Egos translate to delays and problems.”
He didn’t deny he has deep pockets. I was right. He is money, sex,
and power. “So then, what’s your role, if not investor?”
“I’m the architect they want to design the project.”
I sit up straighter at this surprising news. “You’re an architect?”
“Yes.”
“An architect that could create a project of the magnitude you just
described?”
“Yes.”
“Would I know any of your work?”
“I’ve done a few high-profile projects.”
I frown. “Isn’t this where you drop names and impress me?”
“Do I need to impress you?”
My cheeks heat. “No. I…most people…”
“I’m not most people.”
No. No, he most definitely is not most people. “Have you thought
about your design for this project?”
“I’ve drafted my vision, but I already know it’s not likely to please the
financiers.”
“But they requested you. They must like your work.”
“They want me to create the tallest building in the United States.”
I blink. “Could you really create something of that magnitude?”
“‘Can I’ isn’t the question. ‘Will I’ is the question. Height is a short
man’s dream of perfection. It’s also narrow-minded. How high you stand
isn’t as important as how magnificent you are.”
Magnificent. The word resonates deeply for me. I’d once thought I’d
be a part of something I could describe that way. I’d like in some small way
to be a part of what he describes that way. “Are you allowed to show me
your design?”
“I’m allowed to do whatever the hell I want.” He reaches for his
sketchpad and thumbs through it to open to a particular drawing, and
starts to hand it to me, but pulls back. “I don’t normally show my work to
anyone until it’s complete.”
“But you’re going to show me?”
“Yes, Amy. I’m going to show you.”
He offers me the pad and I accept it, but my attention remains on
him. “Why would you show me what you show no one else?”
“Because I want to.”
I do not know what to say. “I…thank you.” Touched and confused, my
gaze lowers to
look at the drawing and shock radiates through me, trapping air in
my lungs. I blink, certain I am not seeing what I am seeing, but the image
remains the same. He showed me what he shows no one else, and what he
has shown me is a piece of my past. Adrenaline courses through me. That
can mean only one thing. I shove the pad beside me and reach for his right
arm and turn his wrist face up, searching for the tattoo that would tell me if
he’s my handler.
Chapter Four
His wrist is bare and I grab the other one, afraid my memory of which
arm the tattoo was on was wrong. But there is nothing. No tattoo. No proof
he is a part of my past or my future. My eyes lift to his and he arches a
brow. “Problem?”
“You don’t have a tattoo?”
His lips quirk and his eyes light with mischief and heat. “Not that I can
show you while we’re still on the plane.”
I ignore the inference that he will show me later and focus on
searching for what lies beneath his amusement, but I find nothing. No
secrets. No hidden agenda. But then, if he expected my reaction to the
drawing, why would he react any other way? Then again, I could simply be
losing my mind. I drop his hand that I am boldly holding and grab the
sketchpad again, staring at the drawing of a high rise framed by a pyramid.
It’s just a pyramid. There’s not a code in the center. It’s not tall and narrow
like the one on my note. It really doesn’t resemble the tattoo at all. Maybe
it really is just a building design. Maybe it has nothing to do with me or my
father at all.
Liam leans in close to me, his arm brushing mine and sending a jolt of
awareness through me. “My design inspiration came from the two years I
spent in Egypt, working with a team of experts that studied the Great
Pyramid.”
Impossibly, my skeletons have jumped out of the closet and attacked
me and him in the process, and he’s not even questioning what must have
Confused, I turn to look at him. “You aren’t going to ask why I
just…did what I did?”
“No. I’m not going to ask.”
“Why?” Why would he not ask if he didn’t know why I freaked out?
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
“I’m not going to be ready before this plane lands.”
“That’s fine.” He lifts a chin at the sketchpad. “You still haven’t said
what you think of my vision.”
He’s confusing me. Okay, everything is confusing me, but his
question is an escape from explaining myself and I take it. “The design is
what you said you wanted it to be. It’s magnificent.”
“You aren’t even looking at it.”
“No. I’m looking at you. The man who created it.” The man who
wanted me to see what he wouldn’t show anyone else.
“And what do you see looking at me, Amy?”
“What you let me see.”
He looks intrigued by that answer, maybe even pleased. “Ask me
what I see when I look at you.”
More than I want him to. “No. I don’t want to know what you see.” I
turn away from him, sinking low in my seat and pulling the blanket to my
chin, and I am clear on only one thing.
I don’t like who I’ve become.
***
“Wake up, Amy.” I blink at the feel of a hand on my shoulder and
turn quickly to find
Liam leaning over me, his mouth impossibly close to mine.
“I was asleep again?”
“Like a rock.”
“Please tell me I didn’t scream.”
“No. Nothing like that. We’re about to—” The wheels hit the runway
with a hard bump and I am shocked to realize that I’ve not only slept a
second time, but so deeply that I had no idea we were even hearing the
landing announcements. It’s like my mind had just shut down.
“I didn’t want the landing to scare you,” Liam explains, settling back
in his seat.
“Thank you. It would have.” I sit up, adjusting my skirt and folding the
blanket.
“What’s your plan from here?”
“Plan?”
“Do you have a ride to wherever you’re going?”
“A friend is picking me up,” I croak out, and the lie is like wet cotton
in my throat. He wants this…this whatever we started to continue and so
do I, but I can’t know his real motivation any more than I can risk his safety
by being seen with him.
“Male or female?”
I blink, snapping back to the present. “What? Male or female?”
“Your friend picking you up. Male or female?”
I know the safe answer is “male”. I know that if his motivation for the
question is simple male interest, it will discourage him, and still I hear
myself say, “Female.”
His eyes darken, heat, and I think he’s pleased with my answer. “I’ll
help you with y
our bags.”
“No, I—”
“I’m helping you with your bags, Amy.”
There is command in his voice, and I am instantly, unbelievably
aroused, and pleased at his insistence, when I should be running for the
hills. I will run for the hills when the doors open.
“Thank you,” I murmur and turn away from him, afraid he will read
my intentions to flee.
Quickly, I make sure my folder and bag are intact, sliding the leather
strap over my shoulder, and I am ready for action.
The plane parks at the gate, and Liam stretches his long, perfect body
to retrieve my bag from the overhead compartment. Once he hands it to
me, I lift the handle and tell myself to make my escape, but for a moment I
am frozen in regret over leaving him. Too soon, he jerks his bag free, and I
am out of time. A man moves between myself and Liam and I take the
opportunity to dart for the exit. I don’t look back. I want to look back.
A few minutes later, I am outside in a cab line that stretches a good
fifteen cab lengths long, with no actual cars in sight. Thanks to several
savor my regret over leaving Liam behind. And I do. I savor it like I would
water in a desert.
I’m busying contemplating how good he might have tasted when a
black Town Car stops directly beside me. The door opens and to my shock
Liam steps out and grabs my bag. “Come with me,” he orders, and he
doesn’t give me time to argue.
I haven’t moved yet and he’s already at the trunk where the driver
lifts my bag to deposit it inside. I consider leaving it behind and running. I
should leave it and run. I charge toward him and meet him at the back
door.
My chin lifts and he is taller than I realized, and his sleek goatee is
impossibly sexy, nearly distracting me from my anger. “You can’t just take
my bag and demand I come with you.”
“And yet that’s exactly what I did. Get in the car, Amy.”
I bristle at the command. “I don’t know you.”
His piercing blue eyes darken. “I have every intention of remedying
that.”
A thrill shoots through me at the obvious promise that he will be my
lover, and there is no denying that I am seduced by this man, drawn to his
confidence and dark good looks. To the gentle lion I believe will take
control of everything around him, including me. The man who will demand
much of me, and perhaps take more than I should give. And yet, beyond all
reason, I want to experience those things. I want to experience him. It
almost feels…necessary.
A cab honks at our driver and I have nothing to go on but instinct that
tells me I can trust him, but it has never failed me. Not even when I took
the job at the museum that I knew was a mistake. The horn blasts again
and I go with my gut. I get in the car. Liam follows me inside and shuts the
door.
“Where are we going?” the driver calls over his shoulder, pulling
away from the curb.
I quickly slide my bag from my lap to the seat in between Liam and
me, and I’m suddenly too nervous to look at him. He’s experienced in ways
I can’t even pretend to be, in ways the few men I have dared to date have
not been. Worldly in ways I once thought I’d be.
And with the folder I’ve been given by my handler opened, I read out
my new address, trusting him at a time when trust is the last thing I should
be dishing out.
“I approve,” Liam says as I seal the zipper up again.
“Approve?” I ask, daring to look at him, aware of him on every level.
His size. His spicy scent. The burn of his anger in the depth of his stare over
my leaving him behind that hasn’t quite faded.
“The location your new boss picked for you. It’s a safe area.”
I seize the opportunity to know more about this man I am risking so
much, perhaps too much, for. “You know Denver that well?”
“Yes. I know Denver quite well.”
“Did you design another building here?”
“The tallest one downtown.”
“I thought you weren’t into the whole ‘bigger is better’ thing?”
“It was a notch on the proverbial bedpost of a young architect.”
I can’t help but wonder if I’m setting myself up to be a notch on his
proverbial bedpost as well. “You’re still young.”
“I started young, so I seem younger than one would think a seasoned
architect might be.”
“When you say started young that means what?”
“I was an apprentice to a very famous architect from the time I was
thirteen until he died four years ago.”
“Thirteen? You started your career at thirteen?”
“I started my training at thirteen.” He lowers his voice. “You do know
I couldn’t let you run, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
“If you think that, then why’d you come after me?”
“Because you didn’t want to run. You just thought you had to.”
“That’s a little arrogant.”
“It’s honest. I like honesty.”
I like it too, but I can’t give it to him. This ride was a mistake.
“Liam—”
He closes the distance between us, moving my bag out of the way,
his powerful leg pressed to mine, his fingers sliding into my hair. I am
shocked. I am excited and scared, frozen and burning up at the same time.
“Do you know how much I like it when you say my name?” he asks, his
voice a soft, seductive purr.
Nerves and heat collide like fire in my belly. He likes when I say his
name? This man who is overwhelmingly male, a powerful force like none I
have ever experienced? “I don’t know what to say to that.” And it is as
honest an answer as I’ve given anyone in years.
“You don’t have to know, Amy. It’s okay not to know.”
For the second time today, he has spoken words straight to my soul.
Relief that reaches so far beyond this moment in time, and my possible
response to his statement, flows through me.
This is why I’m in this car, why I am drawn to this man. He makes me
feel I don’t have to hold the world up on my own. And as crazy as it is, from
the moment my eyes met his in the terminal, he has had a way of making
me feel I am not alone.
His thumb runs over my bottom lip and a shiver trickles down my
spine. I think he will kiss me. I want him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. “Soon,”
he promises, as if responding to my silent plea, as if he knows how much I
crave his mouth on mine. His cell phone rings, but for a moment he ignores
it to add, “And not soon enough.”
He moves away from me and I want to pull him back. I want to feel
his hands on my body again, his leg pressed to mine. But he is already
answering his call, and too easily dismissing what I cannot. “Yes,” he says to
his caller. “I’m here.”
My fingers curl, nails digging into my palm. I have no one to call and
ask if I’m here. I have only me and no matter how drawn I am to Liam, if
today has proven anything to me it’s that there
can always be only me. But
as I glance at Liam’s strong profile, I pretend he is truly with me. And that I
am truly with him. It is a small dream in the middle of a nightmare.
***
Thirty minutes after we leave the airport, the Town Car pulls to a
stop at a destination.
Liam grabs my bag and exits street side while the driver opens my
door. I step outside, enjoying a cool evening breeze that drives home the
fact that I am no longer in New York. Scanning my surroundings, I appear to
be standing in the center of high-end restaurants and stores where, despite
the late hour of nearly midnight Mountain Time, people are casually
strolling the sidewalks and the city is far from dead.
With my apartment key in my hand, I glance behind me to find more
stores and a hotel, and then forward again where apartment balconies
seem to sit above the retail stores.
“Hang onto my bags,” I hear Liam tell the driver, before he joins me,
my joke of a suitcase and my bag in tow. “What apartment number?”
“222, but I don’t see an entrance.”
“The driver said there’s an elevator entrance beside the kitchen
store.”
Spotting the “Sur Le Table” sign he must be talking about, I turn to
Liam and reach for my suitcase. “Thanks for the ride.”
He holds on to both of my bags. “You’re alone in a new city. I’m not
letting you go inside an apartment you’ve never seen before by yourself.”
“The driver—”
“Has been tipped well.” He motions me forward and starts walking,
effectively giving me no room to argue.
Staring after him, I am on unsteady ground, inexperienced with a
man as dominant and stubborn as this one. I didn’t think this part of the
evening through when I accepted the ride. I have no idea what awaits me at
the apartment. What if there is something I can’t let Liam see?
Double-stepping in my high heels and not all that gracefully, I catch
up to him. “You really don’t have to—”
He cuts me a sideways look. “Right. I don’t have to. You don’t have
to. But we are, baby, and we both know it.”
My heart sputters at the obviously naughty sexual reference. “I was
talking about walking me to the door. You don’t have to walk me to the
door.”
He shoots me an evil smile. “I wasn’t.”
“Liam—”
“Amy.” We stop at an elevator and he punches the button,