His ex-wife had given Jack the robe as a Christmas gift the first year they were married. He'd hated the thing, but somehow couldn't make himself throw it away. Over the years, Ali had gifted him many luxurious items, all from lists he'd provided her. This robe, however, was perhaps the only thing she'd ever purchased on her own for him. She'd taken the time to have the hideous thing monogrammed.

Solana strolled out of his bedroom, the generous material dragging along the floor like a wedding veil, and swayed between her bare legs. Jack found a new appreciation for the garment. The padded cuffs and collar paired with the baby blue colour complimented her light hair and golden skin, giving her the illusion of a queen descending her throne.

A streak of colour in his grey world.

A beacon of sunshine in the darkness.

He suspected with one tug on the tightly tied belt, heaven would be revealed to him.

Little Jack agreed, begging him to use his hands for good. Jack ignored the twitch below his own belt and focused on why they were here. Solana feared something or someone in that ballroom tonight and he was determined to find out what or who. Then eradicate whatever had hurt her off the face of the earth.

"I made us gin and tonics." The large, round ice cube rattled against the thick crystal as he offered her the squat glass. "Hope that's okay."

Solana's lips curled, then fell back into a straight line. "Perfect." Warm skin brushed his as the drink passed between them and a tremor from her touch traversed his arm to his chest. She took a long sip and Jack watched her throat move with the motion. Little Jack reminded him of what it was like to suck on the tender skin at the base of her neck, how she'd purred last time he did that.

Jack tightened the grip on his own glass. "Shall we sit?"

Back to the window, he selected a spot on the furthest couch, assuming she would take the other. Instead, she curled a leg underneath herself and nestled in beside him. Close enough the hairs on his arms raised at the warmth she radiated, but not quite touching him. Little Jack suggested he fix the situation and inch over. In opposition, he took a sip of his not cold enough gin and tonic.

Lights from downtown LA reflected in the black pools of Solana's eyes. "What did you mean when you said you don't bring any women here?"

The question caught him off guard. He wasn't sure why the silly confession had tumbled out. "No great mystery. I don't let my—" he stopped himself before he said conquests "—women past the guest bedroom."

Her petite face crinkled in thought. "You're saying you have brought your... companions back here?" Her gaze swept the room. "Just not slept with them?"

Jack stalled for time, letting the cold liquid coat his throat. "No, I sleep with them. Everywhere." His eyes landed on the kitchen counter where he'd eaten eggs off Michelle Patterson's thigh. "Everywhere except in my bedroom."

Solana followed his gaze. "In the kitchen?"

"Yes."

Her eyes trailed along the wall. "On the balcony?"

"Yes." Jack smiled. If she was going to ask every place, this would take all night and they wouldn't get to the real reason she was here. "And the foyer, this couch, that couch, beside the fireplace, in the bathtub. Any spot you name, I'm sure I've christened it."

"Except your bedroom." The silk of the robe's belt curled and uncurled through her fingers.

"Except in there." Jack mimicked her, looking down the hallway that led to his bedroom.

Her head tilted a degree, and she studied him as if he were a puzzle missing a piece. "Why?"

"No reason really."

She tugged at his sleeve. "Bullshit."

As usual, she saw right through him. Unlike other women in his life, there was no giving in to his attempts at diversion. She acknowledged them for what they were and dismissed them like he wanted to wave away the beggars at the wedding tonight. With that piercing stare she scratched not only the surface, she demanded more, making him rise to the challenge.

Since his divorce, women had tried to entice him. Most caved to his commands without a fight. Others attempted to delay the inevitable, teasing out their mutual gratification. They managed to postpone his satisfaction by an hour or two if he let them. Sometimes the wait compounded the pleasure. Sometimes it destroyed it, the built-up anticipation no match for the reality. A few survived past a night with him, but the thirst for their company snuffed out like a candle after a round of Happy Birthday. They simply weren't intriguing after he'd had his fun.

No one had held his interest like Solana. She was a challenge, but much more. Did she have any idea how incredibly sexy she was, perched on his couch, his dressing gown threatening to slip off her shoulder? How much he craved the slightest touch or look from her? Wanted to know her secrets, her loves, her dislikes, her everything?

Jack wondered how long he could keep her interested in him. How long until she got bored? Found someone more deserving of her light, her goodness. Afterall, beyond his money and good looks, he had little to offer. Only a hollowed out, burnt heart and the truth.

He placed his empty glass on the table and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Fine. I don't... I don't know how to explain it."

A light weight landed on his shoulder, the heat of her hand seeping into his tense muscles. Orange spice tickled his nose as she leaned in. "Try."

Though the fog of Solana's nearness, Jack's brain screamed this was her version of a delay tactic. Get him to spill more of his inner thought to avoid the reason she was here. Somehow, she did this to him, cracked through the barriers he built and dug out the real him.

Maybe if he told her the truth, perhaps she would return in kind. "My bedroom is my space. It's personal. Not a place I take... women—"

"Floosies you sleep with once or twice and then never see again." Solana sat back against the sofa and crossed her arms, her foot bobbing at his side.

Jack twisted toward her, his hand landing on the smooth silk covering her knee, stilling her movement. "Women who mean nothing." He searched her eyes, not sure what he hoped to find there.

A guarded stare offered no insights, and a knot coiled in his stomach. "It's not logical, but in there, in my bedroom—" he tapped the spot over his heart "—there are no expectations. I'm not the CEO, the heir, none of that. It's my place to be me."

Her fingers dug into the cuff of his dressing gown, and the knot squeezed. When it came to matters pertaining to emotions, words failed. Intimidate someone who stood in his way, no problem. Negotiate a discount on a billion-dollar deal, remove a blockade, protect his employees; done, done and done. But explain how he felt to the one woman that made him weak and he'd screw it up.

Jack unclenched his jaw. "I don't want people who aren't important to me to mar my private world." He thought of the pictures of his parents, the painting on the wall, the ring in his safe that for years sat beside the necklace currently hanging from Solana's neck. He traced one of the dangling diamonds. A shiver ran through Solana at his touch. The tremor echoed in him.

"Only someone who wants me for me is allowed in there." Bitter reality churned the gin in his gut. "Until now, no one has met the criteria."

Her blank expression melted, her body softening. "But..."

"Yes, Solana." Now he'd touched her, it was impossible to let go. He cupped her cheeks. "You're important to me."

The confession rang through him, unable to deny the truth. Not willing to withhold it anymore. Because there was no point. She saw through him. She saw him.

Hazel eyes bloomed before him, the hesitation evaporating as the pads of her fingers traced his jaw. "You're important to me too."

The words wrapped around him like a gentle hug, and held on. Another day, another woman, he would have shrugged them off, tossed them aside as attempted flattery to gain favour with him. On this day, from this woman, he clung to them, desperately hoping they were true.

She captured his chin, drew him closer and the solid nearness of her lifted the darkness lurking in his soul. Or more, the light of her squeezed into the inky caverns of his chest and chased away the gloom he lived with day after day, illuminating him. Delicate lips whispered "very important" against his forehead, followed by a light kiss on his temple.

Another moment and he'd be lost in her, showing her how precious she was to him. His fingers were already grasping for the belt, longing to pull the material restricting him from her and stroke more than her elegant face. All night he'd yearned to caress every curve, unconfined by fabric or people.

The image of her fleeing the ballroom, the feel of her heart pounding as he held her in the closet, snagged on his conscious. "Tell me why you ran away from me tonight."

Solana stilled, her breath short spurts against his skin.

His hands froze, the bow of the gown half-undone. Apparently, he wasn't below begging. "Please."

"Not you. Her."

Her? A cascade of women filtered through his mind. His ex-wife, the girls at Cloud 9, Brenda Marino, each one flipping by like a dealer shuffling a deck of cards. The last in the pack drew the image of Michelle.

Cold seeped into his bloodstream. There was no way Solana could know about his affair with Michelle. They'd kept it quiet, no mention of their relationship in the press outside of the normal pictures at these types of affairs.

Unless she'd said something to Solana. That didn't fit either. Michelle wasn't one to gossip, nor was she the jealous type. Or was she? "Michelle?"

"Yes." Solana's fingers fell from his face and her gaze fell to the floor.

"Why." Her hands balled into fists. Jack laid his over them and eased the stiff digits open. "What did she do?"

She let out a long breath. "She's my cousin."

Of all things Jack prepared for, this was not one of them. "Michelle Patterson is your cousin?"

Solana's eyes narrowed. "Don't gape at me like it's impossible I could be related to a woman of her stature."

Jack ran a finger under her chin and asked her to look at him. The heat in her eyes from a moment ago had cooled when she met his. "I would never think that. I'm trying to understand. A distant cousin?"

Her head shook. "First cousin. My father is Wendel Wilde."

Facts collected in Jack's mind. The Wilde name was synopsis with old money and oil. Before Michelle had married, her maiden name was Wilde. They'd joked about how she'd have to tame her wild side to marry the conservative Matthew. A marriage her grandfather had arranged and both the old man and Michelle's own father, Gerald, had threatened to cut her out of the family if she didn't comply.

Wendel Wilde was a name lesser known. The eldest of the Wilde brothers, Wendel, had been heir to the family fortune. Jack didn't know the details, but the man had died young, pushing Gerald to the forefront, making him and only child Michelle the sole beneficiaries of the Wilde fortune.

Jack recalled the report Wolfe had created on Solana Wilde. "He's not listed on your birth certificate."

Solana's eyes hardened, and she disentangled her hands from his. "How do you know what is or isn't on my birth certificate?"

Did we learn more about Jack or Solana today? Did you see the connection between Solana and Michelle coming? Now you have a little insight into why our girl is a little prejudice against people with money. 

Much more to come in the next chapter!

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