by Joss Wood
Or was that wishful thinking?
“It was all you,” Linc repeated his words, his voice sounding like sandpaper. “Only you.”
Linc disappeared, and Tate heard him heading down the stairs. “Damn, Ellie.”
At the sound of her name, Ellie looked up and gifted her with a gummy grin.
“How the hell am I going to resist him?”
The child, not understanding the question, threw her doll at Tate’s legs.
* * *
He was living with another Harper woman, Linc grumbled to himself a couple of days later, running down the stairs from his home office to open the front door.
God help him. Kari had been, generally, a pain in his ass, but Tate, well, she was trouble on a whole new level. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her off his mind.
And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Linc looked at his watch and thought that he’d known her for less than three days and every minute they were together he fought the urge to take her to bed. Her perfume was in his nose, the memory of her smooth skin was on his hands, and the image of those warm cognac brown eyes, foggy with passion, were burned into his retinas. He was so screwed, metaphorically speaking. Sad as that was.
Stop thinking about sleeping with her, Ballantyne. Think about business and the fact that you are less than useless working from home, mostly because you are so easily distracted by a pair of long, sexy legs and that that tumble of long, wavy hair you want to sink your hands into.
He bit back an oath. Work was piling up, and he couldn’t leave Beck to carry the load for much longer. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. Jo was having a ball with Gary, and Linc knew that he’d lost her as his full-time caregiver; he had to find someone to look after Shaw on a permanent basis.
Tate seemed to be doing okay, he reluctantly admitted. She and Shaw seemed to click, helped by the fact that Tate was able to spend hours with him in the afternoons, building forts and racing cars, Ellie close at hand. After sampling his runny scrambled eggs on day one at Frustration Central, she kicked him out of the kitchen, cheerfully stating that she’d cook. She quickly and with the minimum of fuss, whipped up meals that both Shaw and Ellie could eat and then tossed together a more adult meal the two of them could share while exchanging polite conversation and pretending that they weren’t imagining each other naked. So far he’d eaten a Thai curry and a pork-and-beans dish from the deep South. If she wasn’t a Harper, and he didn’t want her in his bed, he’d probably employ her on the spot as his housekeeper/nanny.
Lusting after the nanny, such a cliché. And if that thought wasn’t enough to dampen his raging libido, then he should remember that she was the last person that he should be interested in. She was a nomad, she’d only be around until she reunited Ellie with Kari, and then she’d shoot off to parts unknown.
She was also his ex’s sister, and he’d been burned by one Harper blonde before. Did he really want to risk repeating that crappy experience?
If it meant getting her naked then...maybe. But probably not.
God, he was arguing with himself, a new low.
Linc opened the ornate wooden door and glared at Reame Jepsen, his oldest, closest friend and owner of the best investigative company in the city. His green eyes sparkling with amusement, Reame lifted his eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.
“What’s up, dude? You look pissed,” Reame drawled, walking into the hallway, taking a moment to look at the stained glass windows on either side of the door. “God, I love this house. Always have.”
Reame was his one friend who knew him from BC—Before Connor. They’d both lived in the same run-down apartment building in Queens, but, somehow, their friendship survived his move to Manhattan when Jo landed the job of Connor’s housekeeper, his subsequent adoption by one of the wealthiest men in the country and his very privileged lifestyle.
Reame had no idea how much Linc admired him; he’d grown up poor, joined the military, served with distinction in the Special Forces and established one of the most respected security and investigative companies in the city.
Reame said that he couldn’t have done it without Connor’s, and then Linc’s, business, but Linc disagreed. His buddy never gave up and never gave in. He would be exactly where he was, with or without Ballantyne business.
“You’re wearing your pissed-off-with-women expression,” Reame stated, after they exchanged a one-armed, super brief hug.
“Thanks for coming over,” Linc told him as they walked deeper into the house, heading for the downstairs family room. Reame shrugged off his thanks, and Linc knew that, like his brothers, Reame would move mountains for him if he needed him to.
“So, who’s the woman?” Reame asked, not allowing Linc to change the subject.
Knowing that his friend wouldn’t let the subject die, Linc pushed frustrated fingers through his hair. “Kari’s sister.”
Reame’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Satan’s bride’s sister is here? Why?”
“Long story, we’ll go into it,” Linc said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s actually going to be your client... I’m just doing the introduction.”
Reame shook his head. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not interested.”
“Hear her out, Reame. She’s not like Kari.” Linc hesitated. “At least I don’t think she is.”
Reame groaned, looking appalled. His fist rocketed into Linc’s shoulder. “Are you freaking nuts? What is it with you and these Harper girls?”
“God knows,” Linc replied, rubbing his shoulder. “Just listen to her, please?”
“Okay.” Reame folded his arms over his chest. “But if I don’t like her or what she has to say, or think she’s trying to scam you, I’m not taking her case.”
“Fair enough,” Linc said as they moved farther into the house. They half jogged down the stairs leading to the kitchen and great room. Linc’s eyes scanned the room and saw Tate standing by the doors to the garden, looking at the barren winter garden. Her head resting on Ellie’s, her hand was patting the little girl’s back in a rhythmic, soothing motion. She kept saying that she wasn’t mommy material, but for someone who had been thrust into the role a few days earlier, she was doing fine.
And she looked stunning. Unlike the women he dated who looked effortlessly chic and glamorous, Tate looked relaxed. She wore tall laced-up combat boots and gray over-the-thigh socks, and there was a gap of a few inches between her socks and flowy skirt. Her rust-colored sweater showed off one creamy shoulder, and her long wavy hair tumbled down her back.
Linc looked at Reame, saw his hell-yeah, appreciative look and jammed him in the side with his elbow. His pal nodded slowly before tossing Linc an amused look. “So...wow,” he said, sotto voce.
“Tell me about it,” Linc muttered. He called Tate’s name and watched as she turned around and gave him a quick, hesitant smile. Her gaze moved on to Reame, and her eyes widened, a common reaction. Reame had a Turkish mother and a Danish father, and the combination of olive skin and light green eyes and big, muscular body, resulted in appreciative looks and flirty smiles. Reame’s power over women had never bothered Linc before, but seeing Tate’s reaction to his friend pissed him off.
Big-time.
“Tate, Reame Jepsen, the PI I told you about. Reame, Tate Harper. Potential client.”
He made a big deal of emphasizing the word client. Reame had a cast-iron rule about not sleeping with, dating or having a friendship with his clients. Not that he’d allow Reame to make a move on Tate; he’d rip his old friend’s face off first.
God, jealous much, Ballantyne?
Tate moved toward them and held out her hand for Reame to shake. As Tate got closer, Linc saw the tears in the baby’s blue eyes, the track marks on her chubby cheeks. Ellie, noticing him, leaned forward, waving her arms at
him, silently asking him to take her. Linc obliged and cuddled her close, holding her head to his chest. “What’s the matter, honey?” he crooned.
Linc raised his eyebrow at Tate who shrugged. “I have no idea,” she replied, frustrated. “She’s clean, has had a bottle and she ate her lunch.”
“This is a new house, new people, and she’s probably feeling a little scared,” Linc said.
To his surprise, Tate’s eyes filled with tears. “I think so, too.” She hauled in a deep breath. “That’s why I was rocking her.”
“It’s all you can do.” Linc nodded. “As much as she wants, when she wants it.”
Tate sucked in a breath, nodded once and sent him a grateful look. She was holding up well, Linc thought, impressed. Most of the women he knew, with the exception of Jo and Sage—and Jaeger’s fiancée, Piper—would be whining about how having to look after a baby interfered with yoga or Pilates or a pedicure.
But Tate just sucked it up and did what she needed to do. He admired her for that.
“Let’s have coffee,” Linc suggested, suddenly uncomfortable. It was one thing to lust after Tate, but he was playing with fire if he started liking her, too.
“I’ll get on that,” Tate offered, “since you have your hands full.”
“Let’s talk while you do that,” Reame suggested, walking to the counter and pulling out a stool. “I don’t have that much time, and it sounds like you have a story to tell.”
Tate nodded. “I understand that you located Kari four years ago after she disappeared?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you to find her again,” Tate insisted, and Linc heard the bitterness in her voice. She sent Reame a determined look. “Find her so that I can take Ellie back to her, so that I can talk some damn sense into her. Find her so that I can tell her that she cannot dump her children whenever she feels like it!”
Tate closed her eyes as if she were suddenly realizing that she was shouting. She pulled in a long breath, and her chest lifted and fell. When she opened her eyes again, her anger, her frustration and her embarrassment were visible. She sent Reame an imploring look. “Please, just find her. For Ellie. She needs her mom.”
Reame looked from Tate to Linc and back to Tate again. He nodded once and held out his hand for Tate to shake. Her small hand disappeared into his, and Reame covered the back of his hand with his other, his face serious. “I’ll find her, Tate. I promise.”
He would, Linc thought, feeling relieved. His buddy never made promises he couldn’t keep. Linc’s eyes met his, and Reame gave him a sharp nod, as if to reinforce his promise to Tate. Then Reame’s expression changed, and amusement jumped back into his green eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth.
Tate turned her back to them, busy with the coffee machine, and Linc raised his eyebrows at Reame. “What?” he mouthed.
Reame gave him a thumbs-up before lifting his index finger and pulling it across his throat. Linc quickly interpreted his gestures. Tate was okay, and he was in so much trouble.
Which was nothing he hadn’t already realized.
* * *
When Linc returned to the kitchen after seeing Reame out, Tate sent him a weary smile. She was exhausted; partly because she felt drained from talking about Kari and the little she knew of her life but mostly because she’d spent the previous night thinking about Linc and their volcano-hot kiss.
“I need to collect Shaw soon,” Linc told her. “His pre-K isn’t far from here. Do you want to walk with me? It’s supposed to snow soon, so we’d better hustle.”
Tate looked out of the window to the gray, freezing day. “Have you heard of a cab? A car?”
Linc smiled. “I need fresh air or else I get twitchy. Come on, don’t be a girl.”
“I am a girl,” Tate told him, and his gaze darkened. Yeah, when he looked at her with male appreciation in his eyes, she felt intensely feminine and super sexy.
Dropping her eyes, Tate looked from Linc to Ellie, sitting on the carpet at her feet, and back again. “How far is far? Will Ellie be okay in the cold?”
“I’ll find Shaw’s old snowsuit and I’ll carry her. She’ll be fine.”
Tate nodded and stood up, feeling Linc’s hot gaze on her legs. She raised her eyes and caught his smile, the molten desire in his expression. “As much as I appreciate what you’re wearing, I strongly suggest that you put on a few more layers or else you will freeze,” he told her, his voice bone-dry.
Tate felt her cheeks warm. “I usually follow the sun. I don’t have that many winter clothes.”
“You look good,” Linc murmured, his voice husky.
Tate shoved an agitated hand into her hair, wishing that he’d stop looking at her mouth. Even better, she wished he’d do something with her mouth, like kiss it stupid. Their eyes clashed and held, and Tate swallowed, wishing his big, strong arms were around her, that she could taste his breath, count each bristle on his chin. She wanted him to rip her clothes off her, to undo the buttons of his shirt and push the fabric aside so she could touch his chest, explore the hard ridges of his stomach.
“When you look at me like that, it takes every inch of willpower to stop myself from doing exactly what you are asking for.”
Tate touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “What am I asking? Bearing in mind that I didn’t say a word.”
“You don’t need to speak. Your eyes say it all. You want to see me naked. And more.”
Tate didn’t bother to play games by denying his very accurate observation. She just met his direct gaze and nodded. “You want to see me naked, too.”
“And do more,” Linc rasped, jamming his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocking on his heels. “A lot more.”
Tate groaned and had to stop herself from flinging herself against his chest and doing what biology was urging them to do. “This is insane!” she muttered. “Do we not have enough to deal with without this crazy thing zinging between us?”
“Seems not.”
“We shouldn’t be attracted to each other!” Tate cried.
“Yet, we are.”
Tate nodded. “But we don’t have to act on it.”
“We did the other night,” Linc pointed out.
“Only because we both thought that I’d be moving on in the morning! I would never have let that go so far if I thought I was staying.”
“Honey, you didn’t even hear Ellie crying. I did.”
Tate glared at him. “I would have. At some point.” She pulled in a long breath and raked her hair back from her face. “Linc, it was a momentary madness. It won’t happen again.”
Linc sent her a hot, frustrated look. “Want to test that theory? I think that once we start, we won’t be able to stop, not again.”
Dammit, how was she supposed to resist him? Tate didn’t know, but her gut told her that she should. Instinctively, she knew that, while sleeping with Linc would be a delightful way to pass the time, the consequences of their actions would be huge. What those consequences were, she couldn’t quite discern, but her instinct was telling her that they would be dire.
Feminine intuition aside, falling into a fling with a hot guy should be the last item on her agenda. She had to look after a little girl who was pining for her mom; she had to find her sister and reconnect mother and daughter. She had a career to return to, places to visit, people to meet.
Living with Linc, sleeping with Linc, would make this situation too intimate, too much like the fairy tales she’d never believed in. He was like this house, stable, solid and rooted. He was Manhattan royalty, successfully established and easily juggling his roles as a brilliant businessman and an excellent single father.
Whereas she was a transient, someone who could pack light but who carried far too much emotional baggage. She ran from relationships, from commitment, from a
nything and anyone demanding that she dip below the surface.
Her attraction to Linc scared her, but the fact that she liked his mind as much as she liked his body terrified her even more.
It’s imperative you keep your distance, Harper.
Tate bent down and picked Ellie up. “Let’s walk, Linc. Maybe if we get to know each other better, we’ll realize that we don’t, actually, like each other, and this crazy attraction between us will disappear.”
“Here’s hoping,” Linc said, pushing his hands in the pockets of his pants. “But I think we’re kidding ourselves if we think this is going away.”
Six
Dressed in layers, Tate pulled the front door closed and headed outside, wincing as the bitterly cold air burned the back of her throat. She fought the urge to run back into the warm house behind her.
Too much sunshine has made you soft, Harper. Suck it up.
Tate drew level with Linc, concerned that Ellie wasn’t warm enough. She touched her fingers to the baby’s cheek, and Ellie sent her a gummy smile, obviously cozy in the snowsuit that Linc had found in the top of Shaw’s cupboard. Ellie seemed very happy in Linc’s arms, so Tate shoved her bare hands into the pockets of her parka and her chin into the scarf she’d wound around her neck.
Tate felt Linc’s hand on her arm, pulling her left, and she shot him a glance. “Puddle,” he explained and she smiled her thanks. Linc stopped and, with his free hand, pulled his knit hat off his head and thrust it at her. “Your lips are turning blue. Put this on.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re turning into a Popsicle,” Linc muttered as she positioned the hat over her hair, still warm from his head. “Do you want to go back?”
She didn’t. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this cold, but with a little exercise she’d quickly feel warmer. She wanted to walk with Linc, breathe in the snow-tinged air and clear her head.