A Better Man

by Candis Terry

  When he came back into the living room, she stood by the front door while Ziggy remained stretched out with his big brown eyes watching every move she made.

  “Thanks for coming by,” she said, opening the door and averting her eyes anywhere but on him. “I hope you’re feeling more encouraged about your sister.”

  Behind her back she kept her grip on the doorknob that left the door partially open. Still, he received the message.

  We’re done here.

  He’d put her in an uncomfortable place when all he really wanted was to find out more about her.

  “I promise to see what I can do about talking to her friends, but the soonest I’ll be able to contact anyone probably won’t be until Monday,” she said. “And that’s only if I can get in touch with anyone. A lot of people go on spring break vacation. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

  Though Jordan played a game for a living, he didn’t play games in real life. He was a man who usually knew what he wanted and always did his best to get it. For the first time he was unsure. But right now, he thought maybe he wanted Lucy.

  He walked up to her, placed his hand on the open door beside her head, and pushed the door closed. She shuffled backward until she became trapped between two unmovable objects—­him and the door.

  “Not good enough.” With his skates on, he was the epitome of in control. With Lucy he was ready to throw caution into the fire.

  “What do you mean, ‘not good enough’?” Annoyance puffed from between her moist, rosy lips. Fists slammed down on her shapely hips, and a furrow tightened the skin between her rich, brown eyes. “That’s all there is. I’ll find out and I’ll call you.”

  “Don’t you see, Lucy? I don’t want just a call.” He touched the side of her face. Trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I want more.”

  When her eyes widened he was tempted to just lean in and give her another toe-­curling kiss. “Go out with me tomorrow night.”

  “What?”

  “You know . . . you, me, a movie, a box of popcorn. A date.”

  “You’re asking me out on a date.”

  A statement, he noticed. Not a question. As if she couldn’t comprehend the meaning. And that pissed him off. Lucy should be taken out often, shown off, and treated well.

  “I believe that’s what I just asked. So are you game? Or do I have to start clucking?”

  “Clucking?”

  “Because you’re too chicken to say yes.”

  “I’m not chicken.”

  “Perfect.” Fighting a smile, he eased his way into the open space and stepped out onto her porch. “Then I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock tomorrow night.”

  “Seven?”

  “Seven.” It didn’t take much to pull her against him. She didn’t fight it or the brief kiss he gave her to erase the confusion from her face. “Good night, Lucy.” Then he closed the door and said from the other side, “Lock the door so I don’t come back in there.”

  Behind him the deadbolt slammed into place.

  He didn’t know if she’d take him seriously. Didn’t know if she’d actually be ready at seven, or if she’d dodge him and wouldn’t even be home. Even with all those negatives hanging over his head, as he strolled to the SUV, he found himself whistling because he had a good feeling she’d be there. And when he felt this good he knew there was always a chance the evening would turn out to be everything he wanted.

  Then again, there was every chance it would be a complete disaster.

  Lucy threw the deadbolt. Then, unable to stop herself, she marched over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and watched Jordan walk toward the black SUV. When he opened the driver’s door, it was as if he sensed her watching. He turned, caught her red-­handed, and flashed her a smile. She let go of the curtain and huffed out a growl.

  Ziggy lifted his big head and looked at her like she’d gone off the deep end.

  “He drives me crazy, Zigs.”

  Her dog responded with a little whine.

  “Seriously over-­the-­edge crazy.” She peeked out the window again but he was gone. “I don’t know what he expects from me.”

  Throughout her entire life she’d left spontaneity at the door. With the exception of her rotten marriage, everything in her control had been planned to within an inch of her life.

  Jordan knocked her carefully laid plans and her logical thinking askew.

  She’d always made valiant efforts to blend into the background and remain as invisible as she could. To keep her head on straight and move forward through life as quietly and as unassumingly as possible. She didn’t live with high expectations. And she no longer dared to dream.

  Big, flashy dreams were dangerous. For her, happy and content were enough.

  Jordan, on the other hand, didn’t ask. He took. He didn’t back off. Didn’t blink. He just forged ahead like a steamroller. Granted, his forcefulness was nonthreatening. But still, like those dreams, he was dangerous.

  When he’d had her trapped between him and the door, heat had radiated off him that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. It had been pure sexual masculinity and she’d wanted to lose herself in him. Wrap herself around him and climb him like a tree. Unwrap him like a present and touch all those hard, sexy muscles with her hands and, dear God, her tongue. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she desired a man.

  Sweet baby Jesus.

  One thing was certain.

  Locking the deadbolt and securing herself inside her home was going to be a lot easier than securing her heart against Jordan Kincade.

  On the way home, Jordan put his cell phone to good use. By the time he was driving up the hill toward his parents’ house he’d put things for his date with Lucy in motion. She might be expecting popcorn and a movie, but Jordan wanted to give her much more. And if all went according to plan, she’d be completely surprised.

  He knew it was late, but he’d spotted Nicole’s little Sonata in the driveway and he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to let her know that, despite her ambivalence or wishful thinking, he was still here.

  A light drizzle beaded on the sleeves of his jacket as he tested the front door to the house and found it unlocked. For the first time in years he let himself in without feeling like he needed an invitation.

  With the exception of the glow from the big-­screen TV in the family room, the house was dark and quiet. Before he headed in that direction, he glanced toward the stairs and wondered why his teenage sister would be locked up in her room on a Friday night.

  Or maybe she wasn’t.

  Maybe she’d gone out with friends and had left her car there. He hadn’t considered that before he’d come inside.

  Trying to cope with the eerie absence of his mom and dad, he kept walking. In the family room he found Declan stretched out on the sofa, legs crossed at the ankles, with a huge bowl of popcorn balanced on his flat stomach. Surprisingly Mr. GQ was dressed in a T-­shirt and cargo shorts. On the big-­screen TV, Joe Fox—­aka Tom Hanks—­was writing an e-­mail to Shopgirl.

  “I always knew you were a sentimental sap.”

  Declan jerked upright and popcorn flew from the bowl. He turned to Jordan with a murderous glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Jordan chuckled. “Hoping to stay hidden long enough to see you weep into your hankie. Guess my cover’s blown now.”

  “Great.” Dec started picking up the popcorn kernels and tossing them back in the bowl. “Now I’ll have to make a new batch.”

  “Dude. I just caught you watching You’ve Got Mail without a girl in the room and you’re worried about the popcorn?”

  “I had a girl on the phone while I was watching. Does that count?”

  “Depends on the girl.”

  “Brooke Hastings.”

  “Your assi
stant?”

  Dec nodded.

  “Were you having phone sex?”

  “With Brooke?”

  “No, with the neighbor down the road.” Jordan sighed. “Yes with Brooke.”

  “She’s my assistant.”

  “And hot as hell.”

  The brief silence told Jordan that his brother hadn’t considered his assistant in that way. But he damn well should. The long-­legged blonde had a beach bod, brains that went on all day, and a bubbly personality that said she could easily be a kid sister, best friend, mom of the year, or the hottest thing between the sheets ever. She was every man’s dream. Except apparently Declan’s.

  Stupid ass.

  “Jesus, Dec.” Jordan planted himself in the recliner. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those all work and no play kind of guys.”

  “I’ve been building a business.”

  “Brother, it’s built. You’re a success. Time to have a little fun. When was the last time you went out and had a good time?”

  “Mmmm . . .” In deep thought, his brother studied the ceiling. “Maybe a charity event to fund a new hospital wing or something.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I know I banged a hot redhead that night when I went home.”

  “Well, at least you’re getting laid.”

  “Yeah.”

  Thanks to his twin, Jordan felt a headache coming on. “Exactly how the hell long ago was this charity event?”

  “October?”

  “You asking or telling?”

  “No.” Dec snapped his fingers. “November.”

  “So what you’re saying is you haven’t gotten laid for at least six months, you’re not having phone sex with your hot assistant, and you’re watching a rom-­com. Alone.”

  “You make it sound so bad.”

  Jordan laughed because there was nothing else to do in the situation. “Brother? We’ve got to take care of this situation pronto.”

  “I can find my own women.”

  “Prove it.” Jordan scooted to the edge of the recliner. “Pick up your phone right now and call Brooke back.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea?” Declan set the popcorn bowl on the coffee table.

  “Then if you have to choose, take pleasure. Unless you like going to bed alone and your morning wood becomes a sad little man because he knows he’s going to be lonely again.”

  “Watch how you use the word little, jackass.” Declan glared. “And if you’re such hot stuff, when was the last time you got laid?”

  Jordan didn’t hesitate. “Two weeks ago.”

  “Dry spell huh?” His brother leaned back on the sofa. “Guess everything going on kind of takes away the mood.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t in the mood.” Hell, if Lucy gave him a green light he’d be all over that in a matter of seconds.

  “Spare me the details.”

  Jordan laughed. God it was fun joking around and giving his brothers hell again.

  Dec ran a hand through his short dark hair. “When are you heading back to North Carolina?”

  “No plans to go back.”

  “Seriously? Your team is working their way toward the playoffs and you have no plans to go back? Are you fucking crazy?”

  “No crazier than you for not noticing your hot assistant.”

  “Touché.”

  “I made a promise to the family.” Jordan shrugged. “I intend to keep it.”

  “Everyone understands you have a career and responsibilities that go with it.” Declan hit the MUTE button on the remote when a commercial for toilet bowl cleaner came on. “I’m dedicated to working things out here too. Hasn’t your coach or your agent been wondering when you’re coming back?”

  “So far they’ve been polite and understanding. But Coach left a voice mail tonight and he doesn’t sound so patient anymore. Guess the team lost again.”

  “You haven’t been watching the games?”

  “They’re not all televised.”

  “They want you back so they must think you’re the man to save the team.”

  “I’m no savior. I just have a hell of a right hook and a mean slap shot.”

  “And don’t forget you’re an expert at warming the bench in the penalty box.” Dec’s smile vanished. “I’m serious, Jordy. The family will understand.”

  “Our sister won’t.” He glanced over his shoulder at the darkened staircase. “Which reminds me, is the baby dragon home?”

  Dec nodded. “Upstairs with her headphones on and texting so fast I’m sure her fingertips are raw.”

  “Gotcha.” Jordan stood. “I’ll be back.”

  “Okay, Arnold.” Dec hit the MUTE button again, and the room filled with the fiesta party sounds of a cruise line commercial.

  Rebuilding camaraderie with his twin felt good, Jordan noted as he climbed the stairs. They still had some awkward moments, but things were definitely better.

  Upstairs, he knocked on Nicki’s door even though he didn’t expect her to respond. The music raging through her headphones could be heard all the way through the solid wood barrier. Damn. The girl was going to be deaf before she hit legal drinking age.

  Caught off guard, he brought his head up as her door swung open. The instant narrowing of her eyes told him she’d expected Declan or anyone other than him.

  “You don’t hate me,” he said.

  She yanked the headphones off and tossed them behind her. Luckily they landed on the bed. “What?”

  “I said, you don’t hate me.”

  Both hands, accented by goth purple nail polish, slammed down on her hips. “Who told you that lie?”

  “I just know, Nicki. And I wanted to stop by and say . . .” He opened his arms and gave her a cheesy grin. “See, I’m still here.”

  “Did you come bearing bribery gifts again?”

  “Nope. I just brought this.” His open arms surrounded her as he pulled her in for a hug. As expected, she froze like a Popsicle. Then he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you, Nicki. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I’m still going to love you. Never doubt that.”

  He kissed the top of her head again, let her go, then stepped away. “Night, baby sister. See you tomorrow.”

  Before his feet hit the top step, she slammed her bedroom door. He paused. When he heard her let go of a huge sob, everything inside him told him to go back in there and console her.

  Baby steps.

  In order to gain her trust, he couldn’t overwhelm her. He just needed to continue to reassure her that he loved her and he was here to stay.

  God and the NHL willing.

  Chapter 9

  Family meetings were never fun. Especially when they were called at the crack of dawn and you’d had only a few hours of restless sleep.

  Surrounded by aging casks of Merlot and Cabernet, Jordan grabbed one of the big wooden chairs at the center of the extra long farm table in the barrel room. In the past, the room had been part of the event center. Small weddings and private parties could be held here. Though a bit on the cool side, the oak walls and barrels made for an attractive rustic décor, and the fragrance of aging wine added a nice touch.

  He hadn’t even had time to make a pot of coffee this morning before Ryan sounded the alarm. Sipping the slightly bitter brew made from the heavy-­duty office coffeemaker, he glanced around the table. His brothers looked to be in no better condition than he. On the other hand, Aunt Pippy, an important member of the family though not an official member of the new board of directors, looked bright-­eyed and ready to take on the world in her gold and orange dress, blue plastic headband, and red suede ankle boots. Then again, if she was really that bright-­eyed, wouldn’t she have noticed that nothing she had on matched?

  Stifling
a yawn, Jordan took a long drink and prayed the java gods would do their wakey-­wakey dance in a hurry.

  He’d spent half the night finalizing things for tonight’s date with Lucy. While he worried his plan wouldn’t come together, he now had to focus on the reason they’d been summoned to the vineyards on such short notice.

  Ryan came into the room with a frown and a cardboard box he set down at the head of the table. As he settled his palms on the surface, his broad shoulders visibly slumped. “I didn’t ask Nicki or Riley to join us today because, well, I just don’t think they need to be involved. Since they’re both under eighteen, it’s up to us to take care of things.”

  “Good thinking,” Aunt Pippy said, then took a slug of coffee.

  “As much as I’d like to be standing here telling you that everything is great,” Ryan said, “I can’t.”

  Jordan hated starting out the day on a sour note. But it didn’t look like any of them had a choice.

  “Declan and I spent all day yesterday going through the ledgers and bank accounts and . . .” Ryan folded his arms across his chest. “Well, there’s just no other way to say it except someone’s been stealing money from the company. A lot of money.”

  “Define a lot,” Parker said.

  Ryan lifted the lid off the cardboard box and withdrew a folder. And even though Jordan was sure the specific amount had kept Ryan up all night, his brother read the figures printed on a stack of papers.

  “Somewhere to the tune of a hundred and fifty grand.”

  Obscenities flew.

  Parker wanted to know, “Was the money taken in large or small amounts?”

  Ryan shrugged and Declan took over. “The paper trail is hard to follow. There’s no direct path. It’s going to take further investigation with someone more skilled at this kind of thing than any of us.”

  “Did Mom and Dad make investments that weren’t properly documented?” Ethan asked.

  “There’s no sign of that.” Declan lifted his mug of coffee and took a drink. “It looks like someone knew the system and figured out how to work it.”

  Jordan glanced at those gathered around the table. “Who had access to the accounts?”