* * *
Nathalie was on the run, damn it! Darius had driven himself nuts thinking about her all week, planning the ways he’d tease her today. Fool that he was, he’d thought giving her some space to relive their crazy chemistry over and over would make her wild and crazy for him, too, when she finally saw him again. Instead, she’d taken a business call, then rushed off. Darius was used to people wanting something from him, especially women. But Nathalie didn’t seem to want anything. Not even the things he was dying to give her. Just the opposite—he had to cajole and seduce her every step of the way, whether it was about the Maserati Alfieri 1960 or a date...or to get his hands on her. So today it was just Zion and him. Not that working with Zion didn’t have its own rewards. The kid was intelligent, he just had trouble with bigger concepts.
But he followed instructions well. They worked companionably all day, continuing to number the shipment of sheet metal panels that had arrived on Friday. “Great teamwork,” he said when they broke for the roast beef sandwiches Mrs. Oswald brought. She’d included milk and cookies as if they were kids. “Thanks, Mrs. Oswald.” Zion’s voice was loud in the barn. He used a big voice when he was excited. Or when he met new people. Just as he had last weekend with Ares. “You’re very welcome.” A short, rotund widow with white hair, Mrs. Oswald had been Darius' housekeeper for five years, moving with him from his previous house in San Andres. She fixed meals when he was at home, did the cleaning, the shopping, laundry, household errands. Once a month, Darius had a service come in to do all the heavy work, saving Mrs. Oswald’s back. “I like her,” Zion confided after Mrs. Oswald had returned to the house in a golf cart. “She makes really good sandwiches.”
“She does.” There wasn’t much not to like about Mrs. Oswald. Zion talked with his mouth full. “When are you going to take Nathalie out again?” Darius, in the middle of swallowing, almost lost his roast beef. “Do you want me to take your sister out again?” Zion nodded vigorously. “I like you.” He chomped off a bite of cookie even though he hadn’t finished his sandwich yet. “You’re a lot nicer than the other guys she goes out with.” Jealousy hit Darius like he was a crash test dummy, straight in the chest, at the thought of Nathalie with another man. But he wouldn’t use Zion to get information about Nathalie, so he didn’t ask any questions. He merely said, “I like you, too, Zion. And I like Nathalie.” Zion beamed, his eyes aglow. “Then it’s a deal. You take her out.” “I have to ask Nathalie first.” “She’ll say yes.
She likes you. She always comes into the room to listen when we use Skype.” “Maybe she’s just checking up on me.” Zion shook his head, turning all the way to the right, then the left in an exaggerated movement. “Nuh-uh. She likes you. I know. Whenever I talk about you, she gets this funny look in her eyes. Like she’s dreaming even though she’s awake.” Again, though Darius loved getting this inside scoop on the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, he wouldn’t allow himself to pry any more information out of Zion. “Let’s just wait until she gets here, okay?” Which meant, unfortunately, that he’d have to dig deeper into his reserves of patience. Reserves that were running really thin where Nathalie was concerned.
But it wasn’t only patience Darius was nearly out of by the time Nathalie finally returned—it was also self-control. When she left, she’d been wearing jeans. Now she wore a gorgeous dress that skimmed her curves and flowed down in long lines to her calves. Her sandals laced up over her ankles and met the bottom of the dress, looking like something a gladiator would wear. And what made Darius' self-control nearly snap completely was his realization that the gauzy material of the dress was almost see-through in the light from the open barn door behind her. The faint outline of long legs made his mouth dry up.
The neckline dipped low, cushioning a teardrop necklace between her breasts. A hint of lace peeked out. The sun was a halo around her hair, a gentle breeze lifting the locks, and her lips were the luscious shade of ripe plums, a deeper color than the usual pink she wore. She stole his breath. She made his jaw hit the floor. She drove him crazy. Which was exactly where Darius wanted to go with Nathalie—utterly crazy.
* * *
The look on Darius' face was worth every single penny she’d spent. He seemed stunned, unable to speak, unable to move, able only to look. And to want her in the same way she’d been wanting him. Oh yes, definitely worth it. What’s more, she felt sexy and desirable, from the new makeup to the new sandals to the new dress. And everything new underneath. It had been a really long time since she’d treated herself...and she wondered suddenly why she’d waited so long. “We had a good day,” he told her. “Got a lot accomplished.” “We even marked a bunch more panels that we still have to match up,” Zion rushed to add.
“That’s great.” She beamed at them both, easily able to see how happy they were with the day’s work. Two peas in a pod...who would have thought? The billionaire and her brother. She was still marveling at that when she realized Darius was saying, “Zion has given me his permission to take you out to dinner tonight.” “He has?” She felt a kick in her pulse, as if he’d stepped on the accelerator. All afternoon, she’d been trying to figure out how to make her move. The problem was that she’d never made a move on anyone before, so she didn’t have the first clue how to do it. But now, thankfully, that problem might very well be solved for her.
Darius and Zion both nodded. “We were thinking he could stay with Mrs. Oswald.” Darius patted Zion’s shoulder. “And you’re excited about streaming any movie you like, aren’t you? Action. Comedy. Animated.” “Darius has everything.” Zion widened his arms to encompass the enormous expanse of Darius' streaming library. “And me and Mrs. Oswald can have pizza. Darius says she makes the best one ever in his pizza oven.” “As long as you don’t mind Zion having pizza and watching a movie,” Darius added. “Pizza’s fine,” Nathalie said with a smile she knew must be bordering on giddy. “And so is a movie. Or three.” 7
She didn’t care if Darius had talked Zion into staying with Mrs. Oswald, or that he seemed to have it all mapped out as if she were an opponent whose every objection he had to overcome. All she cared about was being alone with him tonight. “So is that a yes?” She was surprised to realize that the powerful billionaire standing in front of her actually seemed a little nervous as he waited for her answer. She had assumed she’d always be the nervous one, not he. And she’d certainly never thought that she could hold the power in a relationship with a man like him. But while she knew that might be a huge stretch, at the very least, it was lovely to be wanted. Beyond lovely, actually. “Yes, I’d love to go out with you tonight, Darius.” For a moment, she thought he might kiss her right then and there in front of her brother. Instead, he simply stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She knew that couldn’t possibly be true, but she didn’t care. The three of them took the golf cart down the hill, both men still in their overalls.
Once in the house, Darius led them along a back hall past the kitchen, laundry room, and a bedroom, which she assumed was used by Mrs. Oswald. “Make yourselves at home,” Darius told them as he pushed through a swing door that led into the main house. “I won’t be long.” He disappeared up a wide staircase. It wasn’t a second floor, but another level sitting on the rise of the hill on which the house was built. Nathalie took a few minutes to appreciate Darius' beautiful home. The open floor plan consisted of a dining area on one side of a long marble floor that ended at the double front doors, with a massive living room on the other side. Picture windows faced the driveway and rock garden, then flowed around into a huge wall of windows overlooking the infinity pool and a valley below it all. And what she’d thought was a putting green was actually a small golf course.
“Wow,” Zion said at her side. The view was magnificent, but the living room itself took her breath away. Curved couches in black leather surrounded a sunken fire pit ringed in slate. A round, burnished metal flue hung over the center of the fire grates to draw up the smoke. On the wall beside the stairs, a long wet bar featured every kind of alcohol imaginable and every shape of glass, from tumblers to martini glasses to champagne flutes.