by Sarah Morgan
“It’s more about what I can do for you.” She lowered her mug slowly. “I can help you.”
His sister was a born organizer—a skill, in his opinion. That was one of the reasons her business was guaranteed to be a success. The downside was her tendency to try and organize him along with everything else.
“I appreciate the thought, Paige, but I already have more business than I can handle.”
“I’m not talking about your business. I can’t help you with that. I can help with your love life.”
He already had his staff interfering with his love life. The last thing he needed was his sister’s input. “I don’t need help with my love life.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
“You think you know more about how to run my love life than I do?” Stupid question, he thought and saw her smile.
“I know I do.”
“Let me put this another way,” he said carefully. “What makes you think you have the right to interfere with my love life?”
“Maybe because you interfered with mine?”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“I thought that was water under the bridge. I seem to recall that I groveled for a humiliating length of time.”
“I didn’t find it humiliating. I found it satisfying. It’s not often that you admit you’re wrong.”
“It’s a family trait. And you have a cruel streak.”
“I’m your sister. It’s in the job description.”
“I’m starting to miss the time when you were too ill to argue with me. Look, I’m willing to take whatever is coming to me but you’ve chosen a bad moment to take revenge. I told you I have a meeting.”
“This isn’t about revenge. I really can help you. And you owe me. I fixed the babysitting problem for your Roxy.”
“She isn’t my Roxy, and I put you in touch with a great dog-walking business, so I figure that makes us even. And I can handle my own love life, Paige.” This time he wasn’t joking. “There’s nothing wrong with my judgment.”
“Are you sure? Because you proposed to Caroline.”
“Ouch.” Only a sibling would have thrown that in his face.
“It’s the truth, but don’t be too hard on yourself. You were blinded by blond hair and an impressive rack. The blood drained out of your brain and landed—well, we both know where it landed. That doesn’t matter now. She was completely wrong for you, everyone knew that, and you had the sense to end it. But when you find a woman who is perfect for you, it’s important not to mess it up.”
He knew what was driving this conversation. He’d seen it before, when Paige had been sick, when Eva had been bullied—the three women stuck together like Velcro.
“We’re talking about Frankie.”
“I’m glad to know there’s still some blood left in your brain.”
“I can handle it, Paige.”
“Mmm.” Sounding unconvinced, she took another sip of her coffee. “So how’s it going?”
Familiar with every nuance in her tone, he put his phone down on the table. “Has she said something?”
“I’m a woman. I’m your sister. And I’m not stupid.” Her eyes lit up. “I’m so excited. My brother and my best friend.”
“Paige, it’s not—”
“No, and it never will be if you don’t let me help! And if you’re about to tell me that this is none of my business, don’t waste your breath. You owe me this one.”
Matt forced himself to clamp his mouth shut.
“Fine. Interfere. But this is a onetime thing.”
“I prefer to call it helping.”
“I don’t care what you call it—I’d rather deal with this my own way.”
“Even if your way sucks and will probably ruin your chances and your friendship with Frankie? Relationships have always been straightforward to you. All you have to do is look at a woman and she goes weak at the knees. Don’t ask me why. I don’t get it, personally. Not that I’m saying you’re hideous or anything—”
“Thank you.”
“One of your exes did once tell me that your unique appeal is that you look like a bad boy but inside you’re a good guy. Which gives a girl the best of everything.”
Matt was intrigued. “Which ex-girlfriend?”
“I always protect my sources. But what I’m saying is that you’ve never had to think about it. You’ve never had to work at it. You pretty much picked who you wanted.”
He was starting to find the conversation more than a little uncomfortable. “Paige—”
“Frankie isn’t like that. She finds relationships scary, and you’re freaking her out, Matt! Don’t think about our experiences, or our parents’, think about Frankie and what her life has been. Her father had an affair with a woman barely out of college, and Frankie was the one who virtually nursed her mother through her meltdown. Since then she has seen her mother hop from one lover to the next like a rabbit on steroids. It’s hardly surprising she thinks relationships are doomed. And she doesn’t want to doom a relationship with someone she cares about. You need to take it slowly. Stand back and let her come to you.”
He’d tried taking it slowly and he’d realized that if he waited for her to come to him he’d be waiting forever. He had no intention of doing that.
“I know what I’m doing, Paige.”
Paige topped up her coffee. “Dating has pretty much always been an embarrassing and humiliating experience for Frankie. You’ve put her on her guard, Matt. Why do you think she didn’t want to join you on the roof terrace last night? You pushed her out of her comfort zone and she was all hot and bothered.”
Good.
He wanted her hot and bothered. He wanted her out of her comfort zone.
“I’ve got this, Paige.”
“Matt—”
“I said I’ve got this.”
“Men! Fine, be stubborn. But don’t blame me when it all goes wrong.” Paige finished her coffee and put the empty cup on the counter. Her gaze fixed on an invitation propped on a shelf. “What’s that?”
“Wedding invitation. Sounds as if you’re seeing plenty of those right now.”
“Only as part of work.” She picked it up. “Ryan, Emily and Lizzy? The guy is marrying two women?”
“Lizzy is Emily’s daughter. Adopted daughter, although I think they might be related. Niece or something.” He picked up his laptop and slid it into his bag. “It’s Ryan Cooper. Do you remember him? We were at school together. The family lives in—”
“Harbor House. I love that place. It has incredible views over Puffin Point. I babysat Rachel Cooper a couple of times.”
“That was a while ago. She’s teaching at Puffin Elementary now.”
Paige scanned the invitation. “So Ryan is getting married and it’s a beach wedding. Lobster bake. Dancing at the Ocean Club. Sounds like the perfect way to spend a summer weekend. Puffin Island at its best. It’ll be fun. You’re going?”
“Yes. Ryan is a friend. It should be a great weekend.”
She put the invitation back. “The invitation says ‘and guest.’ Who are you taking?”
He hadn’t planned on taking anyone, but an idea took root in his mind.
“I’m taking Frankie.” It would do them both good to get away from the city. New York in the summer was heaving with tourists and the heat was suffocating. Sea air would be welcome.
Judging from his sister’s expression, she didn’t agree. “Frankie wouldn’t go to Puffin Island if she was drugged and unconscious.”
“Why not?”
“First, there’s the fact that this is a romantic beach wedding and we both know how much Frankie loves romantic weddings. And then there’s the biggest obstacle of all—”
“Which is?”
“Frankie hasn’t been back to the island since she left for college.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Conscious that he was going to be late, Matt picked up his phone and slipped it into his pocket.
“And you’re an
noying! She’s my best friend, Matt. I’d know if she had been back.”
He stilled, shock trickling through his veins like ice water. “You’re serious? She’s never been back to the island? Not once?”
“No. Why would she? It doesn’t have happy memories for her.”
“But—” He dragged his hand over the back of his neck, trying to process this new information. “Shit.”
“Well, that’s eloquent.”
“I thought—”
“What did you think?”
He’d thought that he knew her, but he was starting to understand just how little he knew.
And how much he wanted to know.
“I think it’s time she went back.”
His sister gave him an exasperated look. “You’ll never persuade her, but what if you did and then someone was mean to her? Have you thought about that?”
“No one is going to be mean to her.” He kept the sudden rush of anger firmly leashed.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ll be there. The whole time.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Mr. Protective. Are you taking a white horse and a suit of armor?”
“No. Just my natural charm.”
“You’re annoying sometimes.”
“You’re annoying a lot of the time.” But he saw the anxiety in her eyes and relented. “I know she’s your friend, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.”
“But—”
“I said you’re going to have to trust me.” He scooped up his jacket. “Now, go and meddle in someone else’s love life because you’ve spent long enough on mine.”
Frankie had only visited his workshop a few times before. A large space beneath his offices, he used it for storage and also for any construction work that couldn’t be done on-site.
The doors opened onto an outdoor area stacked high with planters and paving slabs. A few large trees stood tall in their tubs, ready to be delivered to his various ongoing projects.
Today he was working on the second of three log benches that were destined for the roof terrace. James and Roxy were working on-site so Frankie and Matt were on their own.
Frankie tried not to think about that.
Instead, she stared at the thick tree trunk. “Cedar?”
“Red cedar.” He pulled a tape measure out of his pocket. “It’s pretty easy to shape and will withstand the extremes of temperature.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She’d lived through plenty of New York summers and winters.
“It’s going to look great.”
“I think so.” He measured the log and made some calculations. “While I do this, why don’t you take a look at the planters? See if there is anything there you think will work. If not, we can design something specifically to fit the space.”
“Okay.” She’d spent the last three nights planning the talk they were going to have. The one where she told him he had to stop looking at her and standing so close to her and all the other things he was doing that disturbed her equilibrium. But today he seemed to be more preoccupied by his work than by her.
She dropped to her haunches to take a closer look at a terracotta planter. Deciding it wasn’t right for her needs, she moved on and paused by the log bench he’d already completed.
Like his sister, he had a high attention to detail, and it showed. The piece was a testament to his skills as a craftsman and designer.
She glanced across to where he was turning the thick tree trunk into a stylish rustic seat.
Watching him work was like watching an artist. He used a level to measure where to make the cuts, his movements careful and precise. Only when he was satisfied that he had the line he wanted did he pick up the chain saw. He flipped down the visor on his helmet and moments later the sound of the saw cut through the air. He’d been using a chain saw since his late teens, when his father had realized this was more than just a hobby and had made sure he was properly trained.
She remembered him being called out to help on numerous occasions when heavy snow had felled trees on the island where they’d lived. Like other members of the community, Matt had waded in and helped without question.
It seemed he hadn’t lost any of his skill. He didn’t just carve the bench, he understood the wood. He knew its strengths and weaknesses. He understood how to make the best product and his eye for style and design was faultless.
He cut the basic outline and then shaped it. Every cut had to be just right. Every angle perfect. It was fascinating to watch him work.
For a brief unsettling moment Frankie had a vision of him in bed with a woman. He’d be good, she thought, and immediately looked away.
What did she know about being good in bed?
Nothing.
She was a D minus with nothing for effort.
She was so busy wondering why that thought kept plaguing her that it was a few moments before she realized the whine of the chain saw had ceased.
Glancing across she saw that he’d stripped off his shirt, along with all the protective clothing. Wiping a hand over his brow, he reached for a bottle of water from the cooler and emptied it over his head and shoulders.
His chest gleamed with droplets of water and Frankie felt her mouth dry. Was he doing it on purpose to gain her attention? No. He wasn’t even looking at her. And why shouldn’t he take his shirt off? This was his space. He could do what he liked here.
She’d known him forever but this was the first time she’d seen him without his shirt.
His jeans rode low on his hips and hard, pumped-up muscles rippled and gleamed in the fierce beam of sunlight that shone in through the window. He had a couple of scratches on his arms and another on his shoulder, although whether they were courtesy of an aggressive cat or an aggressive rosebush, she didn’t know.
She felt weird, slightly light-headed, as if she’d drunk a bottle of beer too fast or gone a day without eating. It was the sun, she thought, and pulled her hat out of her back pocket.
She was a redhead and had to cover up in the sun.
Working on the roof terrace had been easier because the other members of his team had been there. But now they were alone.
Matt swiped the water from his eyes with his fingers, glanced across and his gaze collided with hers.
She felt as if she’d suffered a direct hit from a meteorite.
His eyes darkened and then he gave a slow smile. “Too damn hot for this sort of work.”
“Yes.” She jammed her hat down over her eyes. It was the heat that was making her crazy. The heat. Nothing else. Turning away, she focused on the planters but there was only so much staring you could do at a pot, and the more she tried not to look at him, the more she wanted to.
She was burning alive.
Hot and frustrated, she dropped into a crouch to take a closer look at the nearest planter.
A pair of scuffed, reinforced work boots appeared in her line of vision. “Stand up, Frankie.”
“What?” Was she even capable of standing up? She wasn’t sure, and she didn’t want to try it and find that her knees gave way. Landing on her nose would be another embarrassing moment to add to the long list of embarrassing moments. “Why?”
“Because we’re adults. It’s time we talked.” He reached down and hauled her upright as if she weighed nothing.
She stood awkwardly, conscious of the soil on her fingers and the sweat on her brow. The heat and humidity meant that her hair was having a wilder party than usual. She didn’t need a mirror to know she probably looked like a sheep that had collided with an electric fence. “I don’t have anything to say. And you have to stop crowding me.”
He was too close to her and she could see the smooth, bronzed skin and the dip and curve of powerful muscle.
She backed away until her retreat was blocked by one of the trees. Branches poked through her T-shirt like accusing fingers, pushing her back toward him.
Matt closed in on her. “Am I making you uncomfortable
?”
“Yes! You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Good.” He gave a sexy smile that melted her bones.
“Back off. You’re invading my personal space and if I move back any farther I’ll be hanging off this tree like a Christmas decoration.” She risked a glance and was instantly trapped by his gaze, hypnotized by the look in his eyes. It was a look she hadn’t seen before in all the years she’d known him.
“Matt—”
“What?” His voice was husky and it stroked over her senses like a velvet glove.
“You know what.” She stood still, frozen by the delicious inevitability of what was to come.
He was going to kiss her.
Yes, do it. Let’s get this over with and then he’d discover the truth and they could both get on with their lives.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to breathe, waiting for the touch of his mouth, but instead of kissing her he brushed the tips of his fingers along her jaw, raising the anticipation to almost unbearable levels.
She was helpless, drugged by the deceptive gentleness.
“If two people who are single and unattached have feelings for each other, I don’t see why they shouldn’t act on those feelings, do you?”
It was a struggle to speak. “Are you talking in principle or specifically?”
“I’m talking about us, Frankie.” The way he emphasized the us made her breath catch.
“In that case, yes, I can see why we shouldn’t act on any feelings. I think that would be a big mistake. You’re a friend. You’re important to me.”
“You don’t think friendship is a good basis for a relationship?”
“In this case the friendship is too valuable to lose. It’s not worth it.” She was finding it difficult to breathe. “You’re too close, Matt.”
He didn’t move. “Do I make you nervous?”
“I’m not nervous. I have a black belt in karate. I could fell you like a tree.” It was a lie. They both knew it was a lie.
“You don’t need to be scared, Frankie.”