Only You Read online

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  People turned in their seats to find the new bidder. Sierra didn’t have to. She had watched Shane since the bidding had begun. His expression had alternated between annoyance and boredom. There was only one reason for him to bid.

  “Ten thousand, two hundred,” shouted the man who had almost won as he came to his feet.

  The auctioneer looked at Shane without announcing the bid. Shane slowly came to his feet as well, his unblinking gaze pinning the bidder with an intimidating glare.

  The man gulped. Sierra felt sorry for the poor fellow. Shane was brawnier and several inches taller.

  “Thirty thousand dollars.”

  The crowd gasped. The initial bidder hastily took his seat.

  Shane’s fierce gaze swept the ballroom again, as if defying anyone to bid against him. No one did. “I think the auction for Ms. Grayson is over.”

  Apparently the auctioneer agreed. He banged the gavel. “Sold.”

  Sierra started off the stage. Shane crossed the crowded ballroom and waited for her at the bottom step. He was dressed in a tailored tuxedo, and his face was serious, his eyes watchful.

  “Shane Elliott.”

  “You paid a lot of money, Mr. Elliott.”

  “So I did.” Lightly taking her arm, he escorted her with him to the cashier. Pulling a check from his pocket, he quickly filled it out. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Sierra’s brothers and their wives were waiting outside the double doors of the ballroom. Shane’s gaze flickered over the group. He smiled for the first time. “Faith.”

  “Hello, Shane,” she returned his greeting, her grip firm on Brandon’s arm. With her free hand, she handed Sierra her beaded evening clutch.

  “I’ll say this once. Get out of line and we’ll meet again,” Brandon warned.

  “I can guarantee you won’t like it,” Pierce added.

  Sierra debated whether she should tell her brothers her suspicion that Shane was acting for Blade; then she decided to keep the information to herself. Her brothers probably would take it worse if they knew Blade was her dinner date. Brandon disliked him on principle because he had taken Faith out, Pierce because as a financial consultant he had almost certainly heard the rumors of Blade’s unsavory reputation.

  “Noted. Let’s go.” Tugging his black bow tie loose, Shane propelled her through the lobby toward the front door.

  In four-inch evening sandals Sierra could barely keep up with Shane’s long-legged stride. She might not have been able to if she hadn’t been used to six-foot-tall brothers. With the determined look on his face, she didn’t think Shane would slow down even if she asked. He was a man on a mission.

  Hustling her through the double glass doors, Shane didn’t stop until they were standing beside a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. He reached for the back door handle.

  “Is Blade inside or are you taking me to him?” she asked.

  Shane’s dark head jerked around. Surprise flickered in his eyes. He straightened to stare at her. She’d bet few things caught him off guard. “What makes you think that?”

  She laughed despite her unaccustomed nervousness. “Anyone who cared to look could figure out you hated the entire process at the auction, and this even more.”

  He grunted and opened the back door. “Please get in.”

  Since Sierra’s mother and four overprotective brothers hadn’t raised a fool, she ignored the slight pressure of Shane’s hand on her arm and leaned down to make sure her guess was correct.

  Blade’s powerfully built body was in the farthest corner of the sedan. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she felt the pull, the sudden heat. Her heart raced. Perspiration dampened her palms. She was unsure if her reactions were due to apprehension or sexual awareness. Both were new emotions.

  Gathering the full skirt of her gown, she climbed inside. She was curious about the attraction between them, curious about the man.

  Blade Navarone hadn’t given an interview in several years. A confidentiality clause was reported to be in all the contracts of his employees in management since the incident with the embezzler. A few months ago when Newsweek did an in-depth story on the movers and shakers in national and international real estate, the outline of a face with a question mark appeared on the cover of the magazine, with Blade’s name underneath.

  He was practically a nomad, moving from one lavish property to the other as the notion struck. She wondered what drove him, why he was so reclusive. In real estate he had few equals. He was admired and feared, as elusive as the wind.

  And for a little while she’d have him all to herself, she thought as the car pulled smoothly away from the curb. She couldn’t wait to see where that led.

  “You don’t seem surprised to see me.” Blade studied Sierra in the soft interior light of the car. She was even more beautiful and alluring than he’d remembered. He seldom gave in to impulse, but he had wanted to see Sierra again.

  She laughed, a soft, musical sound that made his gut clench. “Shane’s annoyed face gave it away. He hated being there.”

  Shane hadn’t liked going in Blade’s stead but had understood the necessity. He’d been watching Blade’s back too long not to. Shane made grown men cower, yet Sierra laughed. “You don’t appear disturbed by his annoyance.”

  She tilted her head to one side. Diamond earrings sparkled, brushed against her flawless skin. In another woman Blade would have thought the movement coy, practiced. He didn’t have a doubt in the world that wasn’t the case with Sierra.

  “I grew up with a tiger for a mother and four older, strong-willed brothers. Shane is child’s play.”

  Blade openly stared at the exquisite heart-shaped face. There was humor in her sexy voice that he could too easily imagine whispering naughty things in his ears, but there was also a hint of steel. She wasn’t a woman who would bend easily to any man. That fierceness, her inner fire, attracted him as much as her beauty. But recklessness could lead to tragedy.

  “Are you always so quick to leave with a man you don’t know?”

  The reprimand in his deep voice was unmistakable. Her chin lifted automatically. “Faith trusts you; therefore, you’re trustworthy. The same for Shane Elliott. You wouldn’t have sent him to Santa Fe to help her if you thought otherwise.”

  “Beauty and brains.”

  “There’s also another reason for my being here,” she told him.

  He leaned forward, causing the space around them to shrink. She caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Her senses came alive. She fought to keep her gaze from dropping to his mouth as he said, “Please go on.”

  “I’ve tried to reach you several times without success.” Sierra leaned back against the supple leather, her shaky footing growing more secure with each passing second. Business first … last … always. “The last time was shortly after you visited Faith. You had just completed your latest resort in Jackson Hole, and already there was talk of the next project in Dallas.”

  “Which is becoming a reality,” he said mildly.

  Caught up in the excitement of the moment, she forgot to be cautious and closed the distance between them, her voice animated. “I read that construction is almost complete on Navarone Place. I want to be the exclusive broker for the fifty-five private estates in Dallas, and for the resort you’re planning on Riviera Maya.”

  Blade had known from the first moment that she would be different. Women chased him. The beautiful woman leaning toward him, her eyes bright with enthusiasm, her raspberry-colored lips soft and inviting, would chase no man, which made her safer to pursue. He didn’t want hysterical good-byes.

  His hands clenched as a pain sliced through him. He’d give his heart to no woman again. Nor would he put one at risk.

  The car stopped briefly at a security checkpoint, then cruised through a twelve-foot steel gate. “You can tell me your qualifications over dinner.”

  Sierra glanced out the window as the car passed a gated house with two armed guards, then con
tinued up a winding road. “I don’t suppose there is a new restaurant up here?”

  “My home. I understood that the auction prize was having dinner together,” he reminded her. “Reservations would have been extremely difficult to get at the better places.”

  “Difficult, but not impossible for Blade Navarone,” she said as the car came to a smooth stop.

  “No,” he admitted just as his chauffeur opened Blade’s door. “Thank you. I’ll see to Ms. Grayson.” Rounding the car, Blade opened Sierra’s door. She ignored his extended hand and the open door. She simply looked at him.

  Despite what she’d said earlier, she was weighing him. And despite the strong possibility she might ask him to take her back to the hotel, he patiently waited for her to trust him when he would have admitted he wasn’t a patient man. However, the thought of Sierra being taken advantage of by any man sent an unexpected rage surging through Blade.

  “What’s on the menu?” she finally asked.

  He relaxed. Almost. “I believe Martin prepared a number of dishes. Lobster, shrimp scampi, steak.”

  “I love good food.”

  “He’s an excellent chef. I hired him away from the Mansion while I was in Dallas during the preliminary research for Navarone Place. The Mansion is the only five-star, five-diamond hotel in the United States and world-renowned for its cuisine and service.”

  “Well, then, what are we waiting for?” She put her hand in his and stepped out of the car. Her fingers were long and delicate, her skin soft. When she stood, their bodies almost touched. He caught the arousing scent of amber and orange blossoms. His nostrils flared. His body hardened. He wondered what her lips and her skin would taste like.

  The teasing smile slid from her face. Her breathing accelerated. Awareness shimmered between them.

  He wanted her, then, there, with a forgotten fierceness. And he always got what he wanted.

  TWO

  “Perhaps we should go in,” Sierra said, her voice undeniably husky, strained.

  “Of course.” Taking her bare slender arm, Blade turned to lead her up the curved walkway lined with lights. Her skin was softer than velvet.

  Sierra took a step and stopped abruptly. She had seen many beautiful homes, but none matched the magnificent buttery-colored stucco Mediterranean mansion before her with a clay barrel-tile roof. Like its owner, it was breathtaking. The three-story structure, surrounded by a garden paradise, stretched a good two hundred feet in front of her. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you. Virtually every room opens to the outdoors.” He’d stopped caring years ago what other people thought, but he was somehow pleased that Sierra liked his home. “If you’d like, I can give you a tour after dinner.”

  “I’d love that.”

  Straight ahead at the entrance, a colonnade of Corinthian columns opened onto an airy courtyard. To her left a fifteenth-century Moroccan fountain sat in a dramatic apron of simulated coquina outlined with black Mexican stones. To her right a jungle of begonias, elephant’s ear, and Spanish shawl flourished beneath a birdbath.

  A man in a white jacket with a shock of white hair and a ramrod-straight posture opened the massive front door. Overhead, orange bougainvillea dressed the bay window. “Good evening, Mr. Navarone. Miss. Martin said I was to bring you directly to the terrace when you arrived.”

  “Hello, Jenkins. A bit put out, is he?” Blade said, not sounding the least bit disturbed.

  The older man’s lips twitched. “There was quite a bit of banging in the kitchen and French that needed no translation.”

  “That bad, huh?” Blade spoke to Sierra: “Can you cook?”

  She smiled. “Sure, but whether you want to risk your life and eat it is another story.”

  Blade’s black eyes widened as he ignored the muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter from Jenkins. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I never joke about real estate or food.”

  “Dinner is ready and has been for the past thirty minutes.”

  Sierra glanced around to see a robust man with a chef’s hat and apron, his rounded face stern. His arms were crossed over his barrel chest in a combative stance.

  “Martin—”

  “I’m Sierra Grayson,” Sierra smoothly interrupted Blade, smiling at the obviously annoyed chef, and extended her hand. “There is never an excuse for being late to a superb meal. I hope you’ll accept an apology.”

  The man’s arms slowly unfolded to take her hand, but a hint of suspicion lurked in his dark eyes. “Marcus Martin. How would you know the quality of the food?”

  “Would Blade Navarone have anyone in his employ who wasn’t the best?” Sierra questioned, then lifted her face and sniffed delicately. “Something smells divine. Please tell me we’re not too late.” Without waiting for an answer, Sierra turned to Blade, who was standing just behind her. “I guess we could order pizza.”

  “Pizza!” The chef spat the word. “Pizza, when I have prepared you the finest cuisine a mouth has ever tasted.”

  Sierra didn’t have to fake her happiness. She hadn’t eaten that night at the auction, since she was scheduled to have dinner with the highest bidder. It had been a long time since the salmon for lunch. Now she was famished. “I am hungry.”

  “Then you shall eat. Come.” Smiling, Martin took her arm and looked over his shoulder at Blade. The chef’s expression was one of mild displeasure. “It will be a pleasant change to have someone who appreciates my food.”

  “Am I hallucinating, or did Martin smile?” Jenkins asked as Sierra and the chef left the room.

  “If you are, then you’re not alone.” Blade followed them to the terrace with a view of the ocean and watched Martin seat Sierra in one of the cushioned chairs at the small wrought-iron glass table. Blade had chosen the terrace because he had the odd desire to see Sierra in moonlight, watch the play of candlelight against her delicate skin.

  He shrugged away the mild annoyance at the hovering chef smiling at her, of her smiling back. Blade was possessive, but never when it came to women … at least not anymore.

  Martin looked up at Blade. This time his smile stayed in place. “If you’ll pour Sierra a drink, I’ll bring out the first course.” He passed Blade as he hurried to the kitchen.

  “On first-name basis already,” Blade stated mildly as he continued to the table.

  “I don’t like formalities, especially with the person preparing my food.” Sierra placed her elbows on the padded arms of the chair and linked her slender fingers.

  “You completely caught him off guard, then charmed him.” Blade leaned against the chair but made no move to take his seat.

  Sierra wasn’t sure from Blade’s unsmiling face whether he had given her a compliment. She shrugged her bare shoulders. Blade didn’t appear the snobbish type. “Brandon is the same temperamental way. But since he’s such a great cook, we all tend to forgive him.”

  “I seem to remember when I had dinner at his restaurant.” Blade went to a minibar and waved his hand toward several bottles. “Wine, sparkling cider, tonic water?”

  “Sparkling cider, please.”

  “Here is the first course. Shrimp scampi.” Martin set the plates on the table with a flourish. “Jumbo shrimp pan-seared in a delicious honey-nutmeg sauce and sprinkled with sesame seeds and toasted almonds.”

  Leaning over, Sierra inhaled the whiffs of smoke curling upward. “Blade, please take a seat so I can say the blessing and we can eat.”

  Blade and Martin traded surprised looks; then Blade took his seat. He hadn’t asked God for anything in a long time … not since he’d begged and pleaded to no avail.

  Sierra speared a juicy shrimp, bit, savored, sighed. “I was right. Superb, Martin. Thank you.”

  His chest expanded. “Wait until you taste the grilled lobster.”

  “Don’t tell me any more or I might be tempted to rush, and this food is too heavenly to do that.”

  A satisfied smile on his round face, Martin withdrew. Sie
rra speared another shrimp. “You’re not eating.”

  “Martin can be temperamental, yet you have him in the palm of your hand.”

  Sierra swallowed before she spoke. “Since I detest cooking, I can appreciate the time, skill, and patience required to prepare a good meal. The compliment was sincere or I wouldn’t have given it.” She lifted her empty glass. “Please.”

  Blade filled their glasses. “I wonder if he would have been as forgiving if you weren’t beautiful.”

  Sierra stilled, the glass in her hand mere inches from her lips. Other men had called her beautiful, but she’d quickly forgotten. With Blade, she felt the now familiar tingling sensation. Raising the glass to her lips, she sipped to ease her dry throat. “If he’s like Brandon, the main thing is the pleasure of the dinner.”

  “On that we both agree. Pleasure is important.”

  The odd timbre of Blade’s husky voice caused heat to lance through her. Dangerous, but she had never wanted to know a man more and unlock the secrets behind his undeniable sadness.

  “Tell me more about your qualifications.” Blade picked up his fork.

  Glad for a safe topic, Sierra did so as Martin served them dish after fabulous dish. She was working her way through the lobster—cooked to perfection—when she decided she had talked enough about herself. “Why Dallas? You usually build in heavy tourist sites favored by the wealthy.”

  “I liked the challenge and the unprecedented opportunity to be a part of a unique concept. Victory Park near downtown Dallas will have hotels, shops, residential and office buildings. Navarone Place will offer resort-style amenities with the ultimate in luxury living, with twenty-four-hour doorman and concierge, extensive wine cellar, business center, valet parking, and limo service. Everything the discerning buyer wants will be available.”

  Sierra polished off her lobster. “You’ll have competition from the newly opened Ritz and W, and several other luxury properties in Dallas. You’ll have to sell Navarone Place as distinctive and unique.”

  “We’re the only one with a helipad,” he told her.