Standing, she shook her hand dry. “One of your school pals?”
“Not this time.” He slid his arm around her waist and started down the winding stairs that led from the house, down the bluff and toward the lagoon. “The architect is the stepbrother of my business partner. He had the place built from all regional materials. Most of the wood comes from Guanacaste trees…the fabrics are local weaves—”
“Whoa, hold on.” She touched his stomach lightly. “You have a business partner?”
“In my software company, yes.” Their flip-flops slapped each wooden plank on the way. “He provided the start-up funds.”
“But I thought you came from old money? The press all said your father—” She stopped short.
“That my father bought a big company for me.” He pushed past the sting of her assumption. He’d long ago accepted there were people who would always see him as a trust-fund kid. He could live with that, especially since it helped him when Salvatore needed him.
“What’s the real story?”
He glanced over at her, surprised she asked. “A school friend provided an infusion of start-up cash to get things rolling. So I can’t claim I did it all myself.”
“I’m guessing your friend earned his money back many times over.”
“Our company has done…well.” Troy plucked a blue bloom from a sprawling Gallinazo tree and tucked it behind her ear.
Smiling, she touched the flower as a toucan flapped on a branch above. “You said his stepbrother designed the place. Who is this architect?”
“Jonah Landis.”
“Of the Landis family?” Her eyebrows shot upward. “The stepbrother…is a Renshaw? Wow, you do have connections.”
The Landis-Renshaw family were financial and political powerhouses. They understood his intense need to protect his privacy.
This place offered the ultimate in seclusion, with nature’s soundproofing of a roaring waterfall and chattering monkeys.
His feet slowed as they reached the secluded lagoon. He set his bag on a mossy outcropping and tossed his hat on top, kicking off his sandals. He peeled his T-shirt over his head and—
Hillary stood on the edge of the shore in a bikini that glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Her smile was pure seduction as she backed into the water, bottle of shampoo in hand.
His erection was so damn obvious in his swim trunks, immediate, total immersion in the waterfall would be the best course of action. He climbed up the nearest rock ledge and dived in.
He parted the water with his hands, swimming closer and closer to Hillary. Her aqua-colored suit blended with the shades in the water until she appeared naked. Just what his libido needed. Yes, he wanted to seduce her. But he wanted to be in control when he did it.
Right now, he felt anything but in control.
He surfaced next to her and plucked the shampoo bottle from her hand. “Mind if I help?”
“Knock yourself out.” She gave him the shampoo and disappeared underwater. The flower in her hair floated free. She shot back up again, her hair drenched and slicked back.
He squeezed shampoo in his palm then pitched the bottle back to shore. Facing her, he smoothed the shampoo along her soaked auburn locks. “How was your sister?”
The feel of her hair in his hands struck a primal chord deep inside him.
“Busy. As usual. She has the husband and kids and the big farmhouse. Our parents’ old house, actually.” Her head lolled back into his hands. “Where are your parents now?”
“I honestly don’t know or care.” His fingers clenched the rope of sudsy hair in his hands.
Her head tipped to the side as she studied him through narrowed eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Nothing upsetting about it. Just facts. You left home. So did I.” Stepping behind her so she couldn’t read his expression, he worked up the lather, massaging along her scalp. “Go ahead and say what you’re thinking.”
“I still keep in contact with my mother.”
“I’m glad for you.”
“I’m sorry for you. And I’m sorry I even brought this up.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He slid his soapy hands along her shoulders, down her arms. Her silky skin sent lust throbbing through his veins, made him ache to peel away Hillary’s suit and explore every soft inch of her rather than talk about his damn family. “My folks are living happily ever after, soaking in the sympathy of their friends over the huge disappointments their children have been.”
“You’re a billionaire, a successful software entrepreneur. You’ve turned your life around.” She started to shift around to face him, but he stopped her, bringing her back flush against him instead. “They should be proud.”
Her voice hitched, and she relaxed against him, her bottom nestled against his erection.
“I’m a self-centered playboy,” he said against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her minty shampoo. “But of course I do outscore my jailbird brother.”
“What made him start using in the first place?” She reached back to cradle his cheek. “Where were your parents then? Or when he was in rehab?”
“We’re adults. We take responsibility for our own actions.” His heart pumped faster the harder she pushed the subject.
“But you weren’t adults then.”
Enough.
Enough of her trying to rationalize his past so he fit her mold of morality. He gripped her shoulders and turned her around to face him, needing her to see him, him as he really was. “We were old enough to know right from wrong and we both chose to do the wrong thing. There are consequences for that.”
“Were the two of you close?” She clasped his wrists and just held on, her touch gentle but firm.
“We alternated between hating each other and being best buds. He sent me care packages at school—almost got me expelled with some of the crap he included.” The memory made him smile…for a second, anyway. “I visited him in rehab to return the favor. A lot of the families there had reasons for what happened—abuse or depression leading to drug use. My brother had the same excuse I did. He was bored.”
She squeezed his wrists. “I’m sorry, but I’m not letting your parents off that easily. At the very least, they were neglectful.”
This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d intended and this outing sure as hell wasn’t going the way he’d planned.