Rand was in charge of his company.
There was some satisfaction in that.
Tired now, Rand stepped back from the rail. He didn't want to think about the past, about Griff. Losing him had nearly killed Rand. He didn't need a soft, too willing woman to finish the job.
Even if her lips were the warmest touch he'd known in years.
Again he heard Griff's tired voice, hours after Andrea's hasty departure. "You should have taken the old man's advice, bro. 'Bed 'em but don't wed 'em.' Would've saved us a lot of trouble."
He might do that, if Tessa were available for bedding. But she wasn't. She was Ned's, and even if she weren't, something about her—and the hot promise in her kiss—said danger ahead.
Once burned, a man didn't stoke a fire he couldn't control. Tessa might be what she seemed—or not.
He strode back to his bedroom. All he wanted from Tessa was for her to leave him the hell alone. Mentally repeating that comforting falsehood, he shucked his jeans and climbed into his cold bed.
Chapter 6
The next morning, even though Tessa was up earlier than usual, Rand was gone by the time she made it to the kitchen.
"He's an early hawk, that one," Milton explained, making her a perfectly poached egg and insisting she eat it. "Beat his own record this morning. Left at five-fifteen, I believe."
"Why do you call him a hawk?" she asked, biting into a piece of buttery toast and glancing at her canine charge. Licks slept on a chair by the fireplace, content for the moment.
"Apt, I believe. Wouldn't you agree?"
Tessa thought about Rand's dark hair, his black winglike eyebrows. "Well, yes. He does look kind of like a hawk."
"And the resemblance isn't merely physical," Milton mumbled.
"What does he do exactly?" she asked, cutting into her poached egg.
"What his father did before him—only more so." He started loading the dishwasher. "He makes money."
Tessa digested this along with her egg and sipped some perfectly brewed coffee. Holding the mug to her lips, she closed her eyes. She could get used to this: satin sheets, a cozy kitchen, steaming coffee handed to you in a porcelain mug the minute your sneakers hit the kitchen.
At home, she'd be devouring a cold toaster pastry with one hand and opening her car door with the other. She hated being late, but did sleep in from time to time. But this morning hadn't been one of them, even though she'd had her first bad night's sleep since...
Come to think of it, last night was the first time in her life she hadn't slept like a played-out pup, and she knew why. Rand's kiss. She'd spent most of the night pondering the magical event with nothing to show for it but twisted sheets and a growing fascination.
She refocused her attention on Milt. "But how does Rand make money?" she asked. "Does he have, like, factories or banks? What does his company do exactly?"
"Deals."
Tessa wrinkled her brow. "Deals?"
Milt poured coffee for himself and joined her where she sat at the edge of the large kitchen island. "Quite simple. He buys a company for a low price, then sells it for a higher one."
"It doesn't sound simple. It sounds complicated and risky."
"Ah, but you see that's how fortunes are made, my dear, by taking risks. The more risk, the greater the reward."
"I get it. He's an investor, one of those financial angel types—" that's what her dad had always called them "—who buys into a business, gives the owners enough support and money to grow it, then sells his shares back when the company is able to get by on its own." She figured she had it nailed. "I think that's a super thing to do. Small business people need people like Rand."
Milton rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure the word angel applies, but investor? Yes." He paused. "In his way."
"How about that?" She shook her head, musing on life's bad sense of timing. "Too little, too late."
"Excuse me?"
"I was thinking of my dad."
"Your dad?"
"He was always looking for a financial angel," she said, the usual ache of
There was some satisfaction in that.
Tired now, Rand stepped back from the rail. He didn't want to think about the past, about Griff. Losing him had nearly killed Rand. He didn't need a soft, too willing woman to finish the job.
Even if her lips were the warmest touch he'd known in years.
Again he heard Griff's tired voice, hours after Andrea's hasty departure. "You should have taken the old man's advice, bro. 'Bed 'em but don't wed 'em.' Would've saved us a lot of trouble."
He might do that, if Tessa were available for bedding. But she wasn't. She was Ned's, and even if she weren't, something about her—and the hot promise in her kiss—said danger ahead.
Once burned, a man didn't stoke a fire he couldn't control. Tessa might be what she seemed—or not.
He strode back to his bedroom. All he wanted from Tessa was for her to leave him the hell alone. Mentally repeating that comforting falsehood, he shucked his jeans and climbed into his cold bed.
Chapter 6
The next morning, even though Tessa was up earlier than usual, Rand was gone by the time she made it to the kitchen.
"He's an early hawk, that one," Milton explained, making her a perfectly poached egg and insisting she eat it. "Beat his own record this morning. Left at five-fifteen, I believe."
"Why do you call him a hawk?" she asked, biting into a piece of buttery toast and glancing at her canine charge. Licks slept on a chair by the fireplace, content for the moment.
"Apt, I believe. Wouldn't you agree?"
Tessa thought about Rand's dark hair, his black winglike eyebrows. "Well, yes. He does look kind of like a hawk."
"And the resemblance isn't merely physical," Milton mumbled.
"What does he do exactly?" she asked, cutting into her poached egg.
"What his father did before him—only more so." He started loading the dishwasher. "He makes money."
Tessa digested this along with her egg and sipped some perfectly brewed coffee. Holding the mug to her lips, she closed her eyes. She could get used to this: satin sheets, a cozy kitchen, steaming coffee handed to you in a porcelain mug the minute your sneakers hit the kitchen.
At home, she'd be devouring a cold toaster pastry with one hand and opening her car door with the other. She hated being late, but did sleep in from time to time. But this morning hadn't been one of them, even though she'd had her first bad night's sleep since...
Come to think of it, last night was the first time in her life she hadn't slept like a played-out pup, and she knew why. Rand's kiss. She'd spent most of the night pondering the magical event with nothing to show for it but twisted sheets and a growing fascination.
She refocused her attention on Milt. "But how does Rand make money?" she asked. "Does he have, like, factories or banks? What does his company do exactly?"
"Deals."
Tessa wrinkled her brow. "Deals?"
Milt poured coffee for himself and joined her where she sat at the edge of the large kitchen island. "Quite simple. He buys a company for a low price, then sells it for a higher one."
"It doesn't sound simple. It sounds complicated and risky."
"Ah, but you see that's how fortunes are made, my dear, by taking risks. The more risk, the greater the reward."
"I get it. He's an investor, one of those financial angel types—" that's what her dad had always called them "—who buys into a business, gives the owners enough support and money to grow it, then sells his shares back when the company is able to get by on its own." She figured she had it nailed. "I think that's a super thing to do. Small business people need people like Rand."
Milton rubbed his chin. "I'm not sure the word angel applies, but investor? Yes." He paused. "In his way."
"How about that?" She shook her head, musing on life's bad sense of timing. "Too little, too late."
"Excuse me?"
"I was thinking of my dad."
"Your dad?"
"He was always looking for a financial angel," she said, the usual ache of
Similar Books
