Page 18 of An Heir Made In Hawaii (Hot Winter Escapes)

“I’m glad you have memories with him,” she finally said.

“Thank you. Since I’ve shared a bit from my past, why don’t you share a bit of yours?”

“All right. What do you want to know?”

“How does an American girl from the prairie end up running an inn in Slovenia?”

She chuckled. “Put like that, it does sound odd.” She traced a finger over the pattern in the carpet. “When I was twelve, my mother passed away from the same cancer that took Babica. Babica was the only family I had left. So I boarded a plane and flew to Slovenia.”

“What about your father?”

“Killed in a car accident when I was five.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t have a lot of memories of him. But the ones I do have are good. My mother worked as a nurse in Kansas City. On days she worked, he would take me to school. We’d stop at a little bakery in town and get doughnuts.” A smile crossed her face. “Doughnut Days with Dad. I’d forgotten he used to call them that.”

“He sounds like a wonderful father.”

Something in Nicholas’s voice made her look up at the closed elevator doors. “What about yours?”

Nicholas took his time answering, finally breaking the silence with a sigh. “We’re in a good place now. My father is still CEO of the company. My mother serves on the boards of several charities and volunteers at a library.”

“A library?” Somehow she couldn’t picture a woman swimming in the kind of money Nicholas’s family had reading to groups of restless little kids.

“She loves reading, and she loves kids. It’s been good to see how far she’s come. They didn’t take David’s death well,” he added, as if he’d sensed her unasked question. “Dad was gone all the time. Mom slept and popped pills. I spent most of my time in school or with the soccer team. It wasn’t until I started university that they got better.”

The image of two little boys at the window shifted to one grief-stricken child watching the storm alone. Her heart cracked. As someone who had always been surrounded by love, she couldn’t fathom being a child left alone in the throes of grief.

“Nicholas...” She tried to come up with words of comfort, of support, of anything that didn’t sound blasé or empty. “I can’t think of anything else but I’m sorry. That sounds like hell.”

His laugh was soft but harsh. “It was lonely. The cheeriest times were when we went on vacation. Brief escapes when we could be happy.”

Realization hit her. “That’s why you went into the family business, isn’t it? Why you focus so much on experiences and such for your guests?”

Another period of silence passed, followed by a quiet chuckle. “I never thought about it too much. But yes. The best times of my life have been traveling. I want to give the best to our guests. Plus,” he added in a tone more reminiscent of his usual arrogance, “I like to win. Always have.”

She sighed. “You’re awful, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned something of the kind before. What have I done now besides make you feel wretchedly sorry for the poor little rich boy?”

“You’re making me like you.”

The words emerged, a truth spoken she couldn’t, and didn’t want, to snatch back. Before Nicholas could reply, something deep within the hotel groaned. The lights flickered back on. Startled, Anika got to her feet as the elevator doors parted.

Nicholas stood just on the other side, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers, his shoulders thrown back in a confident pose that just a week ago would have grated on her nerves. But right now, with the intimacy of their conversation hanging in the air between them, his eyes glittering as he watched her with a possessive gaze, all she could feel was heat.

Smoldering, erotic heat. Making her chest so tight she could barely breathe.

“I have the top-floor penthouse.” Nicholas held out his hand. “Join me. Let’s watch the storm together.”

She stared at his hand for a long moment. She should go back to her room. Yes, she wanted him. But he wasn’t good for her. He wasn’t what she wanted. And the more they talked, the more she got to know him, the more dangerous he was. She didn’t want to like him. The more she liked him, the more she opened up to him, the harder it would be to walk away when the time came.

Which she would have to do at some point. Men like Nicholas Lassard didn’t stay. Regardless of how high they took you, how much they charmed and seduced you, they always left with the remnants of a broken heart clinging to their heels.

The elevator doors started to close. Nicholas stepped into the doorframe. The doors shuddered, then slid back.

“One night, Anika. Stay with me for just one night.”

He moved closer, his eyes fixated on hers. She watched as he drew closer, her body tight, blood pounding through her veins. If he had moved quickly, had shot her that trademark smirk or made a pithy, arrogant joke, she might have been able to reach deep down inside herself, grab on to some rational thought and pull herself together enough to walk away.

But instead, he reached up and cupped her face in one hand, his fingers settling lightly on her cheek in a gesture of tenderness that destroyed the last, tenuous grasp she had on reason. She leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

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