CHAPTER NINE

SEX ISN’T NORMALLY that good, Radd thought as he pulled his vehicle to a stop at the stairs leading up to Kagiso’s main reception area. It was a biological function, they were hardwired as humans to want to procreate and to have fun while they did it.

It wasn’t supposed to make your soul jump, your heart settle and your stomach tie itself into a complicated knot.

Radd looked at Brin sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Although she was dressed simply, blue jeans and a white T-shirt, her face free of makeup, and her hair pulled back into a sexy tail, she could rival any supermodel. And he should know, since he’d dated a few...

He couldn’t wait to take her back to bed.

But sex, great sex, bed-rocking, moon-howling sex, was all they could ever have. He didn’t believe in love, commitment or happily-ever-afters; they were a myth, a fairy tale. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s husband or significant other.

But if there ever was a woman who could change his mind, Brin would be that person. She was refreshing and without artifice, unimpressed with his wealth, success or looks. She looked past all of that and saw him, saw the man beneath the Tempest-Vane surface. When he was feeling mushy—vulnerable was a word he refused to use—he could imagine laying all his fears, and dreams, at her feet, knowing that she wouldn’t trample on either.

But that was impossible; he wouldn’t see her again after he delivered her to her house tomorrow. He’d kiss her goodbye and walk away and return to the real world. In time, he’d start thinking of her as just another passing ship in the night.

But the thought of never seeing her again sent his stomach plunging to his toes, quickly followed by waves of anger and frustration. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t be allowing his thoughts to drift in that direction.

And God, he couldn’t help wondering if any of their deep conversations would be repeated, if what he shared would end up in the public domain. He didn’t think they would, but that familiar dread, so adept at twisting his innards in knots, settled down and made itself comfortable. He knew better than to let his mouth run, if he’d kept his thoughts to himself he wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

Damn Brin for burrowing under his skin, worming her way into his heart and wiggling into his soul. Brin, damn her, yanked feelings—good, bad and ugly—to the surface and made him not only confront them but also face who he was, to question what he was doing with his life.

As Radd pulled up to the lodge, his phone dinged with an incoming message. He picked the device up off the flat dashboard and swiped his finger across the screen. It was a message from Digby.

Radd read the message again, trying to make sense of the words. Shanna was Digby’s on-off girlfriend and an aspiring actress. And the balcony he was referring to had to be his suite at The Vane and was supposed to be access-controlled and exceptionally private.

Radd felt his blood pressure rise.

He should bloody well hope so. Radd gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tried to push the anger away. Radd fought his instinct to fly home, demand a retraction and thump the photographer. But his younger brother was thirty-five and fully capable of fighting his own battles.

They had a right to privacy and the lack thereof shouldn’t come “with the territory,” it certainly wouldn’t with his. This was a great reminder of why he shouldn’t make personal connections.

“Good morning, John. How are you?”

Radd looked up to see his concierge, who was about to open Brin’s passenger door.

John, elderly and dignified, gave her a regal nod, but Radd saw the hint of pleasure in his eyes at her question. “I’m very well, thank you, Miss Brin. How did you enjoy The Treehouse?”

Brin’s under-her-eyelashes look, directed at him, was a little audacious and a lot naughty. “It was lovely, thank you. Some bits were better than others. The food was divine. And the setting magical.”

Radd ignored her flirtatious innuendo and impatiently waited for her to join him at the bottom of the stairs. Feeling irritated and off-balance, he placed his hand on her lower back to usher her up the steps leading into the reception area. He steered her toward the deck, away from where they could hear the voices of the Radebe party.

Radd saw the question in her eyes, knew that she’d picked up on his change of mood. He felt his Adam’s apple bob, tasted emotion in the back of his throat. He desperately wanted to gather her to him, bury her face in his neck and hold on tight. He wanted to make plans with her for the rest of his life, starting with not letting her go when they touched down in Cape Town tomorrow afternoon.

But because that was impossible, because he didn’t trust anybody, couldn’t believe in love and commitment—he refused to, love led to hurt and loss, and why would he do that to himself?—he pushed that thought away. Digby’s text messages were a fantastic reminder that this was a moment out of time, not the beginning of something real, something lasting. That he could only control his words and actions.

It was way past time to backpedal. And to do it hard and fast.

“Are we on the same page, Brinley?” he demanded.

Brin frowned, obviously confused. “I don’t understand.”

“We had sex last night—” he couldn’t call it making love; that was too intimate “—but nothing has changed between us. This can’t go anywhere.”

Brin blanched at his harsh tone, the softness in her eyes fading. Then, needing to put some distance between her and the verbal blow he’d dealt her, she stepped away from him. Hurt jumped into her eyes but he couldn’t let her feelings distract him.

They were on a runaway train and he had to hit the brakes, to stop this madness in its tracks.

“Excuse me?”

Radd raked his hands through his hair. “You, us, nothing is going to happen when we get back home. I hope you know that.”

Brin took another step back as pain settled on her face and in her eyes. He noticed a faint tremble to her chin and her suddenly pale face. Too hard and too bold, Radd cursed himself, fighting the urge to apologize. No, he was being cruel to be kind, she had to know that whatever was bubbling between them would expire in less than twenty-four hours.

Then she straightened her shoulders, pushed steel into her spine and her eyes met his. Brin’s unexpected and withering glare made him feel two feet tall. But before she could respond, Naledi called his name. For once, it was a welcome interruption.

“Your tribe awaits, my lord.”

Radd didn’t appreciate Brin’s sarcasm.

“Radd! Look who arrived while you were away!”

Radd turned and saw Naledi, wearing an eye-poppingly brief bikini and nothing else, standing a few feet from him, her arms around the waist of her fiancé Johnathan Wolf. It took all of Radd’s willpower to pull a welcoming smile onto his face, to hold out his hand for the groom to shake. Radd then turned to Brin and placed a hand on her back, silently urging her stiff body forward.

“Johnathan, meet Brinley Riddell.”

“Oh, Brin and I know each other,” Johnathan cheerfully replied. “But I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Radd, Brinley.”

Radd turned to look at Brin, watching as the last of her color faded from her face.

Oh, God...what now?

“And how do you know Brinley, Jon?” Naledi demanded in that hard-as-hell voice that made Radd, uncharacteristically, want to run for cover.

“She’s Kerry Riddell’s sister, darling.”

Judging by Naledi’s harsh scream and Brin’s white-as-a-ghost face, her being Kerry’s sister was, in Naledi’s world, the equivalent of a plague of locusts or a runaway groom.

This... Radd gripped the bridge of his nose and squeezed.

This was why he hated secrets and surprises. And personal connections. And why he kept his distance from people.

A few hours ago she’d been lying in Radd’s strong arms, completely at ease in her nakedness, exploring what it meant to give and receive pleasure. They’d made love over and over—three times? Four?—and with each pass she’d grown bolder, more confident in her power as a woman, tapping into that age-old power to make a man burn and squirm.

Radd had taken her to new sexual heights, far beyond what she’d experienced and even more than she’d imagined. In between their bouts of lovemaking, they’d talked, swapping stories about their childhoods, their favorite places, foods and movies.

Despite knowing that Radd wasn’t interested in a relationship, his this-is-only-sex reminder—so blunt!—had thrown her. Had she been hoping, wondering, dreaming for more?

Maybe. Just very little. Well, no more.

Besides, she had a bigger problem to deal with right now.

Once or twice she’d thought about telling Radd about Kerry, about her feud with Naledi, but the time had never quite seemed right and she’d known it would shift the dynamic between them and, frankly, she hadn’t wanted what they had to end. Not just yet. She’d thought there would be time, at the lodge or back in Cape Town—or never—for the full truth.

It seemed that time was now.

Brin closed her eyes and wondered why Johnathan, not the brightest spark in an electrical storm, remembered her—the younger sister of a woman he’d slept with—when they’d so very briefly met all those years ago.

Brin opened her mouth to say hello, but Naledi’s loud screech made her take a step back. And then another.

“She’s Kerry’s sister? Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

“Actually, she’s her half sister,” Johnathan replied. “She’s Kerry’s personal assistant.”

“I was her assistant,” Brin corrected him, only to realize that nobody was listening to her. Brin looked past Naledi’s furious face to see that the rest of the wedding party had moved closer, curiosity on their faces.

“What is she doing here? Did she take photos? She’s only here to ruin my wedding!” Naledi’s yell was accompanied by the stamping of her feet.

Brin turned her attention to Radd. His expression, as always, was impassive, but his eyes reflected worried confusion, like he was trying to find his balance in a suddenly rough sea.

Brin expected him to try and placate Naledi, to do or say anything to calm the drama queen down because, sure, keeping Naledi calm was imperative. But she never, not in her craziest dreams, expected his next question.

And it rocked her off her feet. “What have you done to upset Naledi?” Radd demanded, his question whipping her skin.

Of course, it follows that this would be my fault, Brin thought, when her shock receded. She was the easiest person to blame: it didn’t matter that he’d needed a florist at the last minute, that she’d begged him to take her back to Cape Town, that she’d done everything she could to avoid the Radebes.

Blame had to be assigned, and she was a convenient target. It was unfair but it wasn’t, knowing the world he operated in, an uncommon practice.

“She’s Kerry’s sister, probably sent here to infiltrate my celebrations, to take photographs of me in wretched and compromising situations. Or when I’m looking awful,” Naledi shouted.

Oh, seriously? Get over yourself!

“She came here to do the flowers, Naledi. She’s a florist,” Radd said, sounding annoyed.

“She did my flowers? Are you freaking kidding me? She’s a nobody! I knew I hated them, didn’t I tell you that I hated them?” Naledi demanded, looking around at her entourage. A couple of the bridesmaids nodded, as did her father. Her mother averted her head and said nothing.

Brin looked at Radd, waiting for him to defend her work. He’d told her numerous times that Naledi loved the flowers and would like to use her again. She held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything.

When Radd remained quiet, Brin felt like he’d yanked her heart out of her chest and shoved it into a blast chiller. Come on, Radd, say something... Did our fight yesterday morning teach you nothing? Did you hear me when I told you about being in the line of fire for things I had no control over? Did anything resonate with you?

Obviously not, because Radd, damn him, remained quiet. But Naledi did not. “I demand you search her phone! I want to see if she has any unauthorized photographs of me, and if she does I will sue her for invading my privacy.”

Good luck with that, Brin thought. She didn’t have any money anyway. As far as she knew, Radd still hadn’t paid her and, judging by his cold, hard, icy fury, he might not.

I abhor secrets and surprises...

“Naledi wants her phone inspected,” Vincent stated, stepping forward and placing his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

But this was where Radd would draw the line, he knew she would never do anything to jeopardize his deal. He knew—he had to!—that she’d never do anything so underhand, that she didn’t care enough about Naledi or her wedding to ruin it. He’d say no, because he knew her and he’d stand up for her.

Naledi’s fist rested on her curvy hips. “I have an exclusive deal with a magazine and if a single image hits the internet before they get the package of photos, I will lose the deal and a huge paycheck.”

Brin ignored her, keeping her eyes on Radd’s face. C’mon, Radd, any time now.

His eyes, as cold as a dark, Arctic night, met hers. Brin held her breath and when he lifted his hand, she thought, for one brief, beautiful moment, that he was offering his protection, a silent but powerful gesture to show she had his support. She started to put her hand in his and gasped when he jerked his back, quick enough to avoid a snake bite.

“Can I see your phone, Ms. Riddell?”

His words took some time to sink in and when they did, Brinley stared at him, feeling hot and cold and utterly alone. She’d grown up as the outsider, constantly looking in, but she’d never felt so abandoned. A cold, wet, sharp wind sliced through her. “You want to see my phone? Why?”

Don’t do this, Radd, please.

Radd just stared at her, his hand up, waiting. “This awful scene will be over a lot quicker if you comply.”

Brin felt the scrape of a sob in her throat, the burn of tears. Yep, last night meant nothing. She, and her feelings, meant even less. Tossing her head, she gathered her emotions and forced them down, refusing to let Radd or any of the wedding party see her cry. Pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, she slapped it into his palm. Sucking in some much-needed air, she forced herself to look at Naledi, at Johnathan, Mr. Radebe and finally back at Radd.

Her heart was breaking, but her pride was still intact. Thank God something was.

“Go for it. But you won’t find any photos of Naledi or anyone else on the device, because I don’t care.” She forced herself to meet Naledi’s eyes, flat and dark. “I don’t care how many Instagram followers you have, about your wedding or your dress or your family. I don’t have any social media accounts but, sure, feel free to check.”

Radd’s fingers closed around her phone and when Naledi reached to take it from him, he jerked it out of her reach. “I’m the only one who looks at this phone,” he growled.

Much too little and far too late, Tempest-Vane.

Brin didn’t care; he could inspect her phone, so could everyone there. It didn’t matter anymore. “Feel free to keep the device,” Brin told Radd, her voice brittle. “I’m going to the room to pack up my stuff. I expect to be on a flight out of here shortly or, by God, I will walk.”

“Can I explain?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Brin saw Radd drop down into the seat opposite her, his big frame blocking out the soft leather as he fastened his seat belt. Brin briefly met his eyes before looking out of the plane’s window. Far below Radd’s fancy jet, the city of Cape Town lay nestled between the mountains and the sea.

He’s taken his time to approach me, Brin thought; his jet was making its descent and within minutes they would be on the ground. Brin did not doubt Radd had timed it this way to minimize their confrontation. That was fine with her, there wasn’t much to say.

She loved him, he didn’t love or trust her. Simple, really.

She couldn’t wait to get back to her cottage, to what was familiar. Abby’s unwavering friendship, her soft bed, being able to cry into her own pillow.

But, at some point, she had to put her feelings and tumultuous emotions aside and start to think. In fact, moving her attention to her future was easier than nursing her battered and bruised heart.

She didn’t want to leave Cape Town—she loved it—but how could she stay in the same city Radd did? And how could she take his now-tainted wad of cash? If she did, and established her flower shop, every time she walked inside she’d be reminded of Radd and this crazy, confusing time where she fell in love with, and had her heart broken by, him.

She’d done a job, fulfilled her end of the business arrangement and she deserved that cash, her sensible, business brain argued. What’s the option here? To stay poor and to struggle?

Or to go back to Johannesburg with her tail tucked between her legs?

Her pride wanted her to make the grand gesture, to tell him to go to hell and take his money with him, but if she did that, she’d be in a worse position than she was before. Going back to work for Kerry was the second of two very bad choices...

If only you didn’t have to go and fall in love with the man, Riddell, how stupid are you? He was unemotional, driven, rude and single-minded and falling for him was properly idiotic. Really, she needed someone to save her from herself.

“I told the Radebes that there were no photos on your phone.”

Of course there weren’t. And she so didn’t care.

Radd placed his ankle on his opposite knee. Brin allowed her eyes to wander over him: he still sported heavy, sexy stubble, but he’d changed into a pair of dark brown chinos and pulled on an aqua-colored linen, button-down shirt. His cuffs were rolled back and he wore a different watch from the high tech, too-many-buttons-to-count one he’d been wearing earlier. This watch was simple, timeless, gorgeous.

He was back to being the beautifully dressed billionaire while she was still dressed in the same clothes she’d been wearing when she left The Treehouse. Brin felt underdressed and a little gauche. Damn him for making her feel less than, for making her feel like she did when she was the tiny, unimportant moon circling Kerry’s glowing planet.

“You’re really angry.”

Well, duh. Sure, she was furious with him, but she also felt hurt, sad and so very tired of being on the outside looking in. She’d lived on the edge of her family’s circle all her life and she just wanted her own spot to shine, somewhere where she was celebrated and loved. Someone to take her side, someone to stand in her corner.

Radd, as he’d demonstrated earlier, wasn’t that person. She’d never find the peace she craved with him, within the world he inhabited.

“Rich people and celebrities expect privacy, Brinley,” Radd quietly stated.

“I worked for my sister as her assistant for a long time, so that’s not something you need to tell me,” Brin told him, ice in her voice. “I managed a lot of her PR and I understand how the game is played. I don’t like the rules, but I understand them. Apart from the fact that I’m not remotely interested in Naledi and her wedding, I would never invade her privacy like that. I thought you understood that much about me.”

“How could I when you didn’t tell me the truth about who you are and who your sister is!” Radd raked his hand through his hair. “I asked if there was anything I should know, anything that could ruin this week.”

“I was under no obligation to disclose that information to you, or anyone else, Radd. And you’re using it as an excuse to push me away.”

Radd’s eyes narrowed at her accusation. “What?”

Brin felt the shudder of the jet’s wheels touching the runway, the change in the sound of the engines as the plane slowed. “And if that doesn’t work, you’re going to throw in how important it is that you acquire a signed signature for the purchase of the mine, and I’ve put that in jeopardy. You are not your name or your company!” Brin said, feeling like she’d gone ten rounds with a champion boxer.

“You don’t understand what it was like living with parents like mine!” Radd whipped back. “They dragged our name through the mud. They sold every asset my grandfather and great-grandfathers acquired, and Digby and I had to work our fingers to the bone to reclaim what was lost!”

“Everyone has a past, Radd. I grew up in the shadow of my sister. Nothing I ever did, or said, could match the brilliance and the beauty that is Kerry. But I keep reminding myself that my past is exactly that, my past, and shouldn’t be allowed to color or inform my decisions. Besides, I have no interest in being with a man who puts money and business first, someone who can’t stand up for, or defend, me.”

Radd leaned forward and that impassive, inscrutable expression and his blank eyes told her she was dealing with Cape Town Radd, not Kagiso Radd. The Radd he was in the city was hard and unyielding, dogmatic and determined. She’d lost the man she loved, he’d been devoured by this hard-eyed man sitting across from her.

Brin lifted her phone off her thigh and swiped her thumb across the screen. Pulling in a deep breath, she gathered her courage and turned the screen to him. His eyes widened at the picture he saw on her screen.

“We became friends, Radd, and then we became lovers and our connection scares the pants off you. From the moment you rolled out of bed at The Treehouse, I could feel you retreating, your mind going a hundred miles a minute, trying to find a way to put some distance between us. And then I found this picture of Digby and his girlfriend online—”

“How?”

Brin shrugged. “I saw the photo on your phone.”

“Snooping, too?” Radd muttered, frowning.

“Our seats weren’t that far apart.” Brin handed him an I’ll-fry-you-where-you-sit glare. “And you’re being petty.” Brin dropped her hand and continued to speak. “But it did make all the pieces fall into place.”

“Good for you.”

Brin ignored his sarcastic interruption. “This photograph of Digby’s girlfriend reminded you that you can’t trust people, that you mustn’t let anyone get too close to you. That scene with Naledi confirmed it. You wanted an excuse to push me away, Radd. You were desperate for one, because you are too scared to love, too scared to take a chance, too scared to go there, probably because your parents, the people who are supposed to love you the most, didn’t and constantly disappointed you.”

Radd released a choking sound, but Brin didn’t give him the chance to speak. “And boy, you quickly found those reasons you were looking for. Do you really believe a PR campaign and a rehabilitation of your name process is going to bring you the peace you require? It’s not. Because until you believe you are more than your name, until you embrace who you are, fully and without reservation, and give yourself credit for the man you’ve become—hard-working, intelligent, trustworthy—it’s all just smoke and mirrors. You’re not trying to convince the world, Radd, you’re trying to convince yourself.”

Brin saw the color drain from Radd’s face, knew that he wanted to argue, but she held up her hand, silently asking him to be quiet.

“I kept telling myself that I’m not from your world, that I don’t fit in there, but the truth is, you don’t fit into my world, Radd. And it’s got nothing to do with money and power and celebrity and...stuff. I need the people in my world to have my back, as I would have theirs. I need trust and comfort and support, someone who is prepared to build me up, not tear me down. Someone who will let me love them and love me back.”

Brin placed her fist over her mouth, silently cursing the tears running down her face. “I deserve to have someone love me like that, Radd, I do. I’m sorry it couldn’t be you, but there it is.”

The plane rolled to a stop and Brin saw Skye standing in the doorway of the lounge. She dredged up a smile for him, unclipped her seatbelt and stood up. She looked down at Radd, who was staring at his hands, his expression, as usual, implacable.

“Don’t bother about getting me home, Radd. I contacted Abby and she’s collecting me. It’s been...” Brin hesitated. Lovely? Exciting? Soul-touching? Devastating? They all applied so she settled on “...interesting.”

“Goodbye, Radd.”

Brin forced herself to walk away and kept her eyes on the open door and the steps she had to walk down. She was furiously angry with him, hurt and disappointed that he wasn’t brave enough to love her, but his faults and actions didn’t dilute her love for him. He was the puzzle piece she’d been looking for all her life to complete her, the part of her soul she was missing. He was her shelter in the storm, her soft place to fall.

Radd, the man and not the image, was whom she wanted to be with, the face she woke up to every morning, the body she cuddled up against at night. The person she wanted to laugh with, love with, make babies with.

But she couldn’t do any of that on her own; it took two to have a once-in-a-lifetime love affair. He didn’t know it but Radd, scared and a little lost, held her heart in his hands.

Hot tears ran as Brin realized that, from this moment on, she’d have to learn to live without both.