Read Online Chances Are by Erica Spindler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erica Spindler
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wanting Brandon, his touch, his taste, the pleasure she knew he would give her. Towel forgotten, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair.
He lowered his head, but stopped a fraction of an inch from her lips. "You shouldn't start games you aren't prepared to finish," he whispered, laughter in his voice. He caught her sultry bottom lip between his teeth as he wrapped the towel around her, tucking it in at the side of her breast, then pulled away.
Her eyes fluttered open; they were glazed with passion. He resisted the urge to catch that inviting mouth again. "Better take your shower before the hot water runs out." He picked up the shirt and crossed to the door. His smile was wicked as he said, "Thanks for last night, even though nothing happened." He softly shut the door behind him.
Veronique's legs were suddenly weak, and she sat on the edge of the tub. She took a deep, steadying breath. That rat. That double-crossing, dirty-playing son of a... Her lips curved. He was good; she had to hand it to him. He'd startled her, then knocked her so firmly off balance she'd never even seen him move in for the kill. She shook her head. She'd underestimated him.
Veronique checked the water, then made a sound of disgust. It was cool; he had had the final word after all. She twisted off the faucets, stood and walked back to the bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling. She still couldn't believe she'd fallen for his ploy. Like a novice or an ingénue. It'd been a long time since anyone had gotten the best of her. A corner of her lips lifted. Oh, she'd deserved it. Every manipulative word and gesture, plus some.
The amusement faded from her lips and eyes. She would have to do something about this ridiculous attraction she felt for Brandon Rhodes. They were all wrong for each other; they had nothing in common. She rolled onto her side. The bedding still smelled of him. She breathed deeply, and her pulse quickened. She'd have to wash all the bedclothes today, she thought, trailing her finger over the crisp percale, feeling surrounded by him.
This attraction was just a silly trick her hormones were playing on her, Veronique decided, her lips tilting. That, or the work of some malevolent spirit. It would pass, and her life would be back to normal. Sure. She was almost over it already.
Her smile vanished as she wondered what Brandon was doing at that very moment.
* * *
"Sebastian." Brandon held out his hand in greeting. "Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."
"No problem," the older man said, gesturing toward his cluttered desk. "I work every Saturday morning; this hasn't inconvenienced me in the least. Have a seat."
Brandon would have preferred to stand, but he sat anyway. Despite his raging headache, his queasy stomach and foul mood, he had a surplus of energy. He felt antsy and on edge, and he wasn't sure why.
"You look like hell. Something wrong?"
Brandon's eyes snapped back to the attorney. He was a small, slim man with thinning silver hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. Brandon didn't dislike the man, but he'd never really liked him, either. "Hangover," he said shortly.
The attorney nodded sympathetically. "I've had a few of those myself." He folded his hands in front of him, becoming all business. "When you called you mentioned a safety deposit box and some documents?"
"Yes." Brandon opened his briefcase and took out an envelope. He opened it and handed the bundle of papers inside to Sebastian, then sat back and watched. The older man slipped on his glasses and slowly began flipping through the papers. He paused every now and then for a second glance, drawing his eyebrows together momentarily.
After several minutes he took off his glasses, tapped them on the stack, then looked up at Brandon. He cleared his throat. "I don't know where to begin."
"So, you did know about this?" Brandon's expression was tight.
"Yes. And no." He leaned back in his chair. "I wasn't your father's
He lowered his head, but stopped a fraction of an inch from her lips. "You shouldn't start games you aren't prepared to finish," he whispered, laughter in his voice. He caught her sultry bottom lip between his teeth as he wrapped the towel around her, tucking it in at the side of her breast, then pulled away.
Her eyes fluttered open; they were glazed with passion. He resisted the urge to catch that inviting mouth again. "Better take your shower before the hot water runs out." He picked up the shirt and crossed to the door. His smile was wicked as he said, "Thanks for last night, even though nothing happened." He softly shut the door behind him.
Veronique's legs were suddenly weak, and she sat on the edge of the tub. She took a deep, steadying breath. That rat. That double-crossing, dirty-playing son of a... Her lips curved. He was good; she had to hand it to him. He'd startled her, then knocked her so firmly off balance she'd never even seen him move in for the kill. She shook her head. She'd underestimated him.
Veronique checked the water, then made a sound of disgust. It was cool; he had had the final word after all. She twisted off the faucets, stood and walked back to the bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling. She still couldn't believe she'd fallen for his ploy. Like a novice or an ingénue. It'd been a long time since anyone had gotten the best of her. A corner of her lips lifted. Oh, she'd deserved it. Every manipulative word and gesture, plus some.
The amusement faded from her lips and eyes. She would have to do something about this ridiculous attraction she felt for Brandon Rhodes. They were all wrong for each other; they had nothing in common. She rolled onto her side. The bedding still smelled of him. She breathed deeply, and her pulse quickened. She'd have to wash all the bedclothes today, she thought, trailing her finger over the crisp percale, feeling surrounded by him.
This attraction was just a silly trick her hormones were playing on her, Veronique decided, her lips tilting. That, or the work of some malevolent spirit. It would pass, and her life would be back to normal. Sure. She was almost over it already.
Her smile vanished as she wondered what Brandon was doing at that very moment.
* * *
"Sebastian." Brandon held out his hand in greeting. "Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."
"No problem," the older man said, gesturing toward his cluttered desk. "I work every Saturday morning; this hasn't inconvenienced me in the least. Have a seat."
Brandon would have preferred to stand, but he sat anyway. Despite his raging headache, his queasy stomach and foul mood, he had a surplus of energy. He felt antsy and on edge, and he wasn't sure why.
"You look like hell. Something wrong?"
Brandon's eyes snapped back to the attorney. He was a small, slim man with thinning silver hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. Brandon didn't dislike the man, but he'd never really liked him, either. "Hangover," he said shortly.
The attorney nodded sympathetically. "I've had a few of those myself." He folded his hands in front of him, becoming all business. "When you called you mentioned a safety deposit box and some documents?"
"Yes." Brandon opened his briefcase and took out an envelope. He opened it and handed the bundle of papers inside to Sebastian, then sat back and watched. The older man slipped on his glasses and slowly began flipping through the papers. He paused every now and then for a second glance, drawing his eyebrows together momentarily.
After several minutes he took off his glasses, tapped them on the stack, then looked up at Brandon. He cleared his throat. "I don't know where to begin."
"So, you did know about this?" Brandon's expression was tight.
"Yes. And no." He leaned back in his chair. "I wasn't your father's
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