Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance (7 page)

“You lost her?” Cade was ready to burst a blood vessel, what with high tech tracking devices
at their disposal. “Aerial surveillance spies she’s still in the vicinity.”

A text message dinged his cell phone.

“Find her,” he snarled into the transmitter, signaling the pilot to circle back. “I want a full report.”

He skimmed the text message and frowned. He’d received a text from his uncle:
You’re off course, target closer to home.
He keyed in his uncle’s Limassol office to trace the memo—he’d flown to London. A blast of frustration formed in his chest. Something was going down, and he had to find out what it was.

The chopper landed, and Cade vaulted out, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. He inhaled, filling his lungs with pine- scented air. A whiff of citrus blossom…and cooking.

His stomach rumbled. He jogged to the shack, burst through the door and skidded to a halt.

“Hello darling.” Nina waved a spatula at him and cracked two eggs in the pan sizzling with olive oil. “Over easy?” She flipped them and smacked them with the spatula, imagining it to be his back.

“Yeah, over easy works.” He marched across the room, threw a file on the table and set his laptop beside it.

Nina sensed his foul mood, and turning to more pleasant thoughts, suppressed a giggle tickling her throat.

Who’d have imagined her parents reconnecting after all these years? Then she sobered. Someone
had
set him up.

She glanced at Cade flicking through the file on the table, and blew a wayward wisp off her brow.

Mere hours ago, her father hinted his long time associate was about to expose the perpetrator; but before he could tell her more, a car motor revved, and she’d sprinted for the shadows.

Nina placed two bread slices in the toaster and opened the icebox.

He’d ‘abandoned’ them to protect them from the backlash, and weathered the blackmail alone; still sheltering them from the onslaught massing on the horizon.

She forked bacon slices from the package, shouldered the icebox shut and dropped them in the pan. Oil sputtered, and she took a step back. She scooped the eggs onto a plate and gave her husband a veiled glance.

Could Cade be behind her father’s persecution? An ache throbbed inside her, and she gripped the counter, bracing against the possibility. Air left her lungs. She flipped the bacon, and her lip quivered.

After she’d left the
kafeneon
near dawn, she slipped by Cade’s men milling near the marketplace, and hurried ‘home’…thinking of him.

Her father.

A wanted man.

Who she could set free and right the past, but if she could only get Cade to listen. Listen to her. She had to find a way. Even if it meant—

Her pulse skittered, and her chest tightened. Could she risk her heart?

Wouldn’t that be replacing one casualty for another—her? She crunched down the jitters. She had to do it. Her father’s freedom and her mother’s happiness depended on her taking that risk.

“Bacon crisp?”

She fought back the sting of tears. They’d already lost twelve years all because of—

“Crisp will do,” Cade muttered, without so much as a glance her way.

She blinked, refocused on the task at hand and forced a smile on her face. “How was your day, dear?”

His scowl darkened. “Maybe I should ask you the same thing, mmm?”

“Ask away.” She shrugged, her tone flippant, thus aggravating him more. Served him right, after what he’d put her through. And she wasn’t done yet. “But I already know what that’s about.”

Suspicion tinted his eyes. “You do?”

“You’re disappointed.” She transferred the bacon onto the plate of eggs, placed the pan in the sink and flicked the kettle on. “The eggs are from the fridge not the co-op, the bacon from the market not the butcher’s slab and the juice from the can not the orange tree.”

“Where’ve you been?” He bridged the gap in two strides and stood behind her, his breath ruffling the curls at her nape.

Prickles rose on her skin, her hands went moist, and she wanted to lean back into him, his muscled chest, to rest, to—

The toast popped up. She snatched the slices from the toaster and slapped them on the plate. “And the bread’s from the bakery not—”

“And why’s that?”

“No time to bake this morning.”

“Because?”

She swung past him, placed the plate on the table, rerouted for the demitasse, swerved by him and set it on the table with the orange juice.
“I went shopping.”

“For?”

“Whatever do you mean?” She sucked in a breath
,
her heart thudding. He stepped up, wedging her against the table, his thighs brushing her buttocks and sending shimmers of sensation through her. Her hand glided across the table, and a spoon clattered to the floor. She started.

“Nervous?”

“No-o.” She wiggled for breathing room, but it only caused friction between them.

“Honey, you keep doing that, and we’ll land right here on the floor—”

She bent down for the spoon, and her tush smacked into his groin.

He sucked in a blizzard of air.

A sweet jab of sensation pierced her to the core.

She seized the utensil and bolted upright so fast, her head cracked his chin.

“Ouch,” he grumbled, and she skipped away from him.

He paced her every move.

She dropped the spoon in the sink, swallowed and wiped her
palms on the front of her jeans.

“Ketchup?” She reached for a bottle from the cupboard and her shirt rode up.

He stepped up.

“Very nice.” He slid his hands around her bare midriff, nuzzling her neck, sparking fine hair at her nape.

“I-I thought it’d add zing to your breakfast.”

He chuckled, his breath a fizz of fever on her skin. Sizzle shot into her, and her head lolled back onto his shoulder. Just for a heartbeat, she stayed there; his heat, his touch stirred her senses, and a sigh feathered from her mouth. Just for a second, she imagined … but abruptly she twisted to push him away and fell into his gaze.

Cade lowered his head, and his lips melded with hers … tender, moist, sweet sensation charged into her. She curved into his embrace. He tightened his arms around her, jamming her hard against him, his erection pressing into her. Her stomach dipped. She sucked in a breath from his mouth, her nipples skimming his chest. He slid his tongue into her mouth, withdrew slightly, then penetrated further… the motion reflecting the rhythm of his hips against hers.

Lost in the sensual promise of that kiss, Nina moaned; her heart beating a frenzied tempo to the erotic waltz in her mouth.
A guttural sound vibrated from deep in his throat. He bunched her hair in his hands, held her head steady and ravished her mouth.

The shrill whistle of the kettle—a douche of ice water—and she stilled in his arms. “Y-your breakfast’s getting cold.”

“And we’re anything but, baby doll,” he murmured, his words a breath of sound against her lips. Curving an arm around her, he turned off the stove. “We’re about to combust in a blaze, right here, right now.”

He cupped her breast with one hand and her buttocks with the other, pulling her hard against his aroused strength. A flick of his thumb across her nipple, and a whimper of pleasure echoed deep in her throat. He dipped his head, suckling the orb in his mouth, fabric and all.

She gasped, and her head flopped onto his shoulder. On the brink of surrender, a shudder frisked through her and—

The Greek coffee boiled over and splattered on the stove.

“Your coffee’s ready.” She pushed against him, but her hands felt limp and powerless.

“And so are we.” He lifted his head, his mouth a feather breadth from hers, his ragged breath singeing her lips. “Primed and ready.”

The inferno ignited into a blaze.

She leaned into him, unable to stop, wanting him to—

A knock on the door.

A rooster crowed.

She turned in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, and siphoned a mouthful of air. He tightened his arms about her, his breath like a typhoon in her ear. A million jabs of sensation zapped into her, and she almost cried. She bashed down the whimper ebbing in her throat and tore away from his embrace, the emotional aftershocks pulsing through her.

“You better wash up…coffee…your breakfast,” she broke off realizing she was rambling. “My tea.”

The banging on the door grew louder.

Cade uttered a blue streak beneath his breath, stalked to the door and nearly wrenched it off its hinges.

Like an automaton, Nina staggered to the stove, turned off the burner and gripped the coffee pot.
A whiff of the strong brew—a wake-up call. She managed to walk back to the table on boneless legs and poured the coffee in his cup, spilling only a drop or two.

A murmured exchange from the doorway, with ‘report’ being the only decipherable word drifting to her.

An ominous silence.

Cade shut the door and turned, his features chiseled granite, his eyes stone cold.

A tremor ripped through her. What did he know?

Cade bridged the distance between them in two strides and slapped a folder on the table. Taciturn, he marched to the sink, poured water from the jug into his palm, his grip on the ceramic handle iron-hard.

Why hadn’t she told him? He batted hair off his brow with an impatient hand, water spraying the air. The caveman tactics hadn’t worked. Instead of opening up to him, she had clammed up.

Only her body spoke to him. It was in rhythm with his, conducting symphony of their senses.

It was proof that she wasn’t averse to his touch. The sensual interlude they shared moments ago had his blood pulsing hot through his veins and sent his heart rate into high gear. He snatched a towel from the rack, dried his hands, hurled it on the countertop and strode back to her.

She stood immobilized, her eyes wide … vulnerable pools of emotion, uncertain yet alert. She glanced at the door over his shoulder, seeming to gauge the distance.

“Uh, uh.” He tapped the folder, inclined his head for her to sit down, and wondered why he didn’t let her run out with a
‘hasta la vista,
babe’ as had been his original intent.
A shifting inside him, and a stab in his heart gave him pause, but he savagely resisted the pull of the sentiment.

“Better hurry and grab a bite,” he said, his words harsh, almost cruel.
“We’ve a long trip ahead of us.”

Her head snapped up. “We’re leaving?”

He hooked a chair with his boot, scraped it back and straddled it.

“London.” The hacker had created a maze from New York to Cyprus to London. How Florence, Italy fitted into his scheme Cade wasn’t sure yet, but he’d find out. He had to…because of her.

He sent a covert glance her way. Had he connected all the dots? The hacker was about to cyber-launder the funds via key global financial institutions to cover his tracks. Unless they compromised his plan in

a sting operation, he’d jet off to parts unknown again.

“You go.” She pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and the fabric of her shirt stretched taut across her breasts.

He eclipsed the growl deep in his chest with his fist.

“I don’t have to go.” She tossed her head in defiance.

“Oh, but you do.”

“Why?”

“Overdue honeymoon.” His eyes held hers for an endless beat, and then his mouth tilted in a provocative grin. He picked up a piece of toast and bit into it with gusto. “Eat up, it’s a long trip.”

“I’ve lost my appetite.” She marched past him, but he shot an arm out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her onto his lap.

“Well, I haven’t.” A wicked lift to his brow.

“For what?” She leaped to her feet, putting distance between them.

“Your services.” He tore off another piece of toast with his teeth, took a gulp of coffee and held the cup out to her.

She grabbed the pot from the table and poured the last of the brew in his cup. “Will that be all, your royal jerkins?”

“No.” He pierced a piece of egg, placed it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “I’ve been up all night” –he swished a finger around his shirt collar— “run my bath will you, honey.”

She shook her head, befuddled. “There’s no bathtub here, the outside shower—”

“Quite right.” He punctured a slab of bacon, popped it in his mouth and chomped, swallowed. “You can wash my back then.”

“Huh!” She stamped to the stove, slammed the lid on the pan in the sink, tossed in the cutlery and closed her fingers over the towel he’d left on the counter.

“A massage prior to—” He rolled his shoulders and palmed his nape. “Hey!” He ducked in the nick of time, the missile whizzing over his head and smacking the wall.

A glint in his eye, then he shrugged, which stoked her ire.

“Perhaps you’re right.” He stuffed another forkful of food in his mouth, chomped and gulped down the coffee. “No time.” He blotted his mouth with the napkin. “You’ll administer the magic of your touch when we get to London.”

“Take a memo Ms…er…Mrs. Sloan.” Cade lounged on the plush sofa of their penthouse at the Park Lane Hotel in Mayfair, nursing a drink in his hands.

“What?” Nina swung around from viewing London lights reflected on the Thames River in the distance. Big Ben struck the ninth hour, and soon it’d be bedtime …she swayed…with her espoused enemy. She rubbed goose bumps from her arms, not sure whether the reaction was caused by alarm or anticipation.

“After tonight, you’ll make strides in reducing the principal and interest on the note.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, scoring her throat, and for a moment remained speechless, trying to wrap her mind around the implication of his words.

“Be thankful, rates are low.” He took a swig of the drink and smacked his lips. “Or annual interest accrued be astronomical.”

“You’re despicable.”

“Go change,” he snarled. “Dinner
a deux
on the terrace.”

“I’m not hungry.” She didn’t move.

He raised the glass to his mouth, glanced at the dining table over the rim, then at her, his meaning unmistakable. “Room service then?” Setting the tumbler down on the sidebar, he hauled himself from the sofa, and rapped his knuckles on the glossy tabletop. “Sturdy.”

She hooked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and took a step back, her eyes wide, and her lashes fluttering. Her heart thumping with … 

Expectancy.

Excitement.

His brows knitted over the bridge of his nose.
He propped his hip on the table’s edge and folded his arms across his chest. “The
dinner meeting with the VIP” –he paused, gauging her reaction— “and former employee of Sloan Global Corp. had to be rescheduled.”

“Meeting…former employee?” She sounded dimwitted even to her own ears, the query a sliver of sound from her mouth.

“Yep.”

“No.” She retreated a step, hooked her thumbs on her denim waistband and anchored her back against the wall. He could only mean her father, but how’d he known? A raw sound gurgled from her throat, and she smothered it with the back of her hand. Of course. How foolish of her. Cade Sloan didn’t miss a thing; not with his henchmen and his high tech tracking devices trailing her to the village.

“We could forego dinner altogether.” He waggled his shoulders, his gaze straying over her, and loosened a couple of buttons of his designer shirt.

Sizzling hot attraction shot into her, and she tried to counter the pull of his sexuality with a verbal attack. “You know, don’t you?” She brushed moist palms on her tush and looked him straight in the eye. “This cat and mouse game you’ve been playing was just to…to—”

“Catch you?” His eyes glittered like agates, skewering her. “In secret assignations with a man at the village taverna?”

She paled. “
Kafeneon
,” she murmured the inconsequential correction.

“You know who he is?”

“Not personally, yet,” he ground out, his vague answer unnerving.

“Suffice to say, you will not be meeting him again.”

“What have you done to him?” A sinister thought hurled through her mind, and she tore at him, her arms flailing. “If you’ve hurt him—”

He caught her arms, binding her wrists between his fingers, his thumbs stroking her pulse points. The tension between them built to combustible levels. Her breath mingled with his, sounding harsh and heavy in the fleeting hush between them.

“Hurt is relative,” he murmured.
“
Pain can be many things.”

She struggled in his grasp, her Jimmy Choos
kicking his shins.

“Be still, woman.” He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against his chest, holding her so tightly she couldn’t move. Her pulse beat a fast and furious tempo with his. A gasp of oxygen, a flick of her tongue and she tasted the salty moisture glazing her upper lip.

A rumble sounded deep in his throat, then it blasted in a gush of air from his mouth.

“That’s why you wanted to come to London.” She slammed her heel on his loafer and shoved him back.

“Ouch,” he grumbled. He made to reach for her, changed his mind and let her stew.

That got her more prickly. “Oh!” She threw her hands up in the air and marched a weave around the furniture. And here she thought the flight from Larnaca to London and the limo ride from Heathrow, except for a quick cell call he made, had been uneventful.

All the while he’d been plotting. She stamped full circle and stopped mere inches from him. “This posh suite, the champagne in the ice bucket, the fruit basket, the gowns in the closet, the jewelry … shoes.” He knew she had a weakness for designer footwear.

“You like it all.” A statement, not a query.

“No.” The word exploded between them.

He watched her through his blade-thin focus.

“All this” –she waved her hand about— “was to set the seduction scene. To entice, to lure … ”

A slither of sound between his teeth.

“…get me away from him,” she accused, her words a whimper.
“Pump me for information against my own fa—” she stuttered to a stop when he stalked to the bedroom.

Her head buzzed. But her father hadn’t mentioned London during those few minutes she’d seen him at the crack of dawn. What was going on?

Could she have missed—

“Fifteen minutes.” Cade strode back out and tossed a Valentino silk dress to her. “
I am
hungry.”

Nina hurled the dress back. It bounced off his chest and floated to the floor at his feet. Obviously he had his own agenda, and until she knew his schemata, she’d play for time.

“You can’t buy me.”

He lifted a brow. “Really?”

She blinked, her mind befuddled for a second. “Th-that was different.”

His eyes brewed a storm, the signal clear; he didn’t believe her.

Well, maybe she couldn’t blame him in the circumstances. She had scooped the loot and skipped town a year ago. But it had been her share, so she wouldn’t feel guilty.

“You can’t make me say anything … do … ” Her voice wobbled, but she angled her head in defiance. “No matter what you do…after all this time, we’re finally together. I love him. His my—”

And that lit the fuse beneath his controlled demeanor. “You dare flaunt another man in my face?” He booted the dress in her direction, and she let it fly past her.

Realizing her mistake in provoking him, she reached out to him with outstretched arms. “It’s not what you think—”

“To give him what’s mine … what I bought?”

“
What?
” Something wilted inside her, and she dropped her arms to her sides. He considered her to be an item, a possession; at least he could have referred to her as a
who
. “I’m not a
thing
and you didn’t buy—”

“Pardon.” He had the class to apologize, and she bristled. She wanted to pile the negatives against him, so she could find an excuse to hate him. “Who,” he muttered. “I did buy you. For a million and a half … for one night, remember?”

She stumbled back a step and gripped the edge of the table, the slick hardwood pressing into her fingertips.

He advanced.

She held her breath.

His features hardened.

Her breath fizzed from her mouth.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes welded to hers, and he drew her to him. His chest chafed her breasts and his thighs grazed hers, his solid strength pressing into her. Sweet sensation arrowed through her, pooling in her female vortex, and she wondered how she could deny the attraction, even to protect her vulnerability.

“I’m not yours.” She struck his chest with her fist, but he didn’t budge.

She squirmed. All her resistance couldn’t camouflage her body’s reaction to him. Her flesh flamed. She’d been dormant for so long, and his touch awakened feelings she’d long suppressed. Feelings…for him. But she couldn’t give in, not until she knew what was to become of her father.

Suddenly, she realized what she’d done. She’d just admitted to herself she had feelings for Cade. Her awareness of his presence immediately became more acute, and the sexual tension intensified between them. Her body throbbed. She opened her eyes wide, then dipped her lashes, her pulse scrambling.

He shifted in place. A crack in his armor?

It was a chasm. A chasm birthed from the veneer they’d both maintained for over a year. Too long. A life sentence.

“Cade,” she whispered, his name a soft caress. Reaching up, she touched his cheek, his bristles scouring her palm.

Stimulating.

She stroked him with her fingertips; to tame the tiger he unleashed everytime she battled him, fueling explosive feelings between them. Feelings she could no longer deny.

“Wha…who I’ve paid for.” He stuttered, but even he was past rational thought.

She lowered her hand to his chest.

Heat.

His heat scalded her fingers, but she endured, keeping that bare inch of space between them.

For her sanity.

If he pursued further, she’d fall into him … his passion … and hers.

She’d be lost.

“I-I don’t carry a price tag,” she murmured, her heart sinking. But she’d had a sticker price a year ago when she upped the ante and married him into the bargain.

He hiked a devilish eyebrow. “My high priced investment I’ve yet to sample.” He curled his lip, his words gliding off his tongue, both a threat and a promise. “But the feast begins now.” Scooping her up in his arms, he strode across the living room and through the bedroom, booting the door shut.

********

Worth the wait
. Cade yawned, shifting beneath the satin sheets of the king-size bed, the trite phrase streaking through his mind. A grin played on his mouth. This woman he married had been worth the cost and more, and not just in cash. For the first time, he felt like he’d finally come home, here, anywhere and everywhere in her arms … in her heart.

A tremor skittered across his abs.

He wasn’t ready to admit it aloud; there were still too many questions, things to resolve between them. He glanced at the bedside clock. Four-thirty a.m. They still had the remainder of the night.

He stretched his arm out to touch her, draw her near, but encountered empty space. A spasm slammed his gut. He flipped over and relief zapped through him.
Wrapped in her silk robe, she sat curled up on the chair at the table, the night lamp casting a halo about her tousled hair. She pursed her mouth in concentration … the mouth he’d kissed, drunk from, wanted more from. Desire coursed through him, and his body reacted to the catalyst.

A knockout.

His little mouse had turned siren. His wife, his lover, his— Could she be his confidante?

In their rustic mountain abode in Cyprus, he’d felt like a king with her beside him, although he hadn’t admitted it. A king who’d lost his kingdom and was about to reclaim it with her as his queen. He chuckled at his fanciful musings, and she glanced up from what she was reading.

“Come to bed, darlin’.” Already going hard for her, he patted the space beside him and the sheet slid to his waist.

She didn’t move, not even a flicker of an eyelash, and slammed him with her glassy-eyed stare. A bleat of sound
from deep in her throat.

Not a good sign.

“Something wrong?”

No answer, just the crunch of paper between her fingers, obliterating what she read.

A cab horn blared from the street below and severed the silence. Neon lights wavered through the crack in the velvet curtains, and then disappeared.

Cade zoned in on the document in her hand and groaned.

Thunder rolled, a lightning bolt, and wind and rain battered the windows. Typical London weather, he thought, but even the storm couldn’t

distract from the category five hurricane that was about to blast him indoors.

She jumped up, smacking her hands on the table and trapping the file beneath her fingers.

He vaulted off the mattress, snatched up the sheet and secured it at his waist.

“Nina…”

Crash and burn, man.

No, no, no, the word drummed in his head. Not after last night… they’d come too far to let it be stolen by misconceptions. He took a step closer and stumbled, his bare feet tangling in the satin folds. Breathing fast and heavily, he braked in his tracks, his heart battering his chest. The sheet dragged at his ankles, and he felt out of control. Cornered. He didn’t like it. But he had to say something, anything to ease the shock from her face.

“I can explain.”

“You used me.”

“Nope.” He dropped the sheet, grabbed his jeans from the armchair, and shoved his legs through them, not bothering to secure the buttons at his waist. “It’s not how it—”

“You used me to get to him.” Her eyes glazed over as if she were looking right through him. Her voice seemed to come from a distance, the icy tone ripping at his abs. She drew in a sharp breath, exhaled, and nodded as if making sense of it in her own mind.

Dangerous ground, man.

Cade narrowed his focus, studying her face, her every nuance.

Do something. Say something.

“That’s why you married me.” She laughed, the brittle sound scouring his bare chest. “All that baloney—”

“Baloney?” He tried to inject a slight note of amusement, hoping
it’d nick through her righteous wrath.

Not a blink of an eyelash, or a twitch of a nerve at the corner of her mouth.

“—about the three mil to save your corporation was a cover. A con. A front,” she accused. “You wanted to get to him, and I became your decoy.”

She blinked, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed her features. A splinter of hope zinged through him. But the bleak look in her eyes, the emptiness in her voice … the hopelessness doused it.

“As if all those years in exile weren’t enough for him and moth—”

Her voice cracked. She pressed her hand to her mouth, and he almost missed. “And me.”

He rubbed a fist across the groove carved on his forehead. Unable to connect the dots of her tirade, frustration fizzed through his brain. Cade always could put a puzzle together.