Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard 12)

“Pedantic, huh?” Smiling, he went back into his office.

The next time he checked on her she had moved to the sofa with her iPad and was finishing a drawing. He sat beside her, leaned into her, and asked, “What’s that supposed to be?”

“A schematic.”

“A schematic of what?”

She was embarrassed to tell him. She felt foolish. “I was trying to design a more efficient fuel-injection system.” She erased the drawing and added, “It didn’t work.”

He was sitting so close she didn’t dare look up at him. She would lose her train of thought if she did, and he would know why. She wished to God she had never kissed him, and the second that thought popped into her head she knew it was a lie. She wanted him to kiss her again. God, he smelled heavenly.

No, it was all wrong. A relationship with Aiden, no matter how brief, could never go anywhere. They were ill suited to each other. While Mr. Sophisticated was buying land and building beautiful five-star hotels, she was immersed in biochemistry and cars. How much more nerdy could she get?

He wasn’t perfect by any means. He had more than a few irritating flaws. It was just that he was so incredibly handsome, people—women in particular—tended to overlook them. She didn’t have blinders, though. Aiden could be such an arrogant know-it-all, and he was far more stubborn than she was.

She knew he regretted touching her, but she doubted he would ever admit it. In that moment when his mouth covered hers and he began to caress her, everything had changed between them. There was a tension now that hadn’t been there before, and it was all her fault. She’d practically attacked him. It was mortifying to acknowledge that she had been the aggressor, and she was amazed she could even look him in the eye now.

Thank goodness she was over her infatuation with him. Yes, right. Over him. That lie was as thin as Saran Wrap. Her move to Boston couldn’t come soon enough.

When he remained next to her, she thought he wanted something. She waited for him to tell her what it was, but then they started their descent into Los Angeles, and she guessed what he was doing. She’d grabbed him during takeoff, letting him know she was freaked, and he must have assumed she didn’t like landings either. He was right, for she grabbed his arm and held on until the wheels hit the runway and glided to a stop.

It was terribly sweet that he didn’t comment or tease her, which was totally out of character for him. Aiden had many positive attributes, but being sweet wasn’t one of them.

Refueling didn’t take any time at all, and within thirty minutes they were back in the air and on their way to Sydney. Aiden stayed beside her reading and pretty much ignoring her until they leveled out at thirty thousand feet and she was able to let go of him. Then he went back into his office to finish a report. At least that’s what he told her. She thought he might be staying at his desk to avoid having to entertain her. As if that were necessary.

She wished they could go back to the way things used to be, when he barely noticed she existed. She’d certainly ruined any chances of that happening. Just fifteen more hours until touchdown, she thought. Then she would go her way and he would go his.

It had been a long day. She was tired and stressed, but she didn’t think she would be able to sleep. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and changed into a pink T-shirt and black yoga pants. Maybe watching a movie would help her relax. Aiden was still at his desk working on his laptop. The door to the bedroom behind him was open, and the sheets on the bed had been turned down. She didn’t want to interrupt him, and so she simply stood in the doorway and waited for him to notice her.

Aiden knew she was there, of course. He closed out the file he was working on, leaned back in his swivel chair, and looked at her. His pulse skipped a beat and then began to race. God, she was beautiful. And the most sensual woman he’d ever seen. Her hair wasn’t pulled back into a ponytail now but fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Her face was flushed with color, and even though the T-shirt wasn’t fitted, he could tell she’d removed her bra. He remembered how soft her full breasts had felt, how perfect. She was so soft everywhere, so damn feminine, and right this minute all he could think about was taking her into his arms. He wanted to finish what they had started, but he knew that was impossible and crazy. This was Cordelia, not one of the women he took out to dinner and then home to his bed. He had known her most of her life, and they had become good friends. She was sweet, smart, funny Cordelia. He had never let himself see her any other way.

How could he go back to being oblivious? He supposed he’d always thought she was a little sexy—he’d have to be dead not to notice—but he’d never allowed himself to do more than notice. Ignoring her had been easy . . . until he’d taken her into his arms and kissed her. Her mouth was so erotic, her lips so soft . . .

His voice was gruff when he finally spoke. “What do you need?”

She wasn’t put off by his brisk tone. “I’d like to watch a movie. Are the DVDs in here?”

“No,” he answered. “All you have to do is turn the television on and pull up the menu. Come with me. I’ll show you.”

She followed him into the bedroom. The remote was on a side table next to the bed. He turned on the television, called up the menu, and handed the remote to her.

“You can watch it in here. Picture’s better.”

“I don’t want to take your bed. You should get some sleep. It’s a long flight.”

“I’ll sleep later.”

“Are you going back to work?”

“No,” he answered. “I’m going to pull up a list of events in Sydney, important fund-raisers, charity balls, and the like, that Simone Rayburn and her husband will most likely attend.” Shrugging, he added, “I can get a list of those invited.”

He disappeared into his office but came back a minute later with his laptop. “Sydney’s a very cosmopolitan city. There’s always something going on. I’ve got a couple of sources in Sydney looking for me.”

He sat on the bed, leaned back against the upholstered leather headboard, opened his laptop, and began to type. Cordie wasn’t sure what she should do. She wanted to be casual about it all, to convince herself that there wasn’t anything wrong with being in bed with the man she desperately wanted to get away from.

Oh, he looked good. His hair was messed, a lock falling down onto his forehead. He impatiently brushed it back and continued to read the message he’d pulled up. He was very relaxed. His long legs stretched out, one ankle over the other. He definitely was comfortable in his own skin. Did he know how handsome he was? His appearance probably wasn’t even relevant to him. She doubted he ever felt self-conscious or insecure. She, on the other hand, was a jumble of nerves. Okay, she decided, she could be casual about this. All she had to do was go back to thinking that Aiden was just her friend’s brother. Nothing more. She would forget all about the way he’d held her and kissed her.

Giving herself a lobotomy would be easier.

“Here are a couple of events.”

She crawled up the bed to sit next to him. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer, then angled the laptop toward her so she could look over the guest list.

“The Rayburns are scheduled to attend the Gallery Ball on the twentieth and a university fund-raiser on the twenty-seventh. They’re both formal events. You choose. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?” she asked. She looked up into his eyes and promptly lost her train of thought. She could stare at him the rest of the night. With his strong jawline and his lean, hard body, he could have been a model. She forced herself to look at the screen.

“Unless you decide to walk up to their door and introduce yourself,” Aiden said.

A shiver of dread went through her. “That’s not going to happen.”

“What are you hoping to accomplish?”

“I just want to make sense of it, to understand how she could have d

one it. How she could have discarded her life with my father. She threw us away.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then said, “I want Simone to know she hasn’t gotten away with her deception, that there are people who know who she was and what she did, that she can’t run away and erase the past. But most of all I want her to know . . .” She paused, finding it difficult to say the words.

“What’s that?” Aiden asked.

“She can’t erase me.” She dropped her head back against the headboard and sighed. “I’m still not sure how I’ll let her know. The idea of talking to her makes me nauseous.”

“Then don’t talk to her. There will be around three hundred people at the Gallery Ball. You could see her there without her knowing.”

She nodded. “I could blend in.”

“No, you could never blend in,” Aiden said, a smile in his voice. He didn’t tell her that every eye would be on her. She could attend wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and she would be the most beautiful woman there. Oh hell, he had it bad tonight. He hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, and that was probably why he was having so much trouble controlling his reaction to her. That and the fact that every time he looked at her he remembered how she’d responded when he’d kissed her, how her scent had aroused him, how she’d tasted, and how she’d felt in his arms. She sure as certain had rattled him.

There had been a mound of work to get done before he left Chicago. Sydney wasn’t on his schedule for another month, and yet on the spur of the moment he had made the decision to take Cordelia there. He didn’t like the idea of her going by herself. Yes, she was a capable adult and usually levelheaded, but she’d lost her father and had found out some damning information about the woman who had given birth to her. Besides, she would be walking into a hornet’s nest. Simone and Craig Rayburn and Simone’s father, Julian Taylor, were considered upper crust in Sydney society, and Julian abhorred scandal. In all the photos taken of them at various events, he was standing with Simone and Craig, but he was never smiling. He appeared to be a real prick. Aiden realized he was jumping to conclusions, but where Cordelia was concerned, he wasn’t taking any chances. If and when she met the family, he would be by her side. He probably should tell her what he had decided, knowing full well she would argue fiercely, but it wouldn’t matter. He would get his way.

Alec had enlisted Liam Scott to look out for Cordelia while she was in Sydney. Aiden had done a little research on him, too, and he didn’t like what he’d read. There was very little actual information, but there were photos, and in every one of them Liam had a pretty woman on his arm. He was obviously a player, and that was the last thing Cordelia needed now, someone trying to get her in his bed. Aiden knew he was being extremely territorial. She didn’t have to answer to him. It didn’t matter, though. As long as she was in Australia, she sure as hell did belong to him.

“How about the Gallery Ball on the twentieth? I’ll be invited, and you’ll be my guest. What do you think?” he asked her.

She didn’t answer him. Her head was on his shoulder. He nudged her chin up and then smiled. She was sound asleep. Yawning, he asked softly, “Was I that boring?”

He put the laptop on the table and eased her down on the bed so that her head could rest on the pillow. He started to pull away, then changed his mind. Reaching up, he turned the light off and pulled her into his side with the top of her head nestled under his chin. He rubbed his jaw against her silky hair. The wonderful fragrance of peach shampoo mingling with her own feminine scent aroused him. It was odd to feel strangely content when he was with her. Too tired to try to figure it out, he wrapped his arms around her and went to sleep.

ELEVEN

Cordie knew she would like Sydney, but as it turned out, it was love at first sight. She had done quite a lot of reading about the beautiful city and the friendly people who lived there, and she’d seen countless photos of the special attractions. The Sydney Opera House, a performing arts center and one of Australia’s proudest icons, was featured in many of the photos Cordie had seen, and she’d thought it was pretty, especially with the lights at night bringing it to life, but the photos really didn’t do it justice. Seeing it in person, Cordie was in awe. It was magnificent. And so was the Harbour Bridge.

It was closing in on midnight when they circled the city and landed. A car was waiting to take them to the new Hamilton, which overlooked the harbor. Even though she was determined to avoid Aiden whenever possible, she felt it would be disloyal to stay at any other hotel.

She had made her reservation for a single room, but when they arrived at the hotel, she wasn’t given a choice. She was about to check in at the desk when Aiden grabbed her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction. As they passed through the lobby, every member of the staff smiled, looking genuinely happy to see their boss, and, from the bell captain to the front-desk clerk to the concierge, Aiden greeted each of them by name. Cordie tried to pull away, but he merely tightened his hold and continued on toward the bank of elevators. Unwilling to make a scene, she decided to wait until they were alone to give him a piece of her mind.

Yes, Aiden owned the hotel, and yes, he was used to getting his way; however, it didn’t make it right for him to be so high-handed with her. He didn’t ask where she wanted to stay. He pushed the button for the top floor and simply told her she would be sharing the two-bedroom penthouse suite with him.

“What is it with you and top floors?”

He flashed a smile. “I like being on top.”

Her mind immediately went to sex, and even though she tried, she couldn’t block the image of Aiden naked and sweaty on top of her. She could feel her cheeks warming and bowed her head so he wouldn’t notice.

The elevator doors opened, and they walked into a wide foyer. The suite was gorgeous. Ahead was a large living room decorated with plush sofas and chairs and fresh flowers on nearly every table. To the side was a spacious dining area with a rectangular table of marble and mahogany and a fully stocked bar behind it. The colors in the suite were rich earth tones: creams and browns and bronzes, with accents of black. It was contemporary and masculine yet refined and elegant. But the real attention-getter was the view. One entire wall was glass from floor to twelve-foot-high ceiling, and beyond was the spectacular Harbour Bridge. Cordie was a bit overwhelmed by it all.

The bellman carried in her two bags and deposited them in the bedroom on the left. Aiden had only a small carry-on and his briefcase. He went into the bedroom on the right and opened a door that revealed a walk-in closet filled with clothes. He set his bag on a chest of drawers and came out to a desk in his bedroom, where he placed his briefcase.

Cordie stood outside his door watching him arrange his laptop and some files on the desk. “You don’t ever let guests stay here? Just you?”

“Regan and Alec can stay here, and Spencer, of course.”

“What about Walker?” she asked.

His jaw tightened. “No,” he said curtly.

He obviously hadn’t worked out his issues with his youngest brother. Regan had told her about their troublesome sibling, and Cordie was fairly certain it was all the lawsuits Walker had caused with his careless lifestyle that were weighing on Aiden’s mind. He usually attacked problems head-on. It wasn’t like him to ignore or bury whatever was bothering him, but this was a family matter, and that made it different and more difficult.

“Do you have your schedule for tomorrow?” He asked the question without looking up as he opened his computer and powered it on.

“My schedule?” She almost laughed. Rigid schedules and Aiden were one and the same. “I thought I’d rent a car, get a map from the concierge, and see some of the city.”

“You have a car and driver.” Leaving the computer screen open, he passed her on his way through the living room to the bar. He got a bottle of water out of the built-in refrigerator, handed it to her, and reached for another. “Tell the truth, Corde

lia. You’ve got the Rayburns’ address, and you want to drive by, see their house, right?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“They live in a gated community. You’ll have to scale the wall in order to see their house.” He grinned, picturing it.

“That isn’t going to happen,” she said. “And how do you know where they live?”

“I had one of my assistants look them up,” he explained.

“I do want to see them without their knowing.”

“The Gallery Ball will be the perfect time, then,” he said. “Remember, I told you the Rayburns will be attending the ball. It’s a benefit for the arts. They have one every year.”

“And you’re invited every year?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No,” he answered. “But I’m a benefactor.”

“Meaning you give them money.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure they’ll be there?”

“Louis sent me the guest list I showed you. The Rayburns were on it. So was Simone’s father, Julian Taylor.”

“Who is Louis?”

“One of my managers. He pretty much runs this hotel.”

“Okay, then,” she said. “I’d like to go to the ball with you if that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

Aiden returned to his bedroom, went straight to his computer, and pulled up his e-mails, his plan to get some work done. He could operate at full capacity on three hours of sleep a night, and he had almost eighty messages to get through.

“Cordelia?” he called. He looked through the open door and could see she hadn’t moved from her spot in the living room.

“Yes?”

“What’s the matter? You’re standing there looking frozen,” Aiden remarked. Concerned, he added, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”