An Heir For The Billionaire. Kat Cantrell
at all. She was an old friend who would soon walk out of his life, never to be heard from again. It was better that way. It hardly mattered whether she’d gotten married. Of course she had. A woman as stunningly beautiful and intrinsically kind as Nora Winchester wouldn’t stay single.
Some of the sensual tension faded a bit. But not all. Nora’s smile did interesting things to him and he didn’t think he could put a halt to it if he tried.
“Belated congratulations,” he offered smoothly. “I hadn’t heard.”
“You wouldn’t have. Sean was stationed out of Fort Carson in Colorado. We got married on base, much to my mother’s dismay. It was a small ceremony and it happened nearly seven years ago.” She waved it off. “Ancient history. I’m a widow now, anyway.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” The phrase came automatically, as he did still have a modicum of manners despite not spending much time in polite company.
But Nora—a widow? Dumbfounded, he zeroed in on Nora’s face, seeking...something, but he had no idea what. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if she’d grieved and moved on. How had she done that? If it was so easy, Reid would have done the same.
The specters of Sophia and his mother still haunted him, which didn’t mix well with polite company, and he doubted he’d ever be able to toss off the information that they’d passed as calmly as Nora had just informed him that her husband had died.
Death was a painful piece of his past that shouldn’t be the thing he had in common with Nora. The loss of his mother and sister should be the reason he showed Nora the door. Nonetheless, it instantly bonded them in a way that their shared history hadn’t. He wanted to explore that more. See what this breath of fresh air might do to chase away the dark, oily shadows inside, even for a few moments.
“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “For the condolences and the food. I want to thank you properly, though. Maybe spend some time catching up. I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to. Let me take you to dinner.”
That bordered on the worst idea ever conceived. He cultivated a reputation for being a loner with practiced ease, and didn’t want to expose their new rapport to prying eyes. And there would be plenty if he took a woman to dinner in a small town like Chicago.
“I don’t go out in public. Why don’t you come back for dinner here? I live in the penthouse, one floor up. My private chef is the best in the business.”
No, that was the worst idea ever conceived. Nora, behind closed doors. Laughing, flirting... It didn’t take much to imagine where that would lead. He’d have her in his arms before the main course, hoping to find the secrets deep in Nora’s soul. Especially the one that led to moving past tragedy and pain.
But the invitation was already out and he wasn’t sorry he’d issued it. Though he might be before the evening was out. No one had ever crossed the threshold of his home except very select staff members who were well paid to keep their mouths shut about their boss’s private domain.
That didn’t stop the rampant speculation about what went on in his “lair,” as he’d been told it was called. Some went so far as to guess that all sorts of illicit activity went on behind closed doors, as if he’d built some kind of pleasure den and had lured innocent young girls into his debauchery.
The truth was much darker. Racked with guilt over not being able to save his mother and Sophia, he wasn’t fit for public consumption and the best way to avoid people was to stay home.
The distance he maintained between himself and the rest of the world was what kept him sane. Other people didn’t get that part of his soul was missing, never to be recovered. The hole inside had been filled with a blackness he couldn’t exorcise and sometimes, it bubbled up to the surface like thick, dark oil that coated everything in its path. Other people didn’t understand that. And he didn’t want to explain it to them.
“You don’t go out in public?” Curiosity lit up her gaze. “I read that you were reclusive. I thought they were exaggerating. You being all shut up away from other people doesn’t jibe with the person I once knew.”
“Things change,” he countered roughly. “I have a lot of money and power. People generally want a piece of both. It’s easier to stay away from the masses.”
His standard answer. Everyone bought it.
“Sounds very lonely.” Somehow, she’d moved closer, though he hadn’t thought they were all that far apart in the first place. Her wide smile warmed him in places he’d forgotten existed. Places better left out of this equation.
“Expedient.” He cleared his throat. “I run a billion-dollar empire here. Not much time for socializing.”
“Yet your first instinct was an invitation to dinner. Seems like you’re reaching out to me.”
Their gazes caught. Held. A wealth of unspoken messages zipped between them but hell if he knew what was being said. What he wanted to say.
“It’s just dinner,” he countered and he could tell by her expression that she didn’t believe the lie any more than he did. They both knew it would be more. Maybe just a rekindling of their friendship, which felt necessary all of a sudden. Nora was someone from before his life had turned into the twisted semblance of normal that it had become.
“Oh, come on, Reid.” She laughed again. “We’re both adults now. After the note and the rather obvious way you shut the door half a second after I walked through it, I think it’s permissible to call it a date.”
He glanced at the closed office door and just as he was about to explain that he valued his privacy—nothing more—he discovered his mouth had already curved up in a ghost of a smile, totally against his will. “A date, then.”
Yet another first. Reid Chamberlain didn’t date. At least not since his father had murdered the most important people in Reid’s life—and Reid had been forced to reconcile that he shared a genetic bond with a monster.
The dress Nora had chosen for her date with Reid—or rather the dress Eve and Gracie had bullied her into wearing—should’ve been be illegal.
Actually, if she moved the wrong way, it would be.
The plunging neckline hit a point well below her breasts and the fabric clung to every curve Nora had forgotten she had. Simple and black, it was more than a cocktail dress. It was a dress that said: I’m here for what comes after dinner.
Nora was not okay with that message. Or maybe she was. No. She wasn’t.
“I can’t wear this,” she mumbled again.
“You can and you are,” Eve countered. Again. “I’ve only worn it one time. No one will recognize it.”
As if committing a fashion faux pas was the most troublesome aspect of this situation.
Part of the problem was that Nora liked the way she looked in the dress. The other part of the problem was that Nora didn’t have the luxury of sticking around for what came after dinner, if she even had a mind to be available for...that. She had Declan. Her son made everything ten times more complicated, even what should have been a simple dinner with an old friend.
A friend whose very gaze had touched places inside her that she hadn’t known existed. Until now, she hadn’t realized how very good it felt to be the object of a man’s interest. Sean had loved her and of course had paid attention to her, but this was something else. Something with a tinge of wicked. Purely sexual. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time.
She practiced walking in front of the full-length mirror affixed to the closet in the master suite of her father’s guesthouse. Yep. If she stumbled, her bare nipples would peek out with a big ole hello. So she wouldn’t stumble.
Eve fastened a jewel-encrusted drop necklace around