He grasped her hands and placed them on his shoulders, and Kate didn’t take them away. Her nails gouged into his skin as she pressed against him, her eyes drifting shut. “Please don’t do this.”
“How long will you hold out, Kate? If I do this...”
Expert fingers traced the tips of her sensitive breasts through her damp shirt, and Kate gasped as sensations stormed through her.
“Will you say no? If I do this...?”
He undid her halter top and let the fabric pool at her waist, and then eased one breast out of the material of her bra. He bent his head and kissed one straining nipple, laving it expertly with his tongue, priming it before he latched on and suckled her with his warm mouth.
Moisture pooled between her legs, red-hot desire rocking to her very core.
She clasped his head, thinking to pull him back, but instead she just clutched his silky hair as he turned his head and performed the same expert torture on the other puckered tip.
She struggled weakly, halfheartedly, until he pressed her arms down at her sides, their fingers linking in a tight grip as he took her mouth in a wild, stormy kiss. Her lips opened, allowing him entrance with a soft, welcoming moan, and she was undone by his taste. “Garrett.”
Not even thinking what she was doing, Kate clung to him and curled one leg around his hips, her skirt hiking up as she nestled his hardness between her open thighs.
He curled a hand around the back of her knee to keep her leg up, and he rocked his hips and pulled back to stare into her wide, sparkling eyes. He bent down to take her lips softly. “You want that, Katie? You want that from me?”
The feel of him, the reminder of what it felt like to have him, hot and hard, inside her, made her feverish.
She wanted to nod, to say yes, to tell him not to ask and just take her, but instead she wedged a hand between their burning bodies and palmed his erection. He hissed out a breath and nipped her earlobe, the closest thing to his mouth, then swept down to devour one aching nipple again.
She moaned feebly and began to pant. Arching her back, she pushed her breast up, as if craving a deeper kiss, so he opened wide around her flesh and sucked hard. “Garrett!” she cried.
A groan rumbled up in his chest as he seized her hands and pinned them over her head, trapping her as he looked at her with wild, hungry eyes.
“I want this so much.” He ducked his head and his lips brushed the tip of her breast, his hand tightening on her wrists.
She felt a new surge of dampness in her panties, her breasts weighing heavily with the need to be cupped by his palms. Kate couldn’t believe how many times she’d dreamed of this, wanted it. She moaned softly and arched her back in invitation once more.
“Garrett...” She pressed herself up to his mouth, and his lips returned to her nipple. Fire swept through her.
Fisting her flowing, flaming hair in his hands, he pulled her face back to look at him. “Tell me you want me.” He spoke in a dangerous tone as his hands slid downward to unzip her skirt.
“I want you,” she gasped.
He kissed her hard, blindingly, as he shoved the material down her hips, then slid her clinging halter top off, as well.
His lips softened on a groan as he cupped her sex in his big palm. His voice was but a breath in her ear, shaking her world like a cannon blast. “I want you, too. I can’t stop wanting you.”
He pressed the heel of his palm to the bundle of nerves hidden at her core, and she released a soft cry.
He dipped his hand into her panties, then watched her as he parted her folds with his fingers and pushed the middle one inside. Her hips rolled while her eyes searched his face and he pushed her arousal even higher.
“Does one feel good? Or would you rather have two?” he rasped.
He watched her expression dissolve as he added a second finger into her snug grip. A surge of moisture drenched his hand, and he bent his head and prodded a taut nipple with his tongue.
That’s when he heard voices out in the living room.
* * *
Kate snapped out of her daze and stiffened when she heard the front door slam shut. She practically flew away from Garrett, jumping as the voices became clear and the two figures appeared in the living room—which adjoined the kitchen.
“—so just be quiet and let me get it real qui...”
Molly and Julian froze in their tracks.
Molly’s eyes flared in mute shock as Kate struggled to right her bra and panties and used the vegetable chopping block to cover what she could. Julian’s eyes widened like saucers as he took in Garrett’s bare-chested state and Kate trying her damnedest to hide behind one miserable little cutting board.
“Okay, I’d rather not have seen that. What about you, Molls?” Julian smirked.
Molly blinked, her cheeks about as red as her hair, but Kate was sure she wasn’t nearly as red as Kate. “Seen what? I didn’t see anything. I think I’ll come visit with Kate another day.”
They shuffled backward through the living room, and even after the front door slammed shut behind them, Kate just couldn’t look at Garrett. Her face burned in embarrassment. They were panting, the sounds of their haggard breaths echoing in the silence. Slowly, he reached out, but she stepped back and shook her head.
“What is it you want from me, Garrett?” she asked brokenly.
His voice was low and textured with wanting. “I want you to stay in the city, Kate.”
“Is that all?”
“For now, yes.” His face tightened with emotion as he watched her slip back into her skirt, and his eyes flashed as he saw her reach for her discarded clothing. “Fine, no.”
“Then what?” Her arms shook as she shoved them back into the arm holes.
“I want you in bed with me.” His eyes raked down her body almost desperately, and she hated how easily her blood bubbled again when he grabbed her hands to stop her from dressing. “Please. Kate. Don’t.”
“So this is about sex,” she said. She pushed his hands away.
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing. Katie, I know you want me, too. You were just trembling in my arms.”
“For how long do you want me in bed? A week? Two?” she dared, her heart twisting in her chest when she tried to recall if Garrett had ever really even been with anyone for that long. “What about Cassandra? Don’t you think she’d like to know about your little side plan here?”
His mouth dipped into an even deeper scowl than usual, then he restlessly raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn, Katie, I keep feeling like I’m falling short here. What the hell is it that you want from me?”
“You’re talking about marriage with another woman, Garrett! And you stand here telling me you fall short? You damned well do fall short! If I’d wanted an affair, I’d have it with someone other than you. I want a shot at having the family I’ve never had, that’s what I want!”
In the instant she spoke those last words, Kate wished she could take them back. It was as though she’d slapped him; Garrett suddenly looked like that young boy, that dark, tormented young boy, so forlorn after what had happened the night of the murders.
“Well, then you were right about one thing,” he said, a tinge of angry frustration in his voice. “I can definitely not give you back what you want.”
“Garrett, you misunderstood me—”
But he was gone, the bang of the door that followed his departure making her wince.
Eight
Garrett knew that their half brother, Emerson Wells, harbored no love for the Gages. Even though the Gage patriarch had apparently been screwing Emerson’s mother for years, he’d refused to recognize Emerson as his son and bought the woman off to stay quiet and away from them—something the family had discovered when their father’s lawyer, upon his death, disclosed the
existence of another heir who could contest part of the inheritance.
He never did, though Eleanor Gage had thought it wise to pay him a few million dollars to go away for good.
Naturally, if Emerson had half the clout and pride of a Gage—which he apparently did—he would have no intention of ever catering to a Gage’s wishes. So he’d denied Landon’s summons six times during the past several weeks, something that didn’t surprise Garrett. But now, they were running out of time to make concrete decisions about the Clarks Communications deal, and Garrett finally had it with begging the imbecile for a meeting. This limbo was putting everyone on edge, especially him, since not only his two brothers, but Cassandra herself, seemed to believe Garrett was the only one who could make the deal possible now.
He’d been so close to just saying, “To hell with it, I’ll do it.”
Kate would never have him anyway.
And yet a little part of him knew that he could never stop trying. Not now. Not when he knew that she wanted him, knew the delicate feel of her body against his, knew the fragrance of that devilishly sexy red hair. Kate might not know it yet, and hell, Garrett might have spent his entire life fighting it, but they belonged to one another.
The recent times they’d seen one another at his mother’s Sunday brunches, they’d spoken of trivial things, their last argument forgotten—or at least, not mentioned. But the air crackled between them. Her eyes seemed bluer when they rested on him. They softened when she saw him. He wasn’t blind to it, couldn’t be blind to those looks anymore. He had to do something, and fast.
So that’s how he’d found himself sitting in his office yesterday, dialing Emerson’s mother. He was surprised that she’d picked up after a few rings.
“This is Garrett Gage, and I realize Emerson doesn’t want to hear from us, but it’s imperative we talk to him. I assure you he’ll be happy to hear us out, if you could—”
The woman had hung up.
But Garrett hadn’t given up. He’d then punched in some numbers and got Emerson’s secretary on the line. After a moment of silence, she’d put him on hold. When she finally came back, she’d reluctantly conceded, “He’ll give you ten minutes tomorrow morning.”
Now, as he presented himself at his half brother’s office downtown, he marveled at how well his brother seemed to be doing for himself. Garrett strolled through the floor containing the executive offices and found his brother’s secretary waiting for him. “Mr. Wells will be here shortly, Mr. Gage. You can go right in.”
He grabbed a mint from the plate on her desk as she continued typing on her keyboard, and instead of taking a seat, he paced around while the woman continued typing. After taking a phone call, she hung up and left her desk, and Garrett knew exactly where he would wait for his brother. He strolled directly into the sumptuous office with the plaque Emerson Wells, President on the door. He took the seat in front of Emerson’s desk and laced his fingers behind his head as he waited, taking in his surroundings with an admiring eye. Apparently his half brother appreciated art—he had a vitrine full of pre-Columbian artifacts that stretched across an entire wall. There were no photographs on his desk; in fact, there were hardly any personal effects at all.
After a few more minutes the man arrived, and his murderous expression told Garrett he didn’t like seeing him one bit.
But he had agreed to the appointment, at last.
Emerson sighed and crossed his arms. “Which one of the three brothers are you?”
“The middle one,” Garrett said.
Emerson’s expression softened somewhat at the news, and for a moment, Garrett even sensed that he’d dropped his guard a little. His voice was still wary, though. “So you’re the one who was there when Father died.”
Garrett’s insides went icy cold at the reminder, but he still managed a curt nod, though Emerson hadn’t seemed to phrase it as a question anyway.
“He say anything about me?” Emerson asked, and Garrett flashed back to the sidewalk, the street, the concert they’d just come from that night.
Chest knotting up painfully, Garrett dragged in a long, steadying breath. “He tried to speak, but he couldn’t get much out.”
The talk about his father made the memory so goddamned fresh now, his stomach roiled. He thought back to Dave Devaney’s last breath, and to Kate. The way her face had crumpled when the police had brought Garrett home and he’d told everyone that both men were dead.
Kate wanted a family. A family she’d never had, because of him.
There hadn’t been a night since she’d said that when he hadn’t recalled her words. He hadn’t been able to face her a moment longer. She’d torn him open and apart, and for weeks he’d been grappling for ways in which he could ever make it up to her. Would he never be able to put it behind him? Was she leaving because Garrett reminded her too much of what she couldn’t have? Or because she’d never forgive him for repeatedly screwing up her life?
Shaking the disturbing thought aside, he stood up and stuck his hands into his pants pockets, assuming a casual stance as they faced each other. “I can tell you want me gone, so I’ll happily drop the chitchat. My brothers and I want to make a deal with you. We’re not interested in making friends, and we know you aren’t either. What we’re interested in is business, and judging by the luxurious surroundings and the Picasso on the wall, you’re a man who thinks of business just as we do. Am I right?”
Though he was dark-haired like Garrett, Emerson’s eyes weren’t the same. He had Landon’s silver eyes instead, and they glowed eerily with warning. “My father ran me over like a goddamned mongrel without a tail. I won’t allow the same from you.”
“I’m sorry that he felt he had to,” Garrett said, but he understood what his father was trying to protect. He hadn’t wanted his wife to ever find out he’d strayed. So he’d cut off his illegitimate son and lover from his life, only to die so soon afterward that his lawyers had still been paying off the woman for her silence when it happened.
It had been tragic, to watch his mother find out she’d been betrayed. When she could do nothing about it.
She’d been broken at the funeral—crying nonstop at first, already having found out from the accounts, and the lawyers, her husband had not been the faithful, loving man she’d always imagined. Garrett had had his own grief on his shoulders, and he’d blamed himself for the pain he saw on her mother’s face. His mother would have never found out about Emerson, or another woman, if her husband hadn’t died so abruptly and she hadn’t been forced to take over the financials of the family. The records of money sent to another woman’s account, regularly, sparked alarm, confusion, until finally, the truth had sunk in.
“He freaking ruined my life. He broke my mother’s heart and mine, too,” Emerson grated, his teeth tightly clamped as he curled his fingers into fists.
Garrett was taken aback by the hard anger in his half brother’s eyes. Would Cassandra Clarks be able to handle being married to this guy for six months? He appeared only half-civilized, and dangerous, to boot.
“Emerson, I’m sorry if the measures he took were not to your liking, but your mother liked them very well,” Garrett said. He was referring to the three million-dollar payments she’d received for her silence—after his father died. Not to mention that he’d already been providing for her to have quite a healthy living while he was still alive. Emerson couldn’t have been more than twelve at the time. Julian had barely been ten. Garrett had been fifteen and Landon eighteen.
If their father hadn’t died, Emerson would be walking the streets without the Gage brothers ever knowing he existed.
Maybe they should have tried to contact him. Maybe Emerson resented that, too. But just seeing the grief on their mother’s face had been enough to make them want to keep him as far away from the family as they could.
Maybe, all hell would break loose w
hen Mother once again realized they were dealing with him. But Landon had said that he’d take care of Mother. Enough time had passed that hopefully she’d look beyond her dead husband’s transgressions at this point. And their mother was shrewd when it came to business, too.
“Will you meet with me and my brothers to discuss our business proposition? We really need your help.”
Impatient, Garrett waited for Emerson’s answer, but his half brother only glared at him as he slowly headed over to resume his place behind his desk.
Emerson was more rugged than all his brothers, and even with his well-groomed appearance in that gray suit, there was an air of isolation around his tall figure that made Garrett somehow relate to him. He knew that Emerson was somewhere between Julian and Garrett in age, so that put him around twenty-eight or twenty-nine. His hair was dark as Garrett’s, his face as square and tan, but personality-wise, he seemed to be a wild card.
“I’ll give you a half hour,” Emerson finally conceded, his expression unreadable as he dropped into his chair and powered on his computer. “But not today. I have too much to do.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “Tomorrow then. Be at the Daily at nine a.m.”
“No can do. I’m afraid I can only do it Friday.”
Friday wasn’t ideal. It was three days from now and only a day before the wedding. But Garrett ground his molars, shut the hell up and took the offer. Something in Emerson’s angry expression when he looked up and gestured at the door to signal the conservation was over told Garrett this offer was the best he’d get from him.
“Don’t be late,” Garrett growled as he left.
* * *
“Kate, I’m calling and calling and no answer, then I come to get the things for the shower and they’re not even baked! What is wrong with you? It’s ten in the morning and we have work to do. This is our last gig before we’re swept away with all this wedding stuff. You didn’t talk to anyone all weekend. What’s the matter? It’s Tuesday. A new day awaits!”