When Good Things Happen to Bad Boys

by Lori Foster, Erin McCarthy, HelenKay Dimon

  “Good thing your uncle Calvin died of a heart attack or I’d hunt him down and kill him.”

  “He was always a considerate fellow that way.”

  “He was a pervert.”

  A sense of family loyalty sent him rushing to Uncle Calvin’s defense. Not rushing, really. More like a slow walk. Pervert was too strong. Sexual voyeur, maybe. Experimenter, definitely. Old dude on the make, he could live with.

  “Family folklore says he was faithful to my aunt throughout their marriage. When she died a few years back, he was faithful to his girlfriend. Who also happened to be about fifteen years younger than my aunt, by the way.”

  “Are you telling me your uncle and aunt used this room for…for…”

  “Pleasure?” He pressed his lips together in a frown. “I’m trying really hard not conjure up an image in my head, but yes. They were said to be a pretty randy twosome. Monogamous but sexually charged.”

  “Oh my God.” Her jaw stayed locked in the down position.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘yuck’, but you’ve never seen Uncle Calvin and Aunt Theresa, so you can’t possibly appreciate how horrifying the thought of them rolling around on a hard floor actually is.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Wait a second.”

  “We have a lot more than a second.”

  “Are you really saying we’re stuck in a sex chamber for the weekend? Together?”

  Music to his ears. “To be technically correct, we’re here for two nights. Not quite a weekend.”

  “There has to be a window here somewhere.” She flew around the room testing the bookshelves and any other nook that could hide an escape hatch.

  If he didn’t wander around in a state of perpetual arousal thanks to her, he might have been forced to play hard to get. But he was too busy getting hard to play hard. He could barely think from wanting her so badly.

  “You know, there are worse things than being stuck alone with me.” At least he hoped that was true.

  “I can’t think of one.”

  “You know, some women find me attractive.” More than one actually, but now wasn’t the time to brag. Not when she was so intent on running like hell.

  “Well, go find one and get her to help us out of here.” Books crashed to the floor as she threw them off the shelves.

  “You’re wasting time and a good deal of energy.”

  He sat down on the chair, careful not to tip the damn thing over. He intended to take the ingenuous piece for a test run very soon and needed it in top condition. From his research, he’d learned that this was a one-of-a-kind item.

  “We’re getting out of here one way or the other.”

  “I’ll just sit here and watch, if you don’t mind. I’m a lot older than you, you know.”

  “You’re thirty-seven, not a hundred.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and froze. “Don’t sit there!”

  “How do you know how old I am?” Her knowing his vital statistics had to be a good sign.

  “I read it somewhere.”

  “Uh-huh. That makes sense. My age is printed just about everywhere.”

  She clapped her hands together. The noise was almost deafening in the tiny room. “Let’s focus.”

  He thought he was. As far as he was concerned she was the one with misplaced priorities.

  “Right. Focus.”

  “Get up.”

  “Why?”

  Her beautiful brown eyes bugged out. “Don’t you know what that chair is for?”

  Damn right he did. He had fiddled with the thing for three days before he figured out how to make the leg rests open.

  “I can take an educated guess.”

  “Your uncle and aunt—”

  “Stop!” He held up a hand. “If you describe the sex act, I’ll go blind. Just thinking about all that clumpy white flesh smacking together makes me queasy.”

  Her blunt fingernails dug into her hips until her knuckles turned white. “So you agree the chair is gross?”

  “I agree the idea of two wrinkled relatives slapping skin on it is a bit nasty. But for someone, say, of our age, making love in a chair certainly seems pretty interesting.”

  “I don’t believe this.” She touched a hand to her head and knocked her plastic hardhat to the floor. The crash echoed off the chamber walls. She looked so forlorn, he took pity on her.

  “Come here, Hannah.”

  “I have to think.”

  Wrong. Thinking was the last thing he wanted her doing.

  “Plenty of time for that later. Come here.”

  “Where?”

  “With me.” He patted his lap.

  “I’ll sit on the floor.” With that, she slid down until that tempting backside thumped against the cement. Her forehead dropped against her upraised knees.

  As far as he knew she didn’t have a boyfriend. According to his sources, including his friend and Hannah’s cousin, Cole Carruthers, Hannah was unattached. Cole also mentioned something about her being prickly, but Whit vowed to prove him wrong on that point.

  He knew he still had to ask the question. No matter how much he dreaded the answer. “Did you have special plans for the weekend?”

  “Yes.”

  Her muffled reply hit him like a blow to the stomach. He coughed out the follow-up over a big ball of regret. “Anyone I know?”

  She lifted her head and stared at him. Those usually clear eyes clouded with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your date.”

  “My what?”

  Didn’t they just cover this? “This weekend.”

  “Is the lack of oxygen bothering you or something?”

  “Um, no.”

  “I meant work, Whit. In addition to working on your property, I had plans to finish the bid for my next job. It’s due Tuesday.”

  Relief whooshed out of him. Sounded like his leading competition was a calculator, or maybe an erasable pen. He thought he could outlast those two entries.

  Her lean fingers clenched and unclenched, gathering fistfuls of faded blue jeans in her hands. Her forehead wrinkled with concern. With his luck, she’d start throwing up any minute.

  “Honey?”

  “Huh?”

  The fact she responded to the endearment without knocking out his teeth had to be a good sign. “You okay?”

  “No. Nothing about this situation is okay.”

  He walked over and plunked down next to her. Instead of scooting away as he expected, she slid closer and balanced her head on his shoulder. The barest touch of her silky hair against his skin made him rock-hard and ready to test the chair. But now wasn’t the time.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “I have trouble with small spaces.”

  Her voice was so soft and small he barely heard her. When the words registered, he dropped his head back against the hard wall in defeat. His mind battled with his erection to do the right thing. No way was he going to take advantage of a scared woman.

  He blamed his mother and all her lessons about treating women with respect. All that stuff about women being equals. About being protective and not taking advantage. He knew those lessons would ruin his fun some day.

  She didn’t have time for this.

  For the panic welling inside her.

  For being locked away from her work.

  For the kick of interest that slammed into her whenever she got this close to Whit.

  “I can’t just sit around here for the next few days,” she said.

  Laughter rumbled against her ear. “Oh, okay then. We could try yelling the door open.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then fill me in.”

  He dragged his thumb across her lower lip in slow motion. A shiver pumped through her lungs. She pulled back from the soft contact. If he started touching, she’d start liking it.

  “Forget it.”

  “Ah, I see we’re back to the tough-guy routine.”

 
“Right. Because you want to hear all about my deadlines and responsibilities,” she said dryly. “In case you forget, you’re one of my obligations at the moment, or at the very least your house is. If I complain about work, I’m basically complaining about you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  She decided to ignore that one. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under contract to the National Trust to complete this job.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll call the National Trust and turn you in?”

  “Let’s just say I find clients get a little nervous when the contractor starts panicking about missing a deadline.”

  “Are you that far behind on my job?”

  Amazing how he jumped right to the blame game. “The operative word is “we” here. We’re in this together, big boy.”

  He pretended to sniffle. “That’s so sweet. You’re going to make me cry.”

  She cracked a smile. Couldn’t help it. “You don’t seem particularly worried about this job running late.”

  “I’m not.”

  Now, how was that possible? Her life ran on a steady schedule. Whit was the most put-together guy she’d ever seen. How could he not care? “I don’t believe you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “The bid on this job included a late charge. If I don’t get the work done on time, you get to dock my crew’s pay. That doesn’t exactly sound like a guy who doesn’t care.”

  He closed his eyes and grinned. “That was Adam. My brother is a master negotiator. There’s probably another one or two clauses in there that would make your toes curl if you focused on them.”

  Or if she were smart enough to pick them out. Which she wasn’t. “For once, I’m happy you’re the brother assigned to this job.”

  “Really, Hannah, you have to stop with the flattery. My heart can’t take it.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “That’s probably true, but the bottom line is that I’d never go head to head with Adam.”

  “He’s a barracuda?”

  “If you tell him I admitted that, I’ll deny it.”

  “Whether you care or not about punctuality isn’t the point.”

  “It’s not? A second ago I was the client. You know, the one person who mattered.”

  “I can’t be late,” she blurted out.

  One of his stunning green eyes popped open. “And why is that exactly?”

  “Getting on the National Trust’s approved list of construction companies wasn’t easy. I have no intention of getting bumped off so soon.”

  “Getting on was tough. Thanks to all the red tape and politics, getting kicked off would be harder. Try again.”

  This is what came from hanging out with smart guys. She could fool a dumb guy. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got nothing but time, Hannah. My biggest concern at the moment is that my butt might fall asleep and I won’t be able to stand up without your help.”

  Never one to share her fears and personal life, Hannah toyed with the idea of telling him to mind his own business. But there was something about Whit. About his smooth delivery, his almost nonchalant manner that had her babbling like a fool.

  She kissed caution good-bye. If you couldn’t trust a man locked in a sex room with you, then who could you trust?

  “I have a deadline. I have to bring in three solid jobs, simultaneously, all within eight months, or I lose this company.” What she didn’t say was that the company was her life. The only thing she had ever been good at in her life. Without it, she was nothing.

  “That’s a pretty abbreviated version.” He bent his leg and hooked an elbow around one knee. “Care to tell me why you have this big deadline and what all this has to do with the National Trust?”

  “I’m the family screwup, more or less.”

  “The light bulb over my head is still out. Maybe a few more facts would help.”

  She exhaled. “You know that the National Trust only approves certain companies to work on historically protected buildings.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I studied. Worked my butt off, actually, in order to get the coveted approval. Figured once I got on the list, the sheer number of historical properties in the area would allow me to specialize, and in turn make a good deal of money.”

  “Sure. Me, too. Architects go through the same process.”

  “But you own this house.”

  “All that means is I could get a grant to get some of the work done. You know, pick historically accurate paint and light fixtures and all that. But to work on other people’s properties and hold myself out as an expert in this area took a lot more work. So I sympathize with you.”

  He caught her gaze and held it, his eyes gentle and caring. He was either the master manipulator or he actually wanted to hear what she had to say.

  When she hesitated, he groaned. “You can sigh and stall all you want. I’m not going anywhere. Spill it, Hannah.”

  Fine. If he wanted her life history, he could have it. The chances of them suffocating or killing each other within the next two days had to be pretty good. Might as well go out with a bang, so to speak.

  Plus, she knew if they stopped talking, they’d be all over each other. You couldn’t put this type of uncontrolled sexual electricity in a confined space and not expect an explosion or two.

  “I come from the poor side of the family. My mother disappointed her father by getting pregnant, without the benefit of marriage and before turning twenty, and was pushed out.”

  “Of her share of the inheritance?”

  As if the money ever mattered. “Of everything. No dinners. No holidays. No contact or support, financial or otherwise. It was as if she no longer existed.”

  “Which made you not exist.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Or, to be more precise, exactly like that.

  “What about your grandmother? Other relatives?”

  Asked by a man who had a real family. Hannah could always tell. The sympathetic frown and wide-eyed shock of her story separated those who understood from those who never could.

  “Everyone followed my grandfather’s lead. Mom and I were out.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Married my mom, but a happy ending wasn’t meant to be. He was killed in a car accident when I was ten.”

  “Jesus, Hannah. I’m sorry.”

  “Anyway, after my mother died, my grandfather made me a deal. He planned to groom me to be some type of entrepreneur. Not my thing. I didn’t want any part of the intellectual, sit-behind-a-desk lifestyle.”

  “So?”

  “Much to his dismay, I opted for one of his less impressive companies. This one. Doubt he even remembered it existed. Probably planned to sell it off in pieces but never got around to it. Apparently, sometime during his business marauding days he had taken over a larger company that owned a small but viable rehab construction company.”

  “And a new career was born.”

  “Not quite but the fit was perfect. All I ever wanted was to build things. Use my hands, not my brains, to create.”

  “Some would say creating takes brains.”

  If he kept saying cool things like that, she’d be all over him. “Not for Gramps. I’m a disappointment.”

  “Sounds like he’s a—”

  “He is but don’t say it.”

  “The man’s priorities are a bit confused, if you ask me.”

  “Yeah, well, Cole is the family star. The good grandchild. I didn’t know him when I was younger but I never stop hearing about his virtues.”

  He swore. “Cole never said a word.”

  “He was on the right side of the family. Perfect and smart. Everything a grandfather could want in a grandchild.”

  “Are we talking about the same Cole who almost flunked out of college?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Cole acted as a surrogate big brother, trying to set a good example. Hannah long suspected Cole’s devilish smile hid a much more
interesting history.

  “My one shot is this company. If I can prove my competency to my grandfather, the business is mine. For a price, of course.”

  “Everything has a price. What’s his?”

  “If I impress him, I get to buy out his interest and he won’t sell to a third party as he’s threatened to do. But I have to do it his way. Prove my worthiness. If I fail, I go back to the beginning and start all over as someone’s employee.”

  “You do all of this work and the old man still makes you purchase the company. He doesn’t just hand the reins over and walk away?”

  “That’s the deal.”

  “Your grandfather’s not exactly the cuddly type, is he?”

  “Hardly.” When Whit traced a finger down her thigh, the rest of the grandfather topic lodged in her throat. “What are you doing?”

  He squeezed her knee. “What I’ve wanted to do for weeks. Touch you.”

  Uh-oh. Time to deflect with joking. “If you really had a burning desire to fondle my leg, you could have told me.”

  “I think I am.”

  He clearly didn’t understand the purpose of deflecting.

  Her head started to spin. She didn’t know if the wave of dizziness came from his touch or her fear over small spaces. Or maybe from her very real concern that getting so close to Whit might mean she’d never be able to break apart from him again.

  “Are you making a pass at a vulnerable and claustrophobic woman?”

  His finger stopped in its path and breath hissed out from between his teeth. “Not anymore.”

  Suddenly, that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

  Three

  Whit’s brain had just convinced the monster in his pants to give up and find another strategy when he felt the slow slide of Hannah’s hand up his thigh. The nerve endings jumped under her light touch and his erection swelled in welcome. Whatever she was doing, he hoped she didn’t stop anytime soon.