by Jo Leigh
“Where did you get that tattoo?” she asked. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of you.”
He stiffened. He was sensitive about the tattoo. He wore wide watchbands to hide it, but when he looked down he could see the inky barbs peeping around the edge of his Rolex.
“I got into some trouble when I was a kid,” he admitted, hoping a simple explanation would be enough.
“What kind of trouble?” She breathed, and he could tell she was intrigued.
“I got mixed up with a gang,” he mumbled.
“A real gang?”
“Real enough.”
She blinked. “I don’t believe you.”
He didn’t know what possessed him to do what he did next. Her tone of voice, maybe. Or perhaps he had a desire to shock her. But the next thing Liam knew he was stripping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
A smile curled her lips. “I like the way this is going.”
Her teasing frustrated him. He aimed to stun, not titillate.
He whipped off his shirt and then tugged down the right side of his trouser waistband, revealing the jagged silvered scar just above his hipbone.
Katie’s eyes widened to the size of quarters. “Ohmigod!”
Talking about being stabbed was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. But Liam was not prepared for what she did next.
Katie crossed the distance between them, sank to her knees and softly pressed her lips to his scar, leaving behind the scarlet imprint of her mouth branded against his skin. The gesture sent quivers shooting through his groin. Uncontrollably, his penis hardened. Disturbed by her response and his reaction to it, he held out a hand to help her to her feet.
“Tell me,” she whispered, and touched his arm, leaving him wishing he’d never started this.
He lifted his shoulder, shrugging as if it had been no big deal, rather than a defining moment in his life. “It was the stupid mistake of a fourteen-year-old kid, looking for a place to belong.”
“Why did you feel the need to belong that badly?”
“I grew up without a father. My mother worked two jobs to make ends meet. I spent a lot of time alone.”
“What happened to your dad?”
He certainly hadn’t intended on getting into all this now. “I never knew him. He took off the minute he found out my mother was pregnant.”
“Wow, none of that was in the Young Bostonian article about you.”
“I don’t tell many people about it.”
Her eyes softened. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How did you get from there to where you are today?” She studied him intently, her gaze heating up his skin as he fumbled with the shirt buttons.
“After this-” he swept a hand at his scar “-my mother knew she had to get me out of that neighborhood or I was going to end up dead.”
“How did she get you out of that environment?”
“She took a job as a cook’s helper at a private school in upstate New York. Even though it paid a lot less than her two jobs in Boston, we were allowed to live in a two-room apartment on the school grounds and I received free tuition. If it weren’t for the sacrifices she made, I wouldn’t be here today.”
That might sound overly dramatic, but it was the honest truth. He would have been killed or in prison, of that he had little doubt.
“How come you don’t have the tattoo removed?”
“I keep it as a reminder of where I’ve been, of what I’ve escaped. I’m not proud of it, but it’s important not to forget my past.”
“Oh,” she said as if she understood, but he knew she had no concept of what his life had been like. How could she from her ivory tower?
Looking at the regal tilt of her head, he felt like that fatherless fourteen-year-old boy again who’d grown up in the South Boston housing project. Unsure of himself and desperately longing for success, but terrified he’d never fit in with Katie’s kind, no matter how hard he tried. He’d come a long way, but there were some barriers that could never be breached.
Who was he to think he could ever possess a woman like her? He could amass all the money in the world and never be in her league. To believe otherwise was folly. His tattoo was proof of that. You couldn’t change your DNA.
But part of his DNA was as blue-blooded as her own.
The part he hated.
Liam stepped back, hoping if he put some distance between them he could think more clearly, but he could not.
Katie met his gaze with a knowing smile. He had the frantic notion she could see right through him like an X-ray.
Afraid of his vulnerability, Liam cleared his throat. “We better leave if we don’t want to be late for the mayor’s party.”
Delancy lived in one of the largest mansions on Beacon Hill. A valet hired for the evening parked his car. Liam took Katie’s hand and guided her up the cobblestone walkway.
He noticed the carved lintels and decorative ironwork. Delancy was living here while he and his mother had been crammed into a six-hundred-square-foot apartment on the wrong side of the tracks and then later in an equally small garage apartment behind the dean’s house at Fernwood Academy for Boys.
The old rage caught fire inside him.
Katie must have picked up on his mood because she stopped on the front doorstep and looked at him. “Liam, is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“You seem tense.”
“A bit nervous, I guess.”
“You?” She sounded surprised.
“I’ve never met the mayor before.” At least not officially. Not outside of a pirate’s costume.
“Don’t be so impressed with Finn Delancy. My family’s known his for years. People on Beacon Hill are like people anywhere else and most of them have a skeleton or two in their closet. Blue blood or not, you’re twice the man Finn Delancy will ever be. Relax. You’ll do fine.”
Her words washed away his anger. She squeezed his hand, strengthening his courage and then reached out to rap the door with the heavy brass knocker.
A reserved-looking young woman wearing a starched white apron answered their knock.
“Liam James and Katie Winfield,” Katie announced to the woman.
The mayor’s home was something straight out of a nineteenth-century novel. The foyer towered two stories above their heads and the walls were paneled in luxurious mahogany. The rugs were Persian, the artwork original masterpieces and the massive chandelier looked as if it had come straight from the home of a Venetian artisan glassblower.
While my mother and I were eating macaroni and cheese, Delancy was living in a palace.
The woman took Katie’s wrap and handbag and ushered them into the library where a group of Boston’s elite were gathered around the fireplace sipping cocktails. The room was stocked floor to ceiling with books and overstuffed chairs. Liam would have killed to have access to such a library when he was in school.
“Katie, darling,” a straw-thin, middle-aged woman with a face smoothed by plastic surgery crossed the room to greet them. Liam recognized her from photos he’d seen in the newspaper and on TV as Delancy’s wife, Sutton. “Don’t tell me you’ve landed our city’s most eligible multimillionaire bachelor.”
“No, no,” Katie said quickly. “Liam’s a client of Sharper Design.”
Her immediate denial that their relationship was anything more than business bothered him. Would it have been so terrible to let Sutton assume they were a couple?
Sutton linked her arm through Liam’s, tugging him away from Katie. “You must tell me all about yourself, dear boy. You might be Boston’s most eligible bachelor, but I’ve asked around and no one seems to know much about you other than the luscious fact that you’re fabulously wealthy. Who is your family?”
He had to be careful. Much as he wanted to blurt out the truth, this wasn’t the ti
me or the place. He was here to get the lay of the land and to find out as much as he could about the enemy.
Finn Delancy broke away from his cronies at the fireplace and walked over to join Liam, Katie and Sutton in the middle of the room. He cradled a crystal tumbler of Scotch in his hand.
Liam didn’t miss the lecherous look Finn sent in Katie’s direction. He had to fight to suppress an overpowering urge to plant his fist in the older man’s kisser.
“How do you do, Mr. James? I don’t believe we’ve ever met.” Delancy stuck out his hand.
Liam gritted his teeth. It was all he could do to civilly shake the man’s hand. “No?”
Delancy looked confused by the questioning tone in Liam’s voice.
Liam said nothing, just stared Delancy in the eyes. The mayor was the first to look away, shifting his attention to his glass of Scotch. “Can I get you something to drink?” Delancy searched the room for the maid, snapped his fingers at her and said, “Alice, get Mr. James a…”
“Whiskey,” Liam said. He wasn’t much for hard liquor, but this evening was shaping up to be a whiskey kind of night. “Neat.”
Delancy reached up and put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Come on over and let me introduce you to everyone.”
He flinched at the intimate contact, turned his head to look for Katie and found her right beside him. If not for her, he would feel like a hapless sheep among a pack of wolves. He might know how to make money and flip real estate, but he didn’t have a clue how to walk the delicate tightrope of high-society politics.
Everyone at the party knew Katie and while Liam had met a few of the people in the room at various functions, he knew none of them personally. He chatted with State Senator Gerard Clarkson and his wife, Nancy, along with two CEOs of Boston’s largest corporations, a retired PGA superstar and their dates.
Alice brought Liam his whiskey and he took a bracing swallow. Katie was charming the crowd, regaling them with stories of her family, taking the pressure off him. He ended up in one corner, shoulder propped against the wall, watching her dazzle the guests. She would make someone a wonderful wife someday.
The thought sent a fissure of jealousy through him. He didn’t want to think of her as someone else’s wife.
Occasionally she paused in the middle of her conversation to cast a sidelong glance his way. There was no question about it-Katie captivated him.
She also scared him.
“Dinner is served,” Alice announced from the doorway.
Everyone trooped into the large dining room. The table was lavishly but very tastefully set with expensive but simple patterned china, genuine silverware and crystal goblets. A roasted goose was the main attraction.
Liam started to sit next to Katie, but Sutton Delancy intervened. “No, no, we don’t sit with our dates.”
Her chastisement over his faux pas sent a heated rush of embarrassment through Liam, reminding him how out of place he was here.
He remembered something he’d read once. When riding in a car, lower-class couples sit beside their spouses, middle-class couples sit with men in the front seat and women in the back, and the ruling classes sit with each other’s spouses.
And here he was, uncomfortable with the ruling class. He looked over at Katie, who seemed totally at ease.
“You’re the guest of honor,” Sutton went on. “You must take your place here, young man.” She pulled out the chair at the head of the table.
Delancy took the spot directly opposite Liam at the foot of the table and guided Katie to sit at his right hand. Sutton sat to Liam’s left as the remainder of the guests found their places.
“So tell us,” Sutton began, after the maid served the first course of bouillabaisse, “how did you get started in real estate? The way you’re going, you’ll own half of Boston within the next five years.”
Liam shifted, uncomfortable in the hot seat. “I fixed up my first car when I was a kid, sold it for double what I paid for it. Did that enough times until I could afford to by a small house and I renovated it. Then I flipped it, reinvested the money in a new house and the rest is history.”
“Goodness,” said Nancy Clarkson, fanning herself. “He’s wealthy, handsome, passionate and hardworking. Hang on to this one, Katie. He’s a keeper.”
“Your initiative is impressive,” Delancy said.
Liam glared down the end of the table. He contemplated blurting out the mayor’s dirty secret right then and there, and he took perverse delight in imagining the shocked reactions.
But then his gaze caught Katie’s. The last thing he wanted was to look like anything less than a hero in her eyes. The realization bothered him, but it was the truth.
“I read in the Young Bostonian article that you grew up in a South Boston housing project,” Delancy said.
The hairs on his forearms lifted. He drilled his gaze into the mayor’s, holding on tight to his anger. “That’s right.”
Katie was watching.
“You’d be the perfect person to introduce me at this year’s ribbon-cutting ceremony for my Habitat for Humanity project,” Delancy continued. “Local gang-banger not only turns good but becomes a multimillionaire in the process.”
Rage tinged with degradation froze Liam’s blood. He curled his fingers around the silver spoon in his hand. Could Delancy have figured out who he was? Could that be the real reason he’d been invited here tonight?
“Has a certain cachet, don’t you think?”
Liam forced a slow smile, smacking his gaze hard against Delancy’s, giving the mayor a menacing, predatory stare. “How do you know I was in a gang?”
Delancy’s returning smile was uncertain. “Why, Katie told me a few minutes ago.”
Liam swung his stare around to capture Katie with it. Nervously, she licked her lips. “I…didn’t know your past was a secret.”
Her betrayal of his confidence wounded like a razor’s blade. He bit down the inside of his cheek, mentally berating himself for having trusted her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, but had the strength of courage to hold his gaze.
He realized then he’d been looking at her the same way he’d been looking at Delancy. As if she were the enemy. Her blue eyes pleaded with him for forgiveness. God, how could he hold a grudge when she looked so remorseful and beautiful?
Liam shrugged, softened his gaze. “It wasn’t a secret,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Then you’ll introduce me at the Habitat for Humanity ceremony?” Delancy prodded.
Liam kept his eyes on Katie. It was the only way he could hold his contempt for the man in check. “All right.”
What was it about Katie Winfield that twisted his insides into knots? Just the act of tracking the snowy skin between her pear-studded earlobes and slender collarbone made Liam forget everything except pressing his lips to that vulnerable spot.
“It’s settled, then.” Delancy dusted his palms together. “The ribbon-cutting ceremony is on the twentieth at noon. Make sure to mark your calendar.”
“I won’t forget.” Liam looked back at Delancy, silently acknowledging that he’d just agreed to do a favor for the creep. Tension locked his neck muscles. But then it occurred to him that the ceremony-complete with media coverage-was the prime opportunity and the perfect venue to exact his revenge upon Delancy.
The maid reappeared to clear the soup bowls and to ask if anyone needed fresh drinks.
“Could I have another whiskey, please?” Liam asked. It was the only way he was going to make it through this damnable dinner.
Katie, Liam noted, missed nothing. He could see it in her eyes and the way she held herself with a calm stillness. She might be young, but in some ways she was much more worldly than him.
She put a smile on her face and lavishly praised the Caesar salad that was served as their second course.
By the end of the meal, Katie had manage
d to defuse any tension running through the room, although there was still plenty of tension coursing inside Liam that even two tumblers of the finest whiskey in the world could not stop.
“It was so interesting to meet you,” Sutton said as she ushered her guests toward the front door. She took Liam’s hand in hers and squeezed it. “I’m so looking forward to the Habitat for Humanity ceremony.”
After a round of goodbyes with everyone who was still there, Katie took Liam firmly by the elbow and escorted him out the front door. The valet brought his car around and handed Liam the keys.
But as he reached for the door, Katie closed her hand around his.
“Give me your keys,” she demanded, and held out her palm. “You’ve had too much to drink and I’m driving you home.”
“You could take me back to your place and have your way with me.” He winked.
She wrinkled her nose. “Given the circumstances, I’ll pass. Keys, please.”
“Have you ever driven a Lamborghini?”
“No, but it can’t be that hard.”
He didn’t want to give up control, but the determined set to her chin told him she was right. He shouldn’t be driving. Not so much from the whiskey, but more from the distracted edginess lingering inside him. The last thing the streets of Boston needed was one more case of road rage.
“This point is nonnegotiable.” She looked him in the face, a combination of concern, disappointment and resolve written in the depths of her blue eyes. “Give me your keys, Liam, or I’m calling the cops.”
He laughed at her. She looked so fierce.
“I’m not kidding.”
“When you put it like that, what choice do I have?”
“Precisely.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “But let this serve as a warning. You wreck my car and you’ll live to regret it, Winfield,” he said before handing over his car keys and opening the driver-side door for her.
10
KATIE’S FOREARM burned from the brush of Liam’s knuckles as he closed the car door. Her breath hung as she watched him hurry around to the passenger side and then climb in beside her. It took him a couple of seconds of fumbling before he had his seat belt locked securely in place.