The Heir Read online

  “I don’t know. Can we get a DNA sample from one of Zach’s relatives?”

  “He doesn’t have any that we know about,” Desmond told her flatly, his eyes fixed on her. “That’s one reason he was in the foster system. He lived on the streets for three months after his father died, but then child services picked him up. He attended Dowdon on a scholarship.”

  “How sad for him,” she murmured, more to herself than Desmond. She paced away from him, thinking out loud, her finger running idly over one of the rows of books on a nearby shelf. “Although it makes sense that Alonzo Salazar would pitch in to help Lana’s child if he knew the father of her baby was dead and there were no relatives who could help my sister support him.”

  “Perhaps.” Desmond’s noncommittal answer made her look up sharply to peer at him over her shoulder.

  “You don’t agree?” She halted at the end of the bookshelf, her fingers pausing to rest on a leather volume.

  “I just wonder how Salazar knew your sister’s circumstances in the first place.” Desmond followed her across the den, stopping beside her. “She left school suddenly and we never heard any more about her.”

  His nearness made her heart race faster. She glanced down and away from him, her gaze falling on—of all things—that too-intriguing Kama Sutra book she’d noticed earlier. She wrapped her arms around herself, needing more barriers between her and the man who affected her so strongly.

  “Lana argued with my dad and moved out over Thanksgiving break. Then, my father packed us up and moved us to a new town after that.” At just fourteen years old, Nicole had been furious at the time—at her sister as much as her dad. Little did she know how difficult the situation had been for both of them, too. “I never understood why, but I thought it had something to do with my sister’s refusal to name the child’s father.”

  Nicole’s parents had already been divorced by then, but the move had made it difficult to see her mother. Not that her astronomer mom had ever made great efforts to see her, since she was attached to her work more than her family.

  “Lana must have left school the same time Zach died. No wonder we didn’t hear anything about her pregnancy,” Desmond mused aloud, his gray eyes wandering over her, missing nothing. “That must have been a difficult time for you.”

  The empathy in his gaze seemed to tug her toward him. Blinking, she told herself it was an illusion. She didn’t have any reason to trust Desmond. And she sure wasn’t trusting her own instincts right now when her every atom was pulling her toward the man in front of her. She wanted to kiss him, she realized with total clarity and more than a little surprise.

  She wanted to fist her fingers in his shirtfront and drag him the rest of the way to her before rising up on her toes and brushing her lips over his for a long, thorough taste.

  “Desmond.” His name escaped her on a sigh so needy-sounding she wished she could call it back. Appalled at herself, she covered her mouth with her fingers for a moment while his eyes darkened. Her hand fell away from her lips to try and steer the conversation away from the awkward moment. “That is—I could use some fresh air.”

  Oh, that was smooth, she chastised herself. Her heart pounded harder, and she imagined her face growing redder with each beat.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” he agreed in a reasonable tone even as he reached for her. “But I need to do something first.”

  When his fingers landed on her shoulders, she knew she wasn’t alone in feeling the electric connection between them. He must feel it, too, or he wouldn’t look at her this way right now. Like he was a starving man, and she was a gourmet meal he needed to devour. Yesterday.

  So she didn’t question what he needed to do, because whatever it was, she wanted him to do it. Immediately.

  Preferably with his hands, his mouth and his delectable hard body, too.

  But then his lips crashed down on hers and she couldn’t think at all. She could only sink into the most sinfully hot kiss she’d ever known.

  Strong arms enveloped her, pressing her close. Her nerve endings flamed to red-hot life, set afire by all that taut masculine strength. The scent of his aftershave teased her nostrils while his lips coaxed hers wide, his tongue sweeping over hers until she swore she could feel that same sensual caress in her most intimate places. She shivered with the thought, her nipples puckering into tight points.

  He backed her up a step, guiding her toward a wall that steadied her when her knees felt weak. Her head tipped back as she offered her neck for another kiss. He licked his way lower, the heady feel of his mouth at her throat calling a whimper from her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, all sense of caution lost when he edged back a few inches from her, his eyes dark with desire. For a moment, they breathed each other in from that close distance as the world slowly returned.

  Desmond’s eyelids fell shut for a moment. When they flicked open again, there was a coolness in their depths.

  “Fresh air might not be enough to quench the fire.” He levered away from her but took one of her hands in his as he led her toward the door. “We’d better keep an eye out for a snowbank.”

  Five

  Desmond didn’t have a plan other than trying to get himself under control again. Something that wouldn’t happen if he remained in close quarters with Nicole another minute.

  That kiss.

  He hadn’t wanted it to ever end. Even now, as he retraced their steps from when they entered the house to retrieve their coats, he felt the residual flames her touch had incited. Heat roared through him while the need to taste her again was an insistent ache. Knowing he didn’t dare help her into her long overcoat for fear of peeling all her clothes off instead, Desmond passed her the garment before punching his fists through the sleeves of his own. Then, on second thought, he returned to the kitchen, grabbing an insulated picnic hamper from the pantry and bringing it to the Sub-Zero, where he transferred a package with the day’s catering delivery into the basket.

  “Would you like a hand?” Nicole offered as she pulled her outerwear tighter around her, the belt accenting her narrow waist.

  “No, thanks.” His gaze skipped over her, his eyes lingering on curves that even layers of wool and cashmere didn’t hide. “I just thought I’d bring something to eat.”

  If he was feeding one hunger, he couldn’t very well act on the other, more insistent one.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, absently twining the ends of her hair into a braid that started at her shoulder.

  “I’d love to show you around the ranch on horseback,” he offered, suggesting the first thing that came to mind that would keep them out of the house.

  “Sounds wonderful. I love to ride.” She trailed her fingers over the lapel of her long overcoat. “I’m not dressed for it, though.”

  His gaze followed the motion of her hands, his brain mentally replacing her palms with his. Hell, he could practically feel her just imagining it. He ground his teeth together and charged toward the back door.

  “There are extra jackets in the tack room,” he said with a growl in his voice, recognizing his surly manners and powerless to soften them.

  He held the door for her, though, arming the alarm system behind them as they left the house and started toward the stable. The structure was small compared to the horse barns near the lodge or the even bigger, utilitarian building situated on the portion of Mesa Falls that served as the operations base for the working ranch.

  But the three stalls inside a cedar-shingle building were more than enough for Desmond’s needs. He led Nicole into the stable, the scent of fresh hay and horse mingling with the fragrant cedar of the walls.

  “What beautiful animals.” Nicole stopped at the stall door of a pretty buckskin mare, and stroked her nose. “What are their names?”

  “That’s Spirit, and the chestnut is Sundancer. These are two of my favorite
s.” He paused by the stall to greet the animal. “A ranch hand brought them over from the main lodge’s stables last night. I’ve only been on-site at Mesa Falls for three days myself, so I’m still getting settled.” It hadn’t helped that he’d been preoccupied as hell ever since arriving.

  He’d been intrigued by Nicole after one phone call. Then, after the accidental video chat while she’d been in bed, Desmond’s fascination with her had grown exponentially. Spending time with her in person now—alone—was killing his resolve to keep his distance.

  “I’m sure the transition between life at the casino and the ranch is considerable.” She cooed at the horse and tipped her forehead to the mare’s. “But I can help prep if you show me the tack room.”

  Desmond set the insulated picnic hamper on a shelf by the door and walked to the back of the stable. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I insist.” She surprised him by following him toward the pegboard where the bridles were lined up on metal hooks. “My father raised me to care for animals that served me.”

  He passed her a lined canvas jacket for riding, and she eased out of her more formal cashmere and wool coat. While his instincts as a gentleman barked at him to assist her, he still didn’t trust himself not to kiss her again so soon after the scorching clinch in the den. He’d memorized the exquisite feel of her pressed against him, and he burned to recreate that moment, only with less clothes between them.

  Preferably none.

  He busied himself with the bridles, pulling two down from the hooks while he tried to forget the swell of her breasts, the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat and the swift intake of her breath when he’d swept his tongue into her mouth that first time.

  “Your dad sounds like a good man.” He cursed the harsh note in his voice as he passed her the bridles and carried the saddles himself. “You said he was a gardener?”

  He stopped outside the stalls, hefting the saddles onto the racks near the cross-tie points in the aisle. Nicole laid one of the bridles near the rack and kept the other one in hand as he led Spirit out of her stall.

  “Yes. He was head gardener at Dowdon for five years.” Nicole helped him secure the animal in the cross ties, then cooed to the mare while she slid the bridle over her head. “I wasn’t excited to move there when he took the job, since my parents had just divorced, and my mom made it clear she wasn’t seeking any visitation rights. But I came to like the town.”

  “Wow. That had to have been rough. How old were you?” He ran a brush over the mare’s back, curious about her.

  “Nine. Mom is a renowned astronomer.” She hesitated.

  At her pause, he stopped brushing the horse to see her face. She looked out one of the open windows, her teeth nibbling at her lower lip in a gesture that made his throat go dry.

  When she continued, she turned her dark eyes on him, and he set down the brush to lay a saddle blanket over the mare.

  “I’m proud of her. She leads her own research team studying solar magnetics. But it wasn’t always easy to take second place behind the sun.” She reached over to smooth the blanket while he retrieved the tooled leather saddle. “I’ve vowed to make sure Matthew knows he comes first with me. Always.”

  He couldn’t help but respect the conviction in her voice. His own mother hadn’t been able to put him first, either, because Sebastian Pierce had demanded her full attention at all times. What would it have been like to grow up with a parent who advocated for him?

  “Matthew is lucky to have you in his life.” Desmond bent to tighten the cinches, grateful for something to keep his hands busy when he wanted them on Nicole. “There aren’t many people who could have devoted as much time to finding answers about his parentage as you have.”

  “Thank you. But it’s getting to be too much time.” She helped him unfasten the cross ties now that Spirit was ready to ride. “I guess I’m fortunate to freelance my graphic design skills so I can take the extra weeks away from the job, but if I want to pay Matthew’s next tuition bill, I’ll need to return to work soon.”

  He brooded on that while he led Sundancer from his stall to saddle him. He didn’t want to offend her by intruding on her finances, but since they affected a child who could be Zach’s son, he couldn’t keep silent.

  “What about the legacy from Salazar’s book? I thought the nominee service that forwarded profits had instructions to continue payments after his death?” Securing the horse, Desmond repeated the procedure with Sundancer while Nicole held Spirit’s reins near the barn door.

  “It does.” She spoke stiffly. Unwillingly? “But I can’t in good conscience continue to let Matthew accept the income from a book that ripped apart a family and profited on a scandal that caused real people harm.”

  He understood her reasoning but her scruples weren’t going to give the family depicted in Hollywood Newlyweds back their lives before the scandal. He’d have to convince her to continue taking the funds Alonzo had worked hard to ensure could support the boy. An argument he’d save for the next time he needed distance from those too-compelling dark eyes, or the siren’s call of her full lips.

  For now, he adjusted the saddle and sufficed to say, “If Matthew is Zach’s son, he’s entitled to a portion of Mesa Falls. This whole place was built as a way to remember Zach, so it’s only natural we’d share it with his son. That would ensure Matthew’s financial future.”

  He didn’t need to check with his partners about that. They would insist upon it as much as he would. They’d rewrite the deed into sevenths instead of sixths to include Zach’s heir.

  “That’s a big if we may never be able to prove.” Nicole stared at him with challenge in her eyes, her chin tilted up. “And no matter what we learn about his parentage, I’m not going to relinquish my spot as his primary guardian no matter the financial incentive. It’s probably best we’re clear on that from the start.”

  Her voice vibrated with emotion he hadn’t expected. But before he could assure her that wasn’t his intent, she was leading Spirit from the barn, her head high and her back ramrod straight.

  Damn.

  He’d wanted to cool things off between them. He hadn’t meant to send her into deep freeze.

  Steeling himself for riding beside her for the afternoon, he told himself it was better this way. Safer for all parties if he kept Nicole at arm’s length. But the part of him that remembered how she tasted sure as hell mourned the loss.

  * * *

  Nicole fumed for the first twenty minutes of the ride, aggravated by the idea of the wealthy and powerful ranch partners involving themselves in Matthew’s life. Yet, as she eyed the Bitterroot River from a high vantage point above the valley, she admitted the fresh, pine-scented air had helped ease some of her indignation over the next hour. Seated on Spirit’s back with the calls of woodpeckers and kestrels in the trees above, she soaked in the natural beauty of western Montana, still dusted with snow, thinking how much Matthew would enjoy this place.

  Ahead of her, Desmond reined in his mount, forcing her to slow Spirit’s trot to a walk. Her host had spoken little during the tour of the ranch, but she hadn’t required a guide to observe the appeal of the picturesque vistas.

  “Are you hungry yet?” he asked, breaking a long silence.

  Her stomach growled in a reply she was surprised he couldn’t hear even a few yards ahead of her.

  “I wouldn’t mind something to eat.” She glanced around the trees for a comfortable place to rest. “Should we stop?”

  “There’s a tree house up ahead if you’re game to try it out.” He nodded toward the north in the direction they were already moving.

  “A tree house?” She couldn’t hide her skepticism as she peered around again, wondering if she’d missed a residence. She remembered all of the owners had homes on the Mesa Falls land, though none of them had been built close to the others. “Way out here?”

  “
Yes.” He shifted his weight in the saddle, cueing the sleek chestnut he rode to pick up the pace again. “We’re almost there.”

  By the time he halted again, she’d given up keeping an eye out for a structure. Now, she looked up as she slowed her horse.

  They stood surrounded by trees, the heavy limbs branching in all directions making a thick network overhead even without leaves. Yet ahead of her, she spied the underside of a two-story structure perched between four maples, a cedar staircase climbing through the trunks and then forming a walkway that circled the coolest tree house she’d ever seen. On closer inspection she could tell the lower level was an open-air deck with a table and chairs. Above that, a snug house of cedar with black-painted shutters looked like something out of a fairy tale. A few different rooflines gave the structure visual interest, with a wide peak over the hobbit-size front door, a dormer on one side and a connected mini-building that looked like a gatehouse tucked into the V of heavy tree branches to the west.

  “Wow.” She breathed the word reverently, charmed in spite of her determination to keep Desmond at arm’s length. It was hard to hang on to her anger with him when it felt like she’d just entered Wonderland. “Is this some kind of retreat for ranch guests?”

  “No.” Swinging a leg over Sundancer’s back, Desmond dropped to the ground. “The builder who designed my house talked me into using the leftover materials on this. He gave me a deal because he wanted to test out a new blueprint.”

  “It looks like something Hansel and Gretel would find in the forest.” Following his lead, she slid off Spirit and secured the horse next to Desmond’s.

  “I’m hoping no witches have taken up residence since the last time I was here.” He unclipped the insulated bag from his saddle and tucked it under one arm before waving her toward the tree house. “But let me know if you want me to go in first and clear the building, just in case.”