Her mother had died in a car accident. Her baby had died in a car accident. And until two days ago she’d thought her husband had, too. Seeing him in the flesh couldn’t erase years of ingrained fear.
Irrational? Maybe. But she couldn’t help the emotions churning through her.
She didn’t want to be there. Not in Dallas. Not in this car. Not with this man—a man who had betrayed her and wasn’t above using leverage to manipulate her.
Shades of your father.
On the other hand, she had to admit this hard-jawed, steely eyed, bossy, confident version of Lucas was…well, interesting in a way the younger man hadn’t been.
Not that she’d ever get entangled with him again. And she certainly wouldn’t give him another opportunity to grind her heart beneath his John Lobb shoes.
No matter how good he kissed.
The memory sent a flutter of something she wanted nothing to do with through her. Needing a distraction she scanned the vast, empty parking lot of the closed facility, hoping security or the police or somebody would arrive and throw them out.
She swallowed to ease her dry mouth. “We shouldn’t be here. There were posted No Trespassing signs at the gate.”
“It’s private property. I know the owner.”
“And would that owner be you?”
He paused as if considering his answer. “Yes.”
“Why is the business closed?”
“You’re stalling.”
Smart of him to guess that. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“The equipment is being upgraded this week. The plant will reopen on Monday. Start the car.”
How hard could it be to turn the key? Impossible apparently since she couldn’t relax her white-knuckled grip.
“Nadia, look at me.”
She forced her gaze to meet his and found patience instead of irritation in his blue eyes.
“This is no different than driving the bumper cars at the amusement park. You enjoyed that. Didn’t you?”
She inhaled slowly, calling upon the memories of happier times to wash over her. She and Lucas had spent a lot of time playing at the things normal people—not heiresses—did. He’d introduced her to a whole different world from the pampered, secluded one she’d grown up in. And he’d helped her fit in. “I did.”
“Only this time you don’t have to brace yourself because no one is going to bump into you. You have the entire place to yourself. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You’ve driven golf carts. The pedals are the same.”
She flexed her cramping fingers. The leather seats grew hot and moist against the backs of her legs.
“Nadia.” His patience morphed into inflexible resolve. “We’re not leaving until you’ve driven around the parking lot.”
How stupid was it to not be able to drive a dumb car at her age? Definitely a sign of weakness. One she needed to overcome.
Everett Kincaid had abhorred weakness. No wonder he’d hung her out to dry.
“One time around the lot?”
He paused then dipped that stubborn chin. “Once around the entire property and then you can park the car.”
One lap. She could do that. She turned the key and the motor purred to life. Her foot weighed as heavy as lead as she transferred it from the brake to the gas pedal. The engine roared, but the car didn’t move.
“Put your foot back on the brake and put the car in Drive.”
Idiot. But if Lucas thought she was lacking brain cells his even tone didn’t show it. In fact, his soothing voice reminded her of the times he’d introduced her to other new things like riding a bicycle, free concerts in the park, making love on a blanket beneath the stars.
Don’t go there.
Still trembling, she gritted her teeth and did as he instructed. The car inched forward. Her heart slammed harder, faster. She struggled to keep from hyperventilating.
She would get through this. And then maybe he’d leave her alone.
During her first two months in exile she’d prayed for her neighbor to come home. Now she couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
Apparently, there was an upside to loneliness. And as soon as she ditched him she’d enjoy it, revel in it and be grateful for it. Screaming silences and all. No more whining self-pity.
“You’re doing fine.”
She glanced at him and her gaze snagged on his tender smile—the one that had haunted her dreams for years.
“Eyes on the road, princess.”
She jerked her face forward again, but her pulse skittered anew at the old nickname.
“You have forward nailed. When you come around the backside of the building let’s raise the bar and practice keeping the car between the lines.”
He’d always done that. Encouraged without berating. Guided rather than ordered. After her father’s build-’em-up-to-take-’em-down MO she’d always braced herself after each of Lucas’s positive comments eleven years ago. But the negative follow-ups had never come.
She didn’t want him to be nice or patient or positive. She wanted him to be an obnoxious ass.
It’d be easier to hate him that way.
Because right now he was making that very, very difficult.
She’d never been more aware of a body in her life.
His or hers.
Nadia backed into the far corner of the elevator, as far from Lucas as she could get. She concentrated on the seam between the doors and tried to tune out the scent of the man standing two yards away. The man currently staring at her.
She sensed that blue gaze as surely as a touch and it made her skin hypersensitive. She could feel so much: the weight of each piece of clothing on her skin, the slight shift of her blouse with each breath she inhaled and exhaled, the tickle of her hair against her cheeks and nape. But along with the awareness and the wariness came a sense of accomplishment.
She’d driven a car.
That didn’t mean she wanted to take one out on the road, but still…she’d made progress today that eleven years of therapy hadn’t been able to accomplish.
Thanks to Lucas.
Don’t go there. He’s an opportunistic bastard. Remember?
She couldn’t forgive him for choosing money over her, and she couldn’t let her bitter feelings toward him soften. But she was in danger of doing both.
Replaying the too cozy dinner she’d just shared with him at the steak house, the quiet conversation about art and music, movies and books was bad news. He’d put her at ease just as he had on their first date—the only date she’d ever been nervous about in her life. She couldn’t dwell on the feeling of success she’d had when she’d mastered his car. Okay, mastered might be a slight exaggeration, but her one lap around the parking lot had turned into an hour once she got past her nerves.
And she certainly couldn’t recall the good times they’d had together in the past.
She could feel herself weakening. She gave up and let her gaze meet his. The hunger burning in his eyes took her breath away. His gaze dropped to her lips which suddenly seemed dry and hot and swollen. She bit her tongue rather than dampen them.
She wanted him to kiss her. That would be a major mistake. His good-night kisses tended not to end before breakfast. That’s how she’d become pregnant the first time. She searched for a diversion. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll do it again soon.”
Not a good idea.
“I’m proud of you, Nadia.”
His quietly uttered words sent warmth rushing through her. When had anyone ever told her that? She gathered her wits. “I’m proud of me, too.”
“You did very well for your first lesson. Tomorrow will be easier. Be ready at nine.”
She winced. “About tomorrow…”
The elevator doors glided open, stilling her words.
Lucas shoved off the wall, but he didn’t exit. He came toward her, closing the distance in three long strides. He planted one hand on the wall beside her head.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She had to break this up. Fast. “Well, okay, thanks again for dinner. I—”
He nudged her chin with his knuckle. She couldn’t breathe. God, she wanted him to kiss her. Instead she listened to the voice screaming caution in her brain, ducked beneath his arm and dashed out of the cubicle and to her door.
“I’ll see you. Good night.”
She hustled into her apartment and shut the door.
Close call. Too close. She had to get control of her hormones before they got her into trouble.
At one minute after six the next morning Nadia eased open her apartment door and peeked out. The hall was empty and Lucas’s door was closed.
She had to get out of here.
She stepped over her newspapers rather than bring them in. Let him think she was still sleeping. She quietly closed the door and tiptoed toward the elevator. She’d yet to figure out how her father’s minions—whoever they might be—would know if she wasn’t inside between midnight and 6:00 a.m. It might be somehow related to the security system that she’d neglected to use even once since moving in. Whatever. She wasn’t blowing her assigned task on a technicality.
The elevator opened with a ding. She winced, darted inside and hit the button to close the doors. Her muscles remained stiff with tension all the way down and as she exited the box and crossed the lobby.
“Going out, Ms. Kincaid?” the security guy asked.
She forced a smile and prayed he didn’t have a concealed button to buzz his boss in the penthouse. “Yes.”
“Would you like a taxi?”
“No, thank you, William.”
Hurdle number one. If she wanted to travel under the radar, then she had to master public transportation. But if she could juggle the needs of dozens of ships navigating the globe, she could handle moving one person via a city rail system.
She’d printed a Dallas Area Rapid Transit map from her computer and tucked it into her oversize tote bag along with her laptop. The map and a loosely formed strategy should get her through today and keep her away from this building and its owner.
“You’re getting an early start,” William said, clearly hunting for information.
And the longer she stayed in the lobby chatting the better chance Lucas had of catching up with her and shadowing her. After yesterday’s bonding experience and last night’s near-miss kiss she didn’t want that.
“Yes. I am.”
“Headed anywhere in particular?”
She hadn’t been born yesterday. If she told William where she was going, it would probably be relayed upstairs before her feet hit the sidewalk. “I plan to play tourist and see as much of the city as possible. Have a good day.”
She plowed through the front doors and headed toward the transit station as quickly as her high-heeled Stella McCartney wedge sandals would take her. She hated liars and fibbing even though telling little white lies was de rigueur in her social circle.
The muggy morning air enveloped her as did the sounds and smells of early rush hour traffic. She was used to the bustle of big cities, but it was different somehow when you had only a general clue how to get where you were going and no driver waiting at the curb to carry your bags or give you directions. Or better yet, to drop you off at the door. She also tended to travel with a posse of friends—or leeches as her father would call them—who knew their way around.