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Embrace My Heart
AlTonya Washington


Is she ready to trust again?All of the delights and none of the drama - that's what heiress and gallery owner Vectra Bauer wants from her fling with Qasim Wilder. The gorgeous financial adviser has been Vectra's platonic friend, but now, after the end of her last painful relationship, she's ready to take a small risk and open her heart.Settling for a little of anything isn't Sim's ideal. Possessive by nature, he makes no secret of how much he wants Vectra. And he can't understand why she's hiding from their intense connection that's way more than just physical. The man who always gets what he wants is embracing his biggest challenge yet: to make the woman he adores believe in love once more…







Is she ready to trust again?

All of the delights and none of the drama—that’s what heiress and gallery owner Vectra Bauer wants from her fling with Qasim Wilder. The gorgeous financial adviser has been Vectra’s platonic friend, but now, after the end of her last painful relationship, she’s ready to take a small risk and open her heart.

Settling for a little of anything isn’t Sim’s ideal. Possessive by nature, he makes no secret of how much he wants Vectra. And he can’t understand why she’s hiding from their intense connection that’s way more than just physical. The man who always gets what he wants is embracing his biggest challenge yet: to make the woman he adores believe in love once more...


Qasim blinked, understanding pooling in his gaze. “You think I brought someone here with me?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is going on with you? Why would you say you don’t want to be friends anymore? Did I say something? Do something wrong—” She was silenced when he caught her elbow in a firm yet remarkably gentle grasp and pulled her away from the crowd.

Vectra held on to Qasim’s arm so she wouldn’t stumble on her chic yet outrageously high heels. Qasim didn’t stop moving until he’d found an unoccupied, remote section of the terrace. The structure ran the entire rear of Dazzles and overlooked the garden dining room below.

His hands smoothed up from her elbow to cup her slender neck, practically covering the entire column beneath his wide palm. His fingers played in the short crop of her blue-black hair where it tapered at her nape. His thumb tilted her chin up and back, studying the expression haunting her lovely face.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Vec. Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered. The repeated words were silenced when his tongue outlined her mouth.

He groaned, then took total possession of her mouth.


Dear Reader (#u0c3918d8-2c68-5989-b1d3-9dba324f271a),

Vectra Bauer used to be an outgoing sort before a relationship gone wrong caused her to shut down the part of herself that was willing to trust and willing to love. Meeting Qasim Wilder changes all that, and so begins one of the sexiest stories I’ve crafted in a long time. What starts off as friendship smoothly merges into an involvement that pulses with desire and seduction. Qasim makes no apologies for his possessive nature, and Vectra quickly realizes that she’s incapable of resisting the urge to give herself over to the stirring vibes that all but radiate from the man.

The alluring San Francisco and California wine country set the stage for this deliciously sensual tale that is not without its share of dangers when someone very close to our hero wreaks unexpected havoc. I do hope you’ll enjoy the ride!

Thanks for reading!

Love,

AlTonya

altonya@lovealtonya.com


Embrace My Heart

AlTonya Washington






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ALTONYA WASHINGTON has been a romance novelist for nine years. Her novel Finding Love Again won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Multicultural Novel in 2004. Her 2012 title His Texas Touch, second in the Lone Star Seduction series, won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Mills & Boon Kimani Romance. She enjoys being a mom and librarian in North Carolina.


To this mysterious, maddening

and marvelous thing called Love!


Contents

Cover (#ue4656564-e180-5862-8f96-7bb4a868bd07)

Back Cover Text (#ub353cce9-0663-53f7-b65b-5aecde4a1f44)

Introduction (#u15164611-11b8-51d1-9db2-d9b83da7bc7c)

Dear Reader

Title Page (#uc93a9989-d421-5c89-b28d-8d2e916e4e53)

About the Author (#uaf7321da-861a-53e1-9697-21e35f70530d)

Dedication (#ucefb1575-49b1-5775-9ec3-cec85e42052b)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#u0c3918d8-2c68-5989-b1d3-9dba324f271a)

Chasing a man wasn’t something she did.

Come on, Vec, it’s Qasim Wilder.

Vectra Bauer thinned her lips and tried to drive the silent reminder from her mind.

She guessed that most women would likely deem Qasim Wilder a man worthy of being chased.

Truth be told, Vectra herself could easily subscribe to the same notion if not for the fact that the man in question had been acting decidedly weird for the past few months.

They had enjoyed what she’d considered a pretty nice friendship until he had very noticeably begun to distance himself. As a woman who maintained a short list of close friends, Vectra couldn’t afford to lose any—weird acting or not.

Which came to the point of her visit: chasing a man, indeed. She cast yet another speculative glance around the fortieth-floor private lobby outside the office for the president of Wilder. Qasim’s financial savvy was as coveted as his looks. His name was so well known, his skills so respected, that there was no need to add additional wording to the business moniker.

Money was Qasim’s game, and he was loved for it. If only I were here to discuss business, Vectra thought. She rubbed a clammy palm across the flaring hem of a casual cap-sleeved frock that hugged her unintentionally athletic figure.

She’d come to discuss a party, of all things. Vectra puffed out her cheeks and tried to preoccupy herself by attempting to count the cars crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, which stood in distinctive red splendor across the Bay. She managed to content herself with the fact that she at least didn’t have to worry over being turned down. After all, she wasn’t there to extend an invite.

The distinguished Mr. Wilder had made it very clear that a friendship with her was something he no longer had time for.

At least that was what his actions had suggested. Qasim had yet to come out and tell her what exactly had his boxers twisted. Rolling her eyes away from the stunning bridge, Vectra gave a mental sigh. Thoughts raging, she worked hard at putting her focus elsewhere. Periodicals were neatly arranged on a low marble coffee table set in the center of the lobby’s upscale reception area. She wondered if she’d be waiting long enough to pick one of them and dive in.

“Vectra?”

It took a second or three for her to realize someone had actually called her name and that it hadn’t been her trusty inner voice. She turned, an instant smile curving her mouth when she saw Qasim’s assistant, Minka Gerald. She stood a few feet away from the large oak desk that occupied a spot in the workplace, which claimed almost the entire wall opposite an impressive line of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Minka quickly closed the distance between them. “Gosh, it’s been forever!”

“It has.” Vectra squeezed Minka’s hands when the woman gave hers a shake. She could feel some of her apprehension dissolve as Minka’s sunny demeanor worked its charms upon her.

“What are you doing waiting in the lobby?” Minka stopped squeezing Vectra’s hands and tugged them insistently. “You’ll be a lot more comfortable in Qasim’s office.”

“Minka...” Vectra bit her lip for an instant. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Ah.” Minka poked out her tongue and buzzed out a breath. “He’s at lunch and won’t be a bit happy to find you waiting in the lobby. Even if it is a private one.”

Vectra didn’t have the heart to tell the woman that what would probably make her boss happiest was for her not to be there at all. She decided against arguing. She was returning to the waiting area to collect her bag when a man arrived at Minka’s desk.

“Mink! Sim around?”

“Hey, Will.” Minka threw a smile over her shoulder. “He’s still at lunch.”

The man tapped the edge of the thin manila folder against his palm. He appeared to be weighing his options. “Any idea how long he’ll be? I got some stuff for him to sign.”

“Well, he left before I did.” Minka secured her burgundy tote into a bottom drawer along the black credenza behind her desk. “I’m not sure how long he’s been gone and when he does get back you’ll still have to wait.” She gave a slight nod past the man’s shoulder.

“William Lloyd, Vectra Bauer,” Minka made the introductions.

Will met Vectra between the waiting area and Minka’s desk, where he shook her hand. “Pretty sure Sim’ll be much happier to see you here than me.”

Vectra smiled, humored by the man’s tease. “Don’t count on it.”

“Is there anything I can do, Will?” Minka offered.

“I don’t see why not.” Will turned, brows rising as his gaze crested above Minka’s head. He grinned. “But no need to worry yourself.”

“Sim.” Minka laughed. “Great timing.”

Vectra turned, too. She wasn’t all that surprised to find Qasim Wilder wearing a dour expression, which he aimed directly at her. “Hey, Qasim,” she managed, albeit softly.

“Vectra.”

She could detect obvious surprise riddling Qasim’s deep, soft voice. An edgier quality tempered the sound, however, before he seemed to lose all interest and completely dismissed her.

Qasim moved with his trademark stealth. An asset honed by his years in the military. He extended a hand toward the other man.

“Sorry for the bother, man.” Grinning, Will heartily engaged in the handshake. “I need the go-ahead for a few things. Need your name on the line before I can move forward. Hotel people are some picky folk.”

“What’s up?” Qasim took the folder Will offered.

“Mostly pricing details. They want to know if I’m authorized to accept the quotes.”

“All right.” Qasim scanned the folder’s contents. “I’ll get this back to you soon.” He passed the file to Minka. “Let’s see about drafting a document for Will to have on hand as proof that I’ve given him the authority to make any decisions needed to organize this thing.”

Minka smiled at Will. “I’ll have the folder ready as soon as Sim has time to look it over. We’ll have to give you a call once legal draws up the signing doc, okay?” She looked to her boss for approval.

Qasim’s nod was confirmation enough and then he left the group.

Feeling thoroughly snubbed as he strolled off without another word, Vectra forbade herself from making one move. From the corner of her eye, she could almost see Minka and Will exchanging curious looks over Sim’s slight. She gave a start when a loud knock echoed out over the space.

Qasim had returned to the lobby and was looking at Vectra from where he’d dropped the loud knock against the wall that shielded the long corridor leading to his office suite.

“You coming?” he called.

Vectra heard no hospitality in the words, only tense patience. She watched his inky-black stare scanning the length of her and wondered whether Minka or Will could read their boss’s mind as easily as she did.

Apparently, they had noticed their boss’s agitation. They quickly left her side. Minka returned to her desk.

“Nice to meet you.” Will squeezed Vectra’s arm on his way past.

“Same here,” Vectra called to his departing figure.

She could have easily been amused by the sense of dread filling the area were she not the one caught in the crosshairs.

Qasim didn’t wait for her to reach him at the corner of the hallway. Instead, he headed on down the carpeted, portrait-lined space. Vectra attempted to assess his mood as he walked before her. Not that his icy manner in the lobby hadn’t been hint enough, but he acted like she’d been the one to go all antisocial when it’d been the other way around.

At any rate, it was no hardship to follow and observe him at a distance. Qasim’s love for outdoor activity was evident even beneath his standard suit-and-tie work attire. That day, a walnut-brown three-piece suit adorned his toned, licorice-dark frame.

They had been friends long enough for her to know that he hated ties. He usually discarded whichever one he wore either just before or right after lunch. The guy loved his comfort and the fact didn’t diminish the stunning craftsmanship of his body or face.

Bottomless dark eyes competed with the ebony richness of heavy brows and the sleep cap of hair he wore close cut. His facial hair was tamed into an intentional five o’clock shadow that partly hid a cleft chin and the faint lines that proved he was easy with his smiles.

Vectra blinked suddenly, at once regretting and realizing how much time she’d taken to admire the man’s face and form. The fact made her wonder whether she’d subjected any of her other male friends to such scrutiny. Doubtful. Her male friends were just that—just friends. Or, rather, they had been...until she met Qasim; he was a male friend she would have preferred become much more.

He opened one of the towering maple doors leading to his office. Vectra quickened her pace when she realized he was going to hold it for her as though she were an actual welcomed visitor. In spite of his polite manners, however, she could’ve sworn she picked up on a low yet distinctive sound of agitation. That sound rumbled through his chest when she passed him on her way into the room.

If ever there was an office that personified its owner, it’s Qasim’s, she thought.

The place was a testament to pretty much everything he held dear. One far, expansive corner was a hive of activity with wide-screen monitors broadcasting both financial and sports news from their perches atop a pair of pristine maple desks. Towering bookcases lined the room and were filled with pictures, plaques, awards and books spanning a range of genres. Above the cases nearest the desks was a stock ticker.

Vectra set her tote on one of the square black leather chairs that surrounded an impressive gaming area. She wondered if nice or nasty was the way to begin their conversation. She didn’t have long to debate.

“Coming to invite me to another party, Vec?”

The words carried over Qasim’s broad shoulder as he headed into his work area. He removed his suit coat, slung it over the back of the sofa he passed and smiled in her direction when he turned.

Okay, then...she decided, accepting that the conversation would be a tad strained. “Actually, I came to ask why I’ve been selected as the lucky one to get the brunt of the petty side of your personality?”

He smiled. While the gesture held a great deal of humor, the air of agitation remained.

“Qasim?” Vectra’s attempt to remain steely gave way, and her curiosity got the better of her. “Why are you angry with me?” She didn’t care for the pleading tone that clung to her words, but she wanted answers.

Qasim appeared taken aback, but recovered soon enough. “I’m not angry with you.” He made a pretense of reviewing the folders lying open on his desk.

“Well, you’re something. What’d I do?” Curiosity had given way to a smidge of self-consciousness while she stood before him. Something changed. His smile was gone, and the look that replaced it was observant in a way that made Vectra flush with heat.

Another of the agitated rumbles surged in Qasim’s chest, and he pushed back the wide black leather chair behind his desk.

Vectra could hear nothing over her heart beating wildly as anticipation had its way with her.

Qasim didn’t take a seat in the chair; instead, he headed in Vectra’s direction and then shifted toward the maple wet bar, which displayed a wide array of liquor bottles in various shapes and sizes.

Quietly, Qasim went about preparing Vectra’s vodka tonic, which he set firmly upon the bar top. From the full-size black fridge behind him, he retrieved his beer of choice and popped the top.

He tipped the bottle to his mouth. “I’m not angry with you.”

Vectra stood in place, nervously rubbing her fingers together while she observed Qasim with a wary gaze. He motioned with his bottle for her to take the vodka. Vectra didn’t care how eagerly she accepted. The drink went a long way in calming her ridiculously frazzled nerves.

The lush line of Qasim’s mouth grew even lusher as a smile emerged. She rolled her eyes. “You said that already, so excuse me for not believing you.” She gave him her back, keeping the drink clutched securely between her hands.

Qasim allowed his emotions greater purchase while Vectra’s back faced him. He didn’t realize the blackness of his stare softened as it always did when just the mere thought of her stirred.

He watched her sip from the glass but noticed that she didn’t empty it. She put more distance between them, which gave him time to absorb the missed sight of her.

The more time they spent together, the more she stunted his ability to properly think or even speak. He’d masked it for as long as he could. When he could no longer do that, he latched on to his only option.

Because he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted much more.

She finished her drink and turned on him. “You shut me out. I thought we were friends and then you—you stopped calling, stopped taking my calls. Why? What’d I do?”

Qasim took another swig of his beer and gave a half shrug. “Guess you won’t accept the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ defense?”

“No.” She produced a cool smile and set her glass on the bar with more force than needed. “And I’ve got a good conversation starter since clearly you can’t get the discussion going. Robb’s party? It’s tonight. When we spoke a while ago, I got the impression that you didn’t have a date, either, so I thought we could go together. When you shot me down, I decided to ask someone else. He turned me down, too, but thankfully he told me why he had to say no before I ran off to embarrass myself by asking someone else.”

“Lew?” At her confirming nod, Qasim rolled his eyes.

Lewis Olin was a mutual friend who struggled with the concept of keeping secrets. While people tended to admire the man’s honesty, they often found the trait to be a nuisance.

“Why don’t you want anyone else to take me to the party?” Her voice was quiet.

“I didn’t tell him that.” Qasim finished his beer and turned to the bar fridge for another just to have a reason to shield the truth from his eyes.

“No, Qasim, you told Lew you’d break his hand before he could press the send button when he mentioned calling me to ask me to Robb’s party. Why would you say that?”

“I didn’t mean it.” Silently, though, Qasim feared that the threat had been all too real at the time. He lost his taste for the second beer, slamming the fridge door shut to round on her. “You’re an idiot if you don’t know why I wouldn’t want anyone else to take you out.”

“I’m no idiot, Sim.” At least not about that. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“I can’t be your friend.” Qasim pushed off the bar, massaging the bridge of his nose.

Vectra blinked twice in rapid succession. The words were like a slap, yet they hadn’t rendered her speechless. “You can’t be my friend and you don’t want anyone else to be my friend, either?”

Qasim was returning to his desk when her accusation reached his ears. Her voice carried a lost chord, forcing him to turn and face her. He couldn’t speak for simply wanting to look and to fantasize.

The woman had too many male friends who were just friends. While that fact pleased him, it had unfortunately given her the false perception that any man she categorized as such would remain true to the label and want nothing more.

He’d known he was unworthy of the friendship title from the day he met her.

Hell, who could blame me? he thought, fully allowing himself to appreciate her.

He knew she had an unnatural disdain for exercise. The lack of activity seemed to have had no adverse effects on her body, though. Her svelte figure was encased beneath a dress that emphasized shapely legs that he’d dreamed of having wrapped around his back. Her breasts were ones he very much wanted bared to his gaze.

Her dark hair was cropped into a pixie cut. The chic style accentuated the oval beauty of her rich, caramel-toned face. Further illuminating her features was a hauntingly lovely pair of walnut-brown eyes.

“Qasim?” Vectra snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

She had moved closer, stopping inches before where he’d taken a seat on the edge of his desk. His reflexes were swift, and he captured her wrist, which caused her to bite her lip in an attempt to hide a gasp.

“You have a habit of underestimating your so-called friends,” he said.

“Obviously.” She tried to tug her wrist free of his hold. “Not everyone is like you, Qasim. Some people know what it’s like to be a friend.” She decided to lash out with her words as breaking free of Qasim’s grip was rather out of the question.

He stood, smiling down ill-humoredly from his height advantage. “Some people know what it’s like to be a friend, Vec, but I don’t think you have a clue what it’s like for a man to be friends with a woman when he can’t be.”

He released her so suddenly that Vectra stumbled a little. She let the momentum propel her toward the chair where her tote bag lay. Grabbing a handle, she made it to the office door and left it swinging open in the wake of her departure.


Chapter 2 (#u0c3918d8-2c68-5989-b1d3-9dba324f271a)

Qasim returned to his desk once Vectra had stormed out. He braced one hand on the edge to support his weight, but he refused to sit.

He’d hurt her—deeply. While it hadn’t been his proudest moment, he hoped she’d stay away from him as a result. He wasn’t a complete dunce; he knew she was attracted to him and sensed it had occurred to her that he knew.

A few months ago, he’d decided to pull back. She was pissed at him now, but the circumstances of their current situation were far more favorable than the one she’d have to deal with when she discovered how in over her head she could be with him. The very last thing he wanted was for her to fear him. She surely would if she realized how deep his attraction to her really went.

There was a quick knock and a second’s hesitation before the office door opened a sliver. Minka stuck her head in. “Is it safe in here?” she called, her small round face carrying an uncertain smile. “What’d you do? Vectra looked ready to kill somebody when she walked out of here.”

“I told her the truth.” Qasim claimed the big chair behind his desk. “She’s got no idea what it’d mean to be ‘friends’ with a man like me.”

“And I’m guessing you let it end there and didn’t bother to tell her what you really meant?”

“I don’t want her afraid of me, Mink.”

“And because of that, you’re not willing to give her the benefit of the doubt?” Minka spread her hands apart in a what-the-heck gesture. “So you don’t like the idea of other men around her. A lot of women would find that an attractive trait.”

“Would you?” he challenged.

Minka shrugged. “I...I think I’d enjoy it. Yeah.” She sighed, smiling smugly. “I’d feel secure, treasured, as long as the guy didn’t get too weird about it.” She stopped when Qasim ticked a finger in her direction as though she’d said something magical.

“That’s it. I don’t know how weird I’d get considering the fact that yesterday I threatened a very good friend for just wanting to pick up the phone and call her.”

“Ouch... Not good.” Minka scrunched her nose.

“This is worse. He told her all about it.” Qasim closed his eyes, rested his head against the chair’s high back. “He’s one of those ‘honesty is the best policy’ folks.”

“Sometimes it is.” Minka smiled. “With things being more out in the open, she won’t let you hide behind the ‘we can’t be friends and that’s that’ argument.”

Qasim worked the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t. I mean, what’s the problem?” Minka claimed a spot on one of the sofa arms. “Vectra’s gorgeous, funny, smart. The men who work for you make a point of stopping by the office when they know she’s in the building.”

The news didn’t set well with Qasim if the muscle flexing wildly along his jaw was any indication. He lowered his hand, letting his elbow rest along one of the chair’s wide arms. He looked toward Minka with keen interest and much humor. “Is that why Will really stopped by?”

“No.” Minka laughed. “He really does need those signatures.” She reached for the folder she’d brought in with her. “It’s probably a good thing that he decided to drop by.” She went to hand her boss the paperwork. “It’s become a lot more expensive to host charity events these days.”

“Hmph.” Qasim opened the folder. “When there’s a charity that brings in millions, everyone wants their cut.”

“So you agree it’s a waste of money?”

“A waste of money for a good cause,” Qasim countered, sleek brows united to form a studious frown.

“So who says we have to waste it? Why don’t you just have the thing at your place?”

“Not big enough.”

“Says the man living in the two-million-dollar condo.” Minka shook her head. “How about your place at Sea Cliff?”

“Don’t like it.”

Minka gasped. “Says the man living in the four-million-dollar house!”

“All right, then.” Qasim smiled indulgently. “I admit I just don’t want the aggravation of it. There’s a certain convenience in not using your own place as the venue. Besides, neither of those places is right for accommodating that many people for a long weekend, hence the reason I always use hotels for this.”

Qasim’s midyear charity event was a highly anticipated gathering that benefited the summer camps he held each year for deserving high school football players. Thanks to the funds raised by Qasim’s Wilder Warriors Foundation, deserving students and senior athletes were able to receive all-expenses-paid educations following graduation.

Qasim watched his assistant, who didn’t seem to be in full agreement with his reasoning. “Hell, Mink, are the rates that bad?”

“I believe so. Yes.” She waved toward the folder he studied. “The venues we have in mind are even more outrageous than usual.”

Although Qasim wasn’t above paying any cost to fund his events, Minka saw to it that her boss’s generous heart didn’t bankrupt him. Her policy was to see to it that all charity expenses were paid from charity money allotted for such spending instead of directly from Qasim’s personal accounts. She had successfully made that happen since the onset of Qasim’s goodwill endeavors.

“The rates aren’t deal breakers, but...”

“So go for it,” Qasim urged.

“It’s just—”

“Are the expense accounts well-funded?”

“More than. Only...” Minka trailed off, watching Qasim reach for a pen to sign the documents up for debate.

He smiled, noticing that his efficient assistant had already included a drafted document for the legal department to review regarding Will Lloyd’s decision-making authority for the foundation.

“Very nice,” he commented upon scanning the page.

Minka slipped off the sofa arm and took a bow. “Thanks and for my next feat, I’ll get things straightened out between you and Vectra.”

The easy expression Qasim was working to maintain began to waver. He clenched a fist and groaned. “I don’t think there’s any trick that good.”

“Sim—”

“I appreciate the effort, but there’s a lot you don’t know. It’s not my place to discuss it.”

“So you deny going after the woman you love and deny any other man the chance to go after her.”

Qasim shuffled through papers on his desk without really seeing them. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Minka walked over and took the folder from his desk. “She may not give you a choice.” Waving the folder, she turned on her heel. “I’ll get this finished.”

Qasim fixed his gaze on the fist he’d clenched before he slammed it onto his desk.

* * *

Vectra had never been one to take hints exceptionally well. She usually had to be hit right in the face with something before she got wise to the situation. She couldn’t help but think that was the case now. His words and demeanor were giving off the distinct impression that there was someone else.

Boy, wasn’t that the literal truth, she thought while speeding down the winding dirt road leading to Carro.

Named for Vectra’s parents Oscar and Rose Bauer, Carro was a remarkably breathtaking wine-country estate in Saint Helena, California. It was Vectra’s home and her oasis—a place for rejuvenation and meditation. A place to hide? She shook off that difficult truth and then thought, What the hell? So what if she wanted to hide? It was time to retreat a little.

She’d had her fill of humiliation. Qasim Wilder was a man who didn’t want to be friends with her. Fair enough. Fair enough. Only... Well, jeez, he had to know she wanted more than that. She should’ve told him so long ago. Now, she was happy that she hadn’t. Humiliating, indeed, once he had given her such a polite brush-off. Of course, there may not have been someone else had she not been too much of a coward to tell him that she’d wanted their friendship to take a more beneficial turn.

Vectra parked her luxury crossover a short distance from the turnoff leading to the main house. Leaving the vehicle, she walked a few feet to the wooden fencing that marked the entrance to Carro’s lush vineyards.

Unmindful of her pumps, Vectra propped a foot on one of the planks that constructed the massive fencing. Resting her elbows on the top plank, she bowed her head and made a weak attempt at working the kinks from her neck. She inhaled, at once comforted by the fragrant air kissed by the plump, sweet fruit that clustered about vibrant green vines.

The Carro land had been in Vectra’s mother’s family for centuries. Rose was a descendent of the Pomo Tribe, one of several Native American tribes that called Sonoma home. Rose had come from a family that understood the value of their land and defended their right to keep it.

That very land had been the dowry Rose Wolf had brought with her when she met and married Oscar Bauer, a young African-American agriculture consultant who had been making a name for himself among area farmers. He’d brought his skills from the North Carolina farm country he’d called home. In time, he built a respected business that thrived and diversified once he and his wife joined forces to cultivate the property.

The Bauers had managed to cultivate more than a respected vineyard for themselves and their surrounding neighbors. They’d cultivated what many would call an enchanted life for their two children. Vectra never had a shortage of friends, primarily the children of the adults who worked her family’s land.

It had been Vectra’s athletic, outdoorsy personality that had brought her more male than female playmates.

“Right...” Vectra inhaled deeply, willing the air to work more of its magic on her mood. “Outdoorsy, yes. Athletic... Not so much now,” she criticized herself, but felt comforted by the fact that she still had her friends. At least, she considered them friends. Qasim obviously disagreed.

The visit to his office had gone nothing like she’d planned. For weeks, she’d wanted to confront him about withdrawing from their relationship, but had resisted the urge. Discovering the way he’d threatened one of their friends had given her courage to confront him. She’d hoped to get him to tell her why he’d done it and in turn spark a discussion about what more could exist between them.

Sadly, the conversation had derailed and she had no idea how to get it back on track. At least she’d gotten out of there without making an even greater fool of herself. He’d met someone. Someone he was interested in being more than friends with.

A horn honked and she looked back, a sunny grin appearing when she spotted the Jeep behind her car and the man inside. She waited, watching her brother hop out from the driver’s side.

Oliver Bauer glanced at her car. “Are you on your way in or out?” He opened his arms wide to greet his baby sister and gave her a hug.

“Just getting back from the city.”

Vectra relished the embrace but reminded herself not to lean in to the reassuring hold for too long. She didn’t need Oliver questioning her mood. Her brother and father already worried too much over her.

“All the way from Frisco? Gallery business?” he asked, referring to one of two galleries Vectra owned.

“Just went to see a friend.” She shrugged. “Needed to shop for Robb DeWitt. His birthday party’s tomorrow night, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got an invite.” Oliver nodded, rubbing his jaw as he spoke.

“Who are you taking?” Vectra kicked at a loose thatch of grass and dirt, attempting faint interest.

“Not sure I’m even going.” Oliver rolled the sleeves of a black denim shirt over heavily corded forearms. “Guess you are?”

“I am.”

“Good for you.” Oliver gave her a sidelong glance. “You good?”

“Yeah...yeah, yeah.” She shifted her weight and cringed. “I just waited too long to get a date. I may have to go solo.”

“Solo.” Oliver made a face and moved past his sister to recline against the plank fence. “So all the good guys were taken, huh?”

“Not every good guy.” Vectra joined her brother, bracing her elbows against the fence and gazing up at him with an adoring smile.

Oliver grunted a laugh, his light, deep-set eyes reflecting more vibrancy in the sunlight. “The flattery, while true, will get you nowhere.”

Vectra rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“What about Qasim?”

She did a double take, put distance between her and Oliver. “Where’d that come from?”

Oliver merely shrugged off the question.

Vectra reciprocated the gesture. “I already asked him, anyway. He turned me down.”

“Seriously? He really turned you down?” Oliver looked incredulous.

Vectra’s smile reflected sympathy. “He really did, but it’s fine. I understand why he had to. He’s seeing someone.”

Oliver’s incredulous expression seemed to intensify into devastation. “He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to, Olive.” Vectra slapped her hands to her thighs and turned to take in the view beyond the fence once more. “He doesn’t want to be friends anymore—told me so himself—said he couldn’t be. Isn’t that male-speak for ‘I’m seeing someone else’?”

“I don’t know, Vecs... I think you might be way off.”

“Well...” Vectra dismissed the issue with an airy wave.

“So? Are you still gonna go even though no one asked you?”

Vectra accepted her brother’s good-natured ribbing with a laugh. “I already told Robb I’d go, and I’m having a new gallery event soon.” She shrugged, inhaled the fragrant air and sighed. “It’ll be good to get out and be seen before that.”

“New gallery thing, huh?” Oliver nodded approvingly. “That’ll be good for you. We—me and Dad—were wondering what your plans were for the place. You haven’t been spending a lot of time at either location.”

“Guess I have been a little preoccupied,” Vectra admitted. She kept quiet about the fact that it was because she’d been more interested in being available for Qasim Wilder whenever he called.

Oliver nudged her elbow.

“I suppose I could lower my standards yet again and take you since I haven’t had the time to get a better date.”

“Well, I appreciate your sacrifice!” Vectra laughed. “I’ll be sure not to depend on you for a ride home, though.”

“You offend me, Vecs.” Oliver planted a hand to the middle of his chest. “So it sounds like we have a date, but let me know if you get a better offer.”

“Doubtful.” Flashbacks of her chat with Qasim came to mind. She pulled back from the fence. “I’m heading to the house. You coming?”

Oliver gave a theatrical sigh while strolling with his sister. “Since I got nothin’ better to do.” He groaned upon receiving a shove for his honesty.

“I’ll meet you at the house.” Vectra tugged Oliver with her as she headed to her car, but her steps slowed the nearer she drew to it. “Olive? Why are you out here? Just in the area?” Her brother lived in San Francisco.

Oliver shrugged beneath the shirt he sported. “You’ve got your ex-friend to thank for that. Sim called me.”

She stilled. “Why?”

“He told me you guys had a not-so-nice conversation. Didn’t tell me what it was about, but he said you were upset and he wanted me to check on you. I was up at the marketing park,” he said, referring to the administrative offices for Carro Vineyards, “so it didn’t take long to drive over.”

It all still triggered Vectra’s curiosity. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“He’s protective of you. I get that.”

Vectra smiled, albeit sadly, understanding her brother’s meaning. “You and Dad have reason to be protective—even if it does drive me out of my mind.”

“Qasim isn’t like that bastard who put his hands on you, Vec. I don’t profess to be able to read the man’s mind, but I don’t think he’d ever put his hands on a woman that way.”

Vectra entwined her fingers with Oliver’s. “Neither do I,” she said, feeling a slight chill as memories of an unfortunate and long-dead relationship came to mind.

“He doesn’t even want to be my friend. Why bother?”

“Maybe the friendship role isn’t the one he was aiming for.” Oliver winked, leaned in to drop a kiss to his sister’s cheek. “See you at the house.”

Vectra watched her brother sprint over to hop into the Jeep and drive away in a flurry of dust. She leaned against the hood of her ride and delved into a bit of deep thought.

He doesn’t want to be my friend, doesn’t want any of my other friends to call or even take me out. He has my brother drive over to check on me afterwards... What the hell kind of game is he playing?

She was more than familiar with the protective—well, overprotective—element, being a direct recipient of it from her father and brother. Not wanting her to go out with anyone else, though? That held traces of possessiveness that she knew could be signs of other things...

She shook her head, reaching around to massage the knotted muscles at her nape. Qasim wasn’t like that. She knew him well enough, had enough...past experience to know that wasn’t in his nature.

There was something up with him, though, and she was too curious about what it was to let fear of humiliation stop her from getting to the bottom of it.


Chapter 3 (#ulink_ca67946d-2191-518a-a50b-243fa40af9e8)

“Great.” Vectra veiled the murmured phrase behind a tight smile. She found herself in San Francisco again the next morning, having arranged to meet her father for breakfast. She hadn’t expected to find him with his investment banker.

Qasim caught sight of her before Oscar Bauer realized his daughter had arrived. Whatever Qasim had been saying was silenced midsentence and he purposefully scanned Vectra’s body, which was encased in a curve-hugging magenta frock.

Vectra had but a moment to flash her father a greeting smile before he was completely eclipsed by Qasim when he approached her.

“Are you okay?” He’d invaded Vectra’s space, sending her back until her shoulder brushed the wall she stood closest to in the bar entryway of the bistro.

Her tight smile returned. “I’m all right,” she lied.

“Baby!” Oscar Bauer pulled his daughter into a crushing hug and then set her back to give her an adoring once-over. Satisfied, he reached up to clap Qasim’s shoulder. “Have this guy bring you to our table when you’re done.” He shook hands with Qasim then. “We’ll get together for drinks next week.”

“Sounds good, sir.” Qasim dropped his free hand over the one shaking Oscar’s.

“Thanks for sending Oliver out to check on me,” Vectra said once her father had walked on. She observed him closely, waiting to glimpse his response and hoping she’d taken him enough by surprise to get an honest reaction.

Qasim only offered the barest hint of a smile. “You’re welcome.” He offered her his arm. “Your dad’s waiting.”

She refused his arm. “That’s it?”

The smile ghosting around his alluring mouth gained definition.

Vectra blinked owlishly. “Is that a thing men do for women they don’t want to be friends with?”

She never knew whether he’d planned to respond. They were interrupted when a slender, attractive, dark-blond man jostled Qasim.

“Sorry, guy, thought I’d be late,” the man explained, his expression softening a bit further when he saw Vectra. “Well, well, what’s up, pretty lady?”

Vectra left off the budding tension-filled conversation to greet Austin Sharpe with a hug and cheek kiss.

“What’s goin’ on? How’s the fam?” Austin kept an arm about Vectra’s waist while making his inquiries.

While they chatted and carried on like the old friends they were, Qasim worked to keep his temper at bay. Jaw clenched, he hid a fist in a deep trouser pocket.

“...and I wanted to talk to you about putting together a cocktail party at your gallery,” Austin was saying.

Vectra’s cocoa eyes sparkled. “I like it. It’d be a perfect segue for an upcoming show I’m planning. You might want to send someone over to check the place out, make sure it’s right for what you’ve got in mind.”

“Actually, Vec, it’s the Miami gallery I’m interested in.”

Her eyes were positively luminous. “Now you’ve got my attention. Why don’t we get together and discuss it?”

Austin patted the small of her back. “I’ll call to see what your schedule’s like. Are your numbers still the same?”

“They are. How long will you be around?”

“I’m trying to work about three deals.” Austin smoothed a hand across his close-shaven jaw and grinned sheepishly. “That’s why I’m meeting with this guy.” He jerked a thumb in Qasim’s direction. “Killing all my birds with the same stone and I’m even heading out to Robb’s party tonight.”

“Me, too.” Vectra slapped Austin’s arm.

He eyed her speculatively. “Guess I don’t need to ask whether you’ve got a date already?”

Vectra used a flippant shrug as her response. “Hope that doesn’t mean you won’t come? I’ll be there, and I’m sure my date won’t mind us talking for a while.”

“Mr. Wilder?”

Qasim, Austin and Vectra turned toward the host who had interrupted.

“Your table’s ready, sir,” the man announced.

Austin squeezed Vectra’s arm once the host had moved on. “I’ll take what I can get. See ya tonight.” He kissed her cheek, clapped Qasim’s arm. “See you at the table, man.”

“Shall we?” Vectra looked from Qasim to the dining room and back again.

“You’ve got a date to Robb’s party?” he asked.

Smug, Vectra leaned close, pretending to straighten Qasim’s tie. “Guess you didn’t get around to scaring everybody away from me.”

Qasim brought his hands to her waist, cupping her hips firmly enough to keep her still before him. “Don’t play this game with me, Vectra.”

“It’s not a game I started, Qasim, and since games aren’t my style, consider this as me coming clean.” She moved closer, silently commanding herself not to swoon over the feel of his hands on her body.

“We were friends. Good ones. I wanted more—by more, I mean that I wanted to sleep with you. You had to know that.” She searched his bottomless eyes for a moment before she continued. “Yeah...I believe you did, and you withdrew anyway. I can accept that, but then you tell everyone else to stay away from me like I’ve got the plague? No, Qasim, I’m not playing a game. I only have questions. I’m guessing the answers aren’t all that easy for you to give.”

She glanced toward his hands, smothering her waistline. “Excuse me?” She waited, walking away when he released her.

* * *

The attentive server smiled engagingly while Austin Sharpe praised Qasim for his banking skills. She then laughed good-naturedly when Qasim told her that given all the money he was making Austin she should expect him to leave her an outrageous tip.

“Seriously now, man, about these investments. Should I buy stock in all three?” Austin queried while adding a wealth of cream to his coffee.

“Not all three.”

“Uh-oh.” Austin grinned. “So which one didn’t make the cut?”

Qasim stirred his preferred black coffee. “None of them made the cut.”

Austin stilled, the mug halting halfway to his mouth. “You’re kidding?”

“No...but I could if you just really have a need to throw good money away on worthless stock.”

“Forget I asked.” Austin sipped on the beige-hued coffee.

“So what’s goin’ on in Miami?”

“New investors I’m trying to woo.” Austin pushed at the shock of blond hair that consistently fell across his forehead. “I want a mixer that’s off the beaten path, hence me wanting to use Vectra’s gallery in Miami Beach.”

“I didn’t know you knew her that well.” Qasim managed the comment in spite of his clenching jaw.

Austin nodded amidst a chuckle. “I was an intern for her dad’s company—the man’s brilliant. I have a lot of respect for Oscar Bauer.”

“Second that,” Qasim added.

“Hmph...for all the good it did me.” Austin sounded playfully distressed.

Qasim tilted his head. “How so?”

Austin shrugged. “Well, it’s important to bond with the father of your intended,” he smiled, “but that was useless since I fell into the dreaded realm of friendship.” He looked up as if to measure Qasim’s reaction. “You know what I mean.”

Qasim toasted the man with his mug. “Explain it to me.”

“Look at her, Sim.” Austin nodded across the sun-strewn dining room where Vectra sat with her father. “I mean, what guy in his right mind would want to be ‘just friends’ with her?”

Qasim felt his eyelids grow heavy beneath the weight of unexpected agitation and knew a bit more effort was warranted to maintain his cool. “Are you telling me that if you had the chance, you’d show her why she was making a mistake putting you in that category?”

Austin’s expression changed to one that was unwaveringly serious. “As much as I’d enjoy a physical relationship with her, I’d never want her afraid to have me as a friend.” He shook his head, sending the blond shocks of hair tumbling across his brow again. “She trusts me. I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.”

Qasim barely nodded. “That’s good to hear.” Beneath the table, he unclenched the fist he hadn’t realized he’d made.

* * *

“Just put one of those little packets on the side.”

“Daddy. No.”

“What’s it gonna hurt?”

Vectra looked at their waitress. “Thanks, Kelly, that’ll do it. No salt packets for my dad.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kelly Dawes hid a smile as she scribbled something on her pad. “Sorry, Mr. B.,” she quietly tacked on before hurrying off to place the breakfast orders.

“Party pooper,” Oscar Bauer grumbled. “Now I remember why I rarely ask you out to eat anymore.”

“Hmph.” Vectra pretended to pout. “And I thought it was because you preferred my home cooking.”

Oscar snorted. “That, too.” He grinned and pulled his daughter close for another hug and kiss.

“So tell me about this trip of yours.” Vectra propped her chin on the backs of her hands. “Did you even take a little time out to just play around?”

Some of the light doused in the man’s long, expressive gaze. “You know playing around doesn’t have the same punch it used to when I had your mother to do it with.”

As far as Oscar Bauer was concerned, there was no woman he craved by his side other than his wife, but Rose had passed eight years prior.

“So did you give in to your obsession to acquire more land, or were you able to resist?” Vectra asked, eager to pull their thoughts away from sorrow.

“I only window-shopped.” An amused light began to creep into Oscar’s eyes, but not completely. “I wanted your advice before making any final decisions.”

“Dad?” Surprised, Vectra laughed a little.

“I’m serious, baby. It’s a place I could see spending the rest of my days. If it staggers you the way it did me when I saw it—” he shrugged “—then I’ll know I’ve found my spot. You’ve got your mother’s draw to the land. I’ll trust your reaction to it.”

“You’ve intrigued me, Daddy.” Vectra sighed in a mock haughty tone before she sobered. “Do you think the visit could wait until after this gallery show I’ve got coming up? I’ve got to visit the Miami gallery, anyway. I could detour and check out your spot before I do that.”

“Fantastic.” Oscar gave a single clap. He fixed her with an approving look and smile. “I see you haven’t been resting on your laurels while I was away.”

“Don’t you mean I haven’t been ‘hiding out’?”

“I didn’t say that.” Oscar shifted to a newer, more comfortable position in his chair. “But since you did, then yes. Yes, I am very glad to know that. I was concerned after talking to Oliver last night.”

“Right.” Vectra served up a rueful smile, at last realizing the true motivation behind the sudden invite to breakfast. “What, Dad? Did he tell you he was taking me to Robb’s party tonight?”

Oscar retrieved a minitablet from his inside suit coat pocket. “He may have mentioned it.”

“Daddy!”

“All right, all right, we talked about it, and just so you don’t go off trying to kill the boy, he actually stood up for you—told me he didn’t think there was anything we needed to be concerned about. You know how we get about you, baby. What you went through before...it did a number on us, too, you know?”

Vectra squeezed her father’s hand. The server returned with coffee for Oscar and tea for Vectra. She helped herself to several sips, waiting for the herbal blend to work its magic on the nerves her father and brother could so easily rattle with their overprotective natures.

Vectra didn’t hold it against them. They had every right to be protective of her after the nightmare she’d lived through. The fact that she hadn’t told them about it simply increased their tendency to worry that she’d suffer alone. She had discovered, though, that San Francisco and its surrounding areas encompassed a surprisingly small world. The Bauers were well-known. Word of her ex-boyfriend’s abuse, when he had taken to shaking her viciously during an argument in a popular restaurant, had quickly reached Oscar and Oliver.

“Daddy, I’m good. I’m doing fine, really.” She leaned in closer to him. “I only asked Olive to take me because I waited around too long before deciding I even wanted a date to the thing, and then all the good ones were taken.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Oscar scanned the dining room before looking her way again. “You and Sim seemed pretty close earlier.”

“Daddy...”

“Apologies, apologies.” Oscar raised his hands in a show of phony defense. “You know I have a soft spot for the boy. That’s one I wouldn’t mind for a son-in-law.”

“Hmm...and could that be because he has a talent for making you money?”

“No.” Oscar sounded playfully indignant and then he grinned. “Not entirely.”

He sobered, squeezing Vectra’s wrist.

“I know what a man looks like when he’s hopelessly around the bend for a woman. That’s the way Qasim Wilder looks when he looks at you.” Oscar shared his sage observation and then turned his focus toward the tablet, grinning when he found what he wanted.

“Lake Misurina, Italy,” he announced. “My hopeful retirement destination. Did you know that the last time Olympic speed skating was held on natural ice, this was the place it was held?”

“No, I—” Vectra blinked, working to fix her attention on the screen. “I didn’t know that.” She concentrated on what she was looking at, difficult given her thoughts were almost wholly centered elsewhere.

* * *

Qasim resisted the urge to order a straight shot of whiskey to chase his bacon and eggs. He watched Austin Sharpe head over to speak to his former mentor Oscar Bauer. Qasim habitually gritted his teeth when the man made a point of drawing Vectra into his arms while he chatted with her father. He’d already clenched his fists until his arms had grown numb. Unfortunately, looking away from the cozy scene across the room didn’t seem to be an option for him.

A dull ache hit his jaw when he recommitted to grinding his teeth. The sight of Austin patting Vectra’s hip promised to drain whatever restraint Qasim had lorded over his temper.

To say he had it bad for her seemed a pathetic description of how wildly his emotions raged when she was in his presence. He had a possessive nature that had always been a part of who he was. As a kid who really didn’t have much to be possessive of growing up, he had taught himself to stifle those emotions. It had been relatively easy. Growing up underprivileged, he had learned to wear the face of a kid who was anything but. That was before the hard work, which had brought success and wealth, allowed a modicum of those emotions to resurface, and he had indulged himself.

Even still, that possessiveness had been in relation to things. Never had it crept over to another person—a woman. Only to himself could he admit the slight fear his possessiveness had the tendency to instill. He and Vectra had struck up a friendship that had stemmed from a casual acquaintance while he’d advised Oscar Bauer on diversifying his stock portfolio. The more money he’d made the respected land developer, the more work it’d brought Qasim and the more opportunity he had to “run into” the man’s exquisite daughter.

Conversation and laughter had flowed freely between them. They’d never actually dated, but often wound up together when they found themselves at the same event. In the process of what he’d been sure had been politeness on Vectra’s part, possessiveness had reared its head for him. Those tendencies had settled in hard and fast.

He’d come to expect her company at the functions they attended. He’d keep her on his arm or within reaching distance for the duration of the event. She never seemed to mind. She was the sweetest, loveliest thing he had ever seen, but she saw him as only a friend—one of many.

She had been confused by his behavior. It was best since he obviously couldn’t rein in the stupid actions his sense of entitlement had driven him to. The way he’d behaved with Lewis Olin was proof enough of that.

Qasim muttered something foul, wishing he could kick his own ass for threatening the poor guy for simply picking up the phone to call her. She deserved an explanation, but he had no idea how to give her one now.

Oliver had been concerned when they’d gotten together for drinks several months prior. Vectra wasn’t of a mind to totally abandon her shell, and Oliver couldn’t gauge why after so long. He’d come to discuss it with Qasim. The two of them had become fast friends while Qasim had been reorganizing Oscar Bauer’s financial portfolio.

The two bottles of whiskey they’d gone through that night had loosened tongues and pickled their brains, but not so much that Qasim forgot the pain he heard in the other man’s voice as he shared his concern for his sister. Oliver was concerned that Vectra was still not venturing out on the dating scene.

Clearly, she wanted to enjoy herself, given the number of invitations she accepted. Despite the parties she’d attended and traveling she’d done, Oliver and his father could tell she was hiding, and she was too special to lock herself away.

Qasim fully agreed. He’d resisted the urge to ask out the heiress, not wanting his interest in her to complicate his business relationship with her father. The time he’d spent getting to know Vectra, however, was making that less and less of a repellant.

Then, Oliver’s loose tongue let slip an enraged curse upon the man who had “done that” to her. Qasim remembered both thanking and cursing his high tolerance for alcohol that night. Had he been more intoxicated, he may have forgotten Oliver telling him that his sister’s last relationship had damn near destroyed her. The man she’d given her heart to had chosen to reciprocate her love with his abuse.

Whatever buzz he may’ve had from the whiskey had ceased and was then absorbed by the wave of rage. He’d only gotten a last name out of Oliver before the man passed out. Thankfully, it wasn’t a last name Qasim recognized.

He knew enough, though. Not subjecting Vectra to his possessiveness became even more important after that revelation. He never wanted her to be afraid of him. He knew how much more of a possibility that could be if he let her see how little control he had over it.

He’d already blown it enough by threatening Lew. She was sure to shun him if he were to break some guy’s nose just for shaking her hand. Besides, he’d heard the stories of how a man’s possessiveness could be mistaken for love and the results it could bring. He wouldn’t subject Vectra to that.

A calmer, more rational part of his soul called out that he wasn’t that kind of man. Qasim discarded that as rubbish when he felt heat rush the back of his neck. Austin Sharpe, his arm still too snug about Vectra’s waist, was escorting her from the dining room.

* * *

“Image is everything. You know that.”

Vectra laughed while Austin relayed his lofty plans for her Miami gallery in collaboration with the event he wanted to hold.

“I’ve already had a thing on a yacht, but a gallery event would give me a chance to show off a different kind of style.”

“Is that the same thing as image?” she teased.

Austin spread his hands accommodatingly. “Of course.”

Vectra laughed, bracing a hand to his chest to steady herself.

“Vectra,” Qasim called, voice flat and deep across the lobby, drawing her and Austin’s attention.

“Sim.” Austin smiled.

Qasim didn’t spare the man a glance. “You done eating with your father?” he asked her.

“Well, I needed—” She stopped when he took her elbow, easing her out of Austin’s grasp. Vectra cast a surprised look over her shoulder to Austin and found that he seemed more amused than confused or angry.

He waved. “We’ll talk later, Vec. I need to get goin’, anyway. Catch up with you later, Sim.”

Vectra didn’t check to see if Qasim had acknowledged Austin with a look or nod. He was taking her back into the dining room.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, practically able to feel the heat radiating off him in angry waves.

“Who are you going to Robb’s party with, Vectra?”

The question caused her to stumble a bit. “Are you serious? Qasim, we need to talk.”

“We have.”

Vectra didn’t realize they’d already returned to the table until Qasim helped her back into her seat.

“Join us, Qasim,” Oscar Bauer offered.

Qasim’s hand lingered on the back of Vectra’s chair. “Maybe another time, sir.” He didn’t glance her way before he turned and left the dining room.


Chapter 4 (#ulink_3bb1f187-0e3a-5959-aed9-7ff07c59fc6f)

Vectra accepted her brother’s hand when he helped her down from his Jeep that evening. By that time, she’d almost forgotten how utterly bewildered she’d been early that morning.

“Good?” Oliver gave both her hands a shake when she stood before him on the sidewalk outside Dazzles. The restaurant-nightclub was owned by the party’s guest of honor, Robb DeWitt.

“I promise I’m good.” She eased a hand through the crook of his arm and squeezed. “Just please don’t abandon me the second we walk up in here. I need to get my balance on these heels first.”

Oliver’s laughter turned heads almost as much as Vectra’s dress. She was determined to enjoy herself. The little wiggle of anticipation haunting her spine was exciting, albeit annoying.

Vectra’s gown was fashioned from a shimmering, elegant material—a cross between silk and satin. She hadn’t known which, only that she loved it. Silver and turquoise ties secured the halter bodice that dipped scandalously low to the small of her bare back. The cool turquoise color was offset by the silver and turquoise folds of the skirt that flared elegantly about her ankles. Strappy silver heels peeked out to show off a fresh French pedicure.

She’d selected her dress with Qasim in mind even though her chances of seeing him were slim to none.

What the heck, she thought, smiling up and around at the energetic atmosphere.

She’d always enjoyed playing the odds whether or not they were in her favor.

Brother and sister spent the first ten to fifteen minutes greeting other guests they knew but parted ways soon after. Vectra had spotted someone she knew, and Oliver had no shortage of female acquaintances ready to pull him away with them.

Vectra laughed while hugging Derionte Weeks, the head chef for Dazzles.

“What are you doing out here when there are people to be fed?” she teased.

“I’m no fool, Vec. This is a self-service party.” He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. “The buffet is up on the VIP level.”

“Smart man.” Vectra arched a brow.

Derionte shrugged. “We’re actually testing out some dishes to see which’ll make the cut for Qasim’s charity thing coming up.”

“That’s right.” Vectra had almost forgotten the Dazzles cook staff had a standing job to work the highly anticipated event. “All that business is gonna earn you guys more than a few enemies.”

Derionte rolled his eyes. “Look who’s talkin’. The standing wine order comes from none other than Carro’s.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if your boss has a weakness for the best,” Vectra reasoned.

The music tempo changed and the two laughing friends immediately began to dance in place, syncing their moves to the upbeat nineties single.

Vectra and Derionte weren’t out of place. Most of the people in the room had broken out into dance whether they were on the dance floor or not. The single had always been one of Vectra’s favorites. She tossed her arms above her head, winding her hips as the grooves had their way with her body. She lost herself in the tune and didn’t begrudge the pair of hands that had come up to steady her waist.

Smiling and happy to greet another dance partner, Vectra turned. She barely avoided stumbling when she saw that it was Qasim who had come up behind her. The song faded into another upbeat but more mellow single. It was another favorite, but suddenly Vectra wasn’t in the mood for dancing. Her heart was beating way too fast to allow such activity.

“Sim.” Derionte greeted Qasim, who side-stepped Vectra to give the man a hug and handshake. “I was just telling Ms. Bauer here that Carro’s wine was on tap for your charity event.”

Qasim returned his hands to Vectra’s waist, deliberately smoothing them across her hips. “I hope that made Ms. Bauer happy.”

“Continued business is always good.” Vectra put on an easy expression for Derionte and tried to keep her mind off the way Qasim kept her back to his chest.

“We should set up a tasting to decide what’d go best with my menu. Are your folks out there workin’ on any new blends, Vec?” Derionte queried.

“Always.” She rested a hand against his forearm. “We should discuss it with your boss. I haven’t even told him happy birthday yet.”

“He’s up in the VIP level.” Derionte chuckled. “Says he’s gonna wait ’til a little later to make his appearance.”

Qasim and Vectra groaned playfully over their old friend’s penchant for grand entrances.

“Derry!” A petite waitress in a tuxedo-styled serving dress made her way through the crowd. “We need you in the kitchen.”

Derionte rolled his eyes. “Duty calls. Hey, y’all go on up,” he ordered, clapping Qasim’s shoulder before he followed the waitress back through the robust crowd.

Vectra dropped her easy expression and turned a scathing glare upon Qasim.

“Who’d you come here with?” He took the lead of the conversation.

Vectra stepped back, disengaging his loose hold on her hip. “Are you prepared to answer the same question?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Please. Are you really that clueless? Or are you just trying to play dumb? Because you’re pitiful at it if you are.”

Qasim blinked, understanding pooling in his gaze as if something had clicked. “You think I brought someone here with me?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell is going on with you?” Whatever reservations she’d had vanished as her curiosity took hold. “Why would you say you don’t want to be friends anymore? Did I say something? Do something wrong—” She grew quiet when he caught her elbow in a firm, yet remarkably gentle grasp and pulled her away from the crowd.

Vectra held on to Qasim’s arm so she wouldn’t stumble on her chic, yet outrageously high heels. Qasim didn’t stop moving until he’d found an unoccupied remote section of the terrace. The structure ran the entire rear of Dazzles and overlooked the garden dining room below.

His hands smoothed up from her elbow to cup her slender neck, practically covering the entire column beneath a wide palm. His fingers played in the short crop of her blue-black hair where it tapered at her nape. His thumb tilted her chin up and back, studying the expression haunting her lovely face.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Vec. Don’t be afraid of me...” he whispered. The repeated words were silenced when his tongue outlined her mouth.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he groaned, then took total possession of her mouth, backing her toward a remote corner of the terrace as he did so.

The contact was deep, seeking as he journeyed. He’d wanted her for so long and wasn’t about to be cheated from a second’s exploration.

Qasim invaded whatever personal space that existed between them as thoroughly as he invaded the sweet darkness beyond her lush lips. As close as he stood, he kept a hand at her hip, securing her against the smoothly finished wall at her back. He needed control—every ounce he could take. He knew that allowing her to be in charge of how close she got to him would very quickly get her stripped of a few choice articles of clothing as he helped himself to everything he needed from her.

* * *

Her tongue battled and engaged his as though it had a life of its own. Still, it took some time for Vectra to truly register that he was kissing her. She’d wanted it, had fantasized about it more times than she cared to admit—had pleasured herself over the way she’d imagined the experience. None of that even breached how wondrously shattering it was in reality.

God, but the man could kiss. He kept a hand firm at her hip when she so desperately wanted to seal herself against him. She had no complaints, however, about what she was being given leave to enjoy. He’d exchanged the ravenous intensity behind his lusty kisses for a more languid invasion.

Vectra reciprocated, winding her tongue slowly about his and then following up with an even more maddening suckle. Her heart, already lodged in the back of her throat, managed to flip when the sound of his whimper reached her ears.

He relaxed into her then, setting her more securely against the smooth wall. It was Vectra who nearly whimpered then. She steadied the movement of her lips, but her fingers frantically roamed his back through the crisp dark material of his shirt. As nice as the fabric felt beneath her fingers, she wanted him out of it.

Such was not to be, it seemed. Her fingers skimmed the buttons of the shirt. She wanted it parted and revealing the chest that felt like a slab of chiseled magnificence under her palms. She had but a few seconds to absorb the pleasure of the unyielding surface before he imprisoned both her wrists in his hand.

Qasim had just as much difficulty policing himself from snagging loose the ties that secured the halter bodice of her dress. He didn’t dare lower his hands. One touch of her bare back would be his undoing. It was hard enough shackling her hands when all he wanted was to run his own across the flawless beauty of her caramel-toned skin.

He ended the kiss, but he couldn’t resist another taste, beckoned by the sight of the pink tip of her tongue just visible beneath her sensually bruised lips.

Vectra arched into him, circling her arms about his neck. The groan he uttered rumbled as though it were somehow amplified. He couldn’t avoid skimming her bare back then.

Previous innocent touches to her arms, the back of her neck or a kiss to the cheek had already hinted at her softness. Having the opportunity now to actually massage her back, uncovered for his touch, drove the fact home. She was like satin in his hands. He whimpered again—no shame, all need.

Let her go, Sim. She’s not for you.

The soft yet stinging reminder was enough to still the indulgent roaming of his hands even as his fingertips skimmed the lace scrap of the G-string panties she wore beneath the dress.

He broke the kiss suddenly and before he took her against the wall the way every last one of his hormones demanded him to. He dropped a brief kiss to her ear and let his mouth linger there.

“You haven’t done anything wrong—not one thing.” He gave her space, just a little. “Dance with me?” He silenced whatever precautions his voices of reason were giving him.

The music tempo had wound down to slow and sensual by the time Qasim and Vectra returned to the party room. The guest of honor and establishment’s owner, Robb DeWitt, had not yet made his entrance. Spotlights flashed around a majestic ice-blue armchair near the front of the room in anticipation of the man’s arrival.

Vectra was pleased by the distracting lights, which kept her and Qasim’s sudden return below the radar. They wouldn’t have garnered much attention anyway, she reasoned. They could usually be found together at some point during an event they both attended.

Qasim eased his hands about her waist, his thumbs drawing small circles where they touched her bare back.

Vectra exhaled on a long breath while linking an arm about Qasim’s neck. She kept the other loosely linked about his side.

“Who brought you here?” he asked when they’d been swaying to a slow, jazzy tune for the better part of three minutes.

Vectra had been enjoying the feel of whiskers along his jaw. They felt like mink next to her cheek. His question urged her, reluctantly, to raise her head.

“Oliver.” Her gaze narrowed, watching him nod and give in to a faint, satisfied smile. “You approve? Why?”

“I just do.”

“And that’s it? I’m just supposed to accept that?”

“It’s best if you did.”

“Are you married?”

His very attractive features softened in amused shock. “You know I’m not married, Vectra.” He laughed a bit.

“You’re right, I do. Then the only reason I could see you approving of me coming to a party with my brother is because you’re one of those guys who buys into that I-don’t-want-you-but-no-one-else-can-have-you thing. Is that it?”

His amusement vanished. “I’m one of those guys who have a possessive streak.”

Vectra blinked. “Possessive?” Her fingers dug into his shirt a little. “Over me? Why?”




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