The Millionaire's Tainted Legacy

Let's Ride

Jack probably still thought she was a wild party girl, which no doubt went back to the crush she'd had on him when she was 16, leading her, dizzy with champagne, to take off all her clothes and wait for him, naked in his bed, when he was home from college for some fundraising event his mother was hosting. Jack, of course, had not taken her up on her drunken offer.

So what if she had a wild side? She was a smart, responsible lawyer, who also happened to enjoy sex. She didn't throw herself at men and she wasn't 16 anymore. But the thought of being naked in Tito's bed was giving her serious tingles. She bet he had some moves, and she was contemplating finding out.

And this car? It was a beauty. She wasn't sure what year it was, but certainly a classic. And the interior was as pristine as if it had just rolled off the showroom floor. It was almost like stepping back in time.

She glanced down at his strong hand closed over the stick shift, just inches from her bare knee, exposed by the rip in her jeans. As he shifted gears when they pulled onto a highway that hugged the coastline, she could almost feel that hand gripping her leg instead, moving over her skin. She let out a little sigh.

Tito chuckled. "I told you your hair would get in the way."

She pushed it back out of her eyes, not bothering to tell him her sigh had nothing to do with the wind messing with her hair. Instead of tying her hair back in a ponytail as he'd suggested, Caylee reached into her straw bag and pulled out a colorful silk scarf, fastening it over her head.

"You look like Tippi Hedren."

She lowered her oversize sunglasses and peered at him over them. "I was thinking more Audrey Hepburn."

He shrugged. "They all wore headscarves in convertibles. All the classic Hollywood actresses. Grace Kelly. Marilyn Monroe. Any Hitchcock heroine ever."

She wrinkled her nose. "Blondes, the lot of them. Except for Audrey."

Tito glanced over. "I prefer brunettes."

"Good to know."

"One in particular, at the moment."

"Not a bad line," she said, and he laughed.

"Seriously," Caylee said, "I'm finding it hard to picture you as a fan of classic movies from the 1940's and 50's."

"Picture my mother watching them endlessly. I was a captive audience as a kid." He looked out over the horizon for a moment, over water that was impossibly blue, and then turned back to her and she saw the flash of sadness in his eyes. "She was always big on happy endings. Her own ended up not lasting nearly long enough."

"I'm sorry."

He seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him, and gave her a cocky grin.

"That's why you have to grab whatever joy you can in the moment."

"Kind of my philosophy of life," Caylee told him, and put her hand on top of his on the stick shift. She could feel the heat through her palm, and a low level thrumming that might be the engine of the car or the beating of his heart.

She also felt a sharp stab of awareness and left her hand there anyway, since it would be awkward to pull it away. She wondered if he felt it too.

Caylee curled her hand tighter over his. He had a wide hand, with strong fingers she could easily imagine moving over her body, electrifying her nerve endings everywhere he'd touch. He drove the car with deliberate care and precision. What would it be like to have that attention focused entirely on her?

Traffic thinned and Tito punched the accelerator as they sped along the coast. Caylee was starting to feel like one of those glamorous heroines from an old movie.