StrokeofMidnight (2 page)

“I’m sure Seattle has never regretted it either,” Daniel
said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. “The employment rate must have
had a boost with your chain of department stores.”

Rowyn fought to contain her surprise. It had never occurred
to her that she and Darius worked in the same field. Of course, they hadn’t
talked about business that night. Funny how she knew his favorite movie was
The
Breakfast Club
, he had no clue who Lady Gaga was and he couldn’t pass by a
Hershey bar with almonds without buying one. But how he earned his living had
never surfaced in their myriad conversation topics.

Then again, maybe not so funny. That night she had craved
being someone other than Rowyn the coldhearted businesswoman. Rowyn the
plainer, bitchier stepsister.

Rowyn the out-of-wedlock mistake.

She studied the dark-red depths of her glass, imagining it
were a crystal ball. Maybe this explained why her mother drank like a fish.
Maybe she too hoped answers lay at the bottom of her glass.

“With the success and popularity of your women’s department,
this merger could be highly profitable for both of us.”

Merger?
Rowyn frowned and fixed her gaze and
attention on Daniel. She hadn’t heard the slightest whisper of a joint venture
with another company.

“You’re considering merging, Daniel?” she asked, voice as
placid as she could manage even though disquiet rippled through her stomach.

“Yes.” Her stepfather regarded her with a faintly puzzled
frown.
Maybe he forgot I’m still standing here
. “We’re discussing the
possibility of starting off small. Just the women’s fashion department for
now.”

The quivers swelled into breakers that threatened to tow her
under their water of disbelief, anger…and hurt. After years of Daniel’s
indifference and careless, sporadic affection, Rowyn had believed her
stepfather could no longer hurt her.
I stand corrected.

“Since that is my division, what would happen to the offices
here? As well as the employees?”
Me?

A furrow of irritation appeared between his brows as if her
questions were too pesky to address…as if his stepdaughter was too
inconsequential to consider.

“All that can be worked out.” He waved off her concerns with
a small flick of his hand. “Everyone can be reassigned.”

The pain radiated out from the center of her chest and
infected every part of her body until Rowyn throbbed like a walking wound.

Everyone.

She’d busted her ass for his company—for
him
—for five
years. The long hours, the hard work…They were all she had to offer Daniel that
he would willingly take. Never had Rowyn disillusioned herself that she could
win his love—that had been reserved for his dead first wife and their
daughter—so she’d given him the one thing she had. And now he’d literally
brushed her dedication off as one would an annoying gnat.

Jesus. When would she learn?

When the hell would she stop caring?

Chapter Three

“When the prince set eyes on Cinderella, he was struck
by her beauty. Walking over to her, he bowed deeply and asked her to dance. And
to the great disappointment of all the young ladies, he danced with Cinderella
all evening.”—Cinderella

“Welcome back, buddy.”—Darius Fiore to his penis after
seeing Rowyn Jeong again.

When Darius turned twelve, his cousin Jared liberated the
new four-wheeler he’d received for his birthday and wrecked it before Darius
had a chance to ride it. At twenty, he caught the college undergraduate he
believed himself in love with treating her economics professor to a late-night
blow job. She thought Darius should have understood—since she needed a C—as the
class was in her major.

And at twenty-five, his father had promoted a lazy imbecile
over him because he hadn’t wanted his son to rise too quickly in the family
business. That same month, he divorced Darius’ mother and married the
aforementioned undergraduate. Apparently the economics professor wasn’t the
only man she’d been blowing behind Darius’ back.

In every one of those experiences, Darius had been mad as
hell. But not one compared to the fury that consumed him as he stood next to
Daniel Harrison and witnessed the disregard and cold rejection he inflicted on his
oldest daughter. Correction—
stepdaughter
, as the businessman had been
quick to point out when Darius had inquired about her.

Blood relation or not, she deserved more respect than Daniel
had granted. Before considering partnering up with Harrison Companies, Darius
had researched the huge chain. Numbers didn’t lie. The business’ main income
was derived from the women’s fashion division. And its success could be
directly attributed to Rowyn Jeong.

Of course when he’d read her name on his reports, he hadn’t
realized the departmental head and the woman he’d nearly killed himself fucking
six months ago were one and the same.

He paused inside the entrance to the living room they’d
congregated in earlier. She stood at one of the long oblong windows, staring
out into the darkness. For the moment they had the room to themselves. Her
parents had been held up by their housekeeper and Cindy had excused herself,
most likely too polite to say she needed to go to the bathroom.

As he stared at the proud line of Rowyn’s spine in the
simple but stylish wine-red sheath, Darius was thankful for the time to study
her. Ramrod straight. Unbending. A perfect description of the woman he’d spent
the evening facing across the dinner table. With a reserve that rode the edge
of detachment, Rowyn had dined quietly while her stepfather alternated between
boasting about his company and rhapsodizing his younger daughter’s virtues, her
mother complained and emptied glass after glass of wine and her stepsister
chattered nonstop about…hell, whatever. He’d stopped listening after the first
mind-numbing round of local gossip.

Through the long dinner hour, Rowyn had appeared untouched,
even indifferent. Yet he’d spied the flicker of hurt that had darkened her eyes
at Daniel’s callous rebuff. And he’d detected the minute cracks in her armor as
Pamela delivered well-aimed jabs and cutting remarks.

For an educated woman, you have nothing relevant to add
to this conversation. I wish you would do something with your hair. No wonder a
man isn’t attracted to you.

Jesus. It almost seemed as if she
disliked
her
daughter. He had wanted to jump in and demand the older woman lay the fuck off.
He’d wanted to catch Rowyn’s gaze, assure her she wasn’t alone in this battle
that masqueraded as dinner. But Rowyn had studiously avoided making eye contact
with him, and he’d had to swallow his disappointment along with the Sir Galahad
syndrome that had reared its chivalrous head.

He could have saved his worry, though. Rowyn had taken her
mother’s verbal stabs in stride. If he hadn’t been studying her so closely, he
would have missed the slight tightening of her lips and the small tilt of her
chin.

Who
was
Rowyn Jeong? The contained, aloof
businesswoman? Or the sensual, uninhibited lover who had disappeared without a
hint to her existence except for the lingering scent of sex on his bed sheets
and a beautiful necklace and pendant.

Determined to find out, Darius stepped forward. Her back
stiffened as he approached, but she didn’t turn to face him. He didn’t pause
until the lapel of his jacket grazed the deep-red satin of her dress.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. It was
either that or grab her arms, turn her around and lick the curve of her plump
bottom lip before sliding his tongue deep into the mouth he’d had wet dreams
about.

Their eyes met and held for a brief space of time in the
darkened window that reflected their images. Unlike Cindy, the top of Rowyn’s
head grazed his chin and he didn’t feel like a hulking giant next to
Thumbelina. From experience, he knew her sexy curves complimented his body like
the perfect puzzle piece. Again and again her breasts had pressed to his chest,
his hips to that beautiful rounded ass. He inhaled. And like a deer scenting
water, his body reacted to her skin’s perfume.

His breathing deepened. His skin prickled. His cock hardened
to the point of sweet pain. Fuck, the smell of her was like a hot palm
squeezing his dick.

“Did you just smell my hair?”

The husky tone contradicted the sharp words. Her back
remained to him, but Darius glimpsed the narrowing of her eyes in the window.

“Yes, I think I did.” From her silence, he assumed his
candor surprised her. He could have lied. Probably should have. But considering
the lurid images that had been running through his mind from the moment she’d
walked through that living room door over an hour ago, smelling her hair seemed
pretty low on the you’re-a-sick-fuck list. Hell, every time she’d closed her
lips around her fork, he’d pictured Rowyn as she’d been that night—kneeling
before him, her pretty mouth stretched wide around his cock, her moans
vibrating along his skin, dark eyes gleaming with pleasure…

His skin was tight as shit—a dry-clean-only suit that had
been washed. His cock throbbed and lust gripped his gut in a headlock. In six
months, no other woman had made his dick twitch much less harden to a full
erection. Shit, if not for the fact it jerked and erupted in his hand every
night to thoughts of this woman, he would’ve believed an emergency regimen of
Viagra was in order.

Rowyn turned to face him. Without flinching, she tilted her
head back to meet his stare. No fidgeting. No hint of coyness. No flirting. And
damn, wasn’t that hot?

“At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s a very small world,”
Darius murmured. The understatement of the century.

“Somehow I don’t believe Walt Disney meant encountering
someone he’d seen naked. Or in his parents’ home,” Rowyn drawled.

Though the image of a tuxedo-clothed cricket bumping uglies
was disturbing, he couldn’t suppress the spurt of humor at her dry wit. It had
been one of the characteristics that had captured his attention and kept him
pinned to that barstool all those months ago. It was also one that had failed
to make an appearance this evening until now. And now, as then, it only
enhanced the natural beauty and allure that even her cool demeanor, restrained
hair and subtle clothing couldn’t hide.

“No wonder I couldn’t find you,” he said, shifting closer,
trespassing her space. This close, he didn’t miss the glint of irritation that
flickered in her eyes. Oh yeah, this woman would guard her personal territory
and obviously resented his invasion. But she didn’t back up either. He’d known
her straightforward manner was hot…but damn, make that hot as fuck.

Unable to stop himself, he lifted a hand to her face and
stroked his thumb over the lush bottom lip that fascinated him. He wanted to
bite it, suck the sweet flesh between his teeth. His dick jerked, totally on
board with the idea.

“Did you know there are fifty-six ‘Rowyns’ in the greater
Seattle area?” he asked softly.

“You searched for me?”

Darius ignored her question and the disbelief that coated
it. In one motion, he dropped his hand and retreated away from temptation. Need
seemed to replace the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins. The exotic
almond shape of her heavily lashed eyes, the high, aristocratic cheekbones, the
sinful mouth… He stifled a groan and retreated another step. God should have
made her the eleventh commandment.

“Why did you leave?” The words seemed to erupt from his lips.
The question had plagued him since that night and couldn’t be contained a
moment longer. Had he demanded too much from her? Had he hurt her in some way?

The worry had been like an insistent itch at the back of his
neck that he couldn’t ease. His memories were of a hot night filled with the
most incredible sex with an equally incredible woman. As he’d fallen asleep,
waking up to that same woman and learning more about her had been his last
coherent thought.

Instead he’d woken to an empty bed and an emptier hole in
his gut, as if he’d been offered the opportunity to partake of a sumptuous
feast and had arrived too late.

Rowyn blinked then cocked her head, her expression as bland
as her tone. “To stay two nights would have been a bit counterproductive to the
purpose of a one-night stand.”

He arched an eyebrow. Since he was fourteen, women had
cozied up to him, flirted—as much for his appearance as well as his father’s
money.

None had wham-bam-thank-you-ma’amed him.

“You know,” he drawled and reclaimed the distance he’d
placed between them, “if I hadn’t seen you mid-orgasm, I might buy this
freeze-ice-cubes-on-your-ass routine.” He touched her again. This time right
where her stomach and pelvic region merged. He dropped his gaze. If she were
naked, he’d probably graze the top of that neatly trimmed nest of black hair
covering her pussy. He heard the loud intake of breath and her abdominal
muscles clenched, going concave beneath his fingers. “Now that sound I clearly
remember. Every time I pushed my cock into your tight pussy you’d suck in a
breath and hold it.”

He sketched a small circle over her dress, applying enough
pressure her soft flesh gave beneath his fingers. “Remember the first time I
fucked you? God, it took forever for your pussy to loosen around my dick. I had
to move
so
slow. It was torture feeling those muscles quiver around me.
I almost lost it before I was fully inside. You were so wet, so small.”

He groaned and widened the circle, coming perilously close
to the top of her sex. The rasp of air from Rowyn’s lungs confirmed his
assumption—heat burned beneath the ice queen facade. “But the second time you
took me easier. And the third…” He glanced up and beheld eyes that were
anything but cold. They gleamed with heat. Her lush lips parted under her pants
and a delicate flush colored her high cheekbones. Fuck, she was beautiful. “The
third time,” he breathed, “I slid right in as if I’d broken in your pussy with
my cock.”

A small, inarticulate cry escaped her and she shuddered.
Thick lashes lowered.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured and slid a finger lower.

“There you two are,” a cheery voice interrupted, shattering
the desire-thickened tension woven around them like a cocoon.

In an instant, the passion of a woman on the verge of
surrender gave way to such stricken vulnerability Darius bit off a blistering
curse. He turned around and blocked Rowyn from her sister’s view. Even as he
faced Cindy and forced a stiff smile to his lips, nothing could erase that
haunted expression from his mind.

“Dad wanted to give you a tour of the house, Darius.” Cindy
crossed the room and linked an arm through his. She tipped her head back then
gave him a pretty grin and flirtatious squeeze. “He’d like to show you where
the party will be held Saturday night. You are staying in town for it, aren’t
you?” She guided him toward the opened door of the room and he allowed it. As
he responded to her question about his plans, his thoughts lingered on the
silent woman who remained in the living room.

No doubt shoring up her prickly defenses.

Good thing he didn’t mind getting scratched.