by Morgan Blaze
The name rang a distant bell—and not a pleasant one. “So?”
“Didn’t you date him a while back?”
“Yeah, quite a while. Nine years, actually.” Now she remembered Stephen. They broke up when she declined to screw him in the back of his father’s Jaguar. “Thanks for thinking of me, but I can’t go,” she said. “I have work in the morning.”
“And I don’t?”
“You can go in at ten if you feel like it,” she said.
“True.” Jason smiled, and then the distant sound of a car horn drew his attention. “That would be Tessie,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
“Rain check.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” He hugged her briefly. “Hope your new job is going all right.”
“Oh, it’s great,” she said, a little too brightly. “Long day, though. Think I’ll just crash early tonight.”
“Okay. See you, Bree.”
“Have fun,” she called after him.
She closed the door and leaned on it for a moment, her thoughts returning automatically to Mark. All at once, she had an idea. She’d seen his home address on a handful of building supply catalogs in the office trailer. He’d be there alone, so hopefully she wouldn’t be interrupting anything. She could bring him a peace offering. A bottle of Highland Park.
He definitely seemed like he could use a drink—and maybe if she did something nice for him, he’d only dislike her.
* * * *
Mark scrolled through the Netflix menus for about the fiftieth time, hoping for anything that would catch his interest, or at least distract him. There were plenty of movies he knew were decent. The problem was, he didn’t want to be entertained.
He’d never truly relaxed since the night he went to some stupid party, and his mother died while he was out making a fool of himself.
For eight years he’d driven himself relentlessly. He talked himself into a full-time job with a construction company the moment he graduated, and learned everything he could about how it all worked. College was out of the question—they could never afford it. So he worked, and when he wasn’t working, he studied. Researched. Construction, design, economics, management. Figured out that owning a business was a hundred times better than working for one, and threw himself into making that happen.
Just as it was all starting to finally pay off, Aubrey Monroe came back to ruin everything all over again.
At this point, his one consolation was that she’d promised to leave for good when the job was done. He’d never have to see her again. But if she kept refusing to quit, these next two months would be an eternity. Just knowing she was around made him hurt in ways he’d never imagined and couldn’t explain.
He aimed the remote at the television, thinking maybe he’d give up and go to bed, when the doorbell rang.
He sighed and shot the door a suspicious look. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Usually that meant it was some girl who hadn’t heard that Gage was taken, hoping to hook up with his brother for a few hours. He considered ignoring it, but the television was still on. Whoever it was probably wouldn’t go away until he told them to.
He stood and walked to the door, muttering under his breath. When he opened it, a silent scream filled his head—and he couldn’t spit out a word.
“Hi, Mark.” Aubrey looked incredible, and he hated himself for noticing. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I was hoping we could talk.”
His senses returned slowly, and he let the rage win. “I don’t know how you found this address, but you damned well better lose it,” he said. “You’re not welcome here. At all.”
Before she could say anything, or he could change his mind, he stepped back and slammed the door.
The doorbell rang again. “At least let me give you this,” she said, her voice muffled through the wood.
Damn it, this girl was almost as stubborn as him.
He yanked the door open, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t leave until she’d played every card she could. He’d just have to keep calling her bluff. “Give me what?” he snapped.
She held up a slim brown paper bag, obviously with a liquor bottle in it. “It’s a peace offering.”
“Fine.” He made himself take it gently. “You gave it to me. Now go.”
“Aren’t you going to see what it is?”
A dozen scathing replies rose to his tongue. Somehow, he managed to hold them back. Not only was she refusing to quit the job, she was at his house. He was starting to see that he couldn’t shout her away. Time to try something different—though he had no idea what that might be.
With a sigh, he pulled the bottle out until he could read the label. His eyes widened. “Highland Park,” he said. “How did you know…”
“You like it?” she said, a little breathlessly. “I wasn’t sure, but I know that’s good Scotch.”
The suspicion that she’d overheard him and Jonah talking earlier faded a bit. If she had, she probably wouldn’t be here right now. Jonah had made his feelings very clear, and everyone was afraid of his older brother. Maybe it was just a lucky guess. “I do like it,” he finally said. “Well…thanks, I guess.”
She smiled briefly. “You’re welcome.”
“Er.” Why wasn’t she leaving? “So I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes, but I was still hoping we could talk.” She clasped her hands together. “Like tonight. If you’re not busy, I mean.”
It was harder to keep from shouting. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because this isn’t working.”
“What isn’t?”
“Us. The job.” She gestured at the bottle. “Bribing you.”
“Oh, you noticed.”
She heaved a breath. “Mark, please,” she said. “I really want this to work. There has to be some sort of compromise we can make to get through this. If you’ll just talk to me like a normal person for five minutes, I’m sure we can figure it out.”
Everything in him protested the idea of prolonging this, even for another five seconds. Especially since it would involve letting her inside. He wasn’t sure he could stand being alone with her in his house, for any reason. But just maybe, if they sat down and had a rational discussion without any shouting or sarcasm, he could convince her of what she should already know—why continuing to work together was a recipe for Armageddon.
“All right,” he said, stepping back reluctantly to hold the door open. “You’ve got five minutes.”
And he was going to regret every one of them.
Chapter 7
Aubrey wasn’t sure she could trust this slightly subdued version of Mark. In fact, she expected him to start foaming at the mouth any second. She only hoped she could get through to him, just a little bit, before the shouting started.
She walked into the house and looked around, unable to stop herself from admiring the design. It was open and inviting, tidy but not sterile. This was a house for living in. “Nice place,” she said. “I don’t remember it being here before I left town.”
“We built it,” Mark said curtly.
“Oh.” The statement filled her with unexpected warmth. Despite his abrupt tone, she could hear the pride behind the words. It was even more meaningful knowing where the Dawsons had lived before—in a battered trailer on a dusty lot, literally on the wrong side of the tracks. “Well, it’s wonderful,” she said. “I really like it.”
“I thought you were done trying to bribe me.”
“It’s not a bribe. I’m serious.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing at the couch as he walked past it. “We might as well have a drink.”
She sat. He left the room, and returned a moment later with two cut glass tumblers and the opened bottle of Scotch. He took a seat as far from her as he could get, then poured out two drinks and handed her one.
She would’ve proposed a toast to lighten the mood, but the smoldering look in his eyes suggested t
hat wouldn’t work out.
Instead, she watched as he closed his eyes and took a slow sip. The way he savored it implied that he not only appreciated a fine Scotch, but he didn’t get the chance to enjoy good things too often. She remembered Jonah telling him not to work tonight—which meant he was probably a workaholic, totally dedicated to his business. And it made her stepping all over his job site even worse.
She finally realized he was staring at her. “Not thirsty again?” he said.
“No, I am,” she said. “Thank you.” She raised the tumbler briefly—and tossed the entire shot back at once.
“Huh. Guess you are,” he said. “Waste of a good Highland, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well I’m nervous,” she said.
He frowned. “I won’t bite.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I’ve been getting the opposite impression.”
“Touché.” He smirked and picked up the bottle. “Refill?”
“Please.”
This time she took it slower. It really was good, and she didn’t have Scotch often. Wine was her family’s typical poison. That might be why she was already a touch dizzy.
Or maybe it was being this close to Mark, and fighting to deny how badly she wanted him.
“Your minutes are running out.”
The sarcastic edge derailed her train of thought. “Are you seriously timing this?”
“Four minutes and counting.”
Okay, so he was trying to make her mad. She just wouldn’t rise to the bait. Not sure where to start, she decided to try and get him talking. Maybe she could figure out what bothered him the most and start there. “Why are we like this?” she said. “At each other’s throats all the time.”
He blinked at her. “You’re kidding.”
“I mean, I know the whole family history thing is a problem—”
“You think?”
“But I don’t blame you,” she said. “Not like my father and Jason.”
“Really. So how do you blame me, then?”
“I don’t at all. It’s not your fault.”
His expression turned fierce, and he knocked back the rest of his drink. “Well, that’s terrific,” he said. “I guess I’m absolved. Except that you and your brother hate me, and your father wants to kill me.”
She drew a calming breath. At least they were getting somewhere now. “I don’t hate you,” she said. “Jason does, and I’m sorry for that. For my father, too. It’s no excuse, but they’re blinded by grief.” She tried to look reassuring. “I know he says awful things, but my father would never hurt anyone.”
Mark’s eyes burned. “Sweetheart, you don’t know your father very well.”
“Stop calling me that!” Damn. She didn’t mean to shout. She closed her eyes and tried to pull herself together. “Honestly, he wouldn’t,” she said. “I know that much about him.”
“Really. Because he had me pretty convinced he would, the night of that damned party.”
It was her turn to stare. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father came after me,” Mark said. “Right after I left. He was raving about how I’d assaulted you. If Jonah hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.”
“Jason,” she whispered. “Oh my God. He really did call.”
“Apparently.”
She shook herself and met his gaze. “I am so sorry,” she said. “He must’ve been terrible to you. But I swear, he wouldn’t have hurt—”
“He had a gun.”
Everything in her froze.
“So, I’ll say it again. You don’t know your father very well.” Mark’s jaw firmed. “Now do you understand why we can’t work together?”
Her heart dropped into her stomach. “There has to be an explanation,” she said. “It was a fake, or it wasn’t loaded. Something. I’ll talk to him.”
“Yeah, you do that. But we still can’t work together.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a Monroe, and I’m a Dawson.”
She shivered as she caught the pain in his voice again. “What if we could end this stupid feud?” she said. The idea of trying to talk to her father and brother about this scared the hell out of her, but maybe it was the only way. “It’s been such a long time, and it was never your fault in the first place. I really think I can get my family to see reason.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you can fix it,” he said in roughened tones. “I can’t stand—Christ, just don’t.”
He looked miserable enough to alarm her. “Mark, what’s wrong?”
“Five minutes are up,” he ground out. “You need to leave.”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Everything, damn it!” He stood so fast, the entire couch jolted. “Get out of my house. Before I do something you’ll regret.”
She rose slowly, confused and hurt. “Tell me why,” she said. “Why don’t you want me to fix it?”
“Never mind why. You’re about the stubbornest woman on the planet, sweetheart.”
“Fine.” She stepped closer to him. “While we’re at it, what’s wrong with my name?”
“Back off, princess.”
“That’s not it, either.” Another step brought her inches from him, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Tell me why.”
“Please,” he groaned. “I’m begging you. Stay away from me.”
The sudden change in him broke her heart and brought tears to her eyes. “Do you really hate me that much?” she whispered.
She could see him struggling to respond. Finally, he said, “No. I don’t hate you.”
“Then…why?”
He shuddered visibly. “Because I’m a Dawson.”
“Mark…”
“Just leave!” His voice broke on the words. “You’re killing me. Can’t you see that?” He narrowed his eyes. “Or is that what you’re trying to do?”
She grabbed his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.
He responded with a soft moan, his stiffness yielding instantly. For a moment she was drowning—but then he jerked back and glared at her. “All right,” he snarled. “You’ve had your fun. I get it, payback’s a bitch. Now leave.”
“Payback?” she echoed angrily. “If you think I did that for revenge, you’re an idiot.”
“Oh, right. You did it because you want me.”
“Yes! That’s exactly why I did it!”
“Come on, sweetheart. You got a bridge in Brooklyn you want to sell me, too?”
She kissed him again, fast and furious. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
Whatever battle he was fighting, she watched his eyes darken as he lost it.
Then his hands were on her, his mouth on her lips. One minute she was in his arms, tugging at his shirt until he stripped it off with a growl and she could finally touch him. He was everything she’d imagined—hot, hard, perfect. The next she was on the couch, his lips at her throat and a hand up her shirt, stroking her skin until she shivered.
“Last chance,” he murmured against her.
“For what?”
“To leave.” He raised up to look at her, pain and longing etched on his face. “I won’t be able to stop.”
She smiled. “I don’t want you to stop.”
He made a desperate sound, almost a sob, and went back to kissing her.
The things he did to her, the feelings invoked by his touch, made her frantic. God, she wanted this. And she’d never admitted it before, not even to herself. He was a Dawson, and she was supposed to hate him.
But it was too late for second thoughts now. Too late for anything but surrender to the explosive passion building inside her.
He’d stripped her down to bra and panties, and she reached for his jeans. He shuddered as her fingers brushed the firm bulge of his cock, flinched when she popped the button free. With a snarl of impatience, he finished the job and covered her body with his. “Let me in,” he panted,
his hand gripping the curve of her ass, easing her panties down. “I’ve waited too long for this.”
She couldn’t help a teasing smile. “Five minutes?”
“Years.”
The single word hit her hard. “Years?” she whispered.
“Eight of them.” She felt him tremble as he struggled to restrain himself. “That’s a long damned time to wait.”
“Yes, it is,” she managed, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. All this time she figured he’d forgotten her, and her coming back had triggered the old grudge match. She’d never really stopped thinking about him—but she didn’t even consider he might have felt the same.
If it was true, this changed everything.
“Aubrey, please,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t…”
Hearing him say her name shattered every doubt. “Then don’t,” she said. “No more waiting.”
He groaned, and slipped into her.
A gasp tore itself from her throat. She was already wet and throbbing, and his cock filling her was impossibly delicious. She arched against him, hungry for his thick, hot length, and he obliged by driving deeper.
She clung to his back as he rocked in and out. He seemed to savor every sensation—touching every part of her, his tongue tasting her mouth and tantalizing her nipples until she cried out with pleasure. And when she tightened around his cock, he let out a rasping shout and pumped faster.
She came just before he did, screaming his name and digging her nails into his heaving back. Eyes closed, teeth clenched, he thrust a final time and shivered into stillness.
She couldn’t move if she wanted to. Apparently she hadn’t really had orgasms before now, because she’d never felt anything like that. Her entire body tingled with aftershocks, and the warm weight of him against her kept the sensations alive.
Eventually he shifted and pushed himself up, leaving her shivering in the absence of his heat. He stared at her for a long time without a word. Finally, he sighed and moved away completely.
“Mark?”
Nothing.
The silence stung. She sat up slowly, willing him to look at her. “Please say something.”