by Fiona Archer
“And you’re warning me because...” Seth needed to get this straight.
“Look, it’s probably nothing,” Nitro shrugged, “but if Harper continues to see you while you’re hunting down your prey and negotiating with her dad then, in his eyes, she’s connected to you. Just…be smart about how you move ahead with Fox. That’s all I’m saying.” The younger man held his gaze for a few seconds, before he eased past Seth toward the others.
Seth went still, his body a block of tight muscle and tension.
Being with him could draw Harper into the line of fire with her dad.
But was Nitro’s warning valid? Christ, who knew with Fox? Seth had witnessed the father’s lack of concern over his daughter being shamed on social media, not to mention his disdainful attitude toward her at that damn cocktail party. Anything was possible.
He glanced at the vines growing over the lattice and sighed. What a bloody mess. Catching the bastard responsible for his and his brothers’ troubles was paramount. But knowing when to crash tackle your enemy and when to stalk him in the shadows was another thing.
****
Harper glanced at the clock on her microwave. Six o’clock already? She dumped the crushed soda cans in the trash she used for recyclables and rinsed her hands in the sink. She eyed the long streaks of dirt on her arms. How had she got so dirty? For now, a shower would have to wait.
“Thanks for all your help, Seth.” She dried her hands on some paper towels and leaned against the kitchen’s light colored stone counter top and viewed the tall hunk of manliness standing beside her fridge. “I can’t believe how much we accomplished.” Full bed of zucchini, beans and herbs all planted and watered. A burst of happiness warmed her. Soon, she’d be able to pick ingredients from her own garden. “I’ve really enjoyed today.”
“Me too, sweetness.” Seth moved past the white glossy cabinets and shelves containing her collection of bright Mexican pottery to stand a couple of feet away.
“Even though I put you to work?” She couldn’t resist the tease.
Seth’s deep chuckle had her smiling. “You’ve made yourself clear. No free lunches in your household.” He settled his hand on her waist. Her skin tingled under his touch. “It was fun working outdoors, and meeting your friends. Honestly, I’ve had a great time.”
And she didn’t want it to end, more so now with him standing so close. The snug fit of his gray T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and chest. Tall, strong, and with a direct stare that stirred her blood, Seth was one sexy, dangerous male.
However, she was the one who stipulated they go slow. For a good reason. The guy was her personal crack, enticing her with his gorgeous voice, accent, and sense of humor into a complicated world where she needed to be careful of her footing.
She needed to smile and send him on his way for tonight. Dammit.
“I’d really like you to stay.” Cripes, she said that aloud?
Surprise lit up Seth’s gaze.
Fix this! “I mean, I’ve got the makings of pasta alfredo for dinner if you don’t have any plans?” Harper shrugged, trying for nonchalance.
“My evening’s free.” Seth looked down at a smear of dirt on his T-shirt. “But I’m filthy from your slave driver tactics on the roof.” He ignored her snort. “I always keep a change of clothes in my gym bag. It’s in my car. If I could have a shower?”
With her? This she made sure she kept to herself.
“Sure. Now aren’t you glad you parked in the alley behind my building?”
Seth grinned. “That’s one convenient piece of real estate, Harper. Does parking there cost you extra rent?”
Shoot. He still didn’t know she owned the building. Considering everything that had happened since their first date, she didn’t want secrets between them. “Actually, I don’t pay rent anywhere.”
Seth’s slight frown heaped on the guilt. “You don’t?”
What did people say when you had to say or do something you didn’t want to? Like ripping off a band aid. Just do it quick.
“I own this building. It was part of the inheritance from my grandparents. The alley and the small courtyard between my building and the one behind form part of my property. ”
Seth’s quiet and steady gaze unnerved her to the point she rushed on. “I didn’t tell you because,” What could she say? I didn’t trust you. I didn’t want to be used again. “I didn’t know you that well, and I keep that stuff to myself.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
That was it? “Really?”
Seth firmed his grip on her waist, reminding her of his hold. “It was none of my business. And you’re right. We’d just met. If I was in your place, a woman meeting a bloke for the first time that night, I’d keep that information to myself.”
“Right.” Okay then. “Why don’t you get your stuff while I start our meal? My keys to get back in are on the hall table.”
“Great, but first, I want something.” The way his gaze dropped to her mouth had her pulse kicking up an extra notch.
“Oh?” Her brows rose as she felt a hint of a smile. “And what would that be?”
“This.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her hard and long. When he drew back, she could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers.
“Back soon.” Seth tapped the end of her nose and walked out.
Harper turned to pull open her Sub-Zero fridge. She froze as she grasped the door’s handle. When Seth returned, he’d strip naked and put that glorious, buff body of his under the water. She couldn’t stay covered in dirt while he soaped himself clean.
Too much of a temptation.
Harper raced to the linen cupboard, grabbed two navy towels and a face cloth and dropped them on the vanity in her main bathroom. She bolted to her master bathroom, ripped off her clothing, pulled a shower cap over her head and took the quickest shower ever in her adult life.
She was brushing her hair after dressing in a peach T-shirt and black cotton capri pants, when she heard Seth close the front door.
Just made it.
Leaving her now tamed locks hanging over her shoulders, she burst back into her bedroom.
“Hi.” Seth lounged against the door’s finished wood frame carrying a black gym bag.
“I, uh, decided to clean up first.”
“So I can tell.” He sniffed. “What’s the scent? Something flowery?”
Her shower gel. “Gardenia and orange blossom.”
“Nice.” He lifted his chin at her now fresh appearance. “The urge to rip my clothes off and join me in the shower was such a threat you had yours while I was gone?”
Seth. Naked. With soapy water running down that tall, muscled body. And her hands—
She mentally shook herself. “You got me, handsome.” How she stood there without her face heating was a miracle. Score one for Harper. “Alas, I can’t take advantage of you. It wouldn’t be right. Not after you promised not to rush me during your visit at the café on Thursday.”
Which she needed to remind herself.
“I’m prepared to rethink that strategy.”
“Too late. You’re a man of your word.”
He caught her gaze and held it as he spoke in a low, commanding tone, “I promised to give you time and space, but not as much as you’d like.” Harper’s breath caught at the open challenge of his words. “There’s more than one way to convince a woman not to shut the door in your face.”
Involving him, his rough, come-to-bed voice and accent, and some privacy? Or maybe just his stare, and the way she felt it right down low in her belly, heating and teasing her and making her forget all the reasons she’d said she needed to give Seth space.
Seth tilted his head to the side. “You’re thinking about all those ways right now, aren’t you?”
She swallowed and nodded.
“Good, because when I act on those ways, I don’t want you having any regrets.” With that, he turned and headed to the main bathroom
off her hallway.
Shit. If she gave him half a chance, he’d catch her as easy as a calf at a rodeo.
The sexy visual of Seth and a coil of rope held her feet in place. “Keep that up and I’ll tie you to the bed.”
Sweet mercy, the idea wasn’t even that far-fetched.
Harper hurried into the kitchen, frustrated and needing to focus. She gathered the ingredients from the fridge and readied a pot of boiling water for the pasta. The mouthwatering smell of garlic frying in a pan filled the kitchen as she added the pre-cooked, shredded chicken, along with mushrooms and shallots. Once she combined the sauce she’d made last night and the cooked pasta, her tummy was rumbling.
“That smells bloody awesome.”
She spun at the sound of Seth’s voice and found him so close she could see the lighter shades of blue mixing with indigo in his eyes. Like the crystals Jinx collected and had on one of her windowsills where the sun picked up all the different colors.
Stunning.
His wet hair was already drying into its usual waves. The black T-shirt he’d changed into covered his torso in the same fabulous way as the gray, and his faded jeans fit well, drawing her gaze to the long, strong line of his legs.
“Thanks. Dinner won’t be a minute.”
“Can I help? I’m not a great cook, but I know the basics.” Seth eyed the large pan.
“We’re about done here. Can you take care of drinks? Glasses are in the cupboard to your right. There’s white wine, beer, water, et cetera, in the fridge. I’ll have wine, thanks.”
“No worries.” He grabbed a beer for himself, poured a glass of wine for her, and took the drinks and the wine bottle to a long wooden table that sat in her dining/living area and returned. “Plates, cutlery?”
“I’ll serve up here.” Harper pulled down two bright aqua pasta bowls from the cupboard next to the range hood and placed them on the counter. She pointed to a set of four wide drawers. “Top one for cutlery. Napkins and mats are in the bottom. Oh, and there’s fresh Parmesan and a grater next to the fridge.”
He grabbed forks and spoons, along with yellow napkins and thick, red placemats and headed to the table. Harper served their meal and placed the bowls on the placemats.
Enough summer light streamed through the wide, industrial framed windows, so she didn’t turn on the large pendant light. She sat at the end of the farm table in the chair closest to the kitchen. Grabbing the cheese and grater, she offered, “Want some on top?”
“Absolutely.” The shavings of cheese landed on the steamy hot pasta and curled from the heat. “This looks amazing, Harper.”
“Thanks.” She nodded toward his plate. “Start, it’s essential your first taste is just before the Parmesan’s fully melted.”
Seth chuckled, but didn’t lift his fork until Harper had done the same.
Harper twirled her spoon in the creamy sauce and the extra thin spaghetti just as Seth took his first mouthful.
The big Aussie closed his eyes for a second and groaned. “This is my idea of comfort food. Hot. Tasty. Filling. None of that pretentious, tiny serving a la carte crap.” He reached for his napkin and shoved it on his lap. “Theo would consider you stiff competition to his restaurant.”
Happiness bloomed inside her like a just opened flower soaking up the sunshine.
“Don’t say anything, or he won’t let me back there again.” As soon as the words were out, Harper paused. That was a little presumptuous.
“We’ll be going back there, sweetness. Your first instinct was the right one.”
“I’d like that.” She lifted her glass of wine and said, “To a great day.”
Seth clinked her glass with his bottle of bear. “And it’s not over yet.” He loaded more pasta on his spoon. “Tell me more about your sister.”
“My sister?” Harper leaned back against the ruby and white cushioned seat of the dining chair.
“This afternoon, you and Nitro shared stories of growing up together, but you didn’t mention your sister. Your dad mentioned something about her birthday dinner next week. Is she older than you?”
“Yeah, Sienna’s thirty.” Harper tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t mention her?”
“Rarely.”
Hmm, she hadn’t noticed. “Sienna was the good child. Graceful. Compliant. Understood the unsaid rules of being a member of the Fox family.”
“And you weren’t and didn’t?”
“No. But that didn’t mean she and I didn’t get on. We did and do.” She sat forward again, and forked some pasta. “It’s weird in a way, because sometimes I felt like we were cheating the system.”
Seth raised a brow. “How’s that?”
“We should be natural enemies, being opposites, but it’s more like both of us understood the way things were going to play out and decided we’d still like each other.” If she was honest, she’d wanted more, but asking would mean upsetting a finely geared machine, tilting it off kilter. “I love her. I know she loves me. We catch up at the café or on the weekends with her kids often enough. Lance is a nice guy.” Harper lifted a shoulder. “We’re not close confidants, but that’s more because I steer clear of the lifestyle she’s embraced.”
“You don’t share things or tell each other secrets?”
“Like you do with your brothers?”
A shadow passed over his face. Maybe not. And if the tenseness she’d witnessed in Seth’s office was anything to go by, maybe not for a while.
Seth shrugged, which spoke volumes.
“No, I guess I never wanted to make Sienna choose if it came down to a question of loyalty to Mom and Dad, or me.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact. Hey, what else could she say? That was the dynamic of her family, and one she’d become used to from an early age as the kid that simply doesn’t fit in. Heck, even finding friends at her snooty private schools had been hard. The debutante-to-be daughters of her father’s friends didn’t want to associate with the class klutz.
There’d been some late-night discussions with Sienna about boyfriends and broken hearts, but they usually involved Sienna as the focus, not Harper. She’d lie in bed afterwards, and the loneliness would envelop her in a cold, sterile cocoon, reinforcing her isolation. It wasn’t until years later, with Jinx, that she had felt free to fully share.
“I’m curious. Since I’m guessing your mum didn’t slave over a stove each day, who taught you to cook?”
Harper coughed on her mouthful of wine.
Seth leaned over and rubbed her back. “You okay?”
She swallowed and waved away his concern. “I’m fine.” After clearing her throat, she said, “Sorry, it’s just the idea of my mom entering the kitchen for anything other than giving instructions to our housekeeper is hilarious. Greta’s been our housekeeper for longer than I’ve lived on this earth. She shared all her secrets with me.”
“Took you under her wing, huh?” He forked another bite of pasta into his mouth.
“Some of my first memories are of hanging out with Greta, watching her bake cakes, roll dough for bread, making those ribbon sandwiches my mother loves for her committee meetings.” As a little girl, she’d loved sitting up so high on the kitchen stool. Greta had smiled and opened the drawer where she kept personal things. ‘Let’s get you your own apron, angel’. Greta had sewn one for her. Pink gingham with wooden spoons and a bowl stitched on each pocket. A treasured gift. Now wrapped in tissue paper in a box in her wardrobe. “In the end, she simply handed me a bowl of my own and started giving me instructions. It was an instinctive thing for both of us.”
“Did your mum mind you hanging out in the kitchen?”
Harper’s laugh was dry, humorless. “I don’t know if either of my parents minded so much as Greta wasn’t someone you argued with. She kept the house running without drama. That pleased Dad, which, in turn, reflected well on Mom.”
“Greta still working for your family?”
“No.” Harper couldn’t hide the note of melancho
ly. “Greta retired a year ago. She lives with her sister in Florida. I call her every month, just to check in.” She sank against the high back of her chair. “But it’s not the same as sitting with her and sharing fresh-baked cookies over a glass of milk.”
That had him smiling. “You still do that, cookies and milk?”
She levelled him with a look. “You’re never too old for warm cookies and cold milk, mister.”
He gave her a lip twitch at her rebuke. “I’ll give that a try sometime.”
Try it? “You’ve never had cookies and milk?”
“Nope. My birth mother wasn’t the cookie baking type. When we moved here Aurora baked cookies, but she never served them with milk. Hell, she likely guessed Adam and Zach would burn from the inside if they were forced to participate in something so…homey.”
She threw her head back and laughed at the idea of Adam and Zach sporting milk mustaches.
Seth lifted up a finger. “And point of order, since you’re learning another language. Back in Oz, they call cookies biscuits.”
Huh? “But biscuits are nothing like cookies. They’re two separate things. Biscuits are a heavy, denser version of bread. Cookies are lighter, often sweet.” Switching that around made no sense. “What do you call our biscuits?”
Seth pushed out his lower lip and shrugged his shoulders. “Buggered if I know.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
He burst out laughing. “Build a bridge and get over it, luv.”
“You Aussies have any more crazy-ass words that are totally wrong?”
“No doubt we’ll find out.” Seth reached over and cupped the back of her head. “Come ‘ere, you.” Tugging her forward, he kissed her. She caught the biting taste of Parmesan on his lips. He teased her mouth open with his tongue, and held back until she leaned closer, chasing more.
Right on cue, he ended the kiss.
Totally leaving her hanging.
She watched as Seth picked up his fork and twisted the last strands of pasta before he shoved it in his mouth. Once finished, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Bloody good meal, sweetness.”