Sighing, Holly leaned back in the limo and gazed out the window as the convention center slid out of view. The awards ceremony was finally over, and they were on their way home. Kirk had left much earlier, so it was just her and her dad in the limo. It would take about half-an-hour to reach her apartment, she calculated. From there she planned to catch a taxi to Dane’s borrowed penthouse and spend the rest of the night there. Dane was waiting for her; she didn’t expect to get much sleep.

In the seat opposite her, her father shifted, tapping his fingers against the armrest. He seemed too quiet, his expression too brooding. Was he still angry at being forced to share a table with the Schofields? Even though the Rochesters had claimed more awards tonight?

“Dad, it was a great night,” she said. “I’m glad I came.”

He nodded, his gaze sharpening on her. “Holly, I need to tell you something.”

His somber expression made her sit up. “What is it?”

“I was talking to someone tonight who knows one of the contestants for the Halifax. Donald, I think his name was.”

“Yes, Donald. He was eliminated in the first round.”

“Apparently he saw someone coming out of the suite assigned to you while you were away, that afternoon when Cassie went into labor.” Ralph leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “He didn’t get a good look, and he wasn’t paying much attention at the time, but he thinks it was Dane Schofield.”

“Dane? But he was on the road getting Kirk to the hospital. It couldn’t have been him.”

Her father’s eyes never wavered from hers. “Are you sure? What time did he drop Kirk off? He could’ve gone back to the Halifax while you were preoccupied with Cassie.”

Holly swallowed, but the hard lump in her throat refused to budge. “Are you suggesting that Dane Schofield vandalized my suite?”

“I’m not suggesting, I’m stating it.”

She hauled in a breath. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I find it hard to believe. Dane was so helpful that day. I can’t believe he’d take advantage of Cassie going into labor to sabotage my room. Donald must be mistaken.”

“Or maybe you’re too gullible.”

“Gullible? I don’t know what you mean.”

“It means I have eyes in my head. I saw the way you were looking at him tonight.”

She curled her fingers into the material of her dress. “So what? He’s a good-looking guy. It doesn’t mean I’ve got a crush on him. I’ve learned my lesson about guys wanting something out of me. I’m not that stupid anymore. And yes, I’ve spent quite a bit of time with him and the other contestants. They’re all super-competitive, but none of them strike me as underhand.”

Her father tilted his head up and heaved a sigh. “Maybe Dane isn’t mean and tricky, but I know his father is, and his father is calling the shots here. Look at the big picture. This Dane has been estranged from his family for years, and then he turns up like a bad penny, wanting to make nice with his dad, who’s sick and probably doesn’t have long to live. Of course he’d want to do anything to get the Halifax for his dad. Hell, Martin Schofield probably told him to wreck your suite first chance he got. You have to agree this thing stinks, and it all points to the Schofields.”

An unwelcome memory intruded into Holly’s thoughts—Dane handing money to a couple of homeless teenagers in a side alley near the Halifax Hotel. What if it wasn’t about Dane feeling sorry for those street kids? What if he’d hired them to smash up her suite?

An acrid taste soured her mouth as she stared out the window. A few drops of rain pattered against the glass, turning the street lights into blurs. Her heart was thudding painfully.

“Dad, I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You know I’m right, then. About Martin, at least. I don’t know Dane personally. He might be a straight up man on his own. But he’s in this competition on behalf of his father, and therefore he can’t be trusted. Not by one inch.”

As much as she wanted to shout out and deny his words, they were seeping into her like the rain outside. Mingling with her own doubts. Finding cracks in her armor.

Her father reached forward and clasped her hand. “Peanut, I just want to protect you, that’s all.”

She gazed at the wrinkled back of his hand. He hadn’t held her hand and called her Peanut since her mom had died. Her throat was too choked for speech. She couldn’t say anything as the limo purred through the rain-slicked streets of San Francisco.

***

Grimacing, Dane listened as the call went to voice mail again and had to restrain himself from hurling the cell phone across the room. This was the third time he’d rung Holly’s number, and the third time she’d refused to pick up.

He glared at the phone as he checked his text messages one more time. There was still only the first message from her sent twenty minutes ago, saying she was sorry but she couldn’t make it tonight. He’d immediately texted back asking her the reason and wanting to know if there was anything he could do. She hadn’t replied. He’d sent more text messages, called repeatedly, and come up against a wall of silence.

What the fuck was going on? After their brief interlude on the balcony, she’d assured him she couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment. And when they’d parted after the awards ceremony, the tiny smile she’d given him had promised him he wouldn’t have long to wait.

But now it was past midnight, and he’d been pacing his penthouse for more than an hour.

Screw this. He wasn’t going to wait here like a wuss. He’d ride over to her apartment and see what the situation was.

Twenty minutes later, he parked his motorcycle around the corner from her building and strode to the entrance. Through the glass entrance doors he saw the doorman eyeing him cautiously. At this time of night the front doors would probably be locked, and the doorman wouldn’t let a stranger in without permission from a resident.

He pulled out his cell phone and punched out a brief message: I’m outside your building. I’m not leaving until you let me in.

He stood and waited. After the brief rain shower, the trees were dripping and the night air was brisk.

A few minutes later, the doorman opened the front door and beckoned to him. “Ms Rochester said to go straight up.”

With a brief nod, Dane entered the building and rode the elevator to the fourth floor. As he knocked on her door, a spasm of doubt passed through him. Was he charging into a shitstorm? Too late now. The door swung open.

She’d changed into sweatpants and an oversized SF Giants T-shirt, but hadn’t wiped off her makeup. Dusky, shadowed blue eyes looked up at him.

“Are you stalking me?” she demanded.

He pushed past her into the apartment and turned to study her. “Are you hurt? Any food poisoning? Or family emergency?”

She frowned at him. “No. Why?”

“If it’s none of those things, then why didn’t you come to my place?”

She slammed the door shut. “I changed my mind. That’s all.”

“What changed your mind?”

Her gaze slid away as she lifted her shoulders. “Can’t a girl change her mind? Does it have to cause so much drama?”

“Yeah, of course you can change your mind, but you got to give me a reason.”

“A reason!” Her head whipped up. “Listen here, you don’t have any claim on me! You and I, it’s just sex. That’s all. You—you have no right to stand outside my building and demand to be let in.”

The faint tremor in her voice made his gut instincts twang. He moved forward, wanting to grasp her by the shoulders, but thought better of it. She was in a strange, antagonistic mood, and he didn’t know what had set it off.

“Holly, for fuck’s sake,” he said quietly. “Just tell me what happened. And don’t try to say nothing happened. Something did, between us leaving and now. What was it? Was it something your father said to you?”

She clamped her jaw, her eyes darting away from his, but not before he’d caught a shadow of anxiety.

“Oh, Jesus.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Did he see us on the balcony? Is that what happened? But we returned to the table separately, and he didn’t seem any different. Wouldn’t he—”

“No, it wasn’t that.”

She walked away from him and into the nearby living room. He followed her, stood and waited while she prowled around, barefoot on the soft carpet like an agitated cat.

“The security guard thought it might’ve been teenagers who broke in and trashed my room,” she said, her voice taut. “The other day I saw you giving cash to a couple of kids near the hotel.”

His head pounded. “I wasn’t paying them off, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Weren’t you? They seemed happy about something.”

“Because they had enough for a hostel and a solid meal,” he retorted. “Jesus, since when did showing empathy become a crime?”

She halted and squared off with him, arms folded across her chest. “My dad did tell me something. You remember Donald, right? Well, apparently he saw someone coming out of my suite while I was away with Cassie. He thought it was you.”

His spine grew rigid as he digested her words. “So now you think I personally vandalized your suite? Holly, it wasn’t me.”

A thin line appeared between her eyes. She looked like she was struggling to contain herself.

“It could have been you,” she said. “You—you had time, after you left Kirk at the hospital and when I saw you later that night.”

Mimicking her stance, he crossed his arms. It didn’t stop the harsh battering in his chest. “I suppose I did. How would I’ve got into your suite, though? Breaking the lock would’ve caused some noise. The others would’ve heard me. Besides, there were no signs of forced entry.”

She pressed her lips together in a pained grimace. “You—you could’ve taken the key from me. I was so flustered that day I barely noticed anything. And then you could’ve returned the key later when…when we ended up here.”

He couldn’t stop his jaw dropping. Hot and cold waves raced over him.

“Let me get this straight. You think that I—” He swallowed, swiped a forearm across his sweaty brow. “You think that I helped you that day with the sole purpose of getting you out of the way and filching your key. I smashed up your room, then deliberately seduced you just so I could slip the key back into your purse while you were sleeping. Is that about it?”

His voice rose to a roar on the final question, but she didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, her face white. “It—it’s a possibility.”

He shook his head, a red haze clouding his vision. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

The muscles in his arms shook with the urge to smash something. He strode over to the window, flung open the curtains, and stared out at the darkness, fighting the impulse. He didn’t know how long he stood there struggling, but then he heard her voice from close behind him.

“You came back to San Francisco to make peace with your father,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “I saw him tonight. He looks like a hard man to please, a bit like my dad. He’s also not well, and you want to win the Halifax Hotel for him. I understand that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I want to win because it would mean the world to my dad. And because it would make people see that I’m serious about my career at Rochesters, that I’m not just a lightweight airhead.”

He flexed his fists, feeling the anger burn inside him like corrosive acid. “That’s nice, Holly. But you don’t understand my position.”

“Then tell me. Make me understand. Please.”

He kept his gaze on the ribbons of light ringing the bay foreshore in the distance. “I remember going with my mom to Sausalito. We sat on the beach and had ice cream. We couldn’t go far because she was too weak. That was our last outing, two weeks before she died.” He kneaded a hand over his aching chest. “A few days before she died, she was in bed, lucid for a change, and she took my hand and made me promise that, whatever my dad did, I would always try my best to reconcile with him. Then she died, and things got worse. As soon as I turned eighteen I left home. I think my dad was glad to see the back of me, and Eric definitely was.

“So I was out on my own. Slept on the streets some nights. Somehow I ended up in Texas, and I built a new life from scratch. But I never forgot the promise I made to my mom. I sent my dad postcards regularly, at least twice a year. He never replied or gave me any encouragement to return. Until a month ago. Amazing what a bit of mortality can do to an old man. But of course he’s not giving me a free ride. What my father values above all else is winning. I have to prove I’m worthy of the Schofield name before he’ll allow me fully into the fold. I don’t care about that, but I do care about honoring the promise I made to my mom.”

Silence fell. Then he heard Holly drawing in a shaky breath. “I thought it might be something like that.”

He turned around to face her. “There’s more. My sister Saffron. She’s only fifteen. If my dad dies, Eric becomes her guardian and trustee. I can’t let that happen.”

“I see.” She passed a hand over her mouth, and when she dropped it her chin was quivering. “Oh, Dane. You’ve just given me two compelling reasons why you’d do anything to win the Halifax.”

He stiffened. “You think I’d honor my mother by stooping to dirty tricks?” The acid in his stomach rose. He wanted to throw up. “If that’s what you really think, then you don’t know me at all.” He pushed past her and headed for the exit.

His hand was on the doorknob when she cried out, “Wait!”

The next second her body slammed into his back as she launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Don’t go! Please.”

He choked up, and not because of her stranglehold on his neck. Turning, he gripped her arms.

“Holly—”

“Don’t go. I’m confused and upset, but I want you to stay. Please, Dane.”

He scowled down at her. By rights he should pull himself free and get out of there. But her eyes were glimmering, and her body was shaking against his, and he didn’t have the strength to resist.

He pushed his fingers through the fine, pale silk of her hair. “You want me to stay?” His voice was a suppressed growl in the base of his throat.

“Yes. Please.”

Something burst inside him, like the snapping of chains. Gripping her hair, he bent down and ravaged her mouth with his. After the first startled gasp, she responded, her fire almost keeping pace with him. It wasn’t enough. He dragged his lips down her neck and bit her shoulder, causing her to start.

“Still want me to stay?” he muttered as he rasped his jaw against her smooth skin.

“Y—yes.” Her voice hitched.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He grabbed the edge of her T-shirt in both hands and tore it off. She was bra-less underneath. He cupped a breast, drew the nipple into his mouth, sucked until she was arching her back and digging her nails into his shoulders. Tucking his fingers into the waistband of her sweatpants, he shoved them down. She was still wearing the lace thong he’d encountered earlier that night. She started to pull it down, but he stopped her, and ripped it off himself.

She stood naked in front of him, panting slightly, her delicate ribcage rising and falling. He was already hard as granite and in no mood to play nice. He unbuckled his belt, slid down his zipper. As his rigid cock sprang free, she started to get down on her knees.

“No.” He drew her upright.

She licked her wet lips. “But…I thought it’s time to pay my tab.”

As much as he wanted her to suck him off, it was too passive for his howling mood. He found a condom and sheathed himself, and then he pressed her up against the door, hands and mouth roving over her, one leg grinding between her thighs. She kissed him back, writhing and desperate. When she was wet through, he lifted her up and sank himself into her heat. And then he lost track of everything except for the fever between them, the itch that could never be satisfied, the play of emotions on her face as he pounded into her until she cried out, and his own sharp climax exploded.

Afterward, he held her as she collapsed into his arms, and his conscience prickled as reality returned.

“Holly.” Damn, he’d hurt her. He lifted her up in his arms. “Babe, was I too rough?” Shit. He was such an ape.

Her smudged eyelashes flickered open. She gave him a bleary smile. “In the best way possible…”

Cradling her to his chest, he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the pillows.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked as he smoothed her tangled hair away from her brow.

She caught his wrist, blue eyes widening. “You’re staying, right?”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t leave her. Even though she’d basically accused him of sabotage, he couldn’t drag himself away. He eased down next to her and tucked her into his side, splaying an arm over her.

“Tomorrow, we need to talk,” she murmured.

“Do we?” He thought he’d talked too much already. All that stuff about his mom. He hadn’t told that to anyone. Ever. Now Holly knew, and it made him feel squirmy inside.

“Okay, maybe we don’t.”

She drew her fingers over his chest, tracing the outline of his phoenix tattoo. Then she replaced her fingers with her lips. A few seconds later, he was surprised at the lust flaring up again so quickly. As if sensing it, she rolled on top of him and began to lick him.

“I think it’s time to pay off my tab,” she murmured, a wicked grin tilting her lips.

His groin started to throb. Sweet Jesus, he was a slave to her. Later he might regret this, but right now all he could do was obey. His blood thrummed as he sat up to watch her.

***

Bright sunlight pricked Holly’s eyelids, waking her from sleep. She yawned and stretched, wondering why parts of her body ached so much. Of course. Dane. Smiling, she rolled over to face the pillow next to her. The empty indent caused her heart to dip. He wasn’t here.

Well, of course he wasn’t here, she told herself as she sat up and blearily checked the time. Eight-thirty. Way past her usual wakeup time. Being a Saturday, people in her building would be bustling in and out, on their way to the market, the coffee shop, or the park. Dane had left early to spare her the complication of anyone seeing him. That’s all.

But why hadn’t he woken her to say goodbye?

Ugh. That was the kind of question a woman would ask her boyfriend. Dane was not her boyfriend, and they were not in a relationship. The only reason they saw each other was because they were too horny to keep their hands off each other. That was all. They both knew there was no future, not even a short term one.

As she rose to her feet and shrugged into a silk bathrobe, her thoughts drifted back to their tense conversation last night before the sex. Her accusation, his rebuttal. And then his account about his mother. She had to admit it had made her choke up. Dane had brushed over the details, but his father must have been awful to him to make him leave home at eighteen and travel clear across the country to get away from his family. How lonely and hard that must have been. And then, despite all the rebuffs, to come home again, yet still be expected to pass a final test before his father would accept him. That was really difficult to swallow. Plus, he now had a sister to worry about.

If only he hadn’t left so early; he might have opened up a little more. Maybe she’d call him, suggest they meet for lunch or coffee—No, she couldn’t do that. Hadn’t she just told herself they weren’t in a relationship? She shook her head. Honestly, she needed a strong cup of coffee to pull her back to reality.

Tightening the belt of her bathrobe, she walked out of her bedroom. For an heiress to a fortune, her apartment, though in a prized location, was on the modest size. Her galley kitchen was just a few steps down the hall. She had almost reached it when a slight noise from the adjacent living room caught her attention. Her bare feet made no sound as she padded to the open doorway.

She stopped short. Dane was in the living room, crouched down on the other side of the coffee table. He was fully dressed, his dark head lowered as he studied something in his hands which she couldn’t see from this angle. A peculiar feeling wormed in her stomach.

“Morning,” she murmured.

He started and jerked to his feet, a faint blush passing over his high cheekbones. Her gaze fell on the familiar blue document in his hands.

Her design proposal for the Halifax Hotel, and the details of the financial bid.

Ice ran through her veins.

“What are you doing with that?” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, high and shaky.

He placed the document on the coffee table. “I sat down to put on my boots, and I saw it lying under the couch. It was open when I pulled it out.”

“I see. And you just couldn’t resist reading through it, huh?”

His jaw compressed. “I glanced through it, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Her voice was shaking even more, and she couldn’t seem to control it or the trembling taking hold of her body.

He took a step toward her. “Babe—”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me.” She retreated a step.

A deep frown darkened his brow. “Not this shit again. You think I read your entire proposal so I’d be able to outbid you? Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. But the fact is, you’ve accessed confidential information behind my back. What were you planning to do? Photograph the pages with your cell phone? Lucky I woke up when I did because you were very quiet getting out of bed this morning, weren’t you?”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, revealing eyes that were dark and wild. “And I suppose in your paranoid mind I engineered the whole thing. I came over last night, saw the document there, and then fucked you so I could get hold of it.”

She flinched at his deliberate crudeness. Wasn’t that what the last asshole she’d dated done to her, too? He was only with her for what he could get out of her. At the time she’d vowed never to put herself in the same position, and yet here she was. Only, this time, the hurt was depthless, the consequences far more damaging.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” The barriers were rising again, higher than before. She lifted her chin. “You’re your father’s son, after all.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw, and she knew she’d found a mark.

“And you’re as warped and prejudiced as your father,” he ground out. “I wouldn’t bother submitting that.” He flicked a hand at the document on the table, the corner of his lip lifting. “It doesn’t stand a chance. Not against mine.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’ll let the Gilberts decide that.”

She felt like she’d swallowed a razor.

He stalked toward her, and she fell back, shrinking away as he passed. At the door he paused and turned. A pulse ticked in his temple, and his face was a strange, pasty gray color.

“Holly,” he started to say, but then he paused.

Part of her was screaming for him to go before she collapsed. But part of her longed for him to grab her and kiss her and carry her back to bed where the rest of the world didn’t matter.

She scowled. Only her anger was keeping her upright. “What?” she croaked, her throat raw.

“It doesn’t have to be like this. In almost every situation there is a choice, and you get to decide. I want you to know this.”

Her insides were collapsing like wet sand. She couldn’t take this for much longer.

She forced a smirk to her lips. “Are you writing self-help books now? Thanks, but I’m good.”

He gazed intently at her as if he were trying to memorize her face. Then he turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.