over the course of their conversation that they had a lot in common. They enjoyed reading the same types of books, shared a dislike of broccoli and had the same taste in music. And when she had opened up to him and revealed she had owned the hotel, he had seen the trusting look in her eyes.
A part of him wished the circumstances were different, that she hadn’t lost her parents; that the two of them had met before John’s death. And more than anything a part of him wished that he wasn’t here betraying her.
In truth, he didn’t want to think about that part-he really didn’t want to think about Cassie Garrison at all. If only he could let it sink into his mind, as well as his body, that his only reason for being here was purely business and not personal. He of all people knew how it felt to be betrayed. How it felt to have your trust in someone destroyed. And that was not a comforting thought.
He walked out on the balcony and took a moment to stare out at the ocean, hoping he could stop Cassie from whirling through his thoughts. It was a beautiful night, but instead of appreciating the moon and the stars, his mind was getting clouded again with thoughts of a pair of long, gorgeous legs, a mass of curly brown hair cascading around a strikingly beautiful face and the taste of a mouth that wouldn’t go away. Kissing her, devouring her lips, had been better than any dessert he’d ever eaten.
Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent of the ocean, trying to get his mind back in check. That wasn’t easy when instead of the ocean’s scent filtering through his nostrils it was the scent of Cassie’s perfume that wouldn’t leave him.
A feeling of uneasiness crept over Brandon. He definitely didn’t need this. He was not a man known to get wimpy and all emotional over a woman. Okay, so he had enjoyed her company, but under no circumstances could he forget just who she was and why he was here.
With that thought embedded into his mind and back where it belonged and where he intended for it to stay, he turned and went into his suite.
Craning her neck, Cassie stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in her living room and looked out, watching Brandon’s car as it came through the wrought-iron gates that protected her estate.
As the vehicle made its way down the long winding driveway she forced back the shivers that tried overtaking her body when she remembered the night before-every single thing about it. For the first time in a long time she had spent an evening very much aware of a man. No only had she been aware of him, she had actually lusted after him in a way she had never done with a male before. But somehow she had managed to maintain her sensibility and control-at least she had until he had kissed her. And it had been some kiss. Even now those same shivers she tried forcing away earlier were back.
A part of her mind relayed a message to move away from the window when Brandon’s car got closer, or else he would see her and assume she was anxiously waiting for him. She lifted her chin in defiance when another part of her sent a different message. Let him think what he wants since she was anxiously waiting.
He brought his car to a stop in front of her house and from where she stood she had a very good view of him; one he wouldn’t have of her until he got out of the car and halfway up her walkway. She studied his features through the car window and in the light of day he was even more handsome. And when he got out of the car he was dressed as immaculately as he had been the night before.
Today he was wearing a pair of khaki trousers and a chocolate-brown polo shirt. The man was built. He exuded so much sensuality she could actually feel it through the window pane.
She watched him walk away from his car toward her door and suddenly, as if he somehow sensed her, he looked toward the window. His eyes held hers for a moment and then he lifted his hand in a wave, acknowledging her presence.
The heat she had felt earlier in her body intensified and the shivers she couldn’t fight slithered through her once more. She lifted her hand to wave back, wondering what it was about him that affected her so. What was there about this man that had her inviting him to her home, her private sanctuary, her personal domain, the place where she felt the presence of her parents the most? Why was she sharing all of that with him?
She discovered she didn’t have time to ponder those questions when he disconnected his eyes from hers and headed toward her door. She sighed deeply, her nerves stretched tight. The air she took into her lungs was sharp, and the quickening she felt in her veins was absolute.
Not waiting for a knock at her door, she moved away from the window and headed in that direction, very much aware of the magnetism, the attraction and the lure of the man who was now standing on her doorstep.
“Welcome to my home, Brandon.”
Brandon gazed at Cassie, telling himself that just like last night, his reaction to her was strictly sexual, which accounted for the ache he suddenly felt below the belt. The effect did not surprise him. He accepted it although he didn’t like it.
He immediately picked up her scent, the same one that had tortured him through most of the night as if it had been deeply drenched into his nostrils. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, leaned closer and placed a light kiss on the dimple in her chin and finally said, “Thank you for inviting me, Cassie.”
He released her hand and she smiled before taking a step back, letting him inside her home. The moment he crossed the threshold he beheld the stunning splendor of the decor. It wasn’t just the style and colors, there were also the shapes and designs that combined traditional flare with that of contemporary, colonial and Queen Anne. The mixture in any other place would look crammed, definitely busy. But in this monstrosity of a house it demonstrated a sense of wealth combined with warmth. It also displayed diversity in taste with an unmistakable look of sophistication.
“You have a beautiful home.”
Her smile widened. “Thank you. Come let me give you a tour. I haven’t changed much since Mom died because she and I had similar taste.”
She led and he followed. “Do you take care of this place by yourself?” he asked, although he couldn’t imagine one person doing so.
She shook her head. “No, I have a housekeeping staff, the same one Mom had when she and Dad were alive. My staff is loyal and dedicated and,” she said grinning, “a little overprotective where I’m concerned since they’ve been around since I was twelve.”
They came to a spacious room and stopped. He glanced around, appreciating how the entire width of the living room had floor-to-ceiling windows to take advantage of the view of the ocean. He also liked the Persian rugs on the floor.
Beyond the living room was the dining room and kitchen, set at an angle that also took advantage of the ocean’s view. The first thing he thought when they walked into the kitchen was that that she had been busy. Several mouthwatering aromas surged through his nostrils and he successfully fought back the grumbling that threatened his stomach.
Both the dining room and kitchen opened to a beautiful courtyard with a stunning swimming pool and a flower garden whose design spread from one area of the yard to the other. Then there was the huge water fountain that sprouted water to a height that seemed to reach the roof.
“Did you live here with your mother?” he asked, moving his gaze over her, taking in the outfit she had chosen to wear today, tropical print tea-length skirt and matching peasant blouse that was as distinctly feminine as she was. The way the skirt flowed over her curves only heightened his sexual desire and made him aware, and very much so, just how much he wanted her.
“Until I left for college,” she said, leading him up the stairs. “When I returned from London I got an apartment, but a year later for my birthday Dad bought me a condo. When he gave me the deed to this place, I moved back.”
Moments later after giving him a tour of the upstairs, she said with excitement in her voice, “Now I must show you the aquarium.”
Once they returned downstairs and rounded corners he saw other rooms-huge rooms for entertaining, a library, a study and room that appeared lined with priceless artwork. He suddenly stopped when he came to a huge portrait hanging on the wall. The man in the painting he recognized immediately, but the woman…
“Your parents?” he asked, staring at the portrait.
“Yes, those are my parents,” he heard Cassie say proudly.
Brandon’s gaze remained on the woman in the portrait. “She’s beautiful,” he said. He was so taken by the woman’s exquisiteness that he took a step closer to the painting. Cassie followed and glanced over at his fixed look and smiled.
