Flirting in Traffic

by BETH KERY

  Brains and beauty only went so far when it came to the nasty bumps on the road of life.

  He figured it was best that he’d discovered before he’d married Julia, not after, that not only his financial status but his image as a successful, white-collar entrepreneur had been crucial aspects that Julia loved about him.

  Finn had still been in the midst of a post-breakup funk when he’d seen Julia’s face in the society section of the Chicago Tribune last week. She’d been on the arm of Galen Graves Jr., scion of a wealthy family from Wilmette and Chief Operating Officer for corporate giant Glen-Cat. Julia had worn that small, mysterious smile as she looked into the camera’s eye, the one that used to drive Finn crazy with lust.

  Why hadn’t he ever noticed before how contrived that expression was? It irked him to realize he’d never know what had been genuine about her and what had been a lie.

  The caption below the photo indicated that Julia and Gavin were the hottest new item on the social circuit. Even though Finn figured he was better off without Julia in his life, his bitterness had only grown when he saw that photo. Not so much toward Julia, but at himself for being so stupid as to be hoodwinked by her.

  And never mind how much his anger had escalated when she’d cornered him in the lobby of his condo just four nights ago, eager to resume where they’d left off—at least in the bedroom anyway. Apparently it would have suited Julia just fine to have her picture snapped at high-profile charity events on the arm of Galen Jr. while spending stolen hours with Finn smoking up the sheets. But her brawny, blue-collar, would-be secret lover wasn’t quite as biddable as Julia would have preferred, Finn thought grimly.

  Yeah, a hell of a lot could change in a few months’ time.

  His brother Jess, however, appeared not to have altered his life plans in the slightest. Despite the fact that he held a prestigious degree in the biological sciences from the University of Illinois and probably had a viable claim to the title of “Most Intelligent” in a family of extremely bright people, Jess continued to pick up his Madigan Construction paycheck like an hourly employee. He still drank and socialized at Dooley’s tavern almost every night as if there was no tomorrow and bedded any pretty woman who looked his way—which apparently was just about every damn one that he encountered, from the action Jess saw in a typical week.

  His little brother still brimmed over with the mischief of a twelve-year-old at Catholic school, always looking for fresh opportunities for fun and excitement. Unfortunately he’d managed to drag Finn himself into his most recent misadventure involving that singles’ magazine and an online traffic flirtation loop. Or maybe that wasn’t fair.

  Finn had been all too willing to plunge into trouble since he’d first laid eyes on the redhead driving the sports car. When Jess had suggested that he go to One Life with him earlier that evening and explained the circumstances, Finn had just shaken his head and rolled his eyes.

  Then he’d seen Kitten and had an abrupt change of heart. She wasn’t his type, of course. Finn didn’t like the flashy look-at-me type who would drive a racy car with vanity plates. Kitten Ormond made him look, all right—he’d hardly been able to unglue his eyes from that bouncy, lustrous auburn hair or the disdainful expression in her brandy-colored eyes, glittering through her preppy glasses.

  Maybe it had just been that his sex life seemed to have gone into dormancy ever since the traumatic death of his father and Julia leaving him. Perhaps it was just his body’s way of telling him that it was time to get back on the often treacherous obstacle course of dating once again.

  All Finn knew for certain was the redhead in the Ferrari made him randy as a goat.

  It felt so fantastic to have lust pounding through his veins once again that he’d allowed himself to get entangled in one of Jess’ stupid schemes. He had no one but himself to blame for the fact that he’d spent a sleepless night in an empty bed—a bed where he’d hoped to be making love to a curvy, responsive, fiery red-haired beauty.

  But when he’d come out of his bathroom after washing up, raring to go another round…he saw that his cute, cuddly stray had bolted.

  Finn had been stunned by her abandonment. Then he’d been pissed. His pride had been pricked by her abrupt departure. He wasn’t a ladies’ man on the par of his brother Jess but he’d had his fair share of women. And never once had one of them turned tail and run while he was in the midst of making love to her.

  “I guess from that sour look on your face you didn’t get lucky last night like I did,” Jess said smugly, pulling Finn out of his reverie. “I’m surprised. That little redhead was smoking. Great body—plenty of flesh and all in the right places. And what a rack—” Jess paused abruptly in the action of holding his hands over his chest in a cradling gesture when Finn frowned at him forbiddingly.

  “So what’d you do to turn her off? I hope you didn’t go on about Julia. Women are wary of guys on the rebound. My guess is that you sent her running by lecturing her about the necessity for haste because of the freezing temperatures of asphalt and concrete?”

  “No, I save that lecture for you. Not that you ever listen.”

  Jess glanced up in surprise from where he was dumping powdered creamer both into his mug and onto the metal table. “Hey, are you really that pissed about me being a few hours late? Nobody else has to work on Saturday. What good is there in being the boss if I can’t enjoy an armful of warm, sexy woman in my bed on a weekend morning?”

  “If you don’t know by now I doubt you ever will.”

  Jess touched his fingers to his eyelids in a characteristic gesture of martyrdom—the one that signaled he was about to be bullied by his sanctimonious big brother. “Christ, Finn. No other contractor on the Dan Ryan project is as riled up about making deadlines and keeping costs to a minimum as you are. I mean, come on. If we don’t finish it we’ll just make up for it in the spring. It’s only government money.”

  “Yeah, Jess. State and federal money. Money from taxpayers like Mom and Grandma Glory and you and me.”

  Jess gave him a droll expression and swigged his coffee. Finn should’ve known better than to use that argument. It never worked on his brother, who seemed to have extremely blurry vision when it came to focusing on matters of ethics and moral conscience.

  “All right, look, if that doesn’t set a fire in your belly consider this. The state was always Dad’s and Uncle Jo’s best employer. They got contracts from them year after year because they worked their asses off to bring in almost all their projects on time.”

  “Lot of good it did them,” Jess said glumly as he plopped down at a desk that was covered with foot-high stacks of paper. “Let’s face it, Madigan Construction is hardly Fortune 500 material.”

  “Madigan Construction gave you the financial means for a secure, happy childhood, private schools, a college education. Thanks to its growth in the last year, it’ll do the same for the next generation—”

  “I know, I know.” Jess put up his hands to stave off Finn’s familiar lecture. “Christ, sometimes I think Dad skipped rebirth and just reincarnated straight into you. You sound exactly like him sometimes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jess started and met his brother’s gaze. He hadn’t meant it as a compliment, of course, but he saw Finn’s point. They’d all worshipped their bigger-than-life, quick to smile, charismatic father. There wasn’t one Madigan who wasn’t still sore from the wound of his abrupt death.

  “You’re welcome,” Jess conceded under his breath as he stood and set down his mug. “So, what’s on the agenda, fearless leader?”

  “I need you surveying at that new stretch we contracted two weeks ago. We need to make that a priority before—”

  “Snow flies,” Jess finished the familiar litany with a roll of his eyes.

  “It’s true. We’ll have an extra month or so with the viaduct, since we’re not as reliant on ground temperature.”

  “Jess?” Finn asked abruptly when his brother reached for the trailer door, surv
eying equipment cradled in one arm. Jess paused, his head ducked beneath the threshold.

  “Your date last night… Did she say much about Kitten?”

  “Who’s Kitten?”

  “The little redhead,” Finn elaborated irritably, using language Jess would comprehend. When his brother still looked perplexed, Finn cradled his hands over his chest, mimicking Jess’s former crude breast-cradling gesture. Comprehension dawned on Jess’ face.

  “Oh…right, the vanity plates. Kitten, huh? She was a hot one. I always was partial to redheads. Funny, I thought Carla called her something else. Carla and I didn’t have much opportunity for talking about buddies, if you know what I mean.” He flashed his patented Don Juan smile. Molly Madigan’s gamine green eyes took on a whole new definition in her second-oldest son’s face. “Why? What do you want to know about her?”

  What did Finn want to know? He wanted to know plenty. How many men Kitten Ormond had entertained between her thighs in the last month, for starters. Why it was that even though he wouldn’t like the probable answer to that question, he still couldn’t stop thinking about the vibrancy of her laughter, the excitement of discovering the depths of her sensuality…the look of vague surprise intermingled with intense pleasure on her lovely face when she came.

  Or why the hell she’d made love to him like a sizzling firecracker on his foyer floor—exploding several times to amazing effect—only to leave him high and hard in a cold, empty bed?

  What did Finn want to know about Kitten? Her goddamned phone number would be great for starters.

  Despite his self-admonishments for doing it, he’d already tried to call her using directory assistance this morning. Kitten Ormond’s number was unlisted.

  Maybe one of the most crucial things he’d like to know was why he cared about all those things one way or another. Kitten probably thought he was nothing but a blue-collar stiff without a working neural pathway in his brain, a slab of male flesh who conveniently didn’t require batteries.

  Finn knew the type.

  If he’d been forced to admit it, he also knew why he’d tried to contact her this morning. The sex had been phenomenal. Incredible. Electric. He’d had a take it or leave it attitude toward sex since Julia left him.

  But after Kitten, he was in the mood to take it all right. In spades. He wasn’t looking for any serious commitment, granted. Not after everything he’d just been through. Fortunately Kitten seemed like the type who was just out for a good time, which worked just dandy for him.

  He was certain she’d enjoyed the sex as much as he had so he’d sure as hell like to know what made her run out of his condo like she was a fugitive. Surely he owed her at least a phone call. What if something catastrophic had occurred?

  “I want to know how to get in contact with her but she’s not listed. Could you ask Carla for her number?”

  Jess shrugged before he headed out the door. “Why don’t you make things easier on yourself and just call Caleb? It’s not like you don’t know the little minx’s license plates,” Jess said with a lascivious rise of his eyebrows. He stuck his face back in the crack of the trailer door before he shut it.

  “And hey…if you manage to find her try not to let her get away this time, okay? This is exactly what you need—a hot fling to help jolt you out of this depression you’ve been in since Dad died…and since Julia left you.”

  Finn just gave his brother a bland look. In truth, he was none too pleased that he’d resorted to his little brother’s tactics for soothing grief, not to mention a bruised ego and a boatload of self-doubt. The image of Esa scowling at him from the driver’s seat of that Ferrari flashed across his mind’s eye.

  Rebound reaction or not, Finn was going to find her.

  Finn glanced at the marquee in the lobby of the modern, sleek high-rise on Michigan Avenue. He sensed the security guard’s forbidding stare on him. Shit. He probably should have changed out of his dusty work clothes before coming. He’d rather catch Kitten off-guard by knocking on her front door instead of scaring her off with a doorman’s phone call. But the security guard was never going to allow him on the elevators to the exclusive residential section of the building without an okay from Kitten.

  He studied the marquee while secretly scamming how to get past the guard. A mane of dark red hair caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

  He nodded once at the security guard a few moments later as he headed toward the bay of elevators on the left—the ones that led to the businesses instead of the residences. He stayed at a distance and watched while Kitten got onto an elevator by herself.

  The floor indicator showed that she got off on the twenty-first floor. He pushed the up button.

  What a stroke of luck. Not only to have seen her, but that she’d gone to the business section of the building instead of the residences. His cousin, Illinois State Trooper Caleb Madigan, had been the one to inform him of Kitten’s address. Caleb had whistled into the phone when he’d traced the license plates.

  “Pretty fancy digs, Finn. Thought you weren’t interested in the high-flying type after Julia.”

  “Just give me the address, Caleb.”

  “And this wipes my debts clean from the last poker game?” Caleb had asked anxiously.

  “Yeah. You’re free until I take all your money again at Grandma Glory’s Halloween party.”

  That had been sufficient assurance for his cousin. “All right, but you didn’t hear any of this from me.”

  Within seconds Finn had had one Kitten Susan Ormand’s vital statistics at his fingertips, including her home address and telephone numbers.

  Finn was familiar with the building where she lived since his firm had been located just blocks away on Pearson Street. He and Jason occasionally came here for lunch at an Italian restaurant on the third floor.

  He stepped off of the elevator. There were only three large offices on the twenty-first floor—an insurance business, a real estate company and the offices of Metro Sexy magazine. The latter was the only one that showed any signs of life.

  Metro Sexy—wasn’t that the name of that singles’ magazine that had organized the asinine flirting in traffic scheme that Jess was involved in? Jess…and apparently Kitten as well. Kitten’s bold license plates flashed into his mind’s eye. Could it be that Kitten worked as well as lived in this building?

  The door was unlocked. Although the receptionist’s desk was empty, the person who manned it must have just stepped away for a moment, given the evidence of an opened bag of chips and soda can sitting next to the keyboard of a powered-up computer and the radio tuned to a local station.

  Otherwise not a sign of life stirred in the luxurious offices.

  Finn headed toward the walnut-paneled hallway behind the reception area. He hesitated only briefly when he saw the sign that read Kitten Ormand, Publisher next to a partially opened door.

  She sat behind her desk. The sight of her caused a surprisingly strong feeling of grim satisfaction and possessiveness to surge through him. Her expression of stunned disbelief segued to one of rising panic when Finn shut the door behind him with a brisk bang and narrowed the distance between them.

  “We have some unfinished business, Kitten,” he informed her.

  Chapter Five

  Esa conveniently transferred her anger at herself for sleeping with a complete stranger onto her sister. Rachel was the one who had set the stage for her impulsive, completely out of character behavior with all that insistence that Esa drive her glamorous fast car and plotting with Carla about that stupid flirting in traffic chat loop. She’d been planning for Esa to get some action.

  As if Esa wasn’t capable of getting a man in bed on her own.

  If she wanted to, anyway. Which she hadn’t. Not until Rachel and Carla foisted Finn Madigan on her.

  What sane woman would refuse him?

  Her fury had only escalated when Rachel wouldn’t answer her cell phone. Esa knew perfectly well that Rachel’s phone had practically been grafted
onto her ear since she was twenty years old. So her refusal to pick it up the morning after Esa’s ignominious night of sexual promiscuity was undoubtedly intentional. Obviously Carla had gotten to Rachel first and spilled the news about Esa leaving the bar with the drop-dead gorgeous Finn.

  She and Rachel were very close but there were times when Esa was sorely tempted to wrap her hands around her sister’s swanlike throat and give a healthy squeeze.

  Esa reached a sleepy-sounding Carla as she drove down Lake Shore Drive to visit her parents in Evanston. She didn’t even give her friend a chance to say anything but a groggy “hello” before she launched into her attack.

  “Tell Rachel to stop avoiding me.”

  “Well, good morning to you too. What are you so grouchy about?”

  “I’m not grouchy. Just tell Rachel to stop avoiding me. Is she on your other line right this second?”

  Esa could tell by Carla’s prolonged pause that she’d guessed accurately.

  “You already told her about Finn, didn’t you?” Esa snarled even more than she’d intended when a silver Porsche cut her off. What was it about driving a sports car that brought out the competitive idiot in everyone? She jerked Rachel’s convertible into the outside lane and sped past the Porsche.

  “Why, is there something juicy to tell?” Carla asked brightly.

  “Nothing whatsoever.”

  “Uh-huh,” Carla replied skeptically. “I hope you’re not p.o.’d at me for not correcting Finn when he called you Kitten last night before he asked you to dance. He got the idea from the license plates. I just thought it was sorta funny considering how you hate Rachel’s nickname.”

  Esa’s eyelids narrowed in the bright sunlight bouncing off Lake Michigan. Finn had made a lot of mistaken assumptions about her thanks to Rachel’s sophomoric vanity plates. “Why does everyone insist on calling Rachel that stupid name? She’s twenty-seven years old for God’s sake, not a gum-smacking Mouseketeer.”

  “It’s sexy—fits her image. She’s had it legally changed, you know,” Carla stated matter-of-factly.