“It’s not obvious?” There was a thread of laughter deep in his throat, his warm breath puffing against her skin.
“No.”
“Makeup sex.”
“But I’m still mad at you.”
“You are?” He feigned surprise as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. He found the strip of bare skin at the top of her jeans, skimming his knuckles across her navel. “Then let’s see what we can do to change that.”
Royce feathered his fingertips across Amber’s stomach, the narrowing at her waist, the indentation of her navel and the small curve of her belly. Her skin was pale and supple, a light tan line at bikini level, barely above where the sheet covered her legs.
She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her blond hair, mussed at the moment, was thick and lustrous, reflecting the pink rays of the rising sun. Her eyes were deep blue, a midsummer sky right now, but they’d been jewel bright last night while they made love. Her lips were full, deep red and tempting.
Even her ears were gorgeous, delicate and small, while her neck was graceful, her shoulders smooth, and her breasts were something out of his deepest fantasy. Add to that her quick wit, her intelligence and her sense of fun, and she was somebody he could keep in his bed for days on end.
He’d had sex with plenty of women over the years, slept with only some of them, ate breakfast with fewer still. And in all that time, he’d never had an urge to bare his soul to a single one.
Now, he did.
Now, he wanted to tell her anything and everything.
He let his fingers trace the curve of her hip bone, made up his mind and took the plunge. “My father killed a man named Stanton.”
Amber’s head turned sharply on the stark white pillow. “He what?”
“Killed him,” Royce repeated, hand stilling, cupping her hip.
“Was it an accident?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was on purpose. Frank Stanton was having an affair with my mother.”
Amber’s eyes widened and she rolled sideways, propping her head on one elbow. “Did they get into a fight?”
“I guess you could say that. My father shot him.”
Amber stilled. The sun broke free from the horizon, and the pink rays morphed to white.
“Did your father go to jail?” Her voice was hoarse.
Royce shook his head. “He died that same day.”
Amber swallowed. “And your mother?”
“Died with my father. Their truck went off the ranch road in the rain. They both drowned in the river.”
“After he shot Stanton.”
“I always assumed he panicked.” Though Royce had never delved too deeply into his father’s possible motivations for speeding down the ranch road with his unfaithful mother. “There was no trial, of course. Everybody chalked the shooting up to a failed robbery, and the accident was ruled just that, an accident. For years, I thought I was the only one who knew the truth.”
“How did you know?”
“I found my mother’s confession letter.”
Amber sighed, eyes going shiny with sympathy. “Oh, Royce.”
“I burned the letter, and the secret was safe. But then, on his deathbed, my grandfather Benteen told Jared he’d heard the shot. When my father drove away, Benteen dumped the gun in the river because he didn’t want his son tried for murder.”
Royce had wished that Jared never found out. But now it was better that he had. “So, I know, and Gramps knew, and Jared knows.” Royce blew out a breath.
“Plus McQuestin,” Amber said softly, obviously putting the pieces together. “And somehow Norman Stanton.”
“Allowing him to blackmail my family.”
She lay back down. “To keep the secret?”
“Our reputation was important to Benteen.”
“But, millions of dollars’ worth of important?”
Royce had asked himself that same question, and he didn’t have a good answer. What the hell were Benteen and McQuestin thinking? His father couldn’t be tried. There wasn’t a man in the state who’d fault Royce’s father for retaliating against Stanton.
That left their mother’s reputation. And, as far as Royce was concerned, she’d made her own bed. He couldn’t imagine paying millions of dollars protecting a woman who’d betrayed her own family.
Well, from this point on, he and Jared were in charge, and not a single dime of Ryder money was getting into the hands of a Stanton.
“The payments stop now,” he vowed to Amber. “And I want to know everything there is to know about Norman Stanton.”
She put her hand on Royce’s shoulder. “You’re not going after revenge, are you?”
He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “I am going after my money.”
“Royce.”
He raised his eyebrows, all but daring her to argue.
She searched his expression. “I don’t want you to get yourself in trouble.”
His anger switched to resolve, and he couldn’t help but smile. Her sentiment was admirable, but completely unnecessary.
“Darlin’,” he told her. “If I was you, I’d be worried about Norman Stanton, not about me.”
Six worried Ryder International division heads stared back at Royce around the ranch house dining room table. The doors were closed to the rest of the house, but the windows were open, the happy sounds of an ongoing barbecue and baseball game a jarring counterpoint to the uncomfortable conversation.
If the four men and two women were unsettled by Barry Brewster’s firing, they were positively rattled by the potential fallout from the loss of the China deal. Ryder International was a strong company, but it wasn’t invincible. They were going to have to take quick and decisive action if they wanted to recover.
Jared was still out of touch, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the answer. Some of the Ryder companies would need to be sold, perhaps entire divisions, which explained the ashen faces around the table. Nobody wanted to be the sacrificial lamb.
“Construction is the bread and butter of the company,” Konrad Klaus opened the conversation. He was out-front and aggressive as always. As the head of the largest and longest-standing division of the corporation, he wielded considerable influence with his counterparts.
“It’s pretty shortsighted to mess with high tech,” Carmen Volle put in.
Mel Casper threw down his pen. “Oh, sure. Everybody look at sports and culture. It’s not always the bottom line, you know. We’re carrying the marketing load for everybody else.”
Royce cut them all off. “This isn’t divide and conquer,” he warned. “Jared’s not coming back to a war. I’ve got your reports-”
“We wrote those before we had the facts,” said Konrad.
Konrad’s respect factor for Royce had never been high. But it was rare that it mattered. It mattered today.
Royce gave him a level look. “Precisely why I asked for them up front. I wanted the facts, not half a dozen individual lobbying efforts.”
“So you can pick us off like fattened ducks?” asked Mel.
“That’s the attitude you want to project?” Royce needed loyalty and teamwork right now. He wasn’t looking to get rid of anybody else, but he wasn’t looking to babysit any prima donnas, either.
“I say we wait for Jared to get back,” said Konrad.
Royce turned to stare the man down. “What part of fifty million dollars didn’t you understand?
Konrad glowered but didn’t answer.
“We start today,” said Royce. He might not be as involved in the operations of Ryder International as Jared, but he was still an owner, and he’d had about enough of people assuming he could be marginalized.
Barry Brewster would never have treated Melissa the way he’d treated Amber. Just because Royce flew a jet didn’t mean he was incapable of anything else. Starting here and now, he was taking a stand-both with Norman Stanton, and with the brass at Ryder International.