by Cari Quinn
“I’ll be here for hours. Surely you have better things to do with your time than play footsy with me.”
“Play footsy?” That was an intriguing idea. Almost as intriguing as not worrying about being caught on camera. I was known in this town and in much of this area, but still, Marblehead offered me a slice of sanctuary I’d found nowhere else.
Which was why when my dream home had entered the market, I’d snapped it up. Annabelle Stuart’s place was a home, because she’d made it so. I’d yet to go inside it since her death, because I wasn’t ready to face the reality of that house—of the world—without her in it.
How did Grace, I wondered, and nearly asked her until I remembered the lines that divided us weren’t only boss and employee. She didn’t know who I was, not really. Not like I knew her.
The sound of old swings echoed in my mind, that endless creak. The scuff of sneakers dragging against the ground as she achieved liftoff. Long blond braids, a plaid skirt and white knee socks, and a smile that lit up the universe.
I could hear her voice in my head. Childish then, but still Grace.
“Higher, Grams. Higher.”
“I’m sure footsy isn’t elite enough for someone like you.” Grace reached for the door handle. “I’m good on my own, but thanks.”
“Tomorrow night,” I said, struggling to keep my tone steady. I wasn’t ready to let her out of my sight yet, but I had no choice. “You’re going to the community awareness gathering?”
“I said I was, didn’t I?”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at the office at six. I need assistance with some materials.”
Even in the darkness of the car, there was no missing how her shoulders stiffened. “You do realize the weekend means I’m off the clock.”
“We’re going to the same place. It makes sense that we travel together. I could pick you up at home if you’d rather,” I said lightly.
For some reason, I knew that was off the table. I wasn’t the most intuitive guy in the world—the term “oblivious” had been used a few times by my exes—but I had a good guess why Grace didn’t want me to drive her home. It wasn’t because she was concerned I’d demand to see her bedroom.
She must think her place wasn’t up to snuff, which was ridiculous. Marblehead didn’t have anything but nice houses. Even if it did, what did I care? As long as she was safe and she liked her accommodations, I’d never make any bones about her living arrangements. I’d once lived way too close to the gutter myself.
“I’ll meet you at the office,” she muttered, opening the door.
“On the roof.”
She glanced back at me, her hair whipping into her face from the wind. Rain spattered into the car, but I liked the feeling of it on my hot skin too much to wipe it away. “Did you say the roof?”
“I did.” She liked to go higher, so at least I could give her that if I couldn’t offer her anything else. “Take this.” I pushed my umbrella across the seat. “Can’t have you out sick and missing work.”
She shot me a look and grabbed the umbrella, unfolding it for her two minute run into the building. I watched her close it up and duck inside, then rush up to the counter. More tea, perhaps? My mouth watered. It hadn’t been so bad, especially with sugar.
Once she had a cup of something, she came back to the big picture window and sat down. And saw me still idling at the curb, watching.
She lifted her hand in a wave, full of impatience. I could practically hear her telling me to go.
So I did.
Once I was home, I took a shower—without touching my dick, which had been a feat of epic proportions—and pulled on a pair of silk pajama bottoms. I picked up my phone and clicked on the app store, then typed in coloring app.
What the hell, right?
Six hours later, I finally set aside my phone and climbed into bed. My eyes were blurry from staring at pixelated colors for so long on that tiny screen. Next time I would open it on my tablet.
No, I would not. I would delete that stupid app. Coloring was for children. Especially coloring in an app.
“So stupid.” I punched my pillow and closed my sore eyes.
The next morning, I went for my usual five mile run. When I returned, my mother’s car was in the drive. She and a stocky blond man were waiting by my front door, broad smiles on their faces.
“There you are,” my mother said, patting her companion’s arm. “That’s my boy.”
“Blake, is it?” The man held out his hand and I shook automatically, though I had no doubt he knew who I was. That he’d known even before he’d hooked up with my mother.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Yes. Blake. You’re Brant.” I didn’t tack on a question, because I’d recognized him right away.
I’d researched him after my conversation with my mother the other day, and what I’d found matched her usual boyfriend. Questionable past that included a couple of minor incarcerations, sketchy work history, four failed marriages. I tried not to judge considering my own history, but when it came to my mother, I wasn’t good at giving the benefit of the doubt.
“That I am. We were hoping to sit down with you, maybe have some lunch. If the staff can whip something up on such short notice,” he said with a wink.
“There is no staff.” I unlocked my door and led the way inside, bypassing the fountain to toss my keys on a fancy ass pedestal table some associate had given me at a housewarming party. I hadn’t thrown it for myself. That had been Jack’s idea, more to piss me off than anything else.
For a former Ranger, Jack thought he was damn entertaining. When I’d hired him, I’d expected a gruff, rough military type. He definitely had that side. He was just choosy about showing it.
I had no doubt he’d be showing it to Brant right now. But I had a gruff, rough side of my own.
“No staff?” Brant repeated, clearly shocked. “This place isn’t as big as I figured it would be, what with the bazillions and all, but these are nice digs. Who keeps it up for you?”
“I keep it up for me.” I turned to face the pair of them. My mother was wrapped around him like a vine, her hopeful expression both reminding me of Grace’s last night and stirring my anger. At him, not her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also wouldn’t tread gently if this asshole turned out to be a money-grubber like the rest.
We weren’t off to a great start.
“I have two arms, two legs, two hands and two feet. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own affairs.”
“He doesn’t like people,” my mother confided to Brant.
“Oh. Well then, that makes sense. Reclusive billionaire, slumming it in an ordinary neighborhood. Hiding in plain sight.” He gave me a toothy grin and I barely resisted the urge to plant my fist.
Violent tendencies weren’t usually a problem for me. Neither was mind-erasing lust. If this was yet another facet to my…whatever the hell it was with Grace, I would be sure to express my displeasure in a way that suited us both.
Like fucking the holy hell out of her.
“He’s not hiding. Are you hiding, Blake? All those fancy schmancy females you used to parade around with certainly kept you in the public eye.”
Used to being the operative words. I’d spent some time sampling all the delicacies that came along with being filthy rich. That time had passed.
Now I just wanted to be left alone to work.
“Mother, I have plans this afternoon.” They consisted of work and more work—work I was behind on thanks to my obsession with observing Grace in her natural office environment—before we attended the Light Up The Night event. “My schedule is packed right now, but perhaps we could make plans for another day.”
One far in the future. Hopefully by then she would’ve broken up with the sod and I wouldn’t have to kick his ass to the curb for her.
“But we’re here now.” I hated seeing that crestfallen expression in her face almost as much as I couldn’t stand knowing the con artist at
her side was most likely casing the joint. Slums or not.
“I don’t have much food. It’s just me,” I added when Brant prepared to launch into his latest diatribe. “I don’t stock a lot because I won’t eat it, so I’m unfortunately unprepared for guests.”
“We could go out,” Brant suggested. “It’s just a matter of sitting down and bonding, son.” He moved forward to clap my shoulder and I swear to God, every muscle in my arm tensed in preparation to swing.
I couldn’t do this. Not today. I didn’t know when I’d be able to, but definitely not now. I was already so raw and ragged from Grace, and I had to be ready for Jimmy’s awareness gathering tonight.
“My biological father is dead,” I said coldly. “He never earned the right to call me son, and you damn sure haven’t.”
I glanced at my mother and tried not to be affected by the horror in her eyes. That their hazel color was a mirror of my own made it twice as hard. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I didn’t know whether or not that would be true, or if she’d pick her new man of the moment over me. She’d done it before. I didn’t even blame her for it. She’d been looking for love for a long time, and my father sure hadn’t provided any.
But that didn’t mean I could subject myself to being a pawn in her search. Or worse, a trophy offered to the man who finally pinned her down for good.
Halfway up the stairs, I heard the front door close behind them. They didn’t slam it, but closed it as softly as a gunshot muffled by a suppressor.
And silence reigned once again.
Chapter Six
Grace was late.
I stood, hands in pockets, surveying the city from the lofty height of the roof. The wind up here was fierce, and once the helicopter had been turned on again, it would be even worse. I’d waited for a few minutes for Grace before disembarking the cockpit. She’d never been late to work, and I was becoming agitated. I had to be at Jimmy’s early to give a speech. I hated fucking speeches, but for this cause, I’d do it. I’d do whatever they asked of me.
Besides leaving Grace behind.
She might’ve decided not to meet me. It wasn’t a work day, and I hadn’t really requested her presence. I didn’t know how to do that. We weren’t dating, and any time I offered her something as small as my umbrella, she tossed the gesture back in my face. So I commanded.
This might end up being the first time I’d ever been stood up.
I debated calling her, then decided I’d give her a few more minutes. I’d built in extra time for our departure. I had a helipad on another of my holdings that I planned to land on near the site of tonight’s gathering, but air travel required extra clearances.
At least the weather had cleared. A hint of rain still scented the air, but last night’s storms had passed, leaving behind puddle-laden streets and a clear moonless sky. Our trip wouldn’t take long. I probably shouldn’t have bothered with the helicopter for such a short flight, but what good was having money if you couldn’t have some fun now and then? I wasn’t trying to show off. Grace had loved to swing so high and had gotten such delight from a simple thing. Maybe she’d enjoy this too.
If she ended up being afraid to fly, though, I’d be truly fucked.
Without any other options to pass the time, I flicked open that infernal coloring book app. Stupid thing. I didn’t even like it.
The door to the roof banged open five minutes later. Grace hurtled through the doorway, her hair flying wildly around her shoulders, and a complaint on her lips. Then she caught sight of the helicopter and clutched her throat.
“I—what is this?”
“This is a modern convenience called a helicopter.” The devil on my shoulder made me grin. Or maybe it was just relief that she’d actually shown up.
“I know that. Why is it here? We aren’t—no. Why would we?”
“Because it’s a quick, convenient method of travel. No traffic,” I said lightly, holding up my phone. Luckily I’d discreetly exited out of the coloring book app with my thumb. “Handy because you’re late.”
“I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
Her flushed face and bright eyes—revealed by the roof’s powerful lighting—made me frown. Her rosy cheeks could’ve been caused by rushing. The glow that settled around her like starlight, however, could not.
I moved toward her. “Where have you been?” What have you been doing? And with who?
I had to right to ask her. She was a free woman, just as I was a free man. We had no hold on each other. Yet the idea she might’ve been with someone who put that look in her eye—
“My studio.” Her throat bobbed and she tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear. “I’ve been working on this piece forever and it just wouldn’t come together, but today somehow it did. It was like this fever came over me…” She bit her lip and shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I did understand, all too well. I’d understood it all the nights I’d been driven to sketch, and sculpt, and design for my own pleasure first, long before it had become the way I made my living. Now my artistry, such as it was, was responsible for the paychecks of all those I employed. Flights of fancy weren’t permitted.
Except on the showcase level of Carson Covenant Inc. And in my sketchbook. And hell, in that ridiculous app she’d told me about, where the whirls of colors competed with black and white designs that made me want to shade outside the lines. To fuck a beautiful girl whom I could never, ever have and to take a helicopter ride over downtown Boston on a clear night, just because I could.
Because she would be at my side, and she would enjoy it too.
I stepped closer. “What piece did you complete?”
She tugged on the sides of her short jacket, pulling them down as if they could protect her from the brisk wind. Beneath it she wore a long, floaty dress made of melting blues and greens that perfectly matched her eyes. The dress whipped around her calves, but she didn’t seem to notice, focused as she was on me.
“I didn’t complete it yet. It’s an angel. Made of panes of colored glass, bound together with copper and wire. I’d originally wanted it to have a light behind it, something to make the glass shine. But I realized it should be hung in a window, so that it could reflect the light that already existed.”
“A suncatcher.”
The somewhat childish term didn’t offend her. Instead she smiled faintly. “Yes. Higher end, of course. But yes.”
I walked to the helicopter and then removed the narrow cardboard box I’d stowed within. Wordlessly, I handed it to her.
She withdrew one of the blue tinted rectangular boxes of glass. They’d been treated with special reflective paint and the base was sturdy enough to hold a battery-operated tealight. Or a real candle if someone was feeling brave.
“A lantern,” she said, tracing her finger over the embossed words along the base.
Find Jimmy.
Not pray for him, not think about him, not spread the word. He needed to be found.
“With enough light, you can banish the darkness.” As soon as the words were out, I looked away, feeling like a grade A asshole. But when I glanced back at her, she was still studying the lantern, nodding.
“So I guess my suncatcher needs to be bigger.”
I don’t know why that made me laugh, but it did. I’d never known anyone who understood what it was to marry art and business, even if we were on opposite sides of that table.
Opposites in so many ways.
“Come,” I murmured, gesturing to the helicopter. “We don’t want to be late.”
“We’re really taking this?”
“We really are. Unless you don’t like flying?”
“No, I love it. Like seriously frigging love it. But oh my God, it’s been so long. And never in one of these!” She hopped up into the passenger side like a pro and set the box of lanterns between her feet, then started tugging at the harness.
She went still as I leaned in to secure the straps. The side of
my hand brushed her breast—and her hard nipple—and she sucked in a breath as I turned my head.
“Feel okay?” I asked, fixated on her mouth. She’d glossed it with a coat of barely pink lipstick and the shade made her lips look even more plump than normal.
“Y-yeah. Umm, not that this isn’t hella cool and all, but you’re not going to pull a Christian Grey, right? There’s an actual pilot that goes with this ride, isn’t there?”
I frowned. “You’re comparing me to a man who has his hired help clean his butt plugs?”
She coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me, what?”
“Or so I’ve heard,” I added. “I haven’t actually read it.”
But Jack had, due to some pushy ex-girlfriend, and he’d delighted in telling me that little factoid. Yet another thing he’d tossed at me to drive me insane.
The guy should have a degree in the art.
“Yes, there’s an actual pilot, and it’s me. If you don’t trust me to get you to Springfield safely—”
“How many flights have you actually piloted?”
“Hundreds, beyond flight training, of course. It was one of my first indulgences, learning to fly. As was this helicopter.”
“Seems like you indulge yourself a lot.”
I shifted my head until our faces were close, so close that her cinnamon-scented breath wafted over my lips. I didn’t know if the smell came from candy, gum or toothpaste, but that hint of spice drew me more strongly than mint ever would.
“More lately,” I said softly, searching her gaze, “but not nearly enough.”
I rounded the helicopter to the other side before she had a chance to reply.
There were cameras up on the roof as well. My security set-up was thorough. But I’d craved the sight of the face of the girl who loved to fly more than I cared about what I’d risk by being so close. She was my temptation, and even the idea of giving in was more alluring than sex with any other woman would’ve been.
I took my seat behind the controls and went through all my pre-flight checks. “This will be over in a flash, so make sure you look your fill.”
She nodded and checked the tension on the straps. “I’m ready.”