.

      When he’d heard about Sutton Winchester’s terminal diagnosis, Reid’s first thought had been of Nora. They hadn’t spoken in a long time, but she’d played an important role in his youth, namely that of a confidante for a boy trying to navigate a difficult relationship with his parents. He remembered Nora Winchester fondly and had never even said thank you for the years of distraction she’d provided, both at school and at parties.

      The gift had been about balancing the scales. Reid didn’t like owing anyone anything.

      He certainly hadn’t sent the food for Winchester’s benefit. The old man could—and most definitely would—rot in hell before Reid would lift a finger to help him. The man had more shady business deals and crooked politicians in his back pocket than a shark had teeth. Reid wouldn’t soon forget how Chamberlain Group had been on the receiving end of a personal screw-over, courtesy of Sutton Winchester.

      “The food was for old time’s sake. Nothing more.” Nor should he pretend it was anything more. “Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting a personal thank-you for the catering, and leave it at that.”

      She laughed and it slid down his spine, unleashing a torrent of memories. Nora was an old friend, and for a man who didn’t have many, it suddenly meant something to him that he had a history with this woman. A positive history. She’d known his sister, Sophia, and that alone made her different from anyone else in his life except Nash.

      Yeah, letting her walk away untouched wasn’t happening. Reid had long ago accepted his selfish nature and he wanted more of Nora’s laugh.

      “Obviously you were expecting me.” Nora’s gaze raked over his body as she called him on it. “Your staff couldn’t have been clearer that they’d been waiting for me to arrive. How did you guess I’d be coming by?”

      “Oddly enough, you tipped me off. My admin called Iguazu and learned that Ms. O’Malley from my office had already inquired after the status of the delivery.”

      Guilt clouded Nora’s gaze and she shifted her eyes to the right, staring at a spot near his shoulder. “Well, you didn’t sign the note. How else was I supposed to figure out if you were the one behind the nice gesture?”

      “I don’t make nice gestures,” he corrected her. “And you weren’t supposed to figure it out. Is Ms. O’Malley a fake name you use often to perform nefarious deeds?”

      He couldn’t resist teasing her when it was so obvious she hadn’t a deceptive bone in her body. Flirting, teasing and smiling—or nearly doing so anyway—were all things he hadn’t indulged in for a very long time, and all things he’d like to continue doing.

      But only with Nora. All at once, he was glad she’d tracked him down.

      “Yes,” she informed him pertly. “It’s a name I use often for all my deeds. I got married.”

      Genuine disappointment lanced through his gut. Where had that come from? Had he really been entertaining a notion of backing Nora up against the door and taking that wide mouth under his seriously enough that learning she was married would affect him so greatly?

      Ridiculous. He shouldn’t be thinking of her that way at all. She was an old friend who would soon walk out of his life, never to be heard from again. It was better that way. It hardly mattered whether she’d gotten married. Of course she had. A woman as stunningly beautiful and intrinsically kind as Nora Winchester wouldn’t stay single.

      Some of the sensual tension faded a bit. But not all. Nora’s smile did interesting things to him and he didn’t think he could put a halt to it if he tried.

      “Belated congratulations,” he offered smoothly. “I hadn’t heard.”

      “You wouldn’t have. Sean was stationed out of Fort Carson in Colorado. We got married on base, much to my mother’s dismay. It was a small ceremony and it happened nearly seven years ago.” She waved it off. “Ancient history. I’m a widow now, anyway.”

      “I’m sorry for your loss.” The phrase came automatically, as he did still have a modicum of manners despite not spending much time in polite company.

      But Nora—a widow? Dumbfounded, he zeroed in on Nora’s face, seeking...something, but he had no idea what. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if she’d grieved and moved on. How had she done that? If it was so easy, Reid would have done the same.

      The specters of Sophia and his mother still haunted him, which didn’t mix well with polite company, and he doubted he’d ever be able to toss off the information that they’d passed as calmly as Nora had just informed him that her husband had died.

      Death was a painful piece of his past that shouldn’t be the thing he had in common with Nora. The loss of his mother and sister should be the reason he showed Nora the door. Nonetheless, it instantly bonded them in a way that their shared history hadn’t. He wanted to explore that more. See what this breath of fresh air might do to chase away the dark, oily shadows inside, even for a few moments.

      “Thank you,” she said with a nod. “For the condolences and the food. I want to thank you properly, though. Maybe spend some time catching up. I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to. Let me take you to dinner.”

      That bordered on the worst idea ever conceived. He cultivated a reputation for being a loner with practiced ease, and didn’t want to expose their new rapport to prying eyes. And there would be plenty if he took a woman to dinner in a small town like Chicago.

      “I don’t go out in public. Why don’t you come back for dinner here? I live in the penthouse, one floor up. My private chef is the best in the business.”

      No, that was the worst idea ever conceived. Nora, behind closed doors. Laughing, flirting... It didn’t take much to imagine where that would lead. He’d have her in his arms before the main course, hoping to find the secrets deep in Nora’s soul. Especially the one that led to moving past tragedy and pain.

      But the invitation was already out and he wasn’t sorry he’d issued it. Though he might be before the evening was out. No one had ever crossed the threshold of his home except very select staff members who were well paid to keep their mouths shut about their boss’s private domain.

      That didn’t stop the rampant speculation about what went on in his “lair,” as he’d been told it was called. Some went so far as to guess that all sorts of illicit activity went on behind closed doors, as if he’d built some kind of pleasure den and had lured innocent young girls into his debauchery.

      The truth was much darker. Racked with guilt over not being able to save his mother and Sophia, he wasn’t fit for public consumption and the best way to avoid people was to stay home.

      The distance he maintained between himself and the rest of the world was what kept him sane. Other people didn’t get that part of his soul was missing, never to be recovered. The hole inside had been filled with a blackness he couldn’t exorcise and sometimes, it bubbled up to the surface like thick, dark oil that coated everything in its path. Other people didn’t understand that. And he didn’t want to explain it to them.

      “You don’t go out in public?” Curiosity lit up her gaze. “I read that you were reclusive. СКАЧАТЬ