“Because I wasn’t interested in selling out.”
“The hundred and twenty is free and clear. Good as cash.”
I swallowed. “Still not interested.” In the money. The more I said no, the angrier he got, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked like the type to enjoy some angry sex too.
“Why? Is it not enough? I’ll double it.” He crumpled the check in his fist. “A quarter of a million dollars, if you clear out by this weekend.”
That took me by surprise. My heart thudded in my chest. If I worked twenty more years, I’d never see that much money. I could get a house, pay off my credit cards, and open a new store. I started to tell him he had a deal—
Then Millie Carter came in and the jingling bells broke the spell.
Millie flinched at seeing such a large man looming over me. Cringing against the wall, her big brown eyes filled with tears. Millie had been abused by her father, her brothers, her boyfriends, and her husband. When her husband died in a storm off Montauk, she realized she didn’t have to be anyone’s punching bag anymore. She had been a loyal customer ever since. I really saw a difference in her confidence as she bloomed into her potential. And she did it because of this store. Still, she had triggers. And whatever energy she was sensing between Rory and me had sent her to that dark place.
Not on my watch.
Reaching up, I grabbed the back of Rory’s head and kissed him on the mouth. I needed to take back some control here. He froze. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, rapping him on the teeth with the stud in my tongue until he opened up. Slitting my eyes, I saw Millie slump in relief and take a shuddering breath. I stood up on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss. Rory was frozen in shock, but I kind of liked that. Dragging my tongue over his, I smiled when Millie recovered and puttered to the back of the store. She darted a glance at us over her shoulder, to make sure I wasn’t in danger.
It’s okay, Millie. He wasn’t threatening me. I got this. I’m in control.
I was about to release Rory when he tangled his fingers in my hair, deepening the kiss. My eyes flew open in shock and then fluttered closed in bliss. Wow. Rory Parker could kiss once he had his wits back. Slanting his lips over mine, his hot mouth was frantic while our tongues dueled. Three months of flirting emails and sexual innuendos burst into real life as we made out over the counter in my bookstore.
My fingers bunched in his shirt as pleasure shot down to my toes. Pretty Boy tasted like mint and smelled even better close up. Too bad the counter was in the way; I was horny enough to grind on him right here and now. Ever since Jack took my money and went on the road with the band, it had put a dent in my sex life, and I was feeling my long abstinence now.
The bells jingled again and I sprang away from him, looking down. Suddenly I was too shy to meet his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to have turned the tables on me.
The couple who had just come in had their noses in their guidebook, so they hadn’t witnessed me frenching one of my customers.
“Well?” Rory said, his breathing audible.
I forced myself to look into his scorching hazel eyes. I felt like purring. “I’ll think about it.”
Tossing a twenty onto the counter, he scooped up the book. “Keep the change. I’ll be back later for your final answer.”
He had an incredible ass. I savored the taste of him in my mouth and found that I was looking forward to seeing the billionaire douche bag again.
Chapter 2
Rory
I was standing in front of my family’s sailboat, blinking at the Pastel Princess—my sister’s stupid idea of a name. How did I get here without remembering the walk? What the hell had just happened? I had been about to close the deal and Judge Nolan’s crazy daughter kissed me. I didn’t like punk chicks. That tongue ring, though. I shivered in the summer heat. I had to snap out of it. This wasn’t me. Maybe it was my eighteen-year-old self-indulging in an old fantasy. She had been hot stuff in high school, a troublemaker. Frowning, I tried to remember the big scandal she had been involved with, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.
Sure, it had been fun emailing her back and forth, wondering what outrageous thing she’d do next. And yes, I saved that shot she sent of her luscious rack, and maybe I had an odd fantasy or two about her tongue ring—which was even better in person and in my mouth. Rubbing my hand over my face, I needed to shake this off. I had business to finish screw around with a sexy mistake.
“Rory, what are you doing here?” My mother came up from belowdecks carrying a pitcher of what I hoped was margaritas.
I climbed on board and brushed an air kiss next to her cheek. Crap. It was lemonade. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.” Easing into one of the deck chairs, I put my feet up on the bench. “Maybe do some fishing.” That didn’t seem like a bad idea. It would pass the time while my bankers shuffled the funds to make sure my quarter-million bribe didn’t bounce. I texted instructions to them, all the while wondering what the hell I had been thinking.
My dick had been doing the thinking. I couldn’t let Dawn win, not with her challenging me with her eyes, her body, and that fucking tongue ring. The money would take care of itself. As long as she closed up her shop and shook that sweet ass of hers out of Haven, it would be worth the cost.
I wanted her, though. And that was going to be a huge complication. An enjoyable one. I smirked at the thought of fucking her right there on her counter. To hell with whoever came in. I wondered if that would shock Dawn. That I didn’t give a damn who saw us. All I cared about was that promise of pleasure in her pretty green eyes.
“What book is that?”
Fuck. I had forgotten my mother was right there. I was holding that orgasm book from Tantric Books. I tossed it, cover down, onto the seat next to me. “You wouldn’t like it. It’s got a lot of violence in it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why you waste your time with that garbage.”
I shrugged, trying not to be annoyed at her opinion of my fake book-reading habits. I was really tired of all the expectations my family had of me. “It’s an escape.”
“What do you need to escape from?” She frowned delicately at me.
Lately, a lot. But I didn’t want to defend my life to my mother, so I breathed in the salty ocean air and tried not to imagine how Dawn’s tongue ring would feel sliding up and down my cock.
A quarter of a million dollars. I must have been out of my mind. Still, it would be worth it if it meant she’d clear out by the weekend. Switching from email, I flipped through the list of people who were waiting to get into a shop. Of course, they knew all the stores would undergo major renovation, which would start in the fall. But as the majority of their profits came during the summer and the holidays, I had a waiting list of individuals who were willing to pay four times the rent the current occupants had paid. Not to mention, the goods they were selling were more upscale than Dawn’s lacquered dragon boxes and incense.
Sniffing my shirt, I wondered if I was just imagining the jasmine and sandalwood fragrance, or was it in my nostrils from being in that store too long? It wasn’t unpleasant. It just smelled so out of place on my parents’ yacht. So out of place on me. Exotic, like Dawn. I could very easily remember how she looked in high school. Her pretty green eyes and heart-shaped face had turned a lot of heads. Unfortunately, the chip on her shoulder kept people at arm’s length. After all these years, the chip was bigger than ever.
“Your father’s walking down from his office. Would you mind going to meet him? I don’t like the element in the neighborhood.”
I rolled my eyes. Fiona Parker thought anyone who didn’t attend their yacht club was a bad element. “Dad’s fine. It’s broad daylight. I just walked down here from the shops and no one accosted me.”
“I worry about him.” She shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s been like, watching the town sink into urban decay.”
“This revitalization project is helping.” It wouldn’t take care of the opiate prob
lem directly, but it was a start. Getting the head shops and the older stores out would give the dealers and their customers one less place to hang out. My thoughts drifted back to Dawn and her feisty tongue ring. Why on earth had she kissed me?
“Rory?”
My mother’s sharp voice startled me.
“Rory, look.”
She pointed to where my father was walking down the dock to the yacht club. A shabbily dressed man was beside him, asking him a question. Derek Parker stopped to listen; after all, he was the first selectman of the town. That man was still his constituent, even if it appeared he didn’t shop at Nordstrom.
“Help your father.”
Stopping my eyes from rolling again, I climbed out of the boat and headed toward them. I was expecting to hear a panhandler beg for money, but I was surprised that they were talking about the town budget.
“I think you’re wrong to take money from the after-school programs to fund the new downtown area,” the faux panhandler said.
“We won’t need to.” I broke into the conversation and thrust my hand out at the faux panhandler. “Rory Parker. I’m the real estate developer on the project.”
The panhandler looked at my hand as if it were a snake, but reluctantly shook it. “Christopher Jones. I’m on the school board.”
“Chris is an electrician,” my father said. “He’s won a lot of town contracts because of his hard work.”
Chris snorted. “And because I work cheap.”
“We may be able to use you in some of new remodeling,” I said.
“Tell me more about not cutting into the school’s budget.” Chris squinted up at me.
“I’ve got a team of investors who are willing to buy out the existing tenants from their leases in return for having flagship stores. They’re willing to pay very well for a place in our town. And we're willing to put some of those funds back into the community as well.”
“What about the tenants who are refusing to go?”
My father cleared his throat. “We’re working on the last few holdouts.”
“I am confident that I’ll have one more tenant out by this weekend." I might even get a chance to try out that tongue ring in the process. Why shouldn’t I mix business with pleasure, fulfill my boyhood fantasy of tasting Dawn Nolan? I deserved it. We’d have some celebratory champagne. I’d insist on taking her out for dinner on my yacht, and we could explore some of that explosive chemistry that was bubbling between us.
"Well, that's good to hear. How's your sister doing?"
I looked away from the concern in the electrician's eyes. That was like a bucket of ice water in the face. I took a deep breath, unsure how to answer. How much did he know?
"She was a nice girl. We miss her around here," he said to fill the awkward silence.
Words caught in my throat, but luckily my father rescued me. "She has her good days and her bad days. We were thinking of bringing her out on the boat for a day trip."
Hiding a grimace, I stared back at the boat. I saw my mother pick up the book from Dawn's store, read the title, and then drop it like it burned her fingers. Great. Just great.
"That would be nice," Chris said, and they bickered a bit more about the budget before Chris strolled off to his own boat.
"Are you really going to take Cammy out of the hospital?" I asked.
"Your mother wants to, but it's not like it's going to matter. Camilia won't know the damned difference."
Anger flushed through me. "You don't know that. Just because she can't tell us what she's feeling doesn't make her—"
"She's a vegetable, Rory. That's all she ever will be."
I cringed at his harsh words, even though I knew he used them to mask the pain.
"She's not going to get better. She fried her brains on that crap five years ago. You want to help her? It's not by taking day trips to the Thimble Islands. It's by cleaning up this town so some other kid doesn't wind up like her."
"That's the plan," I said through my teeth as we walked back to the boat.
"Who did you get to leave?" he asked.
"Dawn Nolan."
My father gave a low whistle. "Judge Nolan's little hellion? How the hell did you manage that?"
"I made her an offer she couldn't refuse," I said in my best Godfather accent.
"Did you offer to shit on her father's desk? Because I can't think of anything else that little bitch would want more than that."
I tensed at his words. "She get under your skin?" I asked, wondering if she had stuck her tongue ring in my father's mouth too.
"What? No. She's pissed off a lot of people with her store and the element it attracts."
"What type of element?" I held the boat close to the dock as my father climbed on, and then jumped in after him. "Her police record is clear."
"She has unsavory merchandise and all she talks about is sex."
My mother pointed to the book I left behind. "Did you get that at her store?"
I shrugged. "She was trying to embarrass me."
Picking up the book, my father made a face. "See? This shit is exactly what I'm talking about. This isn't the Village in Manhattan. We don't like sex shoved up our noses everywhere we look. She brings in speakers and has a harem of squabbling ninnies that all join hands and burn their bras together. It's disgusting."
My mother's face was red with embarrassment. "I don't think that's done anymore. But she is in the wrong town. Female empowerment is a good thing, Derek. But like you said, I don't want to see it when I'm on vacation."
I struggled not to point out the irony of that statement while she served my father lemonade and sandwiches. Plus, I was hungry. I took a sandwich and eased back into the deck chair.
"She's going. I'll get a bank check to her later and she'll be out of all our hair by Monday morning."
"Who are you getting to move in?" My mother leaned forward as I took out my phone. "Please tell me there will be a decent bookstore."
"Bookstores don't make money," my father said, beating me to it.
"It's between an Italian shoe store and a French couture boutique. They're bidding now."
My mother clapped her hands while I watched the offers ping on my phone's app. “This is just what we needed in this town. Rory, I’m so proud of you.”
I kept my eyes on my phone, waiting for my father to echo the sentiment. Yeah, I could keep waiting. He was stuffing his face with egg salad. The burden of needing their approval felt like a heavy yoke on my shoulders. After Cammy had overdosed, I couldn’t risk screwing up at anything. Things were already eggshell fragile.
Cammy had been the wild child. I had to be the rock for her, for them, for everyone. She was the spoiled princess, coming along almost five years after me. Like everyone else, I treated her like a special doll, giving her gifts and letting her get away with murder. It was cute—until she hit her teens. Then all our coddling came home to roost. I couldn’t take the tantrums, but fortunately I wasn’t around much. I had my own career, my own empire to build.
I shook my head. I should have been there for her. I should have told her no at least once in her life. We all should have.
My mother nibbled on the crust of her sandwich while she looked off into the Long Island Sound. My father had his hat over his eyes and was snoring lightly. Ten years ago, Cammy would have been begging to go waterskiing or tubing. She’d be in the water splashing and laughing at us, not understanding why we wouldn’t swim with her.
Eventually Cammy gave up on us and would go down to the lower docks and hang out with her friends during her high school days. She got into a local college and dated appropriate prospects. During the summer, though, she’d come back home and return to the waterfront. When she got knocked up by a longshoreman the summer before her senior year, she had been determined to marry him. Except he was already married. Oops.
After he was paid a great deal to go away, she settled down for a bit. Well, she had to, because the pregnancy was rough on her. She had been sick ev
ery day.
My father had arranged a marriage for her, like we were still back in the feudal days. He picked her out an Ivy League–schooled attorney on the fast track to partner. I think she might had even liked Kendrick. They had a quick, intimate wedding in Cape Cod over Christmas break. Cammy’s wedding dress hid most of her bump, so in the pictures it looked like a love match. In person? Well, at least the baby was born legitimate, which was all my parents cared about. Cammy finished college and graduated with a liberal arts degree, holding a two-month-old baby during the ceremony. And we were all there to cheer her on, except Kendrick. He had to work.
I should have asked Cammy her opinion. Should have talked with her more instead of assuming she was all right with our parents running roughshod all over her life.
Spencer Livingstone was not only born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he wore gold diapers. Everyone was so thrilled with the baby they forgot to keep an eye out on his mother. Depression had hit Cammy hard. I had been in Florida making a fortune flipping condos. If I had been here, would she have gone back to the docks? If we had listened to her, made sure she was taken care of, would she had started smoking that shit again?
If we hadn’t rushed the marriage, maybe Kendrick would have known not to let the hospital give her morphine or prescribe her Percocet. If we hadn’t pretended that she never did cocaine and heroin in her high school days, would we have been able to save her?
“How’s Spence?” I asked, clearing my throat. My nephew was five years old and would never see his mother again, if my family had their say in the matter.
Kendrick had stepped up, and no one would have ever suspected that he wasn’t Spencer’s biological father.
“He’s such a joy,” my mother said.
My father snored on.
“Has there been any change with Cammy?”
My mother jumped to her feet and started clearing away the dishes. A muscle ticked in her jaw.
“What?” I followed her down to the galley, taking the remaining glasses with me.
“Your father doesn’t like to talk about it.” She scraped the plates and set them in the sink.
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