"There's five of us. Three boys and two older sisters," he said fondly. "My sisters are married. Those girls were scooped up quickly." He laughed. "Dad's stress level when those two started dating went through the roof. It was inevitable, though, they both are spitting images of Mom, who's quite attractive."
Staring at him, she had no doubt Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly were gorgeous people. The man sitting before her was a specimen of male perfection.
"How about you?" he asked.
One of the worst questions anyone could ask Mackenzie was about her family. A family that didn't exist. Never had. It wasn't as if it was meant to be a hurtful question. No one could understand how a physical pain developed in her chest each time over that simple, honest inquiry. It wasn't as if she wore a button that said "without family."
Unable to meet his gaze, she glanced out the windows.
"I don't have any family," she whispered, ashamed.
A soft, sharp inhale came from Grant's direction, but she couldn't face him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," he said quietly.
She shook her head. "Why would you?"
Finally, she turned to him. "I was dropped off at a local church by my mother when I was four years old. The nuns took me in until I could be placed into the foster system. There's no father listed on my birth certificate. I bounced around from foster home to foster home, but something always came up where the family couldn't or wouldn't adopt me."
Grant's look of sympathy hit her in the gut. She despised that normal reaction. Time to move on. "So, what else do you do besides sign the checks for your brother's bar?"
His appreciative grin was breathtaking. "You're extraordinary, you know that right?"
"Not really." She shrugged and looked down at the worn table.
Reaching across the table, he squeezed her cupped hands. "Look at me," he demanded, his tone firm. She glanced up into those mesmerizing eyes. "Trust me."
For some inexplicable reason she did.
***
After their meal, Mackenzie and Grant stayed at the diner for another hour, lost in random, meaningless conversations. It had been the most relaxing evening she'd ever had with a guy. And it did absolutely nothing for her. Grant didn't get her skin warm and tingly. He didn't make her heart race or her blood boil. Grant didn't cause her mind to become irrational or lose her train of thought. Spending time with him was like spending time with a good friend. One of those friends that a woman would never cross the line and climb into bed with.
Now she stood on the threshold of her apartment door to say their goodnights.
"Thanks for dinner, well, if that's what you want to call it that late at night," she teased.
He smiled. "You're quite welcome."
Taking a step closer, he said softly, "Will you go out with me again?"
Sighing, she felt bad that there wasn't some sort of spark between them. "I'm sorry, Grant‒"
He didn't allow her to finish. His sexy mouth descended upon hers in a scorching kiss that shocked her. Before she could object, he clamped her hands behind her back in a firm grip and backed her against the brick of the building.
That lack of resonance for Grant quickly dissipated.
Holy hell. The man certainly knew what he was doing. His tongue expertly drew her into his thrall with sensual and forceful demand. The way he pinned her wasn't assaulting or overpowering. It was commanding. He was in charge and she was to follow. And she gladly did.
She wanted to touch him. Tug his hair. But his restraint of her hands prevented her from the touch she desperately desired. His take-charge demeanor made her realize how long she had craved such a feeling. A man to take over so she could be free of the shit constraints life had handed her and enjoy it for once without worry or fear. A partner to look out of her and her well being and allow her to open up fully. So much potential and knowledge packed into one hot kiss made her rethink her feelings toward him.
Breaking free of the kiss, Grant stared into her eyes. Their breathing ragged. Releasing her hands, he reached up and gently stroked her cheek. "We could be good together, Mackenzie," he said softly. "I could take care of you."
There was nothing but pure sincerity in his voice, and she melted.
"Think about it." He turned and glided down the steps. A man entirely too comfortable with his body.
Her eyes couldn't leave his confident stride as he made his way to his luxury car. For a man she thought didn't stir her body, she was sure as hell wet between the thighs.
18
Across the street from Mac's apartment, Derk watched her climb out of the new Lexus and be escorted up to her apartment. If that douche bag disappeared into her place, he was gonna lose his shit.
Nope. Instead he got to watch the man devour M's mouth and pin her against the building.
So this is where M was at, huh? She decided he wasn't good enough for her. She needed Mr. Rich Boy Toy to take care of her, as if he wasn't capable?
Fuck that shit. He didn't need this. Didn't need her. He'd never stalked a woman before, and the fact that he stood outside in the black shadows, watching her like some perv showed how off his game he was.
Fuck it.
Let Mackenzie have her rich man, who'd give her their two point five kids, SUV, picket fence, and dog. Then after a couple years, he would fucking take on a mistress and Mac could pretend all is right with the world. Fuck her. And her little dog too.
Derk stalked down the street to his truck. Time to move the hell on.
***
Derk stood in the backyard of the Murphy home, beer in hand, fuckin' tired and miserable. The day had been shit. Not that funerals were a blast to attend, but it had rained the entire morning. And not that light, annoying rain. Nope, it had poured. Every single person, including Mrs. M, who had an umbrella held diligently over her head the entire time, ended up soaked to the bone. Naturally, it stopped raining as soon as the service was over and everyone was snug in their cars headed to the wake.
Only certain individuals had been invited back to the Murphy home after the restaurant gathering. He happened to be one of the few. Running on fumes from only a couple hours of restlessness after seeing Mackenzie lip-lock with another man, he'd been forced out of obligation to make an appearance.
At the moment, Derk eyed Courtney's cousin Sean and his wife avoid speaking with Mrs. M by conveniently making their way to the back deck and setting up shop. Her other cousin, Ryan, didn't seem to be harboring any ill will toward her and was hovering like a mother hen underneath the porch.
Mrs. M wasn't taking the shocking passing of her father well. Derrick Murphy refused to leave her side, afraid his wife was on the verge of passing out. Her pale features were hallowed, and her normally bright blue eyes were dull and lifeless.
Pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket, Derk lit up, his mind going back to last night. It was probably best Mac put an abrupt end to their relationship. If that’s what you wanted to call it. They hadn't been a couple, and he wasn't the least bit interested in that type of commitment. But man, talk about a hit on an ego. His plan had been to hang around and make the most of their sexual compatibility until they got sick of banging each other.
So much for that.
But why the fuck did it burn?
So he invested more time with her than any woman he'd ever been with. Big deal. It shouldn't affect him in the least. He rubbed the heel of his hand at the center of his chest. Why the hell did he feel like he lost something?
Derk blew out a puff of smoke and watched Sean hand his wife a plate of dessert and a cup of coffee. Courtney's cousin placed a protective hand on his wife's back as he sunk down in the chair beside her. Beth looked up to her husband and smiled lovingly. Sean kissed her gently and brushed her coal black hair off her slim shoulder. It amazed Derk that the same woman who'd carried twin girls managed to gain back her original figure. Good genes, he mused. He watched Sean pick the fork off the plate, dig it into a piece of cake, and feed it to hi
s wife. Derk rolled his eyes when the man then leaned down and licked a spot of chocolate off her lip. Beth turned bright red and glanced around nervously, which caused Sean to chuckle.
Unable to watch the lovey-dovey crap any longer, Derk pushed off the tree and walked around to the front of the house. He found Smith in deep conversation with Mr. Murphy's two closest henchmen. Not in the mood to deal with whatever topic they were engrossed in, he walked past them to the street and decided to take a stroll, ignoring their calls out to him.
While he meandered down the wealthy suburban neighborhood, he wondered if Mackenzie woke up this morning in that guy's bed. Did the man return to her later or did she go to his place? Who was the asshole? Some business man who wandered into the bar and happened to take an interest in her? One of her roommate’s family members? Whoever he was had money, hence the expensive ride.
Money didn't matter to Derk, he had plenty. Unlike most rich people who hid how they made their dirty income, he didn't. There was no reason to. It was no secret what he did for a living and who he worked for. How many hours had he logged in at the police department interrogation room? He just happened to be damn good at his job never to pull jail time. Well, that along with his ties to Murphy, whose connections ran among law enforcement, judges, and politicians. Rich men like that man who kissed Mac last night kept how they made their real income hidden in their closets. He’d bet anything that man’s closed door held a cemetery amount of skeletons.
What the hell did he care? Mackenzie wasn’t his problem any longer. She chose her path that didn’t include his stop.
Derk pulled out his cell and scrolled down the favorites. He hit send. On the third ring, the phone was answered. "My place in twenty."
19
“Are you sure you’re full?” Grant asked, chuckling at Mackenzie.
She leaned back in the plush dining room chair and groaned. “I shouldn’t have eaten the dessert. I really shouldn’t have.”
His devilishly handsome grin spread wide.
“I think I need to take a nap.”
Grant laughed and jerked his head. “Come on, you can sleep it off in my bed or the sofa. Your choice.”
She stiffened.
Each night for the past week she and Grant went out after she got off work. Tonight he brought her back to his high-rise luxury apartment. Tonight, when she climbed into Grant's car at midnight, after her shift, and he explained his plans for their evening together, she understood where it might lead.
When Grant led her into his apartment, decorated in sleek, bold lines with a black, grey, and white color scheme, and gave her a tour, she took note of the lush bedroom complete with satin black sheets. Really? Was there a display at every department store specifically for single men and that specific bedding? She'd also noticed something out of the norm in the oversized bathroom. A pair of handcuffs, a blindfold, lube, what looked like a set of diamond jewels, and pieces of silk. Okay, maybe she'd been snooping. How else did a woman get to know a single man? A lesson learned from discovering Derk's hidden secrets. She knew what those items were. She read romance novels. Grant was into BDSM. That explained a lot of his subtle commanding persona.
Mackenzie could very well accept his bed, knowing he'd jump on the opportunity to join her. And maybe enlighten her to a curious lifestyle she'd never been introduced. Or she could blatantly choose the couch. Her rational mind screamed for her to take the bed. But her heart wasn't in the same place. The issue with that? Her entire life she made decisions with her heart instead of her head.
"Don't over think," Grant whispered, interrupting her internal struggle decision making.
She smiled shyly.
He reached over the glass dining room table for her hand, his eyes and aura silently commanding for Mackenzie's touch. Obeying the look, she slid her palm into his. Gently, soothing, mesmerizing, he ran his thumb over the soft, sensitive skin between her thumb and forefinger.
"Have you thought about us?" he asked, his voice a low, husky molten of chocolate. "How good we'd been together?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but he rebuked her with a slight shake of his head. She clamped her mouth shut, his demeanor stating he was in control.
"I can give you the world, Mackenzie." He leaned forward in his seat, pulling her to him. He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his free hand. "I'll take care of you, give you everything your heart desires and more. Just say yes to me. To us. And it starts tonight." He lifted her hand and kissed her naked ring finger. She was transfixed by his hungry gaze. "You'll never have to work at the bar another night. You'll want for nothing. And I'll worship you, soul and body. I'll open you up to a world where you'll learn things about yourself you didn't know existed."
She tilted her head. Was he going to admit to what she discovered? "What things?"
He scooted closer. His lips brushed against hers. "Not now," he said softly. "Come to bed with me."
Oh, God. Did she want to do this? Her lover track record was terrible.
Wait. Why did this have to be a life changing choice? Was there an ultimatum here?
"What if I say no," Mackenzie tested.
Grant pulled away, leaned back in his chair and studied her. Casually he crossed his ankle over his knee. Her eyes swept down his body. The designer clothing he wore fit him like the material was designed specifically for his body. The way the suit conformed to every muscle showed the amount of work he put into his physique.
His piercing gaze locked onto her and refused to waver. He tapped on his sensual bottom lip with his forefinger.
"I'm looking to settle down, Mackenzie," he said. "I want you to be the one I make a home with."
"You don't know me," she countered.
"I know enough," he shot back. "I know enough that you're everything I want." His eyes glazed over.
Why? She didn't understand. "What am I missing here, Grant?"
He leaned forward and brushed her hair off her shoulder. "Nothing that needs addressed at the moment."
What the hell did that mean? He was coming across as somewhat cagey, but not quite. If that made any sense.
"I need you to be clear and I need some time. I don’t understand what you’re saying. You’re being vague." Yes, she wanted to be loved, take care of, desired, protected, cherished, and worshiped. Everything he verbally offered. But that didn't necessarily need to involve a diamond ring. In fact, marrying again frightened the hell out of her. Though he never actually used the word marriage. But it clearly hung there. Out in the open. Like a lead weight. Oh, God, she felt herself about to hyperventilate.
"Shit," Grant spat. He jumped up from the chair, rushed from the room, and returned with a cold bottle of water. "Breathe, Mackenzie."
Opening the bottle of water, he knelt down in front of her and tilted it back into her mouth. "It's all right, sweetheart."
It wasn't all right. Never, in thirty-two years, had she ever had a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes. Not tears of panic or sadness or horror. Tears from her body releasing an onset of anxiety it fought against.
Mackenzie looked at the devastatingly handsome man kneeling before her. A man with wealth, intelligence, charisma, and obviously a desire to find a woman to shower her with every ounce of himself.
But he wasn't the man who moved her. Unfortunately, the one who did, she knew would lead her down a path of destruction.
20
“Fucker’s gone off the grid,” Derk growled, his mood less than tolerable. He’d been a bear for the past week with no end in sight to his sour attitude.
For weeks, he and Smith tried to get their hands on the slippery Murphy traitor, but the man, who owed Mr. M more money than God himself, managed to evade them. Which wasn’t good. C.D. Maler was deadly. One of the most lethal managers in the Murphy organization, which was why he’d been placed in charge of the area by the boss. When it came to shady, the man wore it like a badge, and he’d use whatever unscrupulous tools necessary to run business.
Because the man was missing and unpredictable, Murphy placed his wife and kids under a massive protection lockdown.
“He knows we’re on his tail,” Smith quietly added.
“No shit.”
As he stared at the lifeless home, located on the outskirts of the city, from the driver’s seat of his truck parked in a neighbor’s driveway, he felt Smith’s hard gaze burn right through him.
“Why don’t you just suck it up and go to her,” Smith said snidely. “Or else get over her. Either way, get yourself together. You’re slipping.”
“Fuck you, Smith,” he barked.
“No, fuck you, Derk.”
Quick, like a couple of rattlesnakes, handguns were pulled by both men and pointed directly at one another’s skull.
“You really want to do this?” Smith asked too calmly. Derk recognized the look in the man’s eyes and the easy tone. He knew it all too well. He saw the same gaze every day staring back at him in the mirror. The look of a man who remained dead behind the eyes. A man with nothing to live for other than getting up each morning and going to work. A man who’d take a bullet to the head just to put one in his best friend, who was acting like a royal jackass.
Derk’s self-destructiveness over the past week rivaled the time in his late teens after his parents’ deaths when he embraced a death wish. Heavy drinking, fights, hell, he even played a nice little game of Russian roulette one time. Well, more accurately, he played with a hit he’d been paid to make. Normally he didn’t play with his prey. There was always the off chance the target could fight their way out of a situation.
“Is she worth this?” Smith whispered.
“Fuck you.”
“I don’t swing that way.”
Their weapons remained steady on each other. Neither backing down.
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