Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(101)

"Go where?" I asked faintly.

"Back to my place. We need to talk."

I hesitated, swallowed hard, and managed a jerky nod. Hardy had shown me his apartment earlier in the evening—I had opted to meet him there rather than have him pick me up at River Oaks.

We didn't talk much as Hardy drove me downtown. But he kept my hand in his. My heart beat like a hummingbird's wings. I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen, or what I wanted to happen.

We arrived at the luxury high-rise and Hardy took me up to his apartment, a large space comfortably furnished with leather, hide, and stylish rough-woven fabrics. Wrought-iron lamps with textured parchment shades cast a muted glow through the main room.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

I shook my head, knitting my fingers together as I stood near the door. "No. thanks. I had enough at the bar."

Smiling quizzically, Hardy came to me and pressed his lips to my temple. "Are you nervous, honey? It's just me. Your old friend Hardy."

I let out a shaky sigh and leaned against him. "Yes. I remember you."

His arms came around me, and we stayed like that for a long time, standing together, breathing together.

"Liberty," he whispered. "I told you once that in my whole life, you'd always be what I wanted most. Remember?"

I nodded against his shoulder. "The night you left."

"I won't leave you again." His lips brushed the tender edge of my ear. "I still feel that way, Liberty. I know what I'm asking you to walk away from—but I swear, you would never regret it. I'll give you everything you ever wanted." He touched my jaw with his fingertips, angling my face upward, and his mouth came to mine.

My balance disintegrated, and I held on to him. His body was hard from years of brutal physical labor, his arms strong and secure. He kissed differently than Gage, more direct, aggressive, without Gage's erotic stealth and playfulness. He parted my lips and explored slowly, and I kissed him back with mingled guilt and pleasure. His warm hand moved to my breast, fingers lightly following the round contours, pausing at the sensitive tip. I tore my mouth from his with an agitated sound.

"Hardy, no," I managed to say, desire fonning a hot weight in my stomach. "I can't."

His mouth searched the quivering skin of my throat. "Why not?"

"I promised Gage—he and I agreed—I wouldn't do this with you. Not until—"

"What?" Hardy drew his head back, eyes narrowing. "You don't owe him that. He doesn't own you."

"It's not that, it has nothing to do with ownership, it's just—"

"Like hell."

"I can't break a promise," I insisted. "Gage trusts me."

Hardy said nothing, only gave me a peculiar look. Something about his silence drew shivers up from beneath my skin. Dragging his hand through his hair, Hardy went to one of the picture windows and stared at the city spread below us. "You sure about that?" he asked finally.

"What do you mean?"

He turned to face me, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles. "The last couple of times I've seen you, I noticed a silver Crown Victoria tailing us. So I got the license plate number and had it checked out. It belongs to a guy who works for a surveillance company."

A chill rushed over me. "You think Gage is having me followed?"

'The car is parked at the end of the street right now." He gestured for me to come to the window. "See for yourself."

I didn't move. "He wouldn't do that."

"Liberty," he said quietly, "you haven't known the bastard long enough to be sure of what he would or wouldn't do."

I rubbed my prickling upper arms with my hands in a futile attempt to warm myself. I was too stunned to speak.

"I know you think of the Travises as friends," I heard Hardy continue in a level tone. "But they're not, Liberty. You think they've done you a favor, taking you and Carrington in? It was no f**king favor. They owe you a hell of a lot more than that."

"Why do you say that?"

He crossed the room to me, took me by the shoulders and stared into my bewildered eyes. "You really don't know, do you? I thought you might at least suspect something."

"What are you talking about?"

His mouth was grim. He pulled me to the sofa, and we sat while he gripped my nerveless hands in his. "Your mother had an affair with Churchill Travis. It lasted for years."

I tried to swallow. The saliva would hardly go down. "That's not true." I whispered.

"Marva told me. You can ask her yourself. Your mother told her all about it."

"Why didn't Marva say anything to me?"

"She was afraid for you to know. Afraid for you to get tangled up with the Travises. For all she knew, they might have decided to take Carrington away from you, and you couldn't have done a damn thing to stop them. Later, when she found out you were working for Churchill, she figured he was trying to make it up to you. She thought it best not to intefere."

"You're not making sense. Why would they have wanted to take Carrington away from me? What could Churchill have—" The blood drained from my face. I stopped and covered my mouth with trembling fingers as I understood.