Time fell off a cliff as their eyes locked.

Nora forgot to breathe as Reid Chamberlain’s presence electrified every nerve in her body. And then he stood up without a word, crossing to her. The closer he came, the more magnetic the pull became. He was all man now—powerful in his dark gray suit, a bit rakish with his brown hair grown out long enough to curl a bit on top, and a sinfully beautiful face that became that much more devastating due to a five-o’clock shadow.

And then he was so close, she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes that had deepened to a shade of rich mahogany. A dark, mysterious scent wafted from him, something citrusy but mixed with an exotic spice that wholly fit him. She had a feeling she’d be smelling it in her sleep tonight.

“Hi, Nora.”

Reid extended his hand. For a moment, she thought he was reaching for her, to hug her, or … something. But instead, he closed the door with the heel of his hand, leaning into it, his arm brushing her shoulder.

The snick nearly separated her skin from her body, but she kept herself from reacting. Barely.

* * *

An Heir for the Billionaire is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series—Passion and chaos consume a Chicago real estate empire.

An Heir for the Billionaire
Kat Cantrell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAT CANTRELL read her first Mills & Boon novel in third grade and has been scribbling in notebooks since then. She writes smart, sexy books with a side of sass. She’s a former Mills & Boon So You Think You Can Write winner and an RWA Golden Heart® Award finalist. Kat, her husband and their two boys live in north Texas.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

If there was any poetic justice in the world, Sutton Lazarus Winchester had gotten his.

Nora sagged back against the wall of the sterile hospital room, unable to process the inescapable fact that her seemingly infallible father was indeed dying of inoperable lung cancer. She should feel relieved. His tyrannical reign was nearly over. The man who couldn’t be bothered to walk her down the aisle at her own wedding lay pale and gaunt in a hospital bed, as if a bit of his spirit had already fled for hell in advance of the rest.

The relief didn’t come. Nora had traveled home to Chicago with the barest hope she might find a way to reconcile with her father in his last days. And now that she was here, the sheer difficulty of that task nearly overwhelmed her.

“I had to see it for myself,” Nora murmured to her sisters, Eve and Gracie, who flanked her as she faced down their father. None of them had gotten too close to the bed in case Sutton had more gusto than he seemed to have. Right now he appeared to be asleep but that didn’t matter.

Like a snake, he waited until you were within striking distance and then sank his fangs into the tenderest place he could find, injecting poison and pain until it suited him to stop. It was how he’d always operated, and Nora had no doubt he’d find a way to do it from the grave.

“We all did,” Eve murmured back. “The doctor wasn’t too happy with me when I asked her to allow another doctor to review the oncology reports. But I had to make sure.”

Methodical to her core, Eve never missed dotting an i or crossing a t. As the oldest Winchester sister, she’d always been large and in charge and seldom let anything stand in her way.

“Wanted to see the death sentence with your own two eyes, hmm?” Nora said without malice.

Sutton had terrorized all three of his daughters, but Nora was the only one who’d grown so sick of the constant drama surrounding her father that she’d moved halfway across the country to Colorado, effectively—and gratefully—turning her back on the money, the glitter and the heartbreak of the lifestyle she’d been born into.

Eve glowered. “Wanted to make sure it wasn’t manufactured. I wouldn’t put it past that Newport scum to have paid off a doctor to produce a false report.”

“Do you really think Carson could find someone willing to do that?” Gracie asked, and it was clear she had no ill will toward the man the sisters had recently learned was their half brother.

The total opposite of Eve, Gracie always saw the best in people. Nora’s younger sister had such a big heart, even in the midst of the huge scandal caused by the recent revelation that during one of his past affairs, Sutton had fathered a son—none other than his business rival Carson Newport.

Now that Nora had seen her father, she could turn her attention to Carson, who was her second order of business while in Chicago. Oh, Nora didn’t give two figs about Sutton’s money and whether Carson Newport had a legal claim to any of it. Eve and Grace could fight that battle. But the man was her brother. She was curious about him. And she didn’t appreciate the idea of her sisters losing out on their inheritance; it meant something to them, even if it came down to nothing more than a just reward for the years of being Sutton Winchester’s daughters.

“I wouldn’t put anything past him. There are a lot of unethical things people will gladly do for money, including doctors. And especially Newport,” Eve responded, tossing her honey-blond hair over her shoulder impatiently. It was longer than Nora remembered, but then, they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Not since before Sean had died.

The grief over her husband’s untimely death, never far from the surface, bubbled up; coupled with the shock at seeing the larger-than-life head of the Winchester real estate empire laid out in a stark white hospital bed, it was too much.

One, two, three... Nora kept counting until she reached ten. That was all the time she was allowed to feel sorry for herself. Sean was gone. Nora wasn’t and she had adult things to handle that wouldn’t get done if she spent all her time curled up in a ball of grief as she had after the grim-faced army liaison had brought her the news that Sean had been killed in Afghanistan.

He’d never gotten to meet their son. It was the cruelest travesty in a litany of truly terrible circumstances. But Nora still had that tiny piece of her husband alive and present in their little boy, and no gun-toting terrorist could ever take that away.

A woman with thick-framed glasses and hair swept up in a no-nonsense bun appeared at Sutton’s bedside, the tablet in her hand and white lab coat indicating she had medical business at hand. She checked a few things on her tablet and then glanced at the knot of Winchester women.

“I’m Dr. Wilde. We haven’t met.” The doctor rounded the bed to shake Nora’s hand. “You must be the nonlocal sister.”

“Nora O’Malley,” she affirmed. She’d shed the Winchester name as fast as she could after she and Sean tied the knot, and it would take an act of Congress to get her to ever change it to anything else. “So it’s true? My father is dying and there’s nothing you can do?”

Dr. Wilde bowed her head for a moment, her discreet diamond earrings sparkling in the light. “As much as I hate to admit defeat, yes. It’s true. I couldn’t operate, due to the tumor’s location, and then the cancer spread too fast to employ chemotherapy. He probably has another five months, tops. I’m sorry.”

Five months. It was way too fast. How could she find the will to forgive her father for not loving her in such a short period of time?

“Don’t be,” Nora insisted, even as the doctor’s prognosis hit her sideways. “It’s his own fault. We all told him to stop smoking but he thought that deal he’d made with the devil would keep him alive forever, I guess.”

She’d known that’s what the doctor would say. But it was so different to hear it from her mouth personally. That was partly the reason she’d forced herself to get on a plane to Chicago, though traveling with a two-year-old had been exhausting.

And now it was shockingly final. Sutton would be dead by New Year’s Day.

Sutton’s personal assistant, Valerie Smith, poked her head in the door, not one ash-blond hair out of place. “Is your father awake yet?” she asked. “I was going to bring Declan in if you wanted.”

Third order of business: to finally let her father meet his grandson.

It had been a difficult decision. The poison that Sutton managed to infuse into everybody around him couldn’t be allowed to affect her son. But his grandfather was dying. Nora had hoped that on his deathbed, her father might have an epiphany about his character, his choices, his closed heart—something that would allow all of them to make peace with Sutton’s passing and go on.

“No, he’s still asleep.” Nora couldn’t help but feel grateful for the reprieve. She’d steeled herself for this moment of reckoning but nothing magical had happened to the disappointment and hurt inside upon seeing her father in person. “But I’ll take Declan so you can have a break.”

Valerie had offered to take the cranky and bored two-year-old to the cafeteria in search of Jell-O or saltine crackers, the only two things he wanted. He refused to eat the fruit snacks and banana chips Nora had shoved in her carry-on bag—the only two things he’d wanted when she’d been packing back home. Reason was not in the wheelhouse of a toddler, so holding out the packages and telling him that was the snack he’d picked hadn’t worked.

The little boy popped into the room and Nora’s heart lurched, as it always did when she caught sight of his curly mop of red hair. He looked like Sean, of course, and it was both a blessing and a curse to have the visual reminder of what she’d lost. “Hey, Butterbean. Did you find some Jell-O?”

Nora extracted herself from her sisters with a hand to Gracie’s arm and a smile for Eve, guilt crowding into her chest that she’d opted to take the out of caring for her son instead of sitting here with her family. They’d all been by Sutton’s side from the beginning, supporting each other, showing solidarity to outsiders, but Nora just...couldn’t.

Declan nodded. “Jell-O.”

It came out sounding more like je-whoa, but Nora had never had any trouble interpreting Declan-speak. The shiny machines of the hospital room caught his attention and he weaved toward the nearest one, finger outstretched. Nora scooped him up and kissed his head. “Not so fast, Mr. Curious. Have I told you the story about the cat?”

“Cat.” Declan made a sound like one, except it was more of a yowl than a traditional meow. He was so funny and precious and her heart ached that his father wasn’t here to see how he’d grown, how fast he learned things, how he slept with one foot stuck out from the covers—just like Sean had.

As quickly as she could, Nora bustled her son out of the hospital room before anyone saw the tear that had slipped down her face. Sean had died nearly two years ago. She should be ready to move past it. Ready to date again, find someone to ease her loneliness. But she couldn’t imagine being with someone other than Sean, who had been the love of her life, the man who had thoroughly captured her heart the moment she’d met him at a football game during her junior year of college.

Seeking a quiet place to regroup, Nora spied an alcove with two chairs away from the main hospital corridor. She and Declan settled into the chairs, or she did. He sat in the opposing one for a grand total of four seconds before he squirmed to the ground and scooted around like his pants were on fire. Nora laughed.

“Problem with your diaper there, Butterbean?”

That had been Sean’s nickname for the boy the moment he’d seen the ultrasound pictures she’d held up to the camera during one of their Skype calls. She’d kept the name, even after he was born, because Declan still resembled a bean when swaddled in the brown blanket Sean’s mother had bought for her grandson.

Of course, Nora didn’t do much swaddling these days, not with an active two-year-old.

Declan didn’t answer, too preoccupied with his task of cleaning the hospital floor with his butt. Thirty more seconds and she’d use hand sanitizer on every inch of exposed skin, before he got around to sticking a random body part in his mouth. Midwest Regional was a highly acclaimed hospital, but sick people came through these halls all the time. A mother couldn’t be too careful.

“Ms. Winchester?” A young hospital worker in plain clothes stopped near Declan. Her name badge read Amanda.

“O’Malley,” Nora corrected. “But yes, formerly Winchester.”

And she didn’t choke on it. There might be hope for her yet to work through all her anger and disillusionment with her father.

The worker smiled. “There’s a private room set up for the family if you’d like me to show it to you.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

How could she have missed that Sutton’s wealth and influence had extended even to the hospital? It had been a long time since Nora had lived the life of a socialite, and even longer since she’d wanted to. But the lure of a private place, away from the crowded hospital, called to her.

Amanda punched in the code on the keypad outside the room and then promised to write it down for her. Nora pushed open the door and nearly gasped, but not over the sumptuously appointed room. Her mother’s house had far more antique rugs and dark, heavy furniture than this place. No, her attention was firmly on the long table lining the wall that held enough food for four Winchester families. The empty bags under the table sported the logo for Iguazu, a new, trendy Argentinian fusion restaurant so hot that Nora had even heard of it back home in Colorado. A couple of uniformed delivery people were still setting up the warming mechanisms for the silver serving trays, so the food had obviously just arrived.

“What is all this?” Nora asked Amanda.

“Someone sent it for the family. Oh—” Amanda rummaged in her pocket “—there’s a note for you.”

Intrigued, Nora accepted the envelope and scooped up Declan with her other arm as he eyed the blue flame under the rolltop chafing dishes. “Thank you.”

Amanda wrote down the keypad code on a sticky note and cheerfully waved as she exited behind the delivery people. Nora sat in one of the overstuffed wingback chairs and wedged Declan in tight so he couldn’t squirm away, then ripped open the envelope.

The typed note was short and to the point: Good food can make anything more bearable.

In closing, the note contained only a simple statement—Cordially Yours. No signature.

Nora’s eyes narrowed as she read over the phrase again. It tickled the edges of her memory and then came to her all at once. It was a phrase that had been a bit of a joke between Nora and a friend—Reid Chamberlain.

Wow. That was a name Nora hadn’t thought about in years. Reid, his brother, Nash, and his sister, Sophia, had gone to the same private schools as the Winchester girls, practically since birth. Reid and Nora were the same age and had often been in the same class. Their parents ran in the elite circles of Chicago society, so it was only natural that they’d seen each other socially, and at boring grown-up events. What else was there for kids to do but bond?

It would have made more sense for Nora to become friends with Sophia, but it hadn’t happened that way. Reid had always been the object of her fascination.

They’d spent a good bit of time getting into trouble together, playing make-believe in the cupboards of each other’s kitchens until the servants chased them out, or getting up a game of hide-and-seek across the expansive Chamberlain estate grounds with their siblings. She’d loved it when they hid in the branches of the same tree, giggling quietly behind their hands when Nash or Gracie stood directly below, frustrated over not being able to find them. For a while, she’d had a bit of a crush on Reid.

But that had been before he grew into his looks and body, both of which put him firmly in the sights of every teenaged socialite-in-training in the greater Chicago area, shoving Nora to the back of the pack. Then Reid had started running with a crowd that worshipped at the altar of money, prestige and fast cars. She didn’t blame him. Ninety-nine percent of the people in her life subscribed to the philosophy of whoever has the most toys at the end wins. They’d grown apart. It happened.

Last she’d heard, Reid Chamberlain had only increased his wealth and prestige through a series of brilliant moves in the hotel industry. He dominated the Chicago market along with a host of other cities.

Surely Reid wasn’t the one who’d sent the smorgasbord. They hadn’t talked in years and the joke involving cordially yours hadn’t been a code of any sort, just something they’d said to each other when they mimicked how grown-ups talked when trying to impress other grown-ups. Lots of people could use the phrase on a regular basis.

Nora texted Eve and in a few moments, the rest of the Winchesters barreled into the private room to see the anonymous gift for themselves. Since she hadn’t eaten in forever, Nora fixed a plate for Declan with a few French fries, his favorite and likely the only thing from the table he’d eat, and then took full advantage of the generosity of their unknown benefactor for herself. The dishes held layers and layers of steaming, mouthwatering food: Argentinian asado-style steak thick with chimichurri sauce, a tray of empanadas, a variety of grilled vegetables and cheeses.

Nora took a bit of everything, intending to go back for more of the dishes she liked the best. Eve and Gracie followed suit as they chatted about the identity of their anonymous friend, but even after a round of seconds, the spread looked like it had barely been touched.

“This food is delicious,” Nora commented. “But it won’t last long and there’s so much of it. We should share it with the staff.”

“That’s a great idea,” Gracie said enthusiastically. “They all work so hard. I wonder how often any of them get to eat at a place like Iguazu, where you have to know someone to get a table. I’ve only been there once and that took some doing. I’ll mention it to Amanda so she can spread the word.”

You needed an “in” to eat at Iguazu? Nora’s intrigue meter shot into the red. Who would have sent food to the Winchester family from such an exclusive place? One of Sutton’s associates? People tolerated Sutton because he was powerful, and sure, lots of them had sent impersonal gifts over the years, but rarely did anyone go out of their way to do something difficult or thoughtful. Even more impressed with the gesture, Nora fingered the note in her pocket.

Nurses, doctors and hospital staff streamed into the room in short order, exclaiming over the feast and thanking the Winchester women for their generosity. Crowd noise increased as people found seats and socialized. Nora’s temples started to pound as the long day of travel caught up with her.

On the other side of the room, Declan had climbed into Gracie’s lap, and she laughed as he stole French fries off her plate, apparently not having stuffed his little face enough with those his mother had given him. Declan was in good hands with his aunt, providing Nora with the perfect opportunity to grab a few minutes to herself.

Nora caught Gracie’s eye and nodded to the door, then held up her palm with her fingers spread, mouthing, “Five minutes?”

Gracie smiled and waved her off.

Gratefully, Nora ducked out and went to the ladies’ room to splash some water on her face. Belatedly, she realized there was probably a private bathroom in the area she’d just left. It had been a while since Nora had lived in her family’s wealthy orbit. She’d never really embraced the privileged lifestyle anyway, even choosing to go to the University of Michigan, a public college, much to her mother’s chagrin. But that was where she’d met Sean, so she’d considered it fate.

Out of nowhere, Reid popped into her head again. He’d gone to Yale, if she recalled correctly. Not that she’d spent a lot of time keeping track of him, but the private high school they’d attended had been small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s business.

As she fingered the note in her pocket again, Nora’s curiosity got the best of her. What if Reid had sent the catered spread? She should thank him. Gracie and Eve had known Reid, of course, but they’d never been close with any of the Chamberlain siblings, not as Nora had.

But why would Reid have done something so nice without signing the note? Suddenly, she had to know if her childhood friend had been behind the gesture. If for no other reason than to satisfy her curiosity.

Nora was nothing if not resourceful. After all, she’d walked away from her family’s money and lived a simple life in Colorado on the monthly Dependent Indemnity Compensation payment that the government sent Nora as a surviving spouse of a military serviceman killed in the line of duty. Creativity came with the territory.

She pulled out her phone and tapped up the restaurant’s website, then called. A cultured female voice answered. “Iguazu. How may I help you?”

“This is...Ms. O’Malley from Mr. Chamberlain’s office.” Nora crossed her fingers. She hated lying, but the ends justified this little white one. “Mr. Chamberlain would like confirmation that the food he ordered to be delivered to the Winchester family at Midwest Regional was delivered.”

“Absolutely, let me verify.”

Music piped through the speakers as Nora was put on hold. She grinned. That had been way too easy.

The music cut off as the Iguazu employee came back on the line. “Ms. O’Malley? Yes, the food was delivered and as specified, the note given directly to Nora Winchester. Please let Mr. Chamberlain know we’re pleased he’s chosen Iguazu for his catering needs and we look forward to his next event.”

Somehow Nora squeaked out a “Thank you,” though how she’d spoken when her tongue had gone completely numb, she’d never know.

Reid had not only sent the food, he’d specified that she should receive the note? Why? The signature had been some kind of code. One he’d clearly thought would mean something to her. And it did. She’d been besieged by memories of an easier time, before Sean, before she’d really understood what an SOB her father was.

Reid had wanted her to figure it out. She had to know why.

After the long trip and the blow of seeing her father so ill in that hospital bed, yet not feeling the rush of forgiveness she’d hoped for, Nora should have wanted to go home and shut out the world. But she’d been doing that for two years and all it had gotten her was a severe case of loneliness and a crushing sense of vulnerability.

Very little had happened lately that she’d had any control over. Her life had been spinning without her permission and all she’d been able to do was hang on. It was time to do something affirmative. Something decisive. Like thank an old friend for his kindness.

Two

On the way to Reid Chamberlain’s downtown Chicago office, Nora pulled up a few articles about him on her phone. If she was going to beard the man in his den, she should at least know a few things about who he’d become over the years.

Gracie had volunteered to take Declan back to the Winchester estate, where Nora would be staying while in Chicago, and then insisted on calling for a car to take Nora on her mysterious errand. Being secretive wasn’t second nature to Nora, but she didn’t want to bring up Reid, at least not until she knew the purpose behind his kind gesture.

Especially when all of the articles she’d managed to find about Reid pointed to a very different person from what she’d expected. There were almost no pictures of him, save one very grainy shot that showed Reid rushing from a dark car to the covered doorway of one of his hotels. He’d turned his face from the camera, so the angle showed only his profile, but even that little bit clearly conveyed his annoyance at the photographer.

The caption underneath read “Reclusive billionaire Reid Chamberlain.”

Reclusive? Reid? He’d been the life of the party as long as Nora could remember. Heck, that was the reason they’d grown apart—he’d become so popular, his time was in constant demand.

Doubly intrigued, Nora glanced up as the car slowed to a stop and the uniformed driver slid out to open the back door for her to exit. She got out and found herself standing in front of the brand-new Metropol Hotel in the heart of downtown Chicago.

A study in glass and steel, the hotel towered over her, reaching to the heavens. Good grief. This was Reid’s office? She’d read that Nash Chamberlain had designed the Metropol, and it was nothing short of breathtaking, rising several dozen stories high and twisting every so often. The architectural know-how required to design it must have been great, indeed.

Impressed, Nora swept through the door opened by a uniformed attendant and approached the concierge, glad she’d opted for heels and a classic summer-weight pantsuit today. The concierge glanced up with a ready smile. Her mind went blank. Lying to the woman from Iguazu had been one thing, but this man was right in front of her, staring at her expectantly. She should have thought this through.

What if Reid wasn’t here? Or hadn’t really wanted her to seek him out? She’d only assumed he’d meant for her to figure it out. He might actually be mad that she’d tracked him down.

So what if he was mad. This trek had been about something greater than a mere thank-you. Taking control here. Nora squared her shoulders. No apologies.

“I’m here to see Mr. Chamberlain. Tell him Nora O...Winchester is here.” And she didn’t even choke on the name. “Nora Winchester. He’ll see me right away.”

Wow. Brazen should be her middle name. The articles had called Reid reclusive and she’d waltzed right in to demand that he admit her without question? This was a dumb idea.

The concierge nodded. “Of course, Ms. Winchester. He’s expecting you.”

Nora picked her jaw up off the floor for the second time that day. “Thank you.”

The concierge tapped a bell and a young man in a discreet rust-colored uniform that mirrored the hotel’s accents appeared by Nora’s side before she could fully process that Reid was expecting her.

“William will show you to the elevators and ensure that you reach Mr. Chamberlain’s office,” the concierge said.

Meekly, she followed the bellhop to the elevator bank, her heels sinking into the plush carpet that covered the rich dark hardwood floors. When they got on the elevator, the bellhop swiped a badge over the reader above the buttons and pushed one for the forty-seventh floor.

“Forty-seven and forty-eight are secure floors,” William explained with a smile. “Only VIPs get to see Mr. Chamberlain. It’s been quite a while since we’ve had one.”

VIPs only. And Nora Winchester was one. What would have happened if she’d introduced herself as Nora O’Malley? Would the concierge have politely booted her out the door?

Nervous all at once, she discreetly checked her hair and makeup in the mirrored paneling of the elevator. She’d twisted her blond hair up in a chignon this morning before her flight, and several loose strands had corkscrewed around her face. Not a bad look.

Silly. What did it matter how she looked? Reid had thrown her all off-kilter by telling his staff to expect her.

The elevator dinged and within moments William was ushering her into a reception area populated by a stately woman with steel-colored hair, who closed her laptop instantly as Nora entered.

“You must be Ms. Winchester,” she said. “Mr. Chamberlain asked for you to be shown right in.”

Far too quickly, the receptionist steered her through a set of glass doors and to an open entryway at the end of the hall, then discreetly melted away.

The man behind the wide glass desk glanced up the moment Nora walked across the threshold of his office.

Time fell off a cliff as their eyes locked.

Nora forgot to breathe as Reid Chamberlain’s presence electrified every nerve in her body. And then he stood without a word, crossing to her. The closer he came, the more magnetic the pull became. He was all man now—powerful in his dark gray suit, a bit rakish with his brown hair grown out long enough to curl a bit on top, and sinfully beautiful, with a face that became that much more devastating due to a five o’clock shadow that darkened his jaw.

And then he was so close she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. A dark, mysterious scent wafted from him, something citrusy but mixed with an exotic spice that wholly fit him. She had a feeling she’d be smelling it in her sleep that night.

“Hi, Nora.”

Reid extended his hand. For a moment, she thought he was reaching for her, to hug her, or...something. But instead, he closed the door and leaned into it, his arm brushing her shoulder.

The snick of the door nearly made her jump out of her skin, but she kept herself from reacting. Barely. Did he have something in mind that was so intimate and private that it wasn’t fit for prying eyes?

Her pulse jumped into her throat. “Hi, Reid.”

He crossed his arms and contemplated her. “You got the note.”

“Yes.” Impulsively, she put out her palm, intending to touch Reid on the arm to express her thanks.

But at the last minute, something in his expression stopped her. Something dangerous, with an edge she didn’t understand, but wanted to. Touching him suddenly held all kinds of nonverbal implications, maybe even an invitation she wasn’t sure she meant to extend.

Goodness. How had a simple thank-you become so...charged? She let her hand drop to her side and his gaze followed it, marking the action.

“What can I do for you?” he asked simply.

He was not the same boy she remembered. She could see hints of his teenage self in the way he held his body, and small things such as the length of his lashes were the same, but his gaze had grown hard and opaque. It was almost as if he’d grown an extra layer between himself and the rest of the world and no one was allowed to breach it. One of the things she’d always liked about Reid Chamberlain was his smile. And that was noticeably absent.

The man was—according to the news articles—reclusive, and wealthier than King Solomon, Croesus and Bill Gates put together. But it didn’t seem to have made him happy.

What could he do for her, indeed? Probably not much. But maybe she could do something for him. “You can smile for me, Reid. It might actually break this awkward tension.”

* * *

Against all odds, the corners of Reid’s mouth twitched. He fought to suppress the smile because he didn’t want to encourage Nora Winchester into thinking she could command him into doing her will five minutes into their renewed acquaintance.

Besides, Reid didn’t smile. That was for people who had a lightness of spirit that allowed for such a thing. He didn’t. Normally. Nora had barreled into his office and the moment he’d seen her, it was like a throwback to another time and place—before all the shadows had seeped into his soul.

Which sounded overly dramatic, even to himself. That was why he never thought about his own miserable existence and instead worked eighteen hours a day so he could fall into bed exhausted at the end of it. When you slept like the dead, you didn’t dream. You didn’t lie awake questioning all the choices you’d made and cursing the genetics that prevented you from doing a simple thing like becoming a father to your orphaned niece and nephew.

Nora’s presence shouldn’t have changed anything. But it had. She’d breathed life into his office that hadn’t been there a moment ago and he was having a hard time knowing what to do with it.

It was troubling enough that she’d tracked him down in the first place. And more troubling still that he’d been anticipating her arrival in a way that he hadn’t anticipated anything in a long while.

“Smiling is for politicians and people with agendas,” he finally said.

The air remained thick with tension and something else he wasn’t in a hurry to dispel—awareness. On both sides. Nora was just as intrigued by him as he was by her. Reid was nothing if not well versed in reading his opposition. And in his world, everyone was the opposition, even Nora Winchester, a woman he hadn’t spoken to in nearly fifteen years and who’d apparently interpreted his note as an invitation to invade his privacy.

He should be annoyed. He wasn’t. That made Nora dangerous and unpredictable. Unexpectedly, it added to her intrigue. The heavy pull between them tingled along his muscles, heating him to the point of discomfort. He hadn’t been this affected by a woman’s presence since he was a teenager.

“Oh, really. And you don’t have an agenda?” Nora crossed her arms in an exaggerated pose he suspected was designed to mimic his. “What was with the note, then?”

“It’s polite to include a note with a gift,” he replied as he fought a smile for the second time. He hadn’t expected to like the grown-up version of Nora as much as he did. What was he supposed to do with her?

When his admin had called Iguazu to check on the delivery, imagine his surprise to learn that a mystery woman from “his office” had already called. A quick check-in with the hospital told him that Nora had indeed received his note. It hadn’t taken much to guess she’d figured out that he’d sent the catering and would be along to see him in short order. He’d been right.

“Uh-huh. And is it customary to use a private joke in said note and then pretend you didn’t intend for me to figure out you sent it?”

Her wide, beautiful mouth tipped up at the corners and communicated far more than her words did. She was toying with him. Maybe even flirting. Women didn’t flirt with him as a rule. Usually they were much more direct, wrangling introductions from mutual acquaintances and issuing invitations into their beds before he’d learned their last names.

He’d taken a few of them up on it. He wasn’t a monk. But he’d never held a conversation with one or called one again. Not since the day when his father had killed more than half of his family, including himself.

Nora was a first. In more ways than one. His body’s awareness dialed up a notch. She was close enough to touch but he didn’t reach out. Not yet. Not until he got a much better handle on his reaction to her. And maybe not even then. Nora certainly hadn’t dropped by to be seduced by the CEO of Chamberlain Group. But that didn’t automatically mean she’d be averse to the idea. It just meant he needed a clearer sense of the lay of the land before he made a move on a childhood friend.

“Are you...accusing me of deliberately trying to get your attention with a throwaway signature line on a note?” Reid hadn’t enjoyed interaction with a woman this much in so long, he couldn’t even say how long.

Her gaze narrowed. “Are you denying it?”

Cordially Yours. He hadn’t uttered that phrase in over a decade. How had she remembered that joke? Or maybe a better question was: why had he put it in the note?

Maybe he’d intended for this to go down exactly as it had.

When he’d heard about Sutton Winchester’s terminal diagnosis, Reid’s first thought had been of Nora. They hadn’t spoken in a long time, but she’d played an important role in his youth, namely that of a confidante for a boy trying to navigate a difficult relationship with his parents. He remembered Nora Winchester fondly and had never even said thank you for the years of distraction she’d provided, both at school and at parties.

The gift had been about balancing the scales. Reid didn’t like owing anyone anything.

He certainly hadn’t sent the food for Winchester’s benefit. The old man could—and most definitely would—rot in hell before Reid would lift a finger to help him. The man had more shady business deals and crooked politicians in his back pocket than a shark had teeth. Reid wouldn’t soon forget how Chamberlain Group had been on the receiving end of a personal screw-over, courtesy of Sutton Winchester.

“The food was for old time’s sake. Nothing more.” Nor should he pretend it was anything more. “Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting a personal thank-you for the catering, and leave it at that.”

She laughed and it slid down his spine, unleashing a torrent of memories. Nora was an old friend, and for a man who didn’t have many, it suddenly meant something to him that he had a history with this woman. A positive history. She’d known his sister, Sophia, and that alone made her different from anyone else in his life except Nash.

Yeah, letting her walk away untouched wasn’t happening. Reid had long ago accepted his selfish nature and he wanted more of Nora’s laugh.

“Obviously you were expecting me.” Nora’s gaze raked over his body as she called him on it. “Your staff couldn’t have been clearer that they’d been waiting for me to arrive. How did you guess I’d be coming by?”

“Oddly enough, you tipped me off. My admin called Iguazu and learned that Ms. O’Malley from my office had already inquired after the status of the delivery.”

Guilt clouded Nora’s gaze and she shifted her eyes to the right, staring at a spot near his shoulder. “Well, you didn’t sign the note. How else was I supposed to figure out if you were the one behind the nice gesture?”

“I don’t make nice gestures,” he corrected her. “And you weren’t supposed to figure it out. Is Ms. O’Malley a fake name you use often to perform nefarious deeds?”

He couldn’t resist teasing her when it was so obvious she hadn’t a deceptive bone in her body. Flirting, teasing and smiling—or nearly doing so anyway—were all things he hadn’t indulged in for a very long time, and all things he’d like to continue doing.

But only with Nora. All at once, he was glad she’d tracked him down.

“Yes,” she informed him pertly. “It’s a name I use often for all my deeds. I got married.”

Genuine disappointment lanced through his gut. Where had that come from? Had he really been entertaining a notion of backing Nora up against the door and taking that wide mouth under his seriously enough that learning she was married would affect him so greatly?

Ridiculous. He shouldn’t be thinking of her that way at all. She was an old friend who would soon walk out of his life, never to be heard from again. It was better that way. It hardly mattered whether she’d gotten married. Of course she had. A woman as stunningly beautiful and intrinsically kind as Nora Winchester wouldn’t stay single.

Some of the sensual tension faded a bit. But not all. Nora’s smile did interesting things to him and he didn’t think he could put a halt to it if he tried.

“Belated congratulations,” he offered smoothly. “I hadn’t heard.”

“You wouldn’t have. Sean was stationed out of Fort Carson in Colorado. We got married on base, much to my mother’s dismay. It was a small ceremony and it happened nearly seven years ago.” She waved it off. “Ancient history. I’m a widow now, anyway.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The phrase came automatically, as he did still have a modicum of manners despite not spending much time in polite company.

But Nora—a widow? Dumbfounded, he zeroed in on Nora’s face, seeking...something, but he had no idea what. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if she’d grieved and moved on. How had she done that? If it was so easy, Reid would have done the same.

The specters of Sophia and his mother still haunted him, which didn’t mix well with polite company, and he doubted he’d ever be able to toss off the information that they’d passed as calmly as Nora had just informed him that her husband had died.

Death was a painful piece of his past that shouldn’t be the thing he had in common with Nora. The loss of his mother and sister should be the reason he showed Nora the door. Nonetheless, it instantly bonded them in a way that their shared history hadn’t. He wanted to explore that more. See what this breath of fresh air might do to chase away the dark, oily shadows inside, even for a few moments.

“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “For the condolences and the food. I want to thank you properly, though. Maybe spend some time catching up. I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to. Let me take you to dinner.”

That bordered on the worst idea ever conceived. He cultivated a reputation for being a loner with practiced ease, and didn’t want to expose their new rapport to prying eyes. And there would be plenty if he took a woman to dinner in a small town like Chicago.

“I don’t go out in public. Why don’t you come back for dinner here? I live in the penthouse, one floor up. My private chef is the best in the business.”

No, that was the worst idea ever conceived. Nora, behind closed doors. Laughing, flirting... It didn’t take much to imagine where that would lead. He’d have her in his arms before the main course, hoping to find the secrets deep in Nora’s soul. Especially the one that led to moving past tragedy and pain.

But the invitation was already out and he wasn’t sorry he’d issued it. Though he might be before the evening was out. No one had ever crossed the threshold of his home except very select staff members who were well paid to keep their mouths shut about their boss’s private domain.

That didn’t stop the rampant speculation about what went on in his “lair,” as he’d been told it was called. Some went so far as to guess that all sorts of illicit activity went on behind closed doors, as if he’d built some kind of pleasure den and had lured innocent young girls into his debauchery.

The truth was much darker. Racked with guilt over not being able to save his mother and Sophia, he wasn’t fit for public consumption and the best way to avoid people was to stay home.

The distance he maintained between himself and the rest of the world was what kept him sane. Other people didn’t get that part of his soul was missing, never to be recovered. The hole inside had been filled with a blackness he couldn’t exorcise and sometimes, it bubbled up to the surface like thick, dark oil that coated everything in its path. Other people didn’t understand that. And he didn’t want to explain it to them.

“You don’t go out in public?” Curiosity lit up her gaze. “I read that you were reclusive. I thought they were exaggerating. You being all shut up away from other people doesn’t jibe with the person I once knew.”

“Things change,” he countered roughly. “I have a lot of money and power. People generally want a piece of both. It’s easier to stay away from the masses.”

His standard answer. Everyone bought it.

“Sounds very lonely.” Somehow, she’d moved closer, though he hadn’t thought they were all that far apart in the first place. Her wide smile warmed him in places he’d forgotten existed. Places better left out of this equation.

“Expedient.” He cleared his throat. “I run a billion-dollar empire here. Not much time for socializing.”

“Yet your first instinct was an invitation to dinner. Seems like you’re reaching out to me.”

Their gazes caught. Held. A wealth of unspoken messages zipped between them but hell if he knew what was being said. What he wanted to say.

“It’s just dinner,” he countered and he could tell by her expression that she didn’t believe the lie any more than he did. They both knew it would be more. Maybe just a rekindling of their friendship, which felt necessary all of a sudden. Nora was someone from before his life had turned into the twisted semblance of normal that it had become.

“Oh, come on, Reid.” She laughed again. “We’re both adults now. After the note and the rather obvious way you shut the door half a second after I walked through it, I think it’s permissible to call it a date.”

He glanced at the closed office door and just as he was about to explain that he valued his privacy—nothing more—he discovered his mouth had already curved up in a ghost of a smile, totally against his will. “A date, then.”

Yet another first. Reid Chamberlain didn’t date. At least not since his father had murdered the most important people in Reid’s life—and Reid had been forced to reconcile that he shared a genetic bond with a monster.

Three

The dress Nora had chosen for her date with Reid—or rather the dress Eve and Gracie had bullied her into wearing—should’ve been be illegal.

Actually, if she moved the wrong way, it would be.

The plunging neckline hit a point well below her breasts and the fabric clung to every curve Nora had forgotten she had. Simple and black, it was more than a cocktail dress. It was a dress that said: I’m here for what comes after dinner.

Nora was not okay with that message. Or maybe she was. No. She wasn’t.

“I can’t wear this,” she mumbled again.

“You can and you are,” Eve countered. Again. “I’ve only worn it one time. No one will recognize it.”

As if committing a fashion faux pas was the most troublesome aspect of this situation.

Part of the problem was that Nora liked the way she looked in the dress. The other part of the problem was that Nora didn’t have the luxury of sticking around for what came after dinner, if she even had a mind to be available for...that. She had Declan. Her son made everything ten times more complicated, even what should have been a simple dinner with an old friend.

A friend whose very gaze had touched places inside her that she hadn’t known existed. Until now, she hadn’t realized how very good it felt to be the object of a man’s interest. Sean had loved her and of course had paid attention to her, but this was something else. Something with a tinge of wicked. Purely sexual. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time.

She practiced walking in front of the full-length mirror affixed to the closet in the master suite of her father’s guesthouse. Yep. If she stumbled, her bare nipples would peek out with a big ole hello. So she wouldn’t stumble.

Eve fastened a jewel-encrusted drop necklace around Nora’s neck. “Perfect. It draws attention exactly where it should. To your neckline.”

“It’s like a big arrow that points to my boobs.” Nora tried to shorten the chain but Eve took the necklace out of her hands and let the stone fall back into place in the valley between her breasts.

“Yes. This is not a date with a guy you met at church,” Eve advised her. “Reid Chamberlain has a well-earned reputation. He doesn’t invite women into his private domain. What few he’s spent time with are very hush-hush about it, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’s giving these women a ride worth keeping their mouths shut over. You are beautiful and have something to offer. Make him aware of it and then make him work for it.”

Gracie nodded as Nora swallowed. “It’s not like that. We’re old friends.”

Eve took a flatiron from the vanity to their right and fussed a bit more with Nora’s hair. “Yeah, well, I’ve known Reid a long time and he’s never asked me to dinner.”

Eve and Reid hadn’t been friends, though.

Nora’s history with Reid gave her one up on all these other women whom he hadn’t asked on a date. When Nora had labeled it as such, she’d hoped that would dispel some of the confusion. It was always better to call a spade a spade, and it was clear—to her at least—that there was something simmering between herself and Reid. And dinner was A Date, she had no doubt.

Nora didn’t date. She hadn’t dated anyone since she’d met Sean nearly ten years ago. The only reason she had even agreed to this one was because Reid was a friend. It afforded her a measure of comfort to think about jumping back into the pool with someone she knew. Someone she’d always had a crush on.

Except the way he looked at her... She shivered. There was a lot more than friendship in his dark, enigmatic gaze. Tonight was a chance to finally see what it was like to be with Reid and not think of him as “just” a friend. The real question was whether she’d act on the undercurrents or chicken out. Nora hadn’t had sex in over two years. What if she’d forgotten how?

“Reid is not some mysterious guy with a shady reputation,” Nora insisted, but it was mostly to convince herself.

He was different. She’d definitely noticed that earlier today. Darker, more layered. But she’d gotten the distinct impression he needed to connect with someone—her. Perhaps for the same reason she’d agreed to the date in the first place. They had a history. Being in his presence today had brought back some good memories. No reason that couldn’t continue.

“Nora, honey, you’ve been away from Chicago for a long time.” Eve wrangled the same lock of hair until she got it the way she wanted it. “Trust me, I’ve crossed paths with him a few times now that I’m taking a more active role in the inner workings of Elite. He was short with me, all business. He’s like that with everyone. Except you, I guess.”

“He runs a billion-dollar company,” Nora said faintly. “You of all people should know that means you can’t be Mr. Pushover, especially not in meetings.”

Gracie shook her head and added, “Just be careful. The girl who does my nails is convinced he pays off the women he dates. Word is that he’s got some very unusual...tastes. Things he prefers in the bedroom. Things that are not fit to be discussed among polite company. That’s why they never talk about it. They’re well paid to keep quiet and probably don’t want anyone to know they participated.”

“That’s just speculation,” Nora scoffed as her pulse jumped.

What kind of things? Unfortunately, she had a good enough imagination and some of what she envisioned couldn’t be unseen. It was a delicious panorama of poses, featuring Reid Chamberlain in splendorous, naked glory. Not that she’d ever seen him without clothes, but Reid was devastating and gorgeous in a suit. It wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d look good out of one, too. Throw in this new dark and mysterious side? It only added to his appeal. And heightened her nerves.

“Besides, it’s dinner between old friends,” Nora continued, her voice growing stronger as her resolve solidified. Whatever his predilections were in the bedroom, she’d probably never find out. “That’s all. I’m a mom. We don’t incite men’s fantasies.”

And she had to keep Declan forefront in her thoughts. There were no grown-up sleepovers in her future, not when she had a two-year-old who still woke up calling for mama in the middle of the night. This was a thank-you dinner, nothing more. An escape from her father’s scary health problems and the scandal of the inheritance drama.

Eve’s brows quirked as she spun Nora to face the mirror. “Honey, that body is every inch a man’s fantasy, and by the way, you’re a strong, entertaining woman. A man can and will be as attracted to what’s up here—” she tapped Nora’s temple “—as by what’s down here.”

All three Winchester sisters followed Eve’s gesture as she indicated Nora’s torso. Even Nora couldn’t argue that the dress did highlight her curves. Nor could she argue that any man who was worth her time would be attracted to her brain.

“Regardless, I’ll be home by ten,” Nora promised. “Ten thirty at the latest.”

She kissed Declan and left him in Gracie’s capable hands. They settled in to watch cartoons, waving to Nora as she left, nervous as ever.

On the way over to the Metropol, Nora sat ramrod straight in her seat, too edgy to relax. The driver didn’t try to talk to her, which was a blessing.

Her imagination went into overdrive again. If Reid did have unusual tastes...did that automatically mean she’d say no? The thought of being a bit more adventurous than normal with someone she trusted got her a little hot and bothered. Because of course Reid was still Reid. There was nothing anyone could say to convince her that he’d turned into a monster who incited women into submitting to his twisted sexual practices.

Besides, her heart belonged to Sean. Anything that took place with Reid could be left behind once she went home to Colorado. It was freeing to not have the slightest worry about what might happen in the future.

When the concierge snapped for a bellboy to escort her to the penthouse—a different bellboy from last time—she forgot to breathe for a moment as the elevator doors slid shut. This was a one-way ticket to something she had no idea if she was really ready for.

You’re being silly. You have no idea if the rumors are true. No idea if Reid even planned to do anything more than eat dinner. Also? He wasn’t going to hold her prisoner. If she didn’t like where the evening was headed, all she had to do was leave.

Of course, there was always the possibility that she would be on board with more than dinner. Maybe. The jury was still out.

The elevator doors parted, leading to a small alcove with a dazzling white marble floor. She stepped out and faced a closed unmarked door directly opposite the elevator.

“Have a good night, ma’am.” With a silent swoosh of the elevator doors, the bellhop disappeared and then there was nothing left to do but knock.

Except the door opened before she could. Reid stood on the other side, wearing a different suit from earlier. This one had more closely cut lines and a darker hue and showcased his broad shoulders in a way she couldn’t quite ignore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble that lent his handsome face a dangerous edge. Or perhaps she was imagining the edge after her conversation with Grace and Eve.

“Hi, Reid.” Her voice came out all breathless and excited, turning the short phrase into something else entirely.

His gaze slowly traveled down her length, stopping every so often as if he’d run across something worthy of further examination. She felt the heat rise in her exposed chest but she refused to cover herself by crossing her arms. Still, her muscles flexed to do exactly that three times in a row.

“That dress was worth waiting for,” he finally said, his voice as smooth as it had been earlier.

“Waiting for?” She scowled to cover her excitement. Two seconds in and he was already starting the seduction part of the evening, was he? “I wasn’t late. I’m right on time.”

His dark eyes took on a tinge of amusement, but his smile still hadn’t returned. “By my count, I’ve been waiting fifteen years.”

Oh, my. She fell into the possibilities of that statement with a big splat. Had he harbored secret feelings for her way back, as she had for him?

That couldn’t be what he meant. He hadn’t exactly been sitting around pining over her. “What are you talking about? You forgot I existed the second you turned sixteen and your parents gave you that Porsche for your birthday.”

He crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. “Would you like to continue this argument over a drink, or stay in the hall?”

“You haven’t invited me in yet.”

“I was busy.”

He gave her another sweeping once-over that pulled at her core. And still, he didn’t step aside to allow her to enter his private domain.

She could not get a handle on him, and only part of that stemmed from her sisters’ warnings swirling around in the back of her mind. He’d invited her here, yet didn’t seem to know what to do with her. Maybe she should help him out.

“Well, I’m thirsty,” she informed him with a touch of frost. “So I choose the drink over the hall. You must not entertain much or you’d have already poured me a glass of wine.”

A ghost of a smile played at his lips. “Forgive me, then. I don’t entertain often and my manners are atrocious. Please come in, Ms. O’Malley.”

With that, he stepped aside and swept his hand out. Clearly, she was supposed to take it. So she did.

The moment their flesh connected, awareness sizzled across her skin, raising goose bumps. A bit overwhelmed, she let him lead her into his penthouse.

With a whisper, the door shut behind her, closing her off from the world. And then she saw Chicago lit for the night beyond the glass wall at the edge of Reid’s enormous living room.

“Oh,” she gasped and his hand tightened on hers. “That’s an amazing view.”

Neon and stars, glass and steel, as far as the eye could see. The world was still out there, but they were insulated from it up here, high above the masses.

“I totally agree,” he said quietly and she glanced at him.

His gaze, hot and heavy, was locked on her. Unblinking. Unsettling.

“You’re not even looking.” And then she realized what he meant and heat flushed her nearly exposed breasts again. “Um, didn’t you promise me a drink?”

“I did. Come with me.”

Apparently loath to let go of her hand, he led her to a wet bar where an uncorked bottle of wine stood next to two wineglasses. From that vantage point, she could see into the dining room, where a long table was set for two.

“Your servants have been busy,” she commented as he finally dropped her hand to pour the red wine, filling each glass far past the line she’d have said would be an acceptable amount for a lightweight drinker such as herself.

But then, Reid didn’t really know that about her.

“I gave my servants the night off.” He handed her a glass and when she took it, he held his up in a quick toast. “To old friends.”

She nodded and tossed back a healthy swallow. How she got the wine down her throat was beyond her; he hadn’t taken his eyes off her once since she’d walked through the door and her self-consciousness was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

They were alone in this penthouse where no one could enter unless they had a special key for the elevator. Blessedly, deliciously alone. Should she be frightened? She wasn’t.

Reid had gone to some trouble in anticipation of her arrival. The ambiance was sensual, edgy and quite delicious. All hard things to come by as a widowed single mom. Maybe she was far more wicked than she should be, but Reid made her feel beautiful and desirable and she wasn’t going to apologize for liking it.

“Tell me something,” she said impulsively, suddenly interested in picking up the thread of their conversation from the hallway. “You said you’d been waiting fifteen years for me to show up. What did you mean?”

He cocked his head, tossing a few curls into disarray, and she liked that he wasn’t one of those men who used a ton of hair products. She could slide her fingers through his hair easily.

The thought warmed her further. That would be bold, indeed, if she just reached out and touched him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do it.

“Our friendship means something to me. I...didn’t ever tell you that.”

“Oh.” A bit thunderstruck, she stared at him as the lines around his mouth grew deeper, expressing more than what his words had. Was he disappointed that he’d never told her for some reason? “That’s okay, Reid. We developed other friendships and went on.”

“You did. I didn’t.”

His cryptic words perplexed her. “You mean you didn’t make other friends? But you were always with the popular crowd, piling into each other’s cars after school and leaving dances or football games together to go someplace more exciting. Or at least that’s always how I imagined it.”

Reid shrugged slightly. “I passed the time with them. That’s all.”

Things weren’t as they appeared back when they’d been in high school? Her heart turned over with a squish. “Sounds like you were a recluse in training, even then.”

If things weren’t as they appeared back then, what’s to say the same wasn’t true now?

His expression darkened. “In a way. I’ve never had much luck connecting with people.”

“Except me.”

Bold. But she didn’t take it back. They’d been dancing around each other and she wanted to get on with the evening, whatever that entailed.

Their gazes met and he watched her as he sipped his wine, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

Go bold or go home. It was her new mantra, one she wanted to embrace all at once.

“Is that why you invited me to dinner?” she asked with a small smile. “Because you’re lonely?”

* * *

“There’s a difference between being lonely and desiring to be alone,” Reid countered.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, now does it?”

Nora was so close, Reid could easily count the individual strands of hair—honey wheat, warm sand, a few shoots of platinum—draped over her shoulder. He suspected it would be cool to the touch if he slid a strand through his fingers.

Dinner had been a mistake.

He’d wrongly thought that he and Nora would catch up, talk a bit about the past, that it would be an innocent opportunity to reminisce about an easier time. Before his world had crashed around his feet. He’d craved that with blinding necessity.

Instead, he’d spent the ten minutes she’d been in his penthouse trying desperately to keep his hands occupied so he didn’t pull her into his arms to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. To see exactly what was under that black dress that showcased a body he hadn’t remembered being so difficult to ignore.

You didn’t seduce an old friend the moment she crossed your threshold. It was uncivilized and smacked of the kind of thing a man with his reputation would do. He’d done his share of perpetuating the myths surrounding his wickedness, mostly because it amused him.

Nora deserved better.

The problem was he had no interest in eating. At all. He’d developed an intense fixation with the hollow between Nora’s breasts, which were scarcely contained by the bits of fabric that composed her dress.

You didn’t stare at an old friend’s rack, no matter how clearly she was inviting you to.

There were probably some other rules he should be reciting to himself right about now, but hell if he could remember what they were.

It had been too long since he’d had a woman in his bed; that was the problem. Nora Winchester O’Malley shouldn’t be the one inciting him to break that fast. If he wanted to make the evening about catching up with an old friend, that was in his power to do.

“You’re right,” he allowed with a nod. “I didn’t answer the question. I invited you to dinner because I wanted to thank you for being a good friend to me. The scales were unbalanced.”

“Oh.” Disappointment shadowed her gaze but she blinked and it was gone. “So dinner was motivated by the need to say thank you. For both of us, it seems.”

“It seems.”

That should have dispelled the sensual, tight awareness between them. That had been his intent. But she smiled and it lit up her face, inviting him in, warming up the places inside that had been cold since the plane crash that had changed everything.

“I feel properly thanked. Do you?” she asked.

“For what?” he nearly growled as he fought to stop himself from yanking her into his arms.

“For the food, silly.” Her hands fisted on her hips. “That’s the whole reason I asked you to dinner, remember?”

Yes, he did. They were two old friends. Nothing more. He had to remember that her labeling it a date might not mean the same thing to her as it did to him.

“Everyone has been properly thanked.” He drained his wineglass and scouted for the bottle. The bite of the aged red centered him again. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Depends on what you’ve got on the menu.”

His gaze collided with hers and yes, she’d meant that exactly the way it sounded. Her smile slipped away as they stared at each other, evaluating, measuring, seeking. Perhaps he’d been going about this evening all wrong and the best course of action was to let their sizzling attraction explode.

But he couldn’t help but think that if that happened, he’d miss out on the very thing he’d craved—friendship.

Four

Somehow, Reid dialed back his crushing desire and escorted Nora into the dining room. Maybe eating would take the edge off well enough to figure out what he wanted from this evening. And how to get it.

Since the servants had the night off, he played the proper host and served the gazpacho his chef had prepared earlier that day.

“This looks amazing, Reid,” Nora commented and dug in.

A woman with a healthy appetite. Reid watched her eat out of the corner of his eye, which wasn’t hard since she was sitting kitty-corner to him at the long teakwood table that he’d picked up on a trip to Bangalore.

The hard part was reminding his body that they’d moved on to dinner. It didn’t seem to have gotten the message. Friendship or seduction? He had to pick a direction. Soon.

“I trust it’s sufficient?” he asked without a trace of irony as Nora spooned the last bite into her candy-pink mouth. Not only had she actually eaten, she’d done it without mussing her lipstick.

That was talent. Of course, now his gaze couldn’t seem to unfasten from her mouth as she nodded enthusiastically.

“So great. I’m jealous of your private chef.” She sighed dramatically. “I wish I had one. I have to cook for myself, which I don’t mind. But some days, it sure would be nice to pass that off to someone else.”

“Why don’t you hire someone?” he suggested. “It’s truly worth it in the end to have control over the fat and sodium content of what goes into your body.”

“When did you become a health nut?”

“When I realized I wasn’t going to live forever and that every bad thing I put in my mouth would speed me on my way to the grave.”

It was a throwaway comment that any man in his thirties might make, but he actually meant it. When you spent a lot of time alone, you needed a hobby. His was his health. He read as many articles and opinion pieces about longevity as he could, tailoring his workouts and eating habits around tried-and-true practices. At one point, he’d even hired a personal dietician but fired him soon after Reid had realized he knew more than the “professional.”

Staying healthy was a small tribute to his late mother and sister. They’d had their lives cut short, so Reid had decided he’d live as long as he could. And he wanted to be in the best shape possible for that.

“Good point. I wish it was as simple as you make it sound.” She smiled wistfully. “But my bank account doesn’t allow for things like private chefs.”

He did a double take. “Did something happen to your father’s fortune?”

Surely not. The scandal of Carson Newport’s parentage wouldn’t have reached the epic proportions that it had if Sutton were broke. Word was that Newport wanted as much of Winchester’s estate as he could get his hands on. Though they’d crossed paths a few times, Newport wasn’t someone Reid spoke to about private matters, so he could only speculate. But he didn’t think Newport was in it for the money. Vengeance, more likely. Which was a shame. Winchester had it coming, but that meant Nora would be caught up in the drama, as well.

Perhaps Newport had already gotten his mitts on Nora’s share?

But she shook her head. “Oh, no. Dad’s money is well intact. I just don’t have any of it. Walking away from Chicago meant walking away from everything. Including my trust fund.”

Reid blinked. “Really? You renounced your inheritance?”

“Really. I don’t want a dime of that money. It’s tainted with the blood of all the people my dad has hurt over the years anyway. Plus, money is the root of all evil, right?” She shrugged one shoulder philosophically. “I’ve been much happier without it.”

“Love of money is the root of all evil,” Reid automatically corrected. Nearly everyone got that quote wrong. “It’s a warning against allowing money to control you. Allowing it to make you into a terrible person in order to get more.”

“Is that a dig at my dad?”

It had actually been a dig at his own father, not hers. Reid contemplated her before responding truthfully. “No. But it applies.”

Sutton Winchester was cut from the same cloth as John Chamberlain, no doubt. Nora’s father just hadn’t had the courtesy to rid the world of his evil presence the way Reid’s father had. Not yet anyway.

“Oh, have you dealt with my dad, then?”

Her slight smile said she knew exactly how much of a bastard her father was, but that didn’t mean she deserved the full brunt of Reid’s honest opinion of the man. Whether this evening consisted of two friends reconnecting or two friends connecting in a whole new way remained to be seen, but he imagined bad-mouthing Nora’s father wouldn’t benefit either scenario.

“Let’s just say that we’ve got a solid truce and as long as he stays in his corner, I stay in mine.”

That was a mild and very politically correct way to put it. Because when it came to business, Winchester fought dirty. His misdeeds had included paying off a judge to rule against a Chamberlain Group rezoning request, planting a spy at a relatively high level in Reid’s organization and—the pièce de résistance—attempting to poison Chamberlain Group’s reputation in the media with false allegations about Reid’s ties to the mob. Winchester had gall. Reid had patience, influence and money—he’d won in the end.

“Well, I’m sure my father is the poster child for what happens to people who love money more than their own family,” she said without hesitation. “It’s part of the reason I left. I got tired of living the life of a socialite, doing nothing more meaningful than being photographed in the latest fashion or showing up at a charity event. Money doesn’t buy anything worthwhile.”

He topped off both wineglasses and served the main course, cold lamb and pasta, then picked up the thread of the conversation. “When used correctly, money is a tool that makes life better.”

“Doesn’t seem to have done that for you,” she pointed out, tilting her wineglass toward him in emphasis. “You shut yourself up in this billion-dollar prison. I’ve been in your presence twice now, and I have yet to see any evidence that money has made you happy.”

What would she say if he agreed with her? If he said that money had done nothing but give his father the power to rip away Reid’s soul? First by never being any kind of a father figure and then by taking his family with him on his journey to judgment day. The elder Chamberlain had picked his three-million-dollar Eclipse 550 as his weapon of choice, crashing the small jet deliberately and killing his wife and daughter.

Reid hadn’t been on board. He’d been too busy chasing that next dollar.

Scary how alike he and his father were. You could run, but you couldn’t hide from genetics. That’s why Reid hadn’t hesitated to say no when Nash came looking for someone to take in Sophia’s twins. Reid wasn’t father material. Reid was barely human material.

Money hadn’t insulated him from heartache; it only afforded him the means to create what Nora called a prison. To him, it was a refuge.

“I like being alone,” he finally said. “Having more money than the Bank of Switzerland allows me the luxury of kicking people out of my presence whenever I deem it necessary.”

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