Sultry Nights

Kate saw a red mist descend. The exhilaration dissipated. His words were so close to the bone—too close to the bone. She pulled her hand from his grasp and curled it tight against her chest.

‘How dare you? How dare you come back into my life like this, making assumptions? Judgements? Asking me about things you’ve no right to know?’

Tiarnan looked at her and felt more sure than ever.

‘I have a right, Kate, because one kiss clearly wasn’t enough. This has been building between us all these years … this desire to know what it might have been like.’

Anger rushed through her, gathering force, and she used it before she could dissolve again. She stood up on shaky legs and looked down as imperiously as she could. But then Tiarnan stood too, altering the dynamic, taking some of the fire out of her anger, making her remember just how tall he was, how broad and strong.

She hitched her chin. ‘I think dormant is a more appropriate word, and dormant is how it’ll stay, Tiarnan. What’s brought on this revelation? The fact that you thought you saw something in France? You saw nothing except what you wanted to see. I’ve no intention of becoming a notch on your bedpost just to satisfy some belated curiosity on your part.’

She walked around the table, as if to leave, but Tiarnan moved too and blocked her way. Kate saw a couple of people looking at them in her peripheral vision. She stalled and looked up, tried to shut out the way looking into Tiarnan’s eyes had always made her feel as if she was drowning. She gritted her teeth.

‘Could you please move? You’re blocking my exit.’

‘Need I remind you,’ he said silkily, ‘that you were the one so determined to score that notch in the first place? We both know that if I hadn’t stopped when I still could I would have taken your innocence on the rug in front of that fire …’

Those softly spoken words smashed through the last vestiges of Kate’s dignity and defence. She looked up at him and beseeched with everything in her. ‘Please. Get out of my way, Tiarnan.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m walking you to your room.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of walking myself, and have been for some time now.’

His voice had steel running through it. ‘Nevertheless, I’ll walk you to your room—or do you want me to make a spectacle of both of us and carry you out of here?’

One jet-black brow was arched. Kate didn’t doubt him for a second. Tiarnan had never been one to give a damn about what people thought.

She felt unbelievably prim as she bit out, ‘That won’t be necessary. You can escort me to my room if you insist.’

He finally moved aside to let her pass, and Kate stalked towards the entrance of the bar feeling stiff all over, her shoulders so straight and tense that she felt as if she’d crack if someone even touched her. She pressed the button for the lift and looked resolutely up at the display above the door as she waited. Tiarnan stood beside her, a huge, impossibly immovable force. Heat and electricity crackled between them. There was such tension in the air that Kate wanted to scream.

No one reduced her to this. No one. She was dignified, calm, collected. She knew she had a reputation for being cool and it hurt her—she was the least cold of people. She could turn it on when it suited her, but it wasn’t really her. Cold histrionics and dramatics had been the territory of her mother. Kate had learnt at an early age to be a pretty, placid foil for her mother’s effervescent beauty.

The lift arrived and the bell pinged, making Kate jump and then curse silently. She hadn’t thought about her mother like that for a long time; Tiarnan’s disturbing presence and even more disturbing assertions were effortlessly hurtling her back in time.

He stepped into the lift with her, and the space contracted around them when the doors closed. Kate pressed the button for her floor and looked at Tiarnan irritably when he didn’t make a move to do the same. ‘Which floor?’

Tiarnan looked at her glaring up at him. She was so beautiful. All fire and brimstone underneath that icy façade. Her eyes were flashing, her cheeks were pink and her breasts rose and fell enticingly under the bodice of her dress. She was rattled, seriously rattled, and he had to admit he was surprised at what was so close to the surface.

In truth he’d imagined this happening much more easily. He’d imagined a sophisticated woman embarking on a well-worn groove, both of them knowing and acting out their parts. But right now he was rattled too. She was resisting him. He couldn’t think. All he wanted was to stop the lift, drag her into his arms and plunder her soft mouth. It had been too long since he’d tasted that inner sweetness, and the brief all too chaste kiss earlier had only proved to make his desire even more pronounced. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to tread carefully or he might lose Kate for ever—and he didn’t like the panicky feeling that generated. He didn’t do panic.

Kate turned and folded her arms crossly, inadvertently giving Tiarnan an even more enticing view of her cleavage. She was sending out desperate silent vibes: Get away from me! Leave me alone! And as the lift climbed the floors with excruciating slowness that was exactly what he did. He actually moved further away. Back towards the wall. And when Kate sent him a suspicious glance she saw that he was leaning back, hands in his pockets, looking at the ceiling. He was even whistling softly.

The lift finally came to a smooth halt and Kate all but ran out through the doors, taking her door key from her purse as she did so. She expected him to be right behind her. She’d seen a new side to him tonight: implacable, ruthless. Determined. It intimidated her. It excited her. She got to her door and slid the key into the slot, her hands barely steady after that revelation.

But if he thought for a second that she was going to meekly turn around now and invite him in—Kate turned and pasted on a bright smile, words trembling on her lips … only to find the corridor empty. For a split second she had the bizarre and terrifying notion that she’d imagined the whole thing. Dreamt it all up.

But then she saw him. Leaning against the open lift door nonchalantly, one foot stopping it from closing, his huge shoulders blocking the light inside. That was why she hadn’t seen him straight away. He inclined his head, ‘Goodnight, Kate, it was good to see you again. Sweet dreams.’

And with that he stepped back in and the doors closed with a swish. Kate’s mouth dropped open. All she could see in her mind’s eye was that nonchalance and the bright dangerous glitter of blue eyes under dark brows. All her pent-up fury dissolved and she literally sagged like a spent balloon. She stepped inside her door and closed it, stood with her back against it in the dark for a long moment. Her heart beat fast, her skin tingled and her lips still felt sensitive. And yet more than all this was the ache of desire. She felt raw, as if a wound had been reopened.

Damn Tiarnan Quinn. He was playing her—playing with her. She didn’t believe for a second that he was going to meekly walk away. No more than she would have meekly let him into her room. He was undoubtedly the most Alpha male she’d ever known. He always had been. He’d been born Alpha. And she’d set him a challenge with her refusal to acknowledge what had happened between them. There was no sense of excitement in knowing this, no sense of anticipation. She’d been too badly hurt in the past. She’d spent too long disguising her feelings, pretending to herself that she didn’t want him. Hiding it from others, even from Sorcha.

She couldn’t help but feel—knowing his reputation, which was legendary albeit discreet—that she was posing a challenge to him in large part because he’d let her get away. Was this the banal satisfaction of some long-forgotten curiosity? Kate knew well that there would be a very small number on Tiarnan Quinn’s list of women who had resisted his charms, for whatever reason. She had the uncanny prescience that hers might be the only name. And yet that night it had been he who had stopped proceedings, not her. He was absolutely right; if she’d had any say that night ten years ago they would have made love on that rug in front of the fire.

For whatever reason, he’d obviously decided that he wanted to carry on from where they’d left off. And Kate knew with every bone in her body that if she didn’t resist him she would be the biggest fool on this earth. The one shred of dignity she’d clung onto all these years was the very fact that they hadn’t slept together.

Tiarnan stood at the window of the sitting room in his luxurious suite. The best in the hotel. He felt hot and frustrated, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers as he looked out at the view, not seeing a bit of it.

All he could see was his own reflection in the window and the slightly tortured look on his face—tortured because Kate Lancaster was lying in bed some floors below him in the very same hotel, and right now Tiarnan would have gladly given over half his fortune to be in that bed with her. She’d emerged from the mists of memory to assume a place that no other woman had ever assumed.

He could smell Kate’s light floral scent even now. And yet she’d walked away, resisted him. Tiarnan couldn’t remember a time when any woman he’d wanted had resisted him. From the moment the divorced wife of one of his father’s friends had seduced him as a teenager he’d seen the manipulative side to women and had been initiated into their ways.

His mother had dealt him his first lesson. Cold and martyred. He’d seen how she’d made life hell for his father. Not happy to have been brought to inclement Ireland from her native Spain, she’d subjected his father and him to the frost of her discontent, eventually driving his father into the arms of another woman who’d been only too happy to accommodate him. Tiarnan could remember his father’s secretary, how she would cajole and plead with him to marry her. He’d witnessed those scenes as he’d played outside his father’s office, listening to the crying and hysterics. And then she’d taken the drastic step of becoming pregnant in a bid to secure her own happiness, and Tiarnan had been forced to collude in a devastating lie.

He forced his mind away from dark memories. He’d witnessed too much as a child. He knew well enough that his father had been no innocent party, but the machinations of the first female role models in his life had inured him to their ways and moods as he’d grown up. He’d vowed long ago not to be at the mercy of any woman, and yet despite everything, all his lessons learnt, he’d been caught too. Rage still simmered down low in acknowledgement of that.

A ripple of cynicism went through him. Even in Kate’s innocence ten years ago she’d been manipulative too, just like the rest. Her innocence had been hidden beneath a veneer of sophistication that had fooled him completely until the moment he’d felt that hesitation. A telling gaucheness, an untutored response. It had cut through the haze of lust that had clouded his judgment that night.

Tiarnan could remember the spiking of betrayal and desperation he’d felt. He’d believed her to be experienced. For a second he’d been seduced into believing them to be on equal ground, both knowing what was happening.

Certainly there’d been no indication when she’d found him alone in the library. He’d offered her a drink and she’d taken it … Her hair had gleamed like spun gold in the firelight. A storm had howled outside. There had been a Christmas party going on in the house. Tiarnan had been making a rare home visit …

She had been wearing a dark red silk dress. Ruched and short, it had clung to her breasts and the curve of her hips. Her long legs had been bare, she’d worn high heels. She had taken the glass of whiskey and smiled at him, and for the first time Tiarnan had allowed himself to really notice her. In truth he’d noticed her as soon as he’d arrived that evening, and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Some defence of his must have been down.

He’d noticed her before—of course he had—he’d have to have been dead not to. But strictly as his sister’s friend. They’d both been tall and gangly, giggling blushing girls, but that night for the first time Tiarnan had seen that Kate had become a woman.

It was a quality that his own almost eighteen-year-old sister still hadn’t quite achieved. But he’d had to concede that Kate had always possessed a quiet air of mature dignity, of inherent sophistication. A quiet foil to Sorcha’s rowdiness and effervescence. Sorcha, his sister, had just come through a traumatic time after the relatively recent death of their father, and Tiarnan had taken the opportunity to thank Kate for being there for her.

Kate had blushed and looked down into her glass before looking back up, something fierce in her eyes. ‘I love Sorcha. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister and I’d do anything for her.’

Tiarnan could remember smiling at her, seeing her eyes widen in response, and then the flare of his arousal had hit so strong and immediate that it had nearly knocked him sideways. The air around them had changed in an instant, crackling with sexual tension. Even though Tiarnan had tried to deny it, to regain some sanity.

Standing there with her skin glowing in the firelight, her lush body firing his senses … He could remember how choked his voice had felt with the need to push her away when all he’d wanted to do was kiss her into oblivion.

‘You know I’ve always considered you like a sister too, Kate.’

For an infinitesimal moment Kate had just looked at him, and then she’d carefully put down the drink and come closer to him, her blue eyes glittering, pupils huge. And she’d said huskily, ‘I don’t see you as a brother, Tiarnan. And I don’t want you to see me as a sister.’

His arousal had sky-rocketed. On some level Tiarnan hadn’t been able to believe he was being so wound up by an eighteen-year-old girl. But in fairness she wasn’t like other eighteen-year-olds. She’d already been a model for a couple of years, was already living independently in London. And he couldn’t believe she was standing there and seducing him. Or how out of his depth he felt in that moment. At the age of twenty-eight he was no novice around women, but he’d felt like one then.

She’d stepped right up to him and placed her hands around his face. Then, stretching up, she’d pressed her mouth to his. He’d put his hands on her waist, to try and set her back—but he’d felt her curves, and then she’d leaned closer into him, her soft breasts pressed against his chest … and he’d been lost. From that moment Tiarnan had been overtaken for the first time in his life by pure, unadulterated lust. It had felt like the most necessary thing in the world to pull her even closer, to deepen the kiss, taste her with his tongue.

Things had become heated and urgent in seconds, and only that telling movement she’d made, which had brought him back to sanity, had stopped the night ending a lot differently.

Tiarnan’s focus came back from the heat of that memory. The vividness of it shocked him. He knew if he was asked he wouldn’t be able to recall his last sexual liaison with such clarity. He stepped away from the window with a jerky movement and did the only thing he could do to ensure he’d have a modicum of sleep that night. He took a cold shower and vowed to himself as he did so that very soon he’d have Kate Lancaster in his bed—once that had happened these provocative memories would return to where they belonged: in the past.

Madrid, one week later

‘Signorina Lancaster, you have a call.’

The phone felt slippery in Kate’s hand. She knew who it was, and her body was already responding as if he was right there in the room with her.

‘Gracias.’

She heard a click on the line and then a voice, deep, authoritative. ‘Kate.’

His voice reached right down inside her and caused a quiver. She pressed her legs together and gripped the phone even tighter.

‘Tiarnan. What a surprise.’

‘Hardly,’ he responded drily. ‘I live about ten minutes from your hotel, and Sorcha told me you’d got the messages I’ve left. Apparently you’ve been too busy to get back to me.’

‘I did speak to her earlier—and, yes, I’ve been extremely busy.’

‘But now you’re finished working?’

‘Yes.’ Relief rushed through her. Escape was in sight. She was still getting over the shock of having been sent on this last-minute assignment to Madrid—right into Tiarnan’s territory, and so soon after their last meeting. Which she had no intention of repeating.

‘I’m going home tomorrow—’

‘Evening,’ Tiarnan finished smoothly for her. ‘So you have plenty of time to let us take you for lunch tomorrow.’

‘I’m afraid I—’ Kate stopped. He’d said us.

‘Rosie is here. She’d like to see you.’

The words of a lame excuse died in Kate’s throat. As much as she hated him for doing this to her, she knew that he would never in a million years use Rosie in any kind of manipulative way. He would know that she’d spent time with Rosie, but probably had very little idea just how much. Kate liked Rosie. She’d used to help Sorcha look after her whenever Tiarnan was in New York on business—which had been frequently enough, as he had offices there. He had sometimes left Rosie with Sorcha for a night or two a couple of times a year when she’d been younger. It had always turned into a joint effort, as Sorcha had been living with Kate in New York until just before she’d met her husband.

Sorcha, up until her pregnancy and the birth of her own daughter, hadn’t possessed a maternal bone in her body, so Kate had always been the one to make sure Rosie was wrapped up warm, had eaten well and was tucked in at night. Sorcha used to joke that Kate had been born with a double helping of maternal instinct to make up for the lack of her mother’s. The three of them would go to Central Park on adventures, or to the movies and for ice cream afterwards. Kate had always felt a kinship with the small, serious dark-haired child, whose mother had all but abandoned her after her divorce from Tiarnan.

‘I’d like to see Rosie too. It’s been a while.’ Kate’s voice felt husky, and already in her head she was rationalising giving in. She was leaving tomorrow evening, and with Rosie at lunch too Tiarnan was hardly going to ravish her, was he? And then once she got back to New York she’d be safe again … it would be fine.

‘Good. We’ll pick you up at midday from the lobby. See you then, Kate.’

And with those softly spoken last words, almost like a caress, the phone line went dead and Kate had the horrible feeling that everything was not going to be fine.

CHAPTER THREE

THE following day at midday Kate sat in the lobby of the impossibly chic hotel where she’d been staying. She’d already said goodbye to the crew who’d been with her for the shoot. They were all leaving on an earlier flight, heading to London and their next assignment. Her nerves were coiled tight, making her belly constrict. The thought of the lunch ahead was daunting, to say the least.

And then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, Kate’s head came up and she saw Tiarnan silhouetted in the doorway. A huge, imposing figure. Not even giving her time to collect herself, prepare herself. Kate’s nerves intensified to a crescendo as she stood up jerkily. Tiarnan strode authoritatively towards her—a man clearly on his own turf. Confident, powerful.

He was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, open at the neck, his dark skin visible and the strong bronzed column of his throat. Kate hadn’t been sure what to wear, and her wardrobe was limited, so she’d gone for a plain black shirt dress and accessorised it with a bright red scarf around her throat. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail, trying to project an image that said friend and not lover. Except right now she felt as if her scarf was strangling her as Tiarnan came to a halt right in front of her. Too close. Especially when he took her hands and leant forward to kiss her on both cheeks.

His scent wound through her, and she felt that quiver between her legs again. He had his own very uniquely male scent. She’d always been aware of it. He was one of the few men she knew who didn’t douse himself in cologne. Kate had developed an acute sensitivity to smell after years of having to promote various perfumes, almost to the point that strong scents made her feel ill. But Tiarnan’s scent was simply soap and water and him. Headier than any manufactured scent.

He let her hands go and they tingled. He looked around her. ‘Where are your things?’

Kate fought to sound calm, aloof. ‘The concierge has my bag. I’ve arranged for a car to pick me up from here to go to the airport later.’

Tiarnan shook his head and took her by the elbow to lead her over to the desk. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

In shock, Kate heard him instruct the concierge to cancel the cab and get her bag. The man jumped straight away, clearly recognising Tiarnan. She rounded on him, incensed that he was already dictating. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He looked down at her, leaning nonchalantly against the concierge desk. ‘I have to go to the airport later too. You might as well come with me. It’ll give us more time together.’

Kate realised something then. Suspicion sparked from her eyes and she crossed her arms. ‘Where’s Rosie?’

Tiarnan straightened as Kate’s small case was delivered by the concierge, who all but bowed to Tiarnan.

He took Kate’s arm again, giving her no choice but to trot after him unless she wanted to create a scene. She felt slightly bewildered. She wasn’t used to seeing this side of Tiarnan. They emerged, and Kate saw a Range Rover and realised that he still hadn’t answered her question. He opened the passenger door and turned to her, the intense blue of his eyes rendering her speechless.

‘Rosie’s at home. I thought we’d have lunch there.’

She chafed at his easy dominance, at the feeling of being backed into a corner. Tiarnan still had a hand on her elbow and he helped her into the passenger seat. Then, after putting her case in the back, he came around and got into the front, pulling away from the hotel with smooth ease.

The journey to Tiarnan’s home didn’t take long. It was in the Salamanca area of Madrid, one of the oldest barrios and home to some of the most exclusive houses, shops and hotels. It was just off Calle de Serrano, near a charming park, where he turned into a set of huge wrought-iron gates which opened slowly.

Kate looked around her, seriously impressed. Madrid was one of her favourite cities—it always had been. She loved its vibrancy, its history, the café culture, and could spend days wandering around, taking in the museums and galleries. Even now, though it was well into autumn, people were strolling in the lingering warm sunshine. Tiarnan waited to let a woman pass with a baby in a pushchair, and Kate had a sudden vision of what it might be like to live here, have this life. Be that woman with the pushchair.

She glanced at Tiarnan’s profile as he drove forward when the gates were fully open. He looked distant, and not a little harsh. A shiver went through her even as she felt hot inside. He’d never be part of a dream like that. He’d made it clear a long time ago that as far as he was concerned he’d done the family thing. Sorcha had often told Kate how strongly Tiarnan felt about never marrying again. How Rosie had fulfilled any need he might have had for children.

‘Here we are.’

Kate’s turbulent thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she realised that they’d stopped outside a huge baroque townhouse. The colour of warm sandstone, it had a crumbling grandeur, with wooden shutters held back from gleaming windows. Bright flowers burst from ornate wrought-iron window box railings and from pots set around the steps and door. Trees surrounded the house, so that it seemed to nestle into the foliage. It was beautiful.