Can't Buy Me Love

by Rin Daniels

  Knees shaking, she bent to collect the papers in the yard. The narrow strip of grass was dry, already browning in spots. She’d have to water it before the heat bleached it yellow.

  By the time she collected the last piece, the loan shark was gone. She collapsed on the front step, braced her forehead against her clenched fists and didn’t know whether to swear or hold her breath or cry.

  The door opened behind her. “Katherine, are you going to sit out there all day?” The peevish inquiry didn’t help.

  The glass of wine with ice cubes in it did.

  Barbara set it down beside Kat’s foot, and settled to the stair beside her with a sigh. Her flowing skirt draped artfully to one side, trailing flowers down the cement.

  Kat took the wine. “Are you okay?”

  “Me? Oh, yes.” She waved a folded paper at the yard. “I’m much too confident to let a punk like that scare me.”

  Kat’s lips twitched. “You sound like a movie.”

  “As it should be, sweetie.” Barbara’s shoulder rested against hers. For a long moment, they both watched the quiet street. Not a lot of traffic in this neighborhood. Kids were in school or playing somewhere.

  It was a quiet, shabby street.

  She kind of liked it.

  She sipped at her wine as her mother took what Kat instinctively knew was a preamble breath. She swallowed hastily. Just in case.

  “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” her mother began.

  Kat’s laugh cracked on a harsh note. She waved it away before it devolved to something worse. “Sorry,” she managed. “It’s okay. What’s wrong now?”

  Barbara eyed her thoughtfully. “It can wait.” Then, before Kat could protest, she added, “Well, maybe not. Here, this came today.” She handed over the tri-folded paper.

  Kat took another fortifying drink of her fruity wine and set the glass down between them. She took the paper, heart in her mouth, and unfolded it.

  The letterhead belonged to the insurance company.

  The denial of benefits inside it stole what was left of her hope.

  “Arson?” she squeaked.

  Barbara nodded solemnly. “I looked it up on the internet. When they think that there’s arson involved they won’t cover it until the arsonist is caught.”

  The paper trembled in her hand. “But why?”

  “Because if you’re the arsonist,” her mother explained, “you’d make off with the money. And if they never caught you, that company would be out of the money, see?”

  “No, Mom, thanks,” Kat said shortly. She thrust the paper at her. “I mean why would someone burn my salon down? I don’t understand it.”

  “Delinquents, probably.” Barbara took the paper. “Kids these days. Little vandals, all of them.” She sighed. “It’s awful, really. Arson cases can go years without closure.” She patted Kat on the arm. “I read that, too.”

  She couldn’t deal with this. Everything she’d come to Sulla Valley to achieve had gone south—everything except Adam. When would that shoe drop?

  Her shoulders shook as she dropped her face against her knees.

  “There, there,” Barbara said, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t you always say it’ll be fine?”

  “That was when we had options,” she said against her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Mom, they’re going to take everything we own! What are we supposed to do?”

  “They can’t,” Barbara said.

  Kat scoffed. “Do you know what they’ll do if we don’t just hand it over?”

  Her mother sighed again, rubbed Kat’s back in slow circles. “It could be worse. They could burn the house down with us in it.”

  “Mom!”

  “Well, it’s just a theory,” Barbara replied, unmoved. “We have to look at all our options left.”

  “There aren’t any,” Kat said. She squeezed her eyes closed until sparklers went off behind them. “We’re screwed.”

  “Katherine.”

  “Well, we are.”

  Barbara’s hand stopped, flat on her back. “Sweetie, what about your boyfriend?”

  Kat froze. Suddenly grateful for the fact she covered her face, she asked, “How do you know about him?”

  “I answered your phone the night of the fire,” she replied lightly. “How do you think he found you?”

  Adam hadn’t said.

  Kat sat up, her mouth set into a flat line. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Are you sure?” Barbara’s eyes widened. “He seemed so nice on the phone. I’ve been hoping you’d bring him by so I can meet him.”

  When hell froze.

  Kat searched her mom’s face, her innocent stare, for any sign of a con, but all she saw was mild confusion and worry. Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t ask him to help me with this. It’s a lot of money.”

  “No, sweetie.” Barbara bumped her with a shoulder. “Just let him know what’s going on. You may need a place to stay for a little while. It’s a little early in the relationship, I admit,” she added with a half-smile, “but Lord knows I moved in with your father in a matter of months.”

  This wasn’t the same situation. It wasn’t even close. Unless money was involved then, and somehow, Kat wouldn’t put it past either of them.

  She looked at the letter in her mom’s hand.

  Her gaze sharpened on swollen discoloration turning livid on her mom’s forearm. Her breath caught. “Mom!”

  “Hm?” Barbara followed her daughter’s stare, then smiled wryly and tried to hide the mark against her stomach. “Oh, don’t worry—”

  “Did that asshole do this?” Kat took her mom’s arm in both hands and stretched it out, running a thumb along the discolored line. It was longer than a fingerprint, but knotted underneath the swelling. “We should take you into the doctor.”

  Barbara’s voice trembled a little. “No, it’s not that bad. I just caught myself on the door, that’s all.”

  Kat’s teeth ground. “He tried to force his way inside, didn’t he?” When her mother’s gaze slanted away, her heart pitched hard. “Jesus, Mom, you should have called for help!”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Barbara said, pulling her arm away. “I’ll just put some ice on it and take some aspirin.”

  No, it wasn’t fine. ‘Men of good faith’, her ass.

  To think he’d sauntered out of here like he’d only stopped for a drink. That low-down, dirty son of a bitch. Fury radiated through Kat—and on its heels, regret so sharp, she had to flatten a hand on her chest to remember to breathe.

  She couldn’t even imagine how frightened her mom had been.

  Kat stood, wiping off the seat of her pants. “Go inside. Lock the doors, this time,” she added firmly.

  “What?” Barbara tipped her head, cradling her arm against her chest. “Where are you going, sweetie? Not the police?”

  What could they do? A bunch of loan sharks grifting a pair of ex-grifters? They’d laugh her out of the station.

  Kat shook her head. “I’ll be back soon. Just stay inside and don’t open the door for anyone except me, okay?”

  “Kitty, really,” her mom sighed. “You’re making such a fuss.”

  No, she wasn’t. In fact, she was going to do the exact opposite of that.

  This fight was bigger than she was. She had to accept this.

  Even if it cost her the last of her pride.

  The car was still warm as she slid inside the driver’s seat. Should she call? She reached for her phone, but Kat pictured Adam’s face when she called to schedule an appointment and didn’t think that would go over well.

  He’d want details.

  She couldn’t share them on the phone. This was a face-to-face situation.

  This was... God, she hadn’t wanted this.

  I want to see you again.

  The way he’d said those words, the way his voice had hardened to something just shy of an order, firmed her resolve.

  He’d said he was getting busy. She trusted
him. He’d call when his big meetings were over, but she couldn’t wait that long.

  Kat pulled out of the cracked driveway as her mother waved from the patio.

  The next visit might end in something worse. Blood or tears or even—

  Even an accident.

  God, she was so stupid for trusting that shark of a man. Even a little. The bruise on her mom’s arm didn’t lie. The Harrises were so far over their heads, no con could help them now.

  But that was the point, wasn’t it? Kat wasn’t after a scam.

  Still, as she drove across Sulla Valley and into the business district, her heart wound tighter and tighter in her chest.

  This wasn’t what she wanted.

  But what else could she do?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE FIRST FEW days hadn’t been that much of a problem. Adam had spent every waking hour embroiled in plans, strategic meetings about current projects, ongoing projects and future projects, and in crash sessions with Jordan and his father. The final vote would come soon.

  Too soon.

  Everything rode on his ability to impress the board—and most specifically, the board chairman. He had to proceed like his life wasn’t upside down.

  The past few days, though, was like having an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn’t scratch. No matter how much he distracted himself.

  He wanted her.

  Worse, he wanted to just call her and hear her voice, to ask her about her day. He wanted to check and see that she was okay. That she’d picked up the pieces of her salon and taken care of all the details.

  The fact that Adam wanted to swoop down and handle it all himself didn’t help.

  Kat wouldn’t like that.

  So every time he looked up from his work to reach for the phone, he talked himself out of it. It was too late at night. She’d be busy. He didn’t have any time to devote to the call, and it wasn’t fair to her.

  Or to himself.

  Because he didn’t want to stop at just one call.

  So when Kat came through his office door, Adam immediately stood up, relief and want and straight-up volatile domination hard on his mind. She looked bright and fresh and sunny in her pink and white outfit, and the wide headband holding her bangs casually off her face only made him want to tug it from her head and spear his fingers through her short waves.

  The urge to claim her, grab her off her feet and hide them both away in some bat cave somewhere rode the caveman part of his mind.

  He flattened his hands on the desk before he did something stupid.

  Although having already bent her over his desk once, he wasn’t sure how much more stupid he could get.

  “Hey,” he said. It croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

  This time, she didn’t wear a raincoat. Although his heart probably couldn’t handle it if she had, much less his reputation. She still liked her tall shoes.

  Which worked out, because he did, too.

  God, her legs.

  His brain flashed to an image of those thighs wrapped around his hips and Adam sat back down before his immediate hard-on completely ruined the moment.

  Kat’s smile strained. “Hey. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

  “No, it’s a good time.” He gestured to the chair, one of two situated across from his. “How’s everything working out?”

  She sat, her hands clenched between her knees.

  Adam’s smile faded. “Kat? What’s wrong?”

  Her shoulders went tight beneath her frilly pink shirt. “Listen, I know you’ve been busy...”

  Oh, Christ. Here it was. Adam braced himself.

  “I don’t mean to be a problem,” Kat said softly, staring at his desk. “I...You know how much I like you.”

  “Holy shit.” The words slipped out before Adam could stop himself. Her gaze jerked to his, clouded with so much misery that his chest squeezed in abject sympathy. “Whatever this is,” he said, “can we talk about it tonight? My time is tight right now, but it won’t always—”

  “No,” she cut in, raising her hands. “No, that’s not— I mean, it’s okay. I know you’re really busy, you told me.” She sucked in a shaking breath.

  He needed to be nearer.

  Getting any closer might just kill him.

  He rounded his desk anyway, leaned against it. His knee nudged hers. “Just tell me.”

  She clasped her hands between her thighs, tight enough that her knuckles turned white. Whatever this was, it wasn’t easy.

  The first whisper of doubt curled inside his heart. “Kat?”

  “It’s my mom,” she blurted.

  Adam frowned. “Is she okay? Does she need a doctor?”

  “What?” She shook her head jerkily. “No, she’s okay. I mean, it’s just a bruise and I—” She closed her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. It’s... money.”

  That doubt sliced a thin line through him. Adam went still. “What do you mean?”

  “Twenty thousand,” she said, staring at his chest. Not his face. Not his eyes. His tie. “We owe twenty thousand, and they’re going to take everything we own, and I don’t know what else to do. Is that…” She took a shaking breath, “Is that offer of a loan still open?” Her wide lower lip quivered, but she didn’t cry.

  No, crying would be overkill, wouldn’t it?

  That line carved through his chest bled. I want to know everything about you. How many times had he said it?

  Too late to be careful what he wished for.

  “I see,” he said. How did he manage to sound so calm?

  Oh. Right. Because this was old news. He wasn’t even surprised.

  No, that was a lie. He was surprised. After all that crap about going legit, about not wanting his money, he’d bought it. Even after offering her money outright, he’d accepted it when she refused.

  Of course it was a scam. A contrived reason to force him to give her whatever she wanted. The only question he hadn’t asked himself was how. She’d already tried getting under his skin as a flashy blonde, but this sunny, new Kat with her red-streaked sable hair and dreams of a salon and—

  Shit. She’d played him since day one.

  Was there even a salon to begin with? Was that even her place, or had she just assumed he wouldn’t check?

  Adam remembered the folder he’d thrown away and wanted to laugh. God, he was such a fool.

  There wasn’t anything new about this.

  Something cold and hard lodged in his chest. Somewhere around his heart. End it, his brain insisted, and Adam’s arms unfolded, his palms braced against his desk. End this before it gets worse.

  But as he studied her heart-shaped face tilted just far enough that she couldn’t hide the tinge of red at her cheeks, as he traced the way her airy blouse clung to the curve of her breast over her tightly folded arms, all-new words sprang to his lips.

  “This is not a problem.”

  The words earned him a startled, wide-eyed stare. Or maybe it was his tone, cool and unruffled. Her delicate eyebrows furrowed. “It isn’t?”

  “It’s not.” A vise had clamped around his chest. How was he breathing? Talking?

  Saying things he couldn’t take back.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  First they come with a smile.

  Then they come, period.

  And then, inevitably, they come for the money.

  Well, he had money. And it was just money. If she’d only taken it up front, it wouldn’t hurt this bad.

  It wasn’t money at stake here.

  He leaned over, caught the arms of her chair in each hand and bracketed her between them. It brought him too close, mired him in her fragrance—sweet and feminine and a little bit like flowers. Like the air they’d breathed in, drunk on honeysuckle and each other, that night against the building she’d claimed was hers.

  Despite everything, despite the eerie stillness in his mind, Adam’s body stirred.

  He wanted her. Wa
nted the little scam artist. Still.

  And that pissed him off.

  Kat’s chin tipped upward. “Adam,” she said, a little breathlessly, “I didn’t want—”

  His finger touched her lips. They went still. “This is not a problem,” he said again, but there was nothing soft about it. He couldn’t do soft. Not now. His voice roughened as her eyes widened, wide and shimmering forest green. “You need money. I have money. You don’t even need to resort to hidden cameras, this time.”

  Her breath eased hot against the pad of his index finger. Her eyes filled with confusion. “What—”

  He took the opportunity to slip his finger into her mouth, silencing her. Her inhale shook. Her tongue touched his skin, and the heat that washed over him blistered on the wrong side of pain.

  Adam wrapped himself in it. “Good girl,” he murmured.

  Her legs relaxed, easing open just enough that he knew she felt it, too—this thing between them, this connection she’d forged with her smile and her raincoats and her damned lies.

  Had she somehow known Goldberg would show up at his office? Did she hope to catch him in a compromising position? Scam artists did that, too.

  “It’s just money,” he continued, sliding his finger free. His skin crackled, palm tingling as he eased his fingers into her soft hair.

  Something in him shook.

  “It’s a lot,” she whispered, but the red tint to her cheeks had deepened, and her tongue slipped out to wet her bottom lip.

  Whatever else she had going for her, she knew how to play him. Him and his willing body.

  “Maybe to you,” he replied evenly, and when her mouth opened, he closed the small distance between them, sealed her words with a kiss he could only call punishing—hard, angry, and so needy, it stole what was left of his breath.

  She tasted like everything he didn’t know he wanted.

  She tasted like deceit.

  Either he was a closet masochist, or she was the best con artist in the world.

  Her gasp muffled against his lips, she grabbed two handfuls of his jacket and held on as he all but pushed her back into the leather chair. His tongue swept inside her mouth, rubbed against hers and deepened the kiss until she was gasping for air and he was burning up in a chaotic mess of anger and need and a bone-deep ache he didn’t want to feel.