by Ava Miles
He shrugged. “Won’t hurt. You need information before making your decision. Besides, I’m not saying I agree with his plans.”
Meredith reached for the file. “Well, I want to read it too. I don’t want him using you, Jill.”
“Then take it. Why does everyone think I’m stupid all of the sudden?”
“No one’s saying that, Jill,” Tanner soothed. “Maven is a high roller who takes tremendous risks. He has a grand plan. We’re only suggesting that you be careful. He’s had time to craft every step. You haven’t.”
“I’m not five,” she tartly responded.
“No, you’re not.” Arthur sat in his hallmark squeaky chair. “But you’re still a woman who’s been around mostly straightforward men for most of her life. Maven has layers.”
And Brian had grown so many she wasn’t sure she could peel them all back to see his core.
“Tanner has layers,” Jill pointed out.
Her grandpa chuckled. “Yes, and he wasn’t straightforward when he first came here. We had to watch him—until we knew him better.”
Tanner huffed out a laugh. “Thanks a lot.”
“I like your layers,” Meredith admitted, taking his hand.
“Well, I’m going to work on contract with Mac until I make my decision. Help him with the city council. PR with the locals. I think his hotel is good business for Dare.”
“That’s your prerogative, my dear,” Arthur said. “All I’m asking is that you don’t take everything he says at face value.”
“What does Brian think about this?” Tanner asked.
“He doesn’t know yet. Now that you’ve outted Mac’s plan, I can tell him.”
Her grandpa twirled his glasses around a finger. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Our discussions were confidential.”
“Ah,” he muttered softly.
That one word made her stiffen. She could almost hear the warning. Jill stomped over to the door. “Now that we’ve cleared this up, I have other things to do.”
Tanner reached for her hand. “World peace? The end of racism?”
“Smarty.”
“Since you didn’t kiss me when you entered my office, the least you could do is give me one before you exit,” her grandpa said, tapping his cane. “I’m an old man. My heart.”
She blew out a breath. “Old, my…foot. You run circles around all of us.” Still, she walked over and kissed his leathery cheek. “No one ever gets one up on you, do they?”
He grinned. “Never. That’s why I’m going to be buried in a crypt above ground.”
She looked into his faded blue-jean eyes, which were sparkling with mischief. “I love you, even though you’re an interfering, tenacious old man.”
He tapped her nose like he used to when she was a kid. “I love you too, even though you’re an emotional roller coaster on wheels in desperate need of a brake valve.”
Tanner and Meredith were laughing as she walked away.
Smith’s Hardware store was on the way to her car. Maybe she could buy a brake valve.
***
Brian sat in his apartment with the shades drawn despite the noon hour. Mutt drooled on his bare feet, but he didn’t care. He’d take a shower before he headed to the restaurant for his shift at two.
Someone pounded on the door. Brian gave Mutt a nudge and then used the Classified section of the newspaper to wipe his feet. When he opened the door, he tugged on the T-shirt he’d slept in. Swiped at his unshaved face.
Jill. He couldn’t be happier to see her this soon. He hadn’t expected it after last night. “Hey,” he managed. “I thought—”
“Late morning?” Jill asked.
Her high-heeled boots clicked on his hardwood floor. As she leaned down to give Mutt a brisk rubdown, he eyed her getup. Instead of jeans, she was wearing a knee-length gray skirt with a dark pink wrap. She looked hot. His awareness of her increased.
“You look beautiful, but why are you dressed up and at my apartment when you’re usually at the coffee shop by now?”
Her hand stopped rubbing Mutt, who immediately head butted her. She straightened. “We need to talk.” She clicked over to stand in front of him.
“Great. Let’s talk about the other night.” He wished he’d showered and dressed. Usually he didn’t care, but he wanted to look good for her.
“Not that.” Jill gestured with her hands. “Did you read the paper this morning?”
Well, this was out of left field. “Yeah.”
“Remember how I told you about that job?”
Right. How could he forget? Then it clicked. Brian saw the punch coming toward him in slow motion. Any hope he still had of them working together was slowly dying, of being able to stay with her in Dare and work somewhere other than The Chop House. “The new hotel, right? I thought we were going to talk first. Dammit, Jill!”
She shook her head, red curls bobbing. “Stop! I still haven’t decided on the permanent offer. We don’t know if the hotel will even be approved, but I think the city council would be nuts to reject it. I only agreed to help Mac until the vote. You and I can still try to work things out on the business front. I told him I wouldn’t give him an answer until we know for sure whether the hotel will be approved.”
Even so, he felt like she was leaving him behind. He didn’t know where that left them…or him. “You move fast.” Brian couldn’t stand still anymore. He stalked into the kitchen and started to make more coffee.
“Grandpa’s article sped things up. Mac wanted an immediate answer on his full-time offer, but I said I needed more time because I had agreed to talk with you beforehand. That’s why he came up with a temporary contract. I would have helped anyway. This is good for Dare.”
What she was saying made sense, but he knew her. What businessperson wouldn’t want to be a part of an exciting new boutique hotel? He turned slowly and leaned back against the counter, scratching the stubble on his cheek. “Thanks for clarifying.”
Her heels pounded into the tile behind him. “You’re being unreasonable.”
Probably, but he felt like his whole future was poised twenty feet above the earth like a high-wire act. The woman he loved didn’t trust him and wasn’t sure she wanted to be with him, personally or professionally. And the woman he didn’t want anymore had presented him with the second chance of his dreams—but not in Dare. Then Jill had reacted to the news of his affair with Simca just as he’d expected, throwing him in a tailspin again. Now this.
His eyes tracked to the newspaper headline again. “Wait! This hotel has to have a restaurant, right? He’ll need a chef. Maybe he’d hire me.” Suddenly he had another option—one that would allow him to have it all. He turned and gave the beans a zoom, grinding them into exotic dust.
“Brian,” she shouted over the noise, tugging on his arm.
“We could still work together,” he declared when the machine stopped. No more disagreements over their different visions. And he wouldn’t have to grill steaks without culinary inspiration, dying slowly inside each night.
“Brian. I already talked to Mac about that, and he knows about the stuff in New York.”
His whole body stilled. It was his worst nightmare. “And?” When she lowered her head to study her boots, he knew it was bad.
“He said he won’t consider you. Plus, he usually hires people with head chef experience.”
The two espressos he poured looked about as dark as his future. “I see.”
She waved away the cup he held out to her. “His offer gives the city council three weeks to make their vote. That should be enough time for you to consider your options. I don’t think it would be fair of me to tell you not to pursue your dream job when I’m not sure I can ever trust you again.”
She was slipping away, leaving him behind. He wasn’t going to stand for it. He crushed his mouth to hers.
She jerked in his arms and tried to push him away, but he’d studied what made her melt. He ran his thumbs down
her lower back, against her spine, and settled her firmly against him. There was no way she could miss how badly he wanted her. He changed the kiss’ angle and tugged on her bottom lip. A throaty moan erupted from her, something dark and tortured. He understood. His own desire was like obsidian, formed in the deep recesses of the earth.
Brian traced her lip with his tongue, asking for entrance. When she opened, her surrender was like a drawbridge falling down after a long siege. He pressed her against the door, moving his hips in sensuous circles, taking her mouth in an even deeper kiss. He groaned when she fisted her hands in his hair and thrust her tongue against his, moving to his rhythm.
Everything in him wanted to mate. To thrust mindlessly into her, making her arch under him, swipe her nails over his back, cry out his name.
He wanted to make her his—regardless of her options and his options and the whole damned world.
“Wait,” she cried.
His pulse thundered. His arousal thickened. The desire to plunder consumed him. He wanted to take her now, right against the door. His hands brushed the sides of her breasts. He eased back to fill his palms with her, the size and shape as perfect as she was in his arms. She moaned and jolted as his fingers circled her nipples through her pink wrap.
She dragged her mouth away. “This won’t solve anything.”
He tugged on her ear in one slow pull, wishing she wouldn’t talk. When she resisted again, he feasted on her neck.
“But it’s one of the reasons we need to solve it.”
Her hands grabbed his and held them to her breasts for a moment. Her head fell back. “We really need to be practical.”
His hips circled against hers, communicating all the ways he wanted her. “Don’t be practical, Jill.”
She pushed back from the door and stepped away. “I won’t have sex with you when so much is unsettled between us.”
His fist slammed into his thigh. “How can I show you how I feel if you won’t let us get close? How can you trust me again if you won’t be with me?”
She smoothed her hair. “You know it’s not that simple.”
He held out his arms and approached her with caution. “When it comes to how we really feel, it is that simple. I love you.”
Her eyes flickered for a moment before they cleared, shining with a new maturity. “You know better. Sex isn’t enough. I need to trust you, and right now, I just don’t.”
He shrank like balled-up Saran Wrap, wondering if she ever would again.
She pointed to her chest. “I think I know what it takes to make a relationship last. Right now, I’m not sure we have it. Think about that as you consider your options.”
His hands dropped. “What can I do to make you realize how much you matter to me? To get you to believe in me?”
“Other than giving me time?”
“We don’t have that.”
She reached for the door and turned the knob. “This isn’t easy for me either. When, if I get my trust back in you, I want to believe I’m everything to you. No more doubts.”
Opening the door, she sailed through it before he could respond. So, he had to prove himself. Well, wasn’t that why he’d come back to Dare? To figure out who he was and what the hell mattered to him? He was finding answers that weren’t always congruent.
Mutt paddled over, drool trailing behind him. Brian sank down and rubbed him. “Hey, Mutt, whadaya say we cook up a storm?”
Being creative in the kitchen always unleashed other inspirations. He’d clear his mind. Turn on some ESPN. Allow a solution to appear that would help Jill rebuild her faith in him.
He wasn’t going down without a fight.
Chapter 22
Kleenex had become Peggy McBride’s best friend. All those lines about the baby-soft, cottony texture were bullshit. Her nose’s red, raw skin throbbed each time she blew. Man, she loved her kid, but he’d given her his junk. She couldn’t remember feeling so sick.
“Mom! Can I go ride my bike? It’s like summer outside,” he yelled in one long strand of words without taking a breath.
Her neighbors might be wearing shorts, but they were nuts. It was fifty-eight degrees according to their Mickey Mouse deck thermometer. Why did people who lived in cold places wear shorts when it was still winter? Yeah, the sun was out, but the ground was covered in snow. Melting, sure. The icicles’ constant dripping from her roof and their occasional crash was an ongoing musical accompaniment as she lay huddled under a blanket. Home from work. Again. She wanted to belt out a really dirty curse word.
She couldn’t take anymore. If she didn’t have a kid, she’d volunteer for a dangerous drug bust without Kevlar in the hopes that someone would put her out of her misery.
Her coughing prevented her from answering Keith.
“Come on, mom,” he pleaded, dancing so his one untied shoelace skipped across the floor like a jump rope. “The sidewalks are all melted.” Keith bobbed up and down. Her headache intensified. “Pu-lease.”
“Tie your shoelace,” she said to stop the litany.
She knew Dare’s crime statistics. It was safe. Her neighborhood was the kind where other mothers watched out for your kids if you had to run an errand. The whole Pleasantville vibe it had going on still weirded her out.
“Come on, mom! I’ve gotta get on my bike.”
Each time he jumped up and down on the hardwood floor it felt like a spike was being driven into her brain. She caved.
“Fine, but be careful. And stay on the block.”
He raced off. Peggy sank onto the stairs, her chills, aches, and cough wearing her down. She thrust her ice-cold hands into an oversized black fleece. The house was a wreck. She needed to go make dinner. Could she live with the guilt of another pizza night? As she reached for her Kleenex, she realized she could. If he had to go on Dr. Phil because of two pizza nights in a row, he was not her son.
She laid her head on the stairwell, too exhausted to move. She should get up and watch him from the window, but she couldn’t manage it. Her eyes grew heavy. She gave in and shut down.
Peggy awoke with a start. The clock signaled she’d been out fifteen minutes. Her whole body rebelled when she pulled herself upright and shuffled over to the window. She waited for Keith to zoom by. Her forehead fell onto the cold glass, her head too heavy to keep upright. She scanned the quiet street. No sign. The little stinker was pushing the limits, as usual. Probably racing around the other block. Kids. Why did they have so much energy? Why couldn’t adults? Nature’s design didn’t seem fair.
She put one foot in front of the other and headed for the door. Time to go find him. Be a good mom. She shrugged on her winter gear and trekked outside. Even the warm sun on her face couldn’t chase away the chills. Sunlight on snow made her squint. Damn she was too tired to go back for sunglasses.
She scanned down the street and then back. No sign. When she turned onto the next street, her heart splatted on the sidewalk like a mega-icicle. Keith lay on the ground, his distressed whimpers reaching her from a block away. Sickness faded. Adrenaline spiked. Her cop vision assessed the situation in seconds.
A strange man in a city suit was leaning over her son. Keith’s green bike was lying on its side in the melting snow. A red Ferrari was parked by the curb, its door gaping wide. Rap music poured out of it.
No one drove a Ferrari in Dare.
She ran forward, child predator case files flashing through her mind. Fancy car, check. Professional clothing to build trust, check.
“Get away from my son!” she yelled. Her lungs burned. Her legs pumped faster beneath her.
“Mommy!” Keith cried. “Help me.”
Fear crushed her heart.
“Shh. It’s okay, son,” the man responded.
Her fear skyrocketed as the man lifted her son into his arms in his crouched position. Was he going to make a run for it? She flashed forward with all her remaining strength.
“Let him go,” she yelled in her razor sharp cop voice. “Dare Valley Police. P
ut the boy down. Immediately.”
“If I put him down, I’ll only hurt him,” the man replied, still not turning around. “It’s not what you think.”
Terror flashed brighter. Peggy flew over the remaining sidewalk, weighing her options. She didn’t have her gun. She couldn’t risk putting the guy in a chokehold while he had Keith in his arms.
“Don’t worry,” the man called. “He fell off his bike. I think he broke his leg.”
She couldn’t risk taking him for his word. Smart criminals were masters of deception. Peggy grabbed a fallen stick, not breaking stride, and dug it into the man’s black hair.
“Put him down, or I’ll blow your brains out.”
He stilled. She caught sight of Keith’s tear-ravaged face. Terror lanced her all the way to her toes.
“Mommy. It hurts.”
“That’s not a gun, and I’m not going to hurt your son.”
His voice couldn’t have been calmer, which set off red flags in Peggy’s brain. A normal person would be all panic and apologies right now.
“Put him down,” Peggy ordered, trying to decide if a good chop to the back of the neck would knock him out. He was a big guy. Strong. Tall. Muscular. Her options were growing more limited.
“I’m not going to hurt your son, I promise, and I’d happily put him down, but his leg is broken. Do you want to cause him more pain?” he asked in that cool voice and finally turned his head.
Her mind surged with recognition. “You’re Mac Maven.”
“Yes,” he answered like he was used to being recognized. “Since you know me, you know I’m no threat to your son. I was bringing him to you. He just told me your address.”
Peggy dropped the stick and fell to her knees in front of them, huddling near a sobbing Keith. God, she could feel her own tears welling up, but she pushed them back. Her emotions zigzagged uncontrollably, the drop from terror to relief to mommy compassion a sharp descent.
“Oh, baby,” she called, wiping away Keith’s tears. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.” Her eyes took in his right leg, which was lying at an odd angle in Maven’s big hand.
“There was a dog—and it ran out of the yard—I tried to miss it—and it…”