At least one positive thing about this marriage in name only was that they didn’t have to live under the same roof. After less than an hour alone in his house with her, he was a finger snap away from tossing her over his shoulder and spiriting her off to his bed.
Thank goodness he wasn’t going to share his living space with her day and night. His control would snap like a dry twig if he had to put up with her sassy humor and artless sensuality. Before she could remind him of their agreement, he’d have her in his bed, her beautiful body writhing in pleasure.
Making love to her would only be the beginning. Soon she’d be ferreting out all his ugly childhood secrets and he’d be living in fear that something she discovered would be so awful she’d cut him out of her life.
And then he’d be alone again, turned inside out, his raw emotions exposed for all the world to see. No. That was something that could never happen. And if he kept her at arms’ length, it wouldn’t.
Four
At eight the next morning, Violet found JT in the room he’d dubbed his playroom. She paused just outside the door, needing a second to collect her wits before approaching him.
Clad in worn jeans and a black cotton button-down shirt, he was bent over what looked to be an antique pool table. With his left hand, he rolled the eight ball toward the far bumper and caught it as it returned, all the while studying the papers scattered over the table’s beige felt. The briefcase she’d filled with Tiberius’s files sat empty on the floor beside his bare feet.
Being confronted by so much casual masculinity first thing in the morning wasn’t fair. Especially not after she’d lain awake staring at the ceiling until the sun starting lightening the horizon, regretting that she’d kissed him, wishing she’d dropped her towel when he confronted her on the pool deck. Her conflicting desires were tearing her apart. She’d have to choose one path and commit to it.
“Did you get some tea?” he asked without glancing her way.
His question made her realize she’d been silently staring at him for far too long. “Your housekeeper made me a cup. It’s delicious.” She didn’t need to ask why his kitchen was stocked with four different blends of green tea. She already suspected the house saw a lot of guests. While in Miami, JT had been known for his parties. She doubted much had changed in the last six years. “Find anything that might help us?”
“My uncle accumulated copious amounts of information and enjoyed making detailed notes on all his business dealings. Every share he bought is documented. What I’m missing is the information on the family members who turned him down.”
She drew close enough to the table to see that he’d created two lists of names. From past experience she knew how much Tiberius loved to collect information. The files from his home office overflowed with details—some of them helpful, most of them too trivial to waste time on.
“Let me help. Maybe I can speed things up.”
She waited for him to acknowledge her offer, but he remained lost in thought. Had he not heard her, or did he want to handle everything himself? If it was the latter, too bad. She’d come up with this plan and intended to be involved at every stage. Running her gaze down JT’s list of relatives who still owned their stock, she saw he’d notated which ones were definitely in Preston’s pocket.
“You should know Paul and Tiberius had a huge argument three years ago,” she said, indicating his mother’s cousin. “Something about a rare comic book that Tiberius and Paul supposedly bought together using Tiberius’s money when they were eight. Paul kept the comic book, but never paid Tiberius for his half and now it’s worth like ten grand.”
She shook her head. No matter what the comic’s worth, it was silly to still be feuding about it all these years later, but Tiberius wasn’t one to forgive a slight. She glanced at JT’s strong profile. It was a characteristic Tiberius shared with his nephew.
“Thanks.” JT made a note next to Paul’s name and returned to the file he’d been reading.
“You’ve gotten a lot done.” She assessed how he’d organized the files, and then pulled five out to make a third pile. As she finished, she noticed JT’s glare. “What?”
“I had a system.”
“And now it’s better.” She flipped open the top file and pointed to a gossip article about his third cousin. “Casey is in the middle of a nasty divorce. He has a mistress with very expensive taste tucked away and I believe she sees herself as the next Mrs. Casey Stone. Then there’s the problems he’s been having with his investment firm. He’d probably be receptive to an influx of cash.”