“This is insane. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I know better than to trust sweet-talking men with their hands out,” Rory muttered as Cleo’s pickup roared down the highway toward Charleston with Clay behind the wheel. “And you don’t even talk sweet that well.”
“Actions talk louder than words,” he answered predictably. “We’re good together in bed. That ought to count for something.”
“Oh, yeah, count on it,” she said sarcastically, still mentally castigating herself. “I’ve had only one night to base that conclusion on. Bed and money don’t walk hand in hand with Bubbles the Clown.”
He chuckled, unfazed by her sudden panic. “The game is called ‘Mysterious.’ It made a fortune as a PC-generated game ten years ago. Jared and I share royalties, so I know the book version of the script is still selling.”
“But the game isn’t,” she pointed out. “You want me to invest in a game that no one buys.”
Clay waved away her objection. “While I was out in L.A., I played with updating it to bring in a whole new generation of kids who use Playstations instead of the computer. I’ve been wrangling to get the rights back from the PC people but they want money.”
“And you really think a few hundred thousand dollars will persuade them to part with the rights they robbed you of?”
She still had a hard time believing his story. Okay, she believed an intelligent man like Clay could program computers. That wasn’t too hard a stretch. And maybe a comic artist like Jared and a computer genius might put their teenage heads together long enough to produce the “Mysterious” script. But turning it into a computer game that made millions pushed the limits of her credulity.
Clay was a millionaire? Or had been. Past tense.
She fully accepted the part about the software company stealing the rights out from under their youthful idealism. She couldn’t think of a lawyer good enough now to understand the industry contract. Ten years ago—nope, they hadn’t stood a chance. Not if their family hired a hundred New York lawyers.
“The greedy pigs haven’t kept up with the times,” Clay argued. “The rights will revert shortly unless they’re willing to produce a new version, and you can pretty much guarantee their marketing department has moved on to race cars and robots and gore. It’s short term thinking out there. They’ll grab at our offer. We’ll just need funding to produce a product the new game players will accept. That requires a studio and technical assistance. I specialize in 3-D animation and graphics, but there are other aspects I can’t cover.”
She still had difficulty grasping the extent of his genius. She’d known there was more beneath his pretty hair and denim vest than an immature gamer, but a software mogul?
A software mogul who played games and set her nights on fire. Surrounded by family, they’d been forced to be circumspect all weekend. She’d spent her lonely nights in bed reliving Clay’s lovemaking. Sex, she reminded herself. There had been no love involved. Yet.
She was terrified of that tiny “yet.” She had too soft a heart and needed to protect it before she destroyed everything she’d worked so hard to accomplish.
“You’d better hope other investors are as sure of this as you,” she said gloomily, giving up on classifying him or anything else. “Venture capital went down the drain with the collapse of the tech market. I can call the entrepreneurial angels I know, but the market hurt them badly. You’ll have to be mighty convincing, or we’ll be out of house and home with half a video game to show for it.”
“That won’t happen,” he said with such sureness that Rory almost believed him. “I’ll borrow the money from Jared if I have to. He’ll want to invest, too. Just call angels with teenagers, and I’ll send them the latest PC version to test drive. You’ve seen it. They’ll invest.”
She desperately wanted to believe him, but the events of the past few days had shaken her normal optimism.
But the program was addictive. Even she wanted to play it again.
“This could all be a waste of time if we can’t stop the developers,” she warned him, just to keep her feet firmly on the ground.
“One step at a time, my goddess,” he said, sending her a warm smile that turned her into a pillar of sugar.
Resigned to this mad adventure, fearing she was in over her head, but knowing she carried her family’s hopes and dreams with her, she valiantly focused on watching road signs. “That’s the street there. It’s number 1101. If I’d known I was looking for a corporate shark, I would have found a different lawyer.”
“All he needs to see is the six zeroes after the one, and he’ll find anyone you like.”
A million dollars. She might have a million-dollar bottle cap in her pocket, and she was about to hand it over to a man who took wild risks and made and lost fortunes. She wasn’t a gambler. She liked security. She was out of her ever-lovin’ mind.
And terrified to the marrow.
o0o
Walking down the redbrick stairs of the attorney’s old Charleston town house some hours later, Rory couldn’t tear her gaze away from the fat manila envelope in her hand. “I exchanged a million dollars for this?” she muttered as Clay steered her past jasmine-covered wrought-iron fences to the parking lot. “I could have a fat stack of green bills to take to the bank, and instead I took meaningless paper?”
They’d won a million dollars! It was real. It didn’t seem real. She continued staring at the envelope in incredulity with panic gnawing the lining of her stomach and ecstasy shaking her knees. Money certainly hadn’t changed anything. Yet.
In the shade of a magnolia, Clay caught her arms and pulled her around to face him. When she glanced up in surprise, he kissed her.
Rory shut her eyes and reveled in the beauty and passion of his mouth plying hers. She tasted gratitude and excitement and a sexy undercurrent of hunger held in check. The electricity of power surged through her.
This was more than just lust. This was mutual excitement and anticipation and joy in accomplishment. She could stand here like this forever, feeling the heat steam between their bodies, surrounded by the exotic smell of magnolias. If she could freeze a minute of time, this would be the one.
When she thought she would have to collapse against him and surrender to her blistering need, Clay abruptly set her back, still holding her arms but at a more sedate distance. The dazed expression on his face was priceless, and Rory couldn’t resist stroking his chiseled jaw. He’d shaved for the occasion.
“We either find a hotel and continue this, or pretend we’re respectable and walk back to the car.” In his casual California business attire of open shirt and linen trousers, he managed to look not only respectable, but wealthy and influential.
She actually considered the first choice. She could imagine celebrating her winnings in a charming old inn overlooking the harbor, the breeze from an open window blowing lace curtains over a poster bed she and Clay would share in amazing ways.
But the papers in her hand involved them far more than she could manage as it was. Opting for caution, she shook her head, as much to clear it as to say no. “This is not a good idea,” she said decisively, breaking away and heading for the car. “Business partners should never get involved outside the office. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?” Clay kept up with her long strides, jerking open the truck door before she could do it.
“Both. I’ve watched it happen. Give me some credit for experience. I worked with small businesses for years. Nasty, nasty stuff when families disagreed. Enough to explode a planet when lovers break up. Those papers in there are a powder keg. Let’s not play with fire.”
Slamming the driver’s door and turning the key in the ignition, he backed the truck out angrily. “Are you saying we just gave up sex for money?”
“Why, were you planning on exchanging sex for money?” Crossing her arms, Rory glared out the windshield.
“I didn’t even know you had money!” In a fit of frustration, he hit the car horn at an SUV turning left from the right hand lane.
“Well, I didn’t know you did either! I had sex with a mechanical god who sits on courthouse roofs and woke up with some kind of friggin’ industry guru. You think I want more surprises like that while I’m scrabbling to save my family’s future?”
“Mechanical god?” he asked, slanting her a look askance. Then, seeing her stubborn expression, he continued the argument. “You can’t shove me into a little box, and it’s making you mad. That’s not my fault.”
“Do you deny living in a sty on the beach with no discernible source of income?” she asked incredulously. “I thought you were a beach bum.”
“I was working! You knew I was working. I just don’t do it in air-conditioned offices anymore.” He hesitated on a corner, switched lanes, and turned toward the harbor.
“You turned the wrong way. The interstate is behind us.”
“So sue me. You have my life in that damned envelope. Rip it up and throw it out the window.”
“Your life? You’ve already had your million dollars, buster, and now you have the only million I’ll ever see, and we’re talking about your life?”
“No, now we’re talking nonsense.” He slammed on the brake at a stoplight, glanced up and down a street of historic mansions, and finding his direction, turned down an oak-and-Spanish-moss-lined lane.
“Where the dickens are you going?” Taken by surprise, she momentarily dropped the argument to gaze in awe at the towering, elegant homes they passed. She’d always loved Charleston, but she’d grown up in a trailer. These beautiful homes were about as real as a movie set to her.
“I figure we’re already arguing about money, so there’s no reason to deny ourselves the pleasurable side of it.” He turned up a drive with a discreet B-and-B sign tucked among the azaleas.
“You what?” Stunned into near speechlessness, Rory gaped at the vine-covered stone turrets and portico of the mansion as Clay turned off the ignition and leaped out of the truck.
“Come on.” He opened her door, caught her elbow, and tugged her out. “It’s after three. We can check in.”
She thought she ought to protest, but she was too busy admiring the shady stone terrace with a bubbling fountain and roses spilling across a sunny corner. Beneath the oaks, the day’s heat evaporated in cool moistness. Towering philodendron-like plants protected tender hostas and colorful caladiums. Huge live bouquets of mixed pink impatiens lit the shade like sunshine. Wrought-iron tables and chairs adorned with comfortable cushions in a subtle blend of greens and beiges were already set for some occasion.
She’d dreamed of places like this. Someday she’d hoped to tour Europe and stay in quaint hotels, eat in neighborhood bistros, and pretend she was a sophisticated traveler. Her heart ached at this glimpse of what it might be like. Reluctant to leave paradise, but eager to see inside, she slowly followed her new partner into the lobby.
He was opening up terrifying new worlds. She’d placed her life in the hands of an ex-millionaire, and he had completely taken control. She resented his presumption and wanted his support at the same time. He had experience she could only dream about. She had thought she would learn about the world on her own. She hated being confused.
Clay was already returning his wallet to his pants pocket as Rory stepped into the ceiling fan-cooled interior.
A smiling hostess emerged from behind the desk. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room. Do you have luggage? I can have Morris park your car and carry up your bags.”
“I promised Aurora a shopping spree,” Clay lied. “Just have him pull the truck out of the way.”
“How delightful! If you need suggestions for shopping or directions, please check with Jane. She’ll be happy to tell you anything you need to know.”
“Like how to kill incorrigible men,” Rory muttered under her breath, but there wasn’t any anger in her words. He’d gone against her wishes, brought her here for the purpose of sex, and all she could do was stare in wonder at the surroundings.
The magnificent mahogany circular staircase had robbed her of temper. The crystal chandelier lighting the way suspended all thought. She’d always wondered what the inside of one of these homes looked like. She wouldn’t ruin her chance to find out by pushing her domineering partner over the banister.
The turret room overlooking the harbor melted her into a puddle of love and lust and...
Refusing to be reduced to emotional tears, Rory touched the eyelet curtains of the antique poster bed and watched a sailboat outside the window reflect the sun in its billowing canvas.
She knew the instant they were alone even though she had her back to the door. She was aware of Clay’s height as he stood at her elbow, watching the sailboat with her. She knew how his arms would feel around her, how his kisses would taste, and every cell of her body hummed in anticipation. She resented the reaction, but she couldn’t fight it.
“How did you know?” she whispered.
“Know what?” With typical male cluelessness, he began releasing her sophisticated upswept coiffeur from its pins.
“The house. It’s like a dream. You knew where to go. You had reservations. You planned this all along.” She tried to hang on to the defensive shield of her anger.
“How many times in this life are you going to win a million dollars?” He filled his hands with her long hair, smoothed it around to her front, and began massaging her back and shoulders with strong fingers. “How many times do we have a chance to celebrate the formation of a company that will support us for life and potentially make a lot of people happy?”
“I just want to take care of my family,” she murmured as the spell of his hands removed any lingering argument. “I need security, and I need to make my family’s life easier. Gambling our lives on empire building is not my style. If I can help my neighbors along with my family, that’s a good thing, but—”
“Quit trying to manage the future, and enjoy the present. The future is a series of moments like this, mixed with bad ones like the fire. Some you can prevent, some you can’t.”
His mellow mood and the beauty of this place won out over the stress of the past few days. She couldn’t even remember why they were arguing. She’d never wanted to be with a man as much as she did this one. Clay offered emotional stability when her world spun into chaos. He balanced her flights of temper with logic, then countered her caution with recklessness. She needed his down-to-earth solidity to buffer her fears even as his creative impulses spun her head.
She needed his hands somewhere other than her shoulders.
“So now you’re a philosophical cynic?” There was no rancor in her question.
“I’ve played in deep waters,” he said with a certain amount of gruffness. “Give me credit for experience.” He threw her words back at her.
“Can I credit one of your girlfriends for the massage experience?” She hated herself for asking. He was a striking man. Women would have flocked around him. She knew that. She shouldn’t compare herself to the California beauties he must have known. But she was having difficulty believing this was real.
“Nope. Took a course in college.” His hands slid forward, finding the top button of her blouse. “I can surf and play poker, too. Didn’t learn them from women either.”
She leaned back against his broad chest as his fingers skillfully unfastened her blouse. “For a man’s man, you know a lot about women.”
“Studied them for years. Read books. Read news-groups on-line. Didn’t have much time to practice when I was starting out. I learned pretty quick, though, after they found out I had money.”
He pulled her open blouse from her skirt, slid it off her arms, and located the back fastening of her bra without a hitch.
“Given the way you live, that must have taken a while for them to deduce,” she said with as much equanimity as she could muster while his knuckles brushed her skin beneath the lacy elastic.
Clay chuckled. “Yeah, well, there is that, until the last one refused to enter my cubbyhole apartment, and I had to buy something respectable that she could decorate.”
She heard the dryness in his tone and thought she understood another of the roots of his cynicism. “Did you lose the money?” she asked.
“Not exactly, but the woman I thought I was going to marry disappeared when she found out where it went. Same thing. So, yeah, I have some experience. Not any of it real good.”
The bra fell away, and he leaned over to kiss the soft place behind her ear before he filled his hands with her breasts. Her arousal was instantaneous, and so strong she nearly cried out with it.
She didn’t want to talk anymore, didn’t want to empathize with a man who’d had all the material things but had never been offered the emotional ones that mattered.
Turning, she fumbled at Clay’s shirt buttons. He hadn’t bothered with a tie or jacket to impress the attorney, hadn’t needed to. His knowledgeable questions and intelligent suggestions had won the man over within minutes. They’d impressed her, too, but right now she wanted to be impressed by something a little more physical. It had been three long, lonely nights.
Clay helped her discard his shirt. Before she could make further inroads into their attire, he caught her bare waist and lowered his head for a kiss.
It was as if they had never parted from the last one, except this time they were naked, chest-to-chest, and he warmed his hands around the curves of her breasts.
“My God, Aurora, you’re like holding lightning and rainbows. I don’t think it’s possible to get enough.”
His words melted her as much as his hands.
They had the bedcovers thrown back and were sprawled across cool sheets before she realized it. She aroused from her giddy daze when Clay peeled off her skirt and panty hose, and she had to lift her hips to accommodate the gesture. But only when the pleasure stopped while he pried off his shoes and stood to remove his trousers did she fully grasp what she was doing. Again.
The eyelet bed curtains were billowing slightly with the breeze from the open window, just as in her daydream. Clay stood tall and strong against the lacy background, the feminine surroundings only emphasizing his masculinity. For just this moment, he could be the warrior sea captain returned to his home after a long voyage at sea. And she could be the well-loved and pampered wife. Just for now.
She welcomed him with open arms, thrilled to his heavy weight sinking her into the feather bed, and wrapped her thighs around his hips when he returned to kissing her.
“Later we’ll go slow,” he promised huskily, accepting her invitation without hesitation.
Aurora cried out as he slid into her. The warbling of a mockingbird covered the lovers’ sounds that followed.
Lost in the world Clay created, she followed his lead, releasing all control in exchange for the soaring pleasure of his body melded to hers.