LATER THAT EVENING, Brin walked from the dining area of the main lodge onto its expansive deck and plopped down on one of the wide two-person loungers, kicking off her shoes to swing her bare feet up onto the cushion. Leaning back, she tipped her head up, sighing at the swish of stars making up the Milky Way.
“I can’t get enough of this sky.”
“It’s pretty impressive,” Radd agreed. Brin pulled her eyes away from the sky to watch him gracefully walk across the deck, holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Stopping next to her lounger, he dashed wine into the glasses while kicking off his flip-flops. He’d pulled on a light, hooded sweatshirt to counter the slight chill in the air but still wore the cargo shorts he’d changed into after their game drive earlier that morning.
“Shift over,” Radd told her and dropped down into the space she created. His shoulder pressed into hers, his thigh lay alongside hers, and Brin felt like he’d plugged her into an electric substation. He was so big, so solid, so very masculine...
Untamed and a little intimidating, like the land he so loved.
Radd handed her a glass of red wine and Brin placed it on the floor next to her, in easy reach. He placed his arm behind his head, sighed and look upwards, and Brin could almost feel the tension leaving his body.
Radd relaxing had happened in increments all day, a sigh here, a roll of the shoulders there. Kagiso was good for him, Brin decided. No, Kagiso was great for him.
“It’s not often I’m here on my own, and I forget how much I love it when it’s empty,” Radd said, his soft words echoing her thoughts.
“Except that you are not alone, I’m here,” Brin pointed out.
“But you’re surprisingly restful company, Brinley Riddell.” Radd turned his head to look at her and his small smile made her stomach flip over. And over again. “You don’t feel the need to fill silences with chatter, you’re happy to be quiet. That’s pretty unusual. Why is that?”
Brin lifted her wineglass and took a sip. “Probably because I have a sister who dominates every conversation and a mother who encourages her.”
“And your dad?”
“Stepdad,” Brin corrected him. “He’s sweet but quiet. He’s been in my life since I was a three, but we’ve never really bonded, I guess.”
Brin felt his eyes on her face but didn’t look at him, choosing instead to track a satellite moving across the sky. “Why not?”
“Because my mom fell pregnant with my sister and, from that moment on, it became all about her,” Brin admitted. “I was never in any doubt about who their favorite child was.”
Radd didn’t respond and Brin appreciated his silence, there was nothing worse than trite sympathy. Not that she believed Radd could, or would, be trite but...still.
“If it makes you feel any better, my parents didn’t have favorites. They disliked us all equally.”
Brin rolled onto her side, resting her head in her hand. The amazing sky couldn’t compete with this fascinating man. “Why do you think they had kids if they were so uninterested in being parents?”
A cynical smile touched Radd’s mouth. “That might be because my great-grandfather, my father’s grandfather, set up a trust fund in the fifties, when the Tempest-Vanes were seriously rolling in cash—”
“As opposed to how poor you are now,” Brin interjected, her tongue literally in her cheek.
Radd’s chuckle at her quip warmed her. “Brat. But I’m talking about family money, not what Dig and I made since my parents lost everything.” Radd lifted his wineglass, took a sip and placed it back on the floor. “Anyway, my father was the only T-V descendant—Great-Grandfather’s other son died in his teens and his daughter didn’t marry or have kids—so it was up to my father to restock the family tree. Great-Grandfather told my father that he’d give him two million for every male child they produced.”
Brin wasn’t sure how to respond to that blatant, old-fashioned misogyny and finally settled on: “Nice of you lot to cooperate and be male.”
Radd’s chuckle danced over her skin. “The first and only thing we did right,” he said, and his lack of emotion saddened Brin.
She risked putting her hand on his chest, somewhere in the region of his heart. “Scale of one to ten...how bad was it?”
Radd’s chest lifted and fell in a jerky movement, and then his hand clasped hers, pushing her flat palm against his chest. “Honestly, about a five. I mean, we weren’t beaten or neglected, we had everything we needed. We went to an expensive boarding school and we were happy there. We spent a lot of time here at Kagiso. As long as we were together, we were okay. And Jack was five years older, so he stood between the parents and us.”
Brin shifted down and placed her head against Radd’s shoulder, happy to hold his hand in the moonlight. “And then he died. How?”
“Brain aneurysm,” Radd replied. “It was a shock.”
Now that was the understatement of the year, because Brin could see the devastation in his eyes. “I’m sure it was. And around the same time, you divorced your parents.”
“Divorce... That’s a good way to put it,” Radd mused. His hand tightened and Brin winced, but didn’t pull away. Whatever he was thinking about was painful, and she knew the wound was still raw.
“Did you sell their art and car collections?”
Radd shook his head. “Everything they owned, including their property and cash, and two massive life insurance policies, was put into a trust. Neither of us is a trustee or a beneficiary.”
Brin frowned. “Who is?”
“That’s the question. We don’t know, we can’t find out and frankly, we don’t much care.”
She thought he did, a little. But something in his voice had her cocking her head, questioning. “Why do I think you know more about that than you are saying?”
Brin smiled at his shock. “How the hell do you know that?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “Just a guess. Can you tell me?”
Radd hesitated. “I have no proof, but I suspect the person he wanted us to meet and the beneficiary of that trust is the same person.”
“Could be,” Brin agreed. “But it would be hell to prove.”
“Yep.”
“Look, I know your parents were...unconventional, but can you tell me what caused you to divorce them? Can you trust me with that information or is it too personal?”
“Jesus, Brin, that’s a hell of a question.”
The night wrapped them in its soft embrace and Brin couldn’t help dropping a kiss on his shoulder, hoping, in a small way, to give him an anchor while horrible memories battered him from every side. Because she did not doubt that, whatever it was that caused that final break, it had to be truly horrible.
Radd eventually started to speak, and Brin held her breath. “Digby and I were used to being teased about their antics, about their rock-and-roll lifestyle. We learned to either ignore it, roll with it or mock it. It helped that we were popular at school and good sportsmen. But, God, the stories never stopped. It felt like every week something about them hit the headlines...”
It hadn’t been that bad but, to their kids, it must have seemed like it.
“We genuinely believed that the press just reported on the stories but, at Jack’s funeral, we realized Gil and Zia had an unholy pact with the tabloids, and they were the source of most of the exposés. They loved the attention.”
Brin winced.
“Jack died and photographs of his funeral—Digby and I insisted that it was to be a small, very intimate and very private affair—were leaked to the paparazzi, and we lost it. We were livid. We quickly worked out that our parents were the only people who could’ve given the photos to the press and when we confronted them, they confirmed it.”
Brin blinked away her tears and wished she could dig his parents up and, well, punch them. She wasn’t a violent person, but she’d happily step into the ring with Radd’s parents. She couldn’t believe they thought it was okay to profit off their oldest son’s death...
“After that, we didn’t have any contact with them,” Radd concluded on a small shrug.
Brin buried her face against the ball of his shoulder, her body shaking with anger. Her mother wouldn’t win any prizes in the “best mommy” competition but, compared to Radd’s parents, she was a saint. Her heart ached for the two boys who raised themselves.
Brin felt Radd pull away from her and, when his hand cupped her cheek, she opened her eyes to find his face inches from hers, his expression concerned. His thumb swiped her cheekbone and his breath caressed her cheek. “Are you okay?”
Brin shook her head. “No, I’m so damn angry I want to clout something!” Brin retorted.
“Why are you... Oh. You’re angry for me?”
Why did he sound so bemused, like that wasn’t possible? Brin sat up, pushed her hair and slapped her arms over her chest. “No, I’m not angry, I’m livid. What was wrong with them? How dare they do that? Are you freaking kidding me? That is insane and horrible and—”
Radd shoved a glass of wine into her hand. “Sip.” Brin took a large gulp and sighed when the soft, complex liquid slid down her throat.
“And, while I appreciate your reaction, it all happened a long time ago,” he added.
“Still...”
Brin sucked in a deep breath and, knowing that she needed to lighten the atmosphere, that they were wading into deep, dark emotional waters—a place she couldn’t afford to visit and if she did, couldn’t stay long—she dredged up a teasing smile. “You’re thirty-six. Damn, you’re old.”
Radd’s eyes narrowed at her, but she caught the flash of relief, in his eyes. They’d gone too deep, too fast, and he wanted to swim back to shore. “Who are you calling old, wretch?”
“You.”
“You do know that there is a pool about six feet from us and I can drop you in it?” Radd threatened.
“You wouldn’t dare...”
Brin squealed when, in one fluid movement, he stood up and lifted her up against his chest, without, she had to admit, any strain at all. Radd walked her over to the pool and swung her away from his body.
“Radd, no!” Brin really didn’t want to go for a swim in that still, cold water. She released a wild laugh and tightened her grip around his neck. “My hair takes forever to dry, it’s too cold and I’m sorry I called you old!”
Radd’s fingers dug into her ribs and she squirmed as he tickled her. “How sorry are you?” he demanded, a huge smile making him look ten years younger.
“Very.” Brin’s eyes connected with his and his arms tightened, pulling her tighter to his chest. He is so warm, Brin thought, so strong. Brin saw his eyes leave hers to look at her mouth and, when their eyes reconnected, she saw that desire, hot and heavy, had replaced his amusement.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he rasped.
Brin knew that he was going to kiss her and that she was going to let him. How could she resist? And why should she? A sexy man held her in his arms, the night was stunning and they were alone...
“Children, it’s good to see you playing nicely but, Radd, I need to talk to you.”
Okay, so not alone.
Brin slid down Radd’s body and, when her feet touched the ground, she turned to see Mari standing at the entrance to the lodge, looking stressed. Radd took a step away from her, ran his hand over his jaw and nodded. But Brin heard his low, under-the-breath curse at Mari’s timing.
Yep, it sucked.
Radd walked over to the lounger, picked up the bottle of wine and the glasses, and placed them on the closest wrought iron table. “Come on over, Mari. And bring a glass for some wine.”
When Mari turned away, he handed Brin her glass and she shuddered when his fingers brushed hers. She lifted her glass in a toast, her hand trembling. “Thanks for not dropping me in the pool, old man.”
Radd’s hand shot out, gripped the back of her neck to pull her closer and his mouth, hot, hard and insistent, swiped over hers. A second, maybe two later, he lifted his head and his eyes glittered with frustration, lust and a healthy dose of humor. “Oh, I still can. And before the week is out, I probably will.”
Brin had the feeling that he wasn’t only talking about an unscheduled dip.
Brin watched as Radd flipped on the outside lights and the atmosphere on the veranda changed from sensual to sensible. Slipping on her flip-flops, Brin started to excuse herself but, before she could, Radd waved her to a chair.
Radd leaned against the railing behind Brin, his wineglass resting against his bicep. “What’s the problem, Mari?”
Mari crossed her elegant legs, hauled in a deep breath and tried to smile. “Apparently your guests will be here for breakfast, not afternoon tea.”
Radd frowned. “Okay, that’s not a huge problem, is it?”
Mari’s deep brown eyes reflected her frustration. “No, that’s easily handled.”
Radd moved to take a seat next to Brin, and Radd placed his hand on her arm. “Ready for dinner?”
As if she could think of food when he was touching her. Sparks ran up and down her arm and warmth settled in her stomach and between her legs. Really, her reaction to him was instantaneous and inconvenient.
“I still need a little more of your time, Radd. Sorry, Brin.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Brin asked.
Mari smiled at her. “That’s not necessary.”
Radd stroked her arm before lifting his hand off her skin. He placed his forearms on the table, his focus shifting to Mari. Mari started to run through the coming week, the guests and their preferences. Brin was impressed by their no-notes discussion, both owner and manager had all the facts at their fingertips.
Brin admired Mari’s ability to answer Radd’s rapid questions, but she was very impressed by Radd’s insightful and detailed questions.
He deep dived into the operation, and Brin’s eyes bounced from Mari’s delicate features to Radd’s masculine face, frequently losing track of what they were discussing.
She’d expected Radd to only have a surface-based knowledge of Kagiso. He was, after all, the not-here-that-often owner, and he had many fingers in many business pies. But Radd could, at a moment’s notice, drop into Mari’s position and run the lodge with precision and assurance.
Radd caught her stare and a small frown creased his eyebrows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Brin lifted one shoulder, a little embarrassed to be caught out. “Um, I’m just impressed at how much you know about the day-to-day running of the lodge.”
“It is my lodge,” Radd pointed out.
“I know but I thought, because you own so many other businesses, that you’d oversee the place and leave the details to your management team,” Brin said.
Mari laughed, her eyes dancing. “Radd is a control freak, Brin. Actually, I’m surprised that he didn’t spend the night looking over your shoulder, telling you where to put each individual flower in your arrangements.”
“I’m not that bad,” Radd protested.
“Yeah, you are,” Marri told him, patting his hand affectionately. She smiled at Brin. “Even as a kid, he was incredibly bossy. The only person Radd ever listened to was Jack.”
Brin placed her chin in the palm of her hand, watching the interaction between the two. That they knew each other well wasn’t in dispute, and Brin was both glad and sad—weird to be both at the same time—that her instincts about Radd’s controlling personality were spot-on. Glad because who didn’t want to be right, and sad because, well, if there was a man she could see herself becoming entangled with then Radd Tempest-Vane was right at the top of that list.
Attraction played a huge part, but she also liked the man, which was unexpected. Then again, she occasionally liked her mom and sister, too. But they were, in their entirety, bad for her. Radd would be, as well.
While she enjoyed their conversation earlier, loved seeing a glimpse of the real man behind the ruthless veneer he wore, she wasn’t under any illusions it meant anything. Radd wasn’t looking for anything permanent, neither was she.
But, while resisting Rich Radd, the implacable billionaire, was easy, she was crazy attracted to the flawed, sexy, sweet man she’d glimpsed earlier. Resisting that Radd was going to be as hard as hell.
But that wasn’t who Radd was all the time; Real Radd was hard, tough and uncompromising. Real Radd would overwhelm and dilute her...
“Oh, and they’ve added an extra person to the party,” Mari added.
Radd’s frown pulled Brin’s attention back to the conversation. “What?”
Mari rolled her expressive eyes. “One of the bridesmaids changed her plans and Mrs. Radebe is demanding we accommodate her.”
Radd pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a harsh curse. “These people are going to drive me insane.”
Brin caught the flash of uncertainty that flashed across Mari’s face. “An additional guest is going to require an additional room. With Brinley in a villa, we’re short of beds.”
Right, the universe was trying to send Brin a message. She needed to go back to Cape Town, needed to leave Kagiso and remove herself from Radd’s orbit. It would’ve been lovely to spend the balance of the week enjoying the six-star resort, but if Mari needed the space for paying guests, she’d have to vacate. Radd would have to find a way to return her to the city now.
And again, she felt both glad and sad.
Radd stared at her, his eyes boring into hers. In those inky eyes, she saw a variety of emotions, most of which she couldn’t identify. He seemed to be weighing his options, turning over possibilities, looking for pros and cons.
“There’s Digby’s villa.”
Radd shook his head. “No, Mari, out of the question. When we established the lodge, Dig and I agreed that we’d never hire our personal residences to guests. That’s his personal space and it’s not happening.” Radd turned to Brin. “Digby’s villa is next to mine.” A barely there, almost satisfied smile touched the corners of Radd’s lips, and Brin frowned, wondering what he was up to. “Brin can move into my villa.”
Uh, really? “And where will you sleep?” she demanded. Radd’s smile deepened and his eyes heated. Brin, seeing the answer in his eyes—with you, obviously—quickly shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
Before Radd could reply, Mari pushed her chair back and quietly excused herself. Brin, not wanting to break eye contact with Radd, didn’t acknowledge her leaving and neither, Brin noticed, did her boss.
“I’m not sleeping with you, Radd,” Brin told him, annoyed that her voice sounded a little shaky. And not very assertive.
Radd nodded. “Okay.”
Brin didn’t trust his immediate agreement. “Look, I’m adult enough to realize that we are hectically attracted to each other, but I’m not the type to fall into bed with hot billionaires.”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying that!” Brin snapped.
Radd leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs and linked his hands on his flat stomach, looking supremely relaxed. “What do you think is going to happen if you move into my villa, Brin?”
“We’re two unattached, single people who are attracted to each other,” Brin replied, annoyed. “What the hell do you think is going to happen? Do you think we’ll spend all our time playing tiddlywinks? We’ll end up having sex.”
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
How could he sound so relaxed, like they were discussing the weather? “I’m not answering that question.”
“So, that’s a yes, then.”
“It’s not a yes!” Brin snapped.
“Then it’s a no?”
Brin refused to look at him, wanting to lie but unable to. So she kept quiet, hoping for a hole to open up and suck her into another vortex, a different paradigm. She waited, but nothing happened and she eventually, what seemed like years later, looked at Radd.
He still looked relaxed and worse, amused.
“You are so damn annoying.” Brin pushed her curls back off her face and cupped her hand behind her neck, feeling out of her depth and a little emotional. God, at times like these she wished she were more like Kerry, sophisticated and cool, able to give as good as she got.
People like Radd and her sister could run rings around her without moving at all.
The amusement faded from Radd’s eyes and his expression turned serious. “You’re seriously upset about this.”
Well, yes. She didn’t like feeling as though she was the ditsy hen and he the sly fox.
Radd sat up straight, leaned forward and placed his hand on her knee. “Look at me, Brinley.” Radd waited for her to meet his eyes before speaking again. “I don’t want you to leave Kagiso, not yet. And yes, we need your room and a solution is for you to move in with me. But that’s all I’m asking you to do.”
“But—” Brin waved a hand between them “—you know.”
“Do I want to sleep with you? Hell, yes. Does your moving into my place guarantee that’s going to happen? Hell, no.” Radd tapped his finger on her knee when her eyes slid away. “Keep looking at me, Brinley. You’re in control here, you’re calling the shots. Would I like to see, taste and have you? Sure, I would. You’re a gorgeous woman and making love to you would be a privilege. But that’s your decision, always. If you’re not interested or not ready, I get it, and I’ll either sleep on the couch or in the hammock on the veranda.”
“You will?”
Radd looked annoyed at her questioning his motives. “I’m hard-assed and demanding. I’m abrupt and reticent, but I don’t force, coerce or bully women into sleeping with me.” Radd ran his fingers through his hair. “But if you don’t feel comfortable, if you don’t trust me enough, then I’ll make a call and hire a plane to get you home by nightfall.”
If he’d tried to persuade her, if he’d brushed off her concerns or dismissed them out of hand, then Brin would’ve taken him up on his offer to get her home, but because he did neither, because she instinctively trusted his integrity, she glanced down and stroked her finger over the raised veins in his broad, masculine hand.
“You must think I am desperately naive and old-fashioned,” Brin quietly commented.
Radd took a moment to answer her. “I think you are refreshing and out of the ordinary. I don’t often invite people to share my personal space, Brinley. Neither do I talk about my past, but I like talking to you. I like you. And if all I can get is your company, then I’ll take it.”
Was he being sarcastic? Was he just saying that to get his own way? To manipulate her into doing what he wanted her to do?
Brin looked into his eyes, steady and strong, and the honesty reflected in those inky blue depths reassured her. She allowed her suspicions to drain away. She believed him but, more than that, she trusted him. Trusted him to keep his word, to not push her, to respect her boundaries.
Boundaries that were, let’s be honest, not that solid, barriers that could easily be decimated.
“You’ll sleep on the couch or in the hammock?”
“I will.” Then Radd smiled and her heart flipped over. “Unless you invite me to share my bed.”
Radd stood up abruptly and held out his hand for her to take. “I’ll get Chef to deliver our dinner, and your luggage, to my villa. We can eat on the deck, it overlooks a watering hole.”
He was too self-confident by half, a little presumptuous and a lot arrogant, but that didn’t stop Brin from sliding her hand into his and allowing him to lead her out of the dining room.
The next morning, Radd looked around his private villa, thinking that this open-plan space had always been his refuge, the one place he felt utterly at home.
He’d personally designed the spacious two-roomed, open-plan villa and some of his most treasured pieces of furniture had ended up here. In the corner sat his grandfather’s desk, above it on the wall were family photographs from the original farmhouse, demolished shortly after the new owners took possession of the property.
The enormous bed came from Le Bussy, the wine farm in Paarl, brought over by the first Tempest-Vane to arrive on the subcontinent.
There were antique fishing rods on another wall, all used by generations of Tempest-Vanes, and the four-seater sofa and its two matching wingback chairs, restuffed and recovered, were all old but supremely comfortable. Beyond the bedroom was a massive bathroom, complete with a slipper bath and his and hers basins. Floor-to-ceiling doors opened up onto an outdoor shower and Radd loved nothing more than to stand beneath the hard spray, looking up into the branches of an ancient shepherd tree shielding the villa from the harsh African sun. There was something incredibly sexy and primal about showering outside, especially at night when the stars hung so low he felt he could pluck them from the sky and hold them in his hand.
He could easily imagine standing in that space with a naked Brin, licking droplets of water off her breasts, her flat stomach, running his hands down her long legs, tipping her head back to suckle on her elegant neck...
God, he couldn’t think about her like that, naked, while she lay on his bed, gently sleeping.
Radd tipped his face up to the sun, enjoying the still pleasant heat, and whipped off his T-shirt, enjoying the prickles of sunshine on his shoulders and back.
God, he loved Kagiso.
This was the place where he recharged his batteries, where he could spend hours looking over his land or at the water hole, completely content to while away the hours on his own, watching the light change and the animals wandering into his line of sight.
Kagiso, particularly this villa—with its wide veranda, comfortable seating, a telescope and a plunge pool—was the place he ran to when life became a little too real, a bit harsh, the demands of business overwhelming.
Here, on his own, he could breathe, he could relax, he could simply be.
This space was his bolt hole and, to an extent, sacred. It wasn’t a space he shared, not even with Digby, as close as they were.
Radd stood at the railing of the veranda and turned his back on the water hole to look into the room, past the lounge area to the massive bed, draped in mosquito netting against a stone wall. Brin lay on her side, her hands under her cheek, deep in sleep.
God, she was beautiful. Fresh, lovely, unusual. And she was in his space, in this place that he regarded at his little piece of paradise.
Radd watched her sleep for another minute or two before forcing himself to pull his eyes off her delicate profile, to stop himself from tracing the curve of her lips, the arch of her cheekbones, from counting the number of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
She was unlike anyone he’d ever met before, feminine and strong, yet curiously vulnerable and more than a little sweet.
He wasn’t normally attracted to sweet woman, to vulnerable innocents. He didn’t have the time and energy to dance around them, to watch his words, to reign in his forthright observations or to measure his words. Yet, despite her softness, he didn’t feel the need to censure himself around Brinley, she’d proved that she could handle him at his most irritable and demanding.
He admired her pride, the fact that she was not intimidated by his wealth, success or power. He enjoyed her sly sense of humor and was constantly surprised that she seemed to get him. She was unlike any woman he’d encountered before.
And last night he’d opened up to her, told her things about his past and family he’d never discussed with anyone but Digby. And he was not okay with that.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Nobody but the two brothers knew that Gil and Zia left all their worldly assets to a trust, that they’d sold photographs from Jack’s funeral to the press. And, because he’d been seduced by a sweet-smelling woman and a warm, star-filled night, there was always a chance that tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, or next month, these nuggets of information could land in the gossip columns, as another episode in the Tempest-Vane saga.
Radd felt the cold fringes of panic claw up his throat and his fingers curled around the railing, slowly turning white. He didn’t think Brin would go to the press, didn’t think she was the type, but he should not have taken the chance. What the hell had he been thinking?
Dammit. He should’ve got her to sign a nondisclosure agreement...
Yeah, fantastic plan, Tempest-Vane. She’d take that well. Not.
Radd tipped his head up to the sky, wishing he wasn’t so distrustful, so god-awful cynical. But his employing her, and his attraction to her, had happened so damn fast he was still trying to catch up.
The only thing he could do, what he would do, was to keep his mouth shut from this point onwards.
Radd rested his arms on the railing of the balcony and stared down at the water below him, uncomfortable with his mental ramblings, his deep dive into his psyche. He had to reign this emotion in, go back into his cool cocoon where little touched him. He was here, at Kagiso, to get Vincent Radebe to sign the final papers that would give them ownership of the mine and, when that was done, they’d launch the PR and rebranding campaign.
He had to stick to things he could control and Brinley Riddell, with her light eyes and soft curls, was not on that list.
He’d best remember that.