Tycoon For Auction. Katherine Garbera
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his ancestry. Though he and his father had never seen eye to eye on one thing, Rand wouldn’t change his lineage. He liked knowing where he came from, and if the pressure of being a Pearson was too much to bear sometimes, that was a price Rand paid.
“No.”
“You should think about it,” he said.
“Rand, I’m never going to look for them.”
“Why not?”
“I was abandoned when I was two days old.”
Her words cut him. No one should have abandoned this woman. Why hadn’t he let her alone? “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It was a long time ago.”
He reached across the gearshift and found her hand. It was clenched in a tight fist, nails digging into the flesh of her palm. Though her words sounded as if she’d gotten over it, the truth was her emotions ran deep and strong. He pried her fingers open and slid his hand around hers. And he knew how time could lessen the pain but not totally abate it.
He said nothing else as they drove along the highway, the wind in their hair and hands tightly clasped. She didn’t speak, either, and when he pulled off the highway and had to let go to downshift, she reached for her handbag and pulled out a brush.
He knew he wouldn’t be holding her hand again or seeing any more glimpses into her soul. Because as she put up her window, and he did the same, she morphed into someone he didn’t want her to be. She smoothed her hair back into place, and she was no longer the woman he’d spoken to earlier but the corporate executive looking for her next promotion.
The party was fun in spite of being a work event. Corrine mingled through the crowd with Rand at her side. Tarron and Corporate Spouses had a strategic partnership for training—the project Rand and Corrine had been working on, so he knew many of her colleagues. As they circulated through the room, Corrine couldn’t help being aware that this was how things might be if she ever had a husband. It was a little unnerving. Finally the party wound down and everyone started to leave.
“That went well,” Corrine said as they helped tidy up after the party. Corporate Spouses had helped man the check-in table and had arranged for a caterer. Though Rand wasn’t in charge of this event, he’d still made sure everything ran smoothly. And when Paul had asked her if she’d mind helping supervise the cleanup, Rand had said he didn’t mind staying.
“Did it?” Rand asked.
He’d been distant since their conversation in the car and Corrine wasn’t sure what to make of that. There was something about telling people that your own parents thought you weren’t worth keeping that made them treat you differently. She’d revealed too much and had worked hard to keep him at arm’s length during the luncheon. She shrugged. “I guess not.”
He faced her suddenly, his green eyes intent. “It wasn’t anything spectacular.”
“Spectacular isn’t necessary for success,” she said.
“No, but it makes life more exciting.”
She watched him working and realized that he craved excitement. It clung to him like a second skin. She knew then that if she hadn’t bid on him they’d never have been intimate because they were in two totally different universes. Maybe they’d never been meant to meet. Every time she’d messed with fate it came back to haunt her. Just once she’d like to find a guy and have the kind of relationship that her peers at work seemed to take for granted.
“I like to blend in,” she said.
He came over to her. The sun streaming through the windows behind him made it impossible for her to see his features. He touched her cheek, rubbing one finger down the length of her face, resting his hand against her neck.
“I noticed,” he said.
She couldn’t think while he touched her. She knew her pulse had increased. He probably felt her racing heartbeat. Could he see inside her? Did he realize that she wanted more from him than three cold impersonal dates? She stepped back. I’m in control, she reminded herself.
She felt like she should apologize but didn’t. Quiet was who she was. “That’s not your way, is it?”
“Not really. I like to shake things up.”
“I noticed. I’m sorry I didn’t want to play in that trivia game,” Corrine stated, referring to the game many of the guests had played.
“No problem. I just thought we could win.” She knew they would have. She’d always been good at those kinds of games but never played them in public. It seemed like the only people who participated at company events were the glory hounds and those who’d had too many drinks.
She had a strict rule about alcohol and work-related functions. She thought Rand must, too, because he’d drunk cola all day like herself. Actually, she’d drunk diet, but Rand didn’t need calorie-free drinks. His body had been sculpted by years of being top dog. Of honing his body and skills until he was simply the best man in any room. Realizing an uncomfortable silence had fallen, she attempted to break the mood.
“Sometimes winning isn’t the most important thing.”
He grabbed his chest and staggered backward. “Say it isn’t so.”
Corrine chuckled. She liked his self-deprecating humor. She liked that he’d let her set the tone for their presence at the party. She just plain liked him and that was…dangerous.
“What’s wrong with him?” Paul asked from the other side of the room.
“I shocked him,” Corrine said.
“How?” Paul asked.
“I told him winning wasn’t everything,” she said with a grin.
“Oh, no.”
“Are you still weakened from the blow?” Paul asked Rand.
“Yes. That’s my Kryptonite. Need a quick fix. Must win.” Rand staggered around the room like a weakened man, clutching the table for support.
“Good. How about a quick match of beach volleyball?” Paul asked.
Rand straightened slowly. “What did you have in mind?”
“Two on two. You and Corrine against me and Angelica.”
Paul was looking at Rand, but Rand looked at her and Corrine wasn’t sure what to do. She shrugged. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“Angelica keeps spare clothes on the yacht. I know she’d loan you some. I’ll go check with her,” Paul said, leaving the room.
She sensed Rand’s eyes on her as she finished clearing the last table and put some things in the trash. She didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see that challenging light in his eyes. But she glanced over her shoulder and was captivated.
“Wanna play?”
No, she thought. She wanted to retreat to her home ground—her safety area—and forget about her job and men and everything. At least until Monday when life would be normal again.
“I’m not good at sports,” she said carefully. She prided herself on mastering whatever she attempted. When her prowess at sports never developed she’d given up on them.
“You said winning wasn’t everything.”
“But to you it is.”
“How about we just have fun?”
“I can do fun.”
“Really, without your laptop?”
“Make up your mind. Do you want me to play or not?”
“I want you to play, but it’s up to you,” he said.
She knew he’d be disappointed if she didn’t play. Why did pleasing him matter?