But the joke had been on him. While he’d been agonizing over whether or not to risk loving Tara and letting her love him, Tara had moved on.
“Chasing Tara would have been a waste of time anyway,” Mitch said, interrupting Rand’s thoughts. “She still had it bad for you.”
“Not so bad if she turned to Dad three weeks after we broke up.”
“Whatever. Being second string to my big brother was a position I was tired of playing. I wasn’t going after your girl.” Mitch’s bitterness came through loud and clear.
“She wasn’t mine and you were never second string. You were the golden child who could do no wrong.”
For a moment Mitch stared silently then he shook his head. “Why do you think Dad pushed you so hard, Rand? It was because he knew I idolized my big brother, and I’d have to raise my game to keep up with the standards you set. And you always aimed for perfection.”
An invisible band tightened around Rand’s chest. Mitch had idolized him and Rand had let him down by walking out and hauling himself to the other side of the country to nurse his wounded ego. “He yanked both our chains.”
Mitch nodded. “Dad was a master manipulator. He had ways of getting what he wanted from each of us. He pushed and goaded you because you thrived on the competition. He was more devious with me because I never let him know when he’d pushed my buttons.”
Rand cursed. How had he missed that?
Because you were too busy butting heads with the ol’man and too busy blaming him for being such an ass your mother would rather be dead than married to him.
And too busy hating yourself for being just like him. Selfish. Self-absorbed. Unable to love a woman the way she deserved to be loved.
Mitch stood. “It’s against company policy to fraternize with a direct subordinate. Tara was as out of bounds for Dad then as she is for you now. Don’t set us up for a sexual harassment law suit.”
His brother would crack a rib laughing if he knew the price for Tara’s participation was stud service. Rand ignored the rebuke and asked, “Since when did our father play by the rules?”
Mitch’s gaze shifted to the trio of potted trees Tara had positioned in the corner to keep the late afternoon sun’s blinding rays from creating a glare on Rand’s computer screen. “Yeah.”
The tone of that single word sent a prickle of unease creeping up the back of Rand’s neck. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Mitch?”
“I have everything under control. You need to make sure this thing between you and Tara doesn’t turn sour. If you piss her off and she leaves before the end of the year—”
“She won’t.” He’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t. He hated someone else holding the cards, calling the shots and controlling the outcomes. That wasn’t his style. He liked having the upper hand. But the ridiculous terms of the will had him handcuffed, and for the time being Tara held the key. “At the end of the year KCL will be yours and Nadia’s.”
“What about you?”
For the first time in his life, Rand realized he didn’t have a long-term plan. He hadn’t thought beyond fulfilling his duty and not letting his father screw Nadia and Mitch out of their inheritance. He hadn’t thought beyond beating his father at his own game.
Would there be a place for him at KCL?
Did he want to spend the rest of his life walking in his father’s shoes?
He didn’t have the answers.
“We’ll table that discussion for now. We have work to do. I want Nadia’s replacement chosen by the end of business today.” He tapped the résumés on his desk. “One of these applicants has every quality we’re looking for—if she survives the interview.”
Mitch looked ready to argue, but Rand preempted him by pressing the speaker button. “Tara, please send the first candidate through to the boardroom.”
“Yes, sir.” Her snippy reply told him his apology hadn’t totally placated her. He shouldn’t care. He’d done what he had to do to make sure she knew she wouldn’t fool him this time.
Tara Anthony was a complication he didn’t need. Come hell, high water or hurt feelings he would keep his objectivity. Emotional distance was the key to surviving this year of playing house with a woman determined to land herself a rich husband.
He had plenty of practice with meaningless, no-strings sex. It was the only kind he’d ever allowed himself to have. He never got sucked in to his lovers’ lives. They came together, satisfied each other’s physical needs, then went their separate ways when the chemistry burned out.
This affair wouldn’t be any different. He wouldn’t let it.
“Waiting up for me?”
Rand’s hard voice startled Tara. She pressed a hand over her jolted heart and spun around. He stood in the open door of the dining room—the door she’d kept firmly closed for a year. His narrowed eyes pinned her in place.
“You startled me.” Belatedly she remembered her tears and quickly turned back to her boxes.
“Tara?”
Ignoring the question in his voice, she swiped her face then snatched up the packaging tape and concentrated on stretching a long, sticky strip across the box’s flaps. “I thought you were working late. You said it would take you half the night to go through the information I compiled on each of KCL’s brands’ executives, and you wanted to be familiar with each employee’s history before the cocktail party tomorrow night.”
He’d told—no, ordered—her to eat dinner without him and not to wait up. After the way he’d hurt her feelings and angered her with his nasty remark this morning, she’d been happy to have time alone. She hadn’t even been able to escape him at lunch because he’d insisted she join him, Mitch and Julie, the newly hired director of shared services, for lunch at a South Beach Thai restaurant.
Her plan to regain what she and Rand had once had was on shaky ground because she couldn’t get past his anger and distrust. She’d lost hope this morning after their ugly confrontation, and she needed to regroup and rethink her plan.
Maybe…maybe this new bitter version of Rand wasn’t a man she could love.
Her fingers tightened on the tape dispenser and the serrated edge dug into her flesh. Exhaling, she made a conscious effort to relax her grip before she drew blood.
She could hear the sound of Rand’s footsteps cross the hardwood floor. He stopped just behind her right shoulder. His scent and warmth reached out to her, and she had to fight the urge to turn and lay her head against his chest. Tonight had been hard, like saying goodbye to her mother all over again. But she’d known it would be. That’s why she’d avoided this task so long.
“Why are you packing? You can’t leave. You signed a contract.”
“I’m packing up my mother’s things. It’s something I should have done a long time ago.”
She chanced a peek at him from under her lashes. His green and gold eyes searched her face, then scanned the room, taking in the portable toilet, wheelchair and walker and the bedroom suite from Tara’s old apartment.
When her mother could no longer climb the stairs, Tara had done her best to make her comfortable in this makeshift bedroom. Her mom had gone downhill fast in her last six months. She’d barely left this room except to be wheeled to doctors’ appointments. She’d spent most of her time in Tara’s wicker rocking chair in front of the bay window overlooking the back garden.