Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride (11 page)

He let himself into the silent house, reset the alarm and climbed the stairs. Light spilling from a bedroom in the south hallway caught his attention and sent adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

Was there an intruder in the house or was Lauryn still awake and exploring? Had she walked in on a burglary despite the heavy security of the house? Or had one of the housekeeping staff left a light on? The need to see Lauryn, to reassure himself she was okay, suddenly seemed as necessary as breathing. He pulled his cell phone from its clip, ready to dial 911 if necessary, and crept down the hall toward the master suite to check on Lauryn first.

The bed was empty, the spread smooth and undisturbed.

He retraced his steps. The bathroom was dark and deserted. He flipped on the closet light switch. The dress Lauryn had worn tonight lay draped across the center island. She'd made it home and changed. That meant the light in the guest room was probably her. He snapped his phone back into the holder.

In an attempt to get her into bed, he'd turned up the heat since that evening she'd come apart in his arms, and this morning he'd left the lab results declaring them both disease-free on her dresser. He'd also tucked a box of condoms in each bedside table and slipped a jeweled condom compact into her purse. Nothing subtle about that.

Had he pushed too far too fast?

Had he driven Lauryn out of their suite?

He made his way to the guest bedroom. Both the room and bed were unoccupied. Light and a tapping sound came from the walk-in closet. Odd. He silently crossed the room and looked through the door. Lauryn knelt on the floor, rapping her knuckles against the floorboards and then pressing each end.

“What are you doing?”

She screamed, sprang to her feet and spun to face him. One hand covered her chest. “You scared me.”

“What are you doing?” he repeated.

Guilt infused her face. She nibbled her bottom lip and hugged her middle. “I'm…I'm looking for a hidden compartment.”

That made no sense. He must have misheard. “What?”

She swept a hand through her hair, looked away and then her gaze returned to his. “This was my mother—my
birth-
mother's house. I'm looking for her diaries.”

That made even less sense. “Lauryn, what in the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

But her eyes were clear and she looked steady on her feet. He hadn't seen her drink anything tonight besides her favorite sparkling water with a twist of lime.

“It's a long story. One I should have told you before now and I'm sorry that I didn't. But I didn't know how.” The look she gave him made the hair on his nape rise. He wasn't going to like this—whatever
this
was. “Can we—I need to show you something.”

She walked toward him and squeezed past him through the door. He followed her to their bedroom closet where she pulled out her suitcase, lifted a liner out of the bottom and extracted two file folders and a pile of letters bound neatly together with a string. She pushed them toward him.

The return address on the letters was the same as this estate. No name. Just the initials
A. L.

“After my father died I found out I was his child, but not my mother's. Adrianna Laurence was my birthmother. She met my father when he was stationed in Florida. They had an affair and she became pregnant with me. The letters she wrote to him refer to a hidden compartment in the floor of her bedroom closet where she kept her diary hidden. She wrote, ‘Only you, me and my diary know the truth.'

“I'm hoping to find the diary and read about their affair. Not the intimate stuff. Just the part about me. And why she gave me away.”

He juggled the thoughts bombarding him. There was no way Lauryn could have moved from California to Florida and coincidentally met and married him—the owner of the house her mother had once inhabited. He shifted the folders and saw Adrianna Laurence's name on one of the tabs and his on the other.

“You set me up?”

She winced. “Not exactly.”

“How
exactly?
”

She exhaled slowly as if buying time. “I came to Florida briefly after my father's funeral. I wanted to meet Adrianna, but she was already dead and she had no living relatives. I asked around and found out the house had been sold. Almost no one would talk to me. Those who did swore she'd never had a child.” She tapped the file folder. “This is all I could find out. It isn't enough.”

“You want to claim her estate?” He'd heard crazier schemes to get money. But he hadn't expected such greed from Lauryn. Okay, sure, she'd married him for a million bucks, but he hadn't noticed her going on any wild spending sprees.

“No. I just want the diary or diaries if there's more than one. A slew of research hours later I found out you'd bought the Laurence house, and I knew the only way to get what I wanted was through you.”

A sour taste filled his mouth. His stomach churned. “You used me.”

“I guess you could say that. You have to understand, Adam, I'd just lost my father. And it felt like I'd lost my identity, too. The woman I'd called ‘mother' for twenty-six years wasn't my mother. My parents' supposedly perfect marriage was just a sham. My father married Susan, his best friend's widow, to give me a mother and to give her baby a father. Everything I'd believed in had been a lie. I didn't—and still don't—know what's real and what's fiction. I need to find out the truth—the real truth, not the fairytale they fed me.”

It was almost too much to comprehend. “You said you were an only child. Was that a lie, too?”

She flinched. “Except for tonight when I told you I wanted to come home and catch up on sleep, I haven't lied to you except by omission. Susan's baby was stillborn. She and my father never had any other children.”

“Why play out this charade? Why not just tell me what you wanted?”

“Oh please, this whole story is preposterous. Would you have believed me?”

Probably not.

She must have read his answer on his face. She continued, “When I was researching you I came across Estate's Web site, and I saw the job posting for an accountant. It seemed like fate. I'm a qualified CPA and I wanted to spend some time in Florida. So I sent you my résumé. Both it and references are real and verifiable.

“I thought once you and I got to know each other, once you had a chance to discover I'm not some crackpot, I could explain the situation and make my request. But it didn't work out that way. We saw each other at most two hours a week and that was always with other employees around.”

He remembered her stipulation. She'd said she'd marry him, but only if they lived here. “You married me to get into this house.”

“The marriage was your idea. You approached me.”

True. “But the house is what cinched the deal.”

“Yes. That and the chance to meet Helene Ainsley and anyone else who might have known my mother.”

Lauryn had hunted him down and she'd lied to him.

Lies by omission were still lies and potentially damaging. Look at the havoc his father's affair had wreaked on his family. On Cassie.

“What would you have done if I hadn't proposed?”

“I was trying to work up my courage to approach you, but I was afraid that if I did and you said no, I'd be at a dead end with nowhere else to turn. My questions would never be answered.”

She lifted a hand as if to touch his arm, but he backed out of reach. He couldn't let the chemistry between them cloud his judgment.

“Adam, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just…I didn't know how.”

Anger, confusion, disappointment and a sense of foolishness for being duped warred within him. He felt betrayed. Used.

He wanted to walk away from Lauryn, but dissolving the marriage after only a week would ruin all of his plans. For the council seat. For a larger stake in Garrison, Inc.

But could he trust Lauryn enough to carry on the pretense?

“Did you fake your physical response to me just to string me along?”

He hadn't noticed her pallor until color swept up her neck and flooded her cheeks, but she didn't look away. “You know I didn't.”

Her eyes pleaded for understanding, but he didn't know what to think. What to say. What to do.

“When you find the diaries—if they exist—then what?”

“We go on as agreed. I promised you two years. I won't break my word.”

Her eyes were clear and earnest. If she was lying she deserved an Oscar.

He picked up the folders and letters. “We'll discuss this in the morning.”

She started after him. “Adam—”

He held up a hand. “Back off. I need space right now.”

And then he turned and walked away because he wanted to believe her even when everything in him said he shouldn't. Rationally, he knew her story was ludicrous.

And he'd been burned by lies before.

His father's to cover up the affair. His mother's to hide her drinking.

First he'd read the letters and whatever was in the folders and then he'd talk to Brandon to find out where he stood legally in this disaster.

When he had all the facts he'd have to make the decision.

Keep his wife. Or throw her out on her pretty, lying ass.

“I'
ll help you look for the diaries.”

Adam's voice startled Lauryn so badly she nearly inhaled her orange juice.

He believed her. The balloon of happiness swelling inside her warned her that this was about more than finding the diaries.

She twisted in her chair to face him. Adam looked like he'd slept as poorly as she had. Dark smudges underlined his eyes. He'd already shaved and dressed in charcoal trousers and a black silk shirt even though he didn't have to leave for hours.

Saturdays at Estate were always busy. Lauryn didn't have to go in. She was part of the Monday to Friday staff, but because of the wedding and honeymoon and time spent training her assistant on the new check-writing software they'd recently implemented, Lauryn had fallen behind on a few tasks and wanted to catch up before the Monday deluge of deliveries hit the club.

“Why would you want to help me?”

“Brandon says you haven't broken our contract. Even if I boot you out I'd have to pay you the full million.”

She flinched. “I wouldn't take money for a job I didn't finish. But please, let me look for the diaries before we end this.”

“We're not ending this yet. I lost my father recently, too. I know how that skews your thinking. And I know what it's like to have unanswered questions.”

She fell a little in love with him in that moment. But she squashed those feelings deep inside. Her relationship with Adam was temporary. She couldn't afford to lose her heart to him. Besides, even if she decided she wanted more from their marriage, she wasn't the kind of woman a guy like him ended up with. She'd have to be blind to miss the difference between her and the other guests at the Ainsleys' party or at the posh restaurants where she and Adam dined.

Class vs. brass—of the military brat variety.

Being polite and demure didn't come naturally to her. It was something she'd labored over every day since her annulment.

He poured himself a cup of coffee but leaned against the counter instead of joining her at the table for brunch. “Your story checks out. I found your father's obit online. Sounds like he was a hell of a guy. Shame about the accident.”

Adam had checked up on her. She couldn't blame him. “He went out doing what he loved. Flying. Testing new equipment. And still in uniform. The air force defined him. It's better that he died before he had to face retirement.”

“My father was the same. He lived for work.” A moment of silence passed as if Adam, too, had become lost in his memories and then he shook his head and focused on Lauryn. “I still need you for my original purpose. I want to win that election.”

She set her glass on the table, rose and crossed the room, stopping just inches from him. “I won't let you down, Adam.”

She'd do whatever it took to help him become the president of the Business Council, and she'd try to make his brother Parker see what a valuable asset he was ignoring.

Rising on tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you.”

His arm hooked her around the waist when she would have withdrawn, keeping their lower halves fused. “For what?”

“For helping me. For believing and trusting me.”

“You should have been straight with me, Lauryn.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Are there any other skeletons in your closet I need to know about?”

She considered telling him about her misspent youth. But her rebellious days were long past and wouldn't affect him. Tommy was on the opposite side of the country—very likely in jail somewhere given his yen to make a quick and not always legal buck. Besides, the annulment meant legally her marriage had never happened. Thanks to her father, the ceremony she couldn't remember had been erased from the record books. The whole debacle was too embarrassing for words. She was ashamed of her past, of her obnoxious teenage behavior, her stupid mistakes and her gullibility. And she was afraid Adam would think less of her because of it.

“No.”

“Good.” He discarded his mug, speared his fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head. And then he kissed her.

She didn't care if this embrace was window dressing for the housekeeper. All she cared about was the warmth of his mouth and the strength of his body against hers. She hated to admit she'd come to like and even anticipate these public displays of affection a little too much.

He tasted of cinnamon toothpaste and coffee.

His hands slid down her back to grasp her bottom and pull her flush against his tall frame. Hard, hot muscles bunched beneath her hands as she shaped his forearms, biceps and shoulders. His hair was silky and slightly damp from his recent shower, his jaw warm and smooth and freshly shaven.

Adam lifted his head. His labored breaths matched her own and his intense gaze fastened on hers. “Enough. I can't keep driving myself to the brink of control and backing off. I want you, Lauryn, and I'm tired of playing games.”

The roughened sound of his voice made her quiver. He was right. They couldn't go on as they'd been. The tension and teasing were getting out of control.

“I want you, too, Adam.”

His nostrils flared and his pupils expanded. “Then we can take the day off and start searching the closets. Or we can go back to bed. Together.”

Her stomach somersaulted. She wasn't going to fool herself into believing this meant forever. But she liked and respected Adam. And she was halfway in love with him.

“I've waited months to find those diaries. I think I can wait a few more minutes.”

His brows shot up as if she'd insulted him, but fire flared in his eyes. “Minutes? You underestimate me, wife.”

A smile tugged her lips. “Prove it.”

Adam swept Lauryn into his arms and headed out of the kitchen.

Her heart jolted at the sheer romanticism of the gesture. She locked her arms around his neck and held on but squirmed when he reached the foyer and didn't slow down. “Adam, you can't carry me up the stairs.”

“Want to bet?”

They met the housekeeper coming down.

“Martina, hold any calls. The wife and I are not to be disturbed.”

“
Si,
Señor Garrison.” Smiling, Martina hustled away as if eager to give them privacy.

Adam climbed effortlessly. His breathing had barely altered by the time he reached the landing. He strode down the hall, not stopping until he reached their bedroom where he lowered her legs, clamped a hand around her nape and took her mouth. Ravenously.

Lauryn dragged her fingertips from his shoulders down his chest and over the rapidly thudding heart keeping pace with her own. Right or wrong, she'd made the decision to do this, to unleash the passion she'd kept caged for so long, and now she couldn't get him naked fast enough.

Her fingers clutched his shirt and yanked upward, freeing his shirttails and allowing her access to the hair-spattered six-pack she'd admired from his loft Monday morning. She splayed her hands over the hot skin at his waist and soaked up his heat.

Adam snapped his head back and reached for his cuffs while Lauryn started on the buttons of his shirt, working her way from the bottom up. When his cuffs were loose Adam released the top buttons, meeting her in the middle of his chest. As soon as the last disk slipped free, she shoved the silk off his shoulders, revealing dark whorls over his pectorals and the line of hair leading to the waistband of his pants. She raked her nails down the path.

His muscles contracted and air whistled between his clenched teeth. He caught her hands, kissed each palm and then pressed them to her sides. He pushed off her new designer suit jacket. It piled on the floor at her feet. Her blouse became his next target. Making fast work of the buttons, he sent it after her jacket.

Inhaling deeply, he reared back to take in her lavender lace bra. He lifted his hands and with his pointer fingers traced the thin straps from her shoulders down over the swells of her breasts to the tiny bow in the front. He cupped her briefly and then shoved the straps from her shoulders to her elbows, pinning her upper arms by her sides like a lingerie strait-jacket. Then he folded the fabric cups beneath her flesh, exposing her to his devouring gaze.

Her nipples hardened and her internal muscles clenched in anticipation. She held her breath as he bent his head and then his hot, wet mouth engulfed her, laved her, suckled her. She bit her lip on a moan. He rewarded the sound by cradling and caressing her other breast. Need twisted deep inside her. Spiraling. Tightening. She speared her fingers through his hair and held him close until impatience with her restricted movements became too bothersome to bear.

Lauryn reached behind her back, flicked open her bra and shrugged out of the garment. She needed him naked, needed to touch him. Her fingers found and released his leather belt and then the hook of his trousers. She eased the zipper down, reached inside to stroke him and found flesh. Hard. Hot. Smooth.
Bare
flesh.

Gasping, she jerked back. His pants glided past his narrow hips and down his legs. “You're not wearing underwear.”

“Never do.” Adam kicked his shoes and pants aside. He whipped off his socks and straightened.

His erection rose thick and long from a dense nest of dark, wiry curls. Her fingers curled involuntarily in expectation of touching him, but he captured her hands, laced his fingers through hers and waltzed her backward until the dais on which the raised bed sat bumped her heels.

His arms encircled her, briefly searing his chest to her breasts and his hard length to her belly. Her lungs emptied in a rush. He unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, letting it drop to the floor to reveal her high-cut lavender lace panties.

“Nice.” His growl made the blasé word sound wicked. He knelt, and, hooking his fingers in the elastic, tugged the panties to her ankles. He leaned forward, pressed his cheek to her triangle of curls and inhaled. “Your scent drives me crazy.”

Her knees buckled. Adam scooped her up, carried her to the freshly made bed, ripped back the nubby silk spread and lowered her onto to Egyptian cotton sheets. The fabric was cool against her back in contrast to the hot palms skimming her underwear past her ankles, but leaving high-heeled sandals behind.

He sat back on his haunches and looked his fill. “You're beautiful.”

She'd heard those words before. But she could see in Adam's eyes that he meant them. He wasn't spewing empty flattery to get what he wanted. He wanted
her.
Not just sex. Not just a female receptacle.
Her.

And suddenly she realized this wasn't the tawdry, meaningless sex of her teens or the itch to defy her father and test her womanly wings. This was…more. And that worried her a little because “more” wasn't part of their marriage agreement.

Adam feathered the lightest of touches around her ankles, over her calves and shins, moving closer and closer to her apex, but with teasing detours behind her knees, to the outside of her thighs and then finally, finally where she wanted him.

“Oooh.”
Her hips jolted off the mattress at the electrifying initial contact of his fingers against her center. He stroked, found her wetness and smoothed it over her sensitized flesh with a slightly roughened fingertip.

It was too much. Not enough. Exactly right.

And then his mouth found hers and his tongue plunged deep in tandem with his fingers doing the same much lower. Her cry of ecstasy filled his mouth. He carried her swiftly toward climax, but let her drift back down short of her goal. He repeated his sensual teasing again and again until, tense and desperate, she writhed beside him.

She clutched his hair, his shoulders, his back, begging with actions rather than words. And then she covered his hand with hers, holding him at her center. “Please. Now.”

Adam rocked back. His passion-darkened gaze held hers for countless seconds and then he rolled away. Lauryn wanted to scream in frustration, but then she realized what he was doing.

Protection.
How could she have forgotten? Even in her crazy, careless, rebellious past she'd never forgotten protection.

He opened the nightstand drawer, withdrew a condom and returned to her.

She should confront him about his cocky assurance that she'd sleep with him. Maybe later.

She snatched the package from his hand, but then made a few torturous detours of her own. He wanted to make her beg? Well, she could return the favor. She lightly scraped her nails over his chest, abdomen, hips and legs, and finally, his sex. His groan, the jerk of his flesh, the dewy drop of arousal at his tip combined to excite her even more. When she couldn't wait another second, she tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom down his rigid length.

Before she could consider her next move he had her flat on her back, his thighs between hers, and his erection at her entrance. Adam cupped her bottom, lifted and plunged deep.

The air gushed from her lungs on a cry as he filled her. Adam froze with his jaw rigid and his unblinking gaze locked on hers. “Lauryn?”