laughed
off their appearing together in public as her being a friend of the
family.
He'd shrug and respond, "Her family and mine
have been close friends for generations." Swearing she had nothing
to worry about, he would inevitably seduce her into not thinking
about anything anymore, except him.
But that day everything had changed. He had
come to his house to find her packing. Anger had flared in his eyes
as he watched her throwing her clothing into a pile in her
suitcase. "You're not even going to give me a chance to
explain?"
Erika closed her eyes as she remembered the
pain that had threaded through her at his hurt tone. She was the
one who had been injured, lied to, betrayed, strung along with
pretty words and declarations of love, until she had bought into
the fantasy that maybe they could have a life together. Unable to
deal with the emotions overwhelming her, she had choked on her
answer and settled for shaking her head as she slammed the lid
closed.
As she forced the zipper to slide around the
bulging case, his hands had grabbed her arms and spun her around.
Before she could gain her balance he had gripped her forearms and
pulled her against him, his lips smacking down on hers in a kiss
unlike any he had ever pressed against her. He was like a man
possessed as he demanded entrance into her mouth. Licking her lips,
she had the phantom sensation that she could still taste her tears
melded with the taste of his lips.
As suddenly as he had grabbed her, Ryan
thrust her away from himself, and stabbed a hand into his hair.
Shaken to the core, she had turned and grabbed her case, her heart
screaming at him to try to explain, to demand she hear him out.
Instead he opened the bedroom door and held it for her. "Go on
then, get the hell out," he spit out, his light eyes flashing
angrily at her.
Holding the case against her side, Erika had
walked out as proudly as she could manage, blinded by her own
tears.
"I see you waited on me." Drawn back to the
present by his mocking words, Erika stood up and faced him head
on.
"Why did you buy that painting? You could
have had anything else in the auction, or in any other auction. Why
that painting?"
Ryan took a step closer to her, and Erika
could feel the heat coming off his body. Despite his business suit
and his high-class haircut, she could feel the baser animal in him
just beneath the surface.
It was what first attracted her to him, that
barely leashed intensity, covered by a thin layer of gentility.
"How badly do you want the painting?"
Erika ground her teeth at his ignoring her
question, but wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of
repeating herself. Nor was she going to answer him. She wasn't
about to hint at her desperation.
Her mother had promised her grandmother on
her deathbed that she would track down all the rest of her
paintings and keep them in the family, using the insurance money to
foot the bill. While not wealthy in life, she had had the sense to
get a sizable policy on herself early on, wanting to make sure her
children were provided for if she passed on while they were
younger. Habit had kept her paying the premiums.
The knowledge that her own son had sold her
prized possessions had eaten at her in the last few months,
destroying what was left of her once robust health. And now, with
her own mother having taken a turn for the worse, Erika was
determined she would have all of her grandmother's works around
her, if it was the last thing she did. She wasn't about to let Ryan
Carstairs stand in her way.
Putting her hands on her hips, she looked him
right in the eyes and asked, "What are you asking for it?"
She knew whatever it was, she wasn't going to
like it. Not judging by the smile on his lips. "I'll give it to
you, free and clear—a gift."
Erika waited, knowing he wasn't done yet.
Ryan was too shrewd a business man to just fork over two grand
without some kind of condition.
"After you spend forty-eight hours with
me."
Erika raised her gaze to his
off their appearing together in public as her being a friend of the
family.
He'd shrug and respond, "Her family and mine
have been close friends for generations." Swearing she had nothing
to worry about, he would inevitably seduce her into not thinking
about anything anymore, except him.
But that day everything had changed. He had
come to his house to find her packing. Anger had flared in his eyes
as he watched her throwing her clothing into a pile in her
suitcase. "You're not even going to give me a chance to
explain?"
Erika closed her eyes as she remembered the
pain that had threaded through her at his hurt tone. She was the
one who had been injured, lied to, betrayed, strung along with
pretty words and declarations of love, until she had bought into
the fantasy that maybe they could have a life together. Unable to
deal with the emotions overwhelming her, she had choked on her
answer and settled for shaking her head as she slammed the lid
closed.
As she forced the zipper to slide around the
bulging case, his hands had grabbed her arms and spun her around.
Before she could gain her balance he had gripped her forearms and
pulled her against him, his lips smacking down on hers in a kiss
unlike any he had ever pressed against her. He was like a man
possessed as he demanded entrance into her mouth. Licking her lips,
she had the phantom sensation that she could still taste her tears
melded with the taste of his lips.
As suddenly as he had grabbed her, Ryan
thrust her away from himself, and stabbed a hand into his hair.
Shaken to the core, she had turned and grabbed her case, her heart
screaming at him to try to explain, to demand she hear him out.
Instead he opened the bedroom door and held it for her. "Go on
then, get the hell out," he spit out, his light eyes flashing
angrily at her.
Holding the case against her side, Erika had
walked out as proudly as she could manage, blinded by her own
tears.
"I see you waited on me." Drawn back to the
present by his mocking words, Erika stood up and faced him head
on.
"Why did you buy that painting? You could
have had anything else in the auction, or in any other auction. Why
that painting?"
Ryan took a step closer to her, and Erika
could feel the heat coming off his body. Despite his business suit
and his high-class haircut, she could feel the baser animal in him
just beneath the surface.
It was what first attracted her to him, that
barely leashed intensity, covered by a thin layer of gentility.
"How badly do you want the painting?"
Erika ground her teeth at his ignoring her
question, but wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of
repeating herself. Nor was she going to answer him. She wasn't
about to hint at her desperation.
Her mother had promised her grandmother on
her deathbed that she would track down all the rest of her
paintings and keep them in the family, using the insurance money to
foot the bill. While not wealthy in life, she had had the sense to
get a sizable policy on herself early on, wanting to make sure her
children were provided for if she passed on while they were
younger. Habit had kept her paying the premiums.
The knowledge that her own son had sold her
prized possessions had eaten at her in the last few months,
destroying what was left of her once robust health. And now, with
her own mother having taken a turn for the worse, Erika was
determined she would have all of her grandmother's works around
her, if it was the last thing she did. She wasn't about to let Ryan
Carstairs stand in her way.
Putting her hands on her hips, she looked him
right in the eyes and asked, "What are you asking for it?"
She knew whatever it was, she wasn't going to
like it. Not judging by the smile on his lips. "I'll give it to
you, free and clear—a gift."
Erika waited, knowing he wasn't done yet.
Ryan was too shrewd a business man to just fork over two grand
without some kind of condition.
"After you spend forty-eight hours with
me."
Erika raised her gaze to his
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