“So you’re only going to be watching the place for, what, a few days?”
“About that. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Now, that was highly unlikely.
Chapter 3
Pax was directing the demolition crew while the Dumpster was being positioned out front. The backup beeping sound was drowned out by the chainsaw that one of the guys fired up as he faced the pile of broken cabinets. The dude had a gleam in his eyes, and Pax decided he’d never want to hang out with him if he was, say, drinking. Or pissed. Especially both at once.
He glanced up to see a half-asleep Gemma trudging down the stairs, her short hair spiky on one side, flat on the other. She still wore the robe, but he could see pink pajama bottoms swishing at her ankles now. Unlike the naked glimpse of leg he’d caught last night.
The dude with the chainsaw cut the motor, staring with unmasked interest. Pax wanted to pop him.
She paused on a lower stair and took in the activity, and the ire on her face faded. Until she met his gaze.
“Didn’t I tell you that the crew would be here first thing in the morning?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “No. You did not.”
“Oh.” He gave her his most charming smile. “Well, they’re here.”
“I see that, thank you. A little warning would have been nice.”
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t clarified that. Or anything that he’d sort of but hadn’t totally told her. He swore it wasn’t out of meanness, unless it was mean to enjoy the thrown-off look on her pretty face.
Wait a minute. Had he thought “pretty”? All right, he’d give her pretty. She’d finally grown into her oversized lips, though they were still all kinds of lush. Even pursed in a frown. Even without makeup, her eyes popped, dark brown against her creamy skin, with thick, blond lashes.
He lifted his coffee mug. “Coffeemaker’s set up in the den.”
“Pax bought doughnuts, too,” one of the guys said. “He’s swell.”
“Yeah. Swell.” She spun and stalked back up the stairs.
“Oops,” one of the guys said. “Your old lady’s sure pissed at you.”
These guys were out of PCB. He’d met them while getting his law-enforcement degree at the campus there. They had no idea how ridiculous the idea of Pax and Gemma being together was. Or how odd it made him feel. But he just laughed. “Looks like I’m going to have to make it up to her.”
More chuckles ensued, tinged with that raucous kind of growl some guys made when they were talking about sex.
Pax went back to work taping the cardboard path from the kitchen to the front door so the wood floors wouldn’t be damaged. The contractor wouldn’t be able to repair the wall until next week, and Pax wanted the kitchen completely cleaned out before then.
Half an hour later, he fixed a cup of coffee and grabbed a doughnut from the box. Harley whined from his place on the enclosed porch. Pax took the doughnut out and tossed it to him. The damned dog about gulped it down in one bite, then looked at him for more.
“Nope, that’s enough.” He started to pull the door closed, and Harley let out a louder whine. “Sorry, buddy, but you gotta stay out here where it’s safe.” He scratched the dog’s head and went back for another doughnut. Looping the mug handle over one finger, the milk pitcher over another, and balancing a paper plate, he headed up the stairs.
“Gemma, I’m coming up,” he announced. “Knock, knock, knock. Oh, yoo-hoo,” he sang. “Don’t want to startle you.” The stairs led right into the living area.
She peered out of the office, across from her bedroom. “Thank you for the warning. This time.”
“I come bearing peace offerings.” He raised the mug and the paper plate. “Hope you like jelly, ’cause the chocolate ones are all gone. Now, if you’d stayed down there earlier, you’d have had your pick.”
She was dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt that blanketed the curves that had had all the boys talking when she moved to town. Blake claimed that she’d admitted to having had a boob job. That seemed unlikely, given her age and the fact that those boobs were out of proportion to the rest of her tiny body.
He had to admit that he’d noticed her boobs first when he spotted her across the road that night at the race. Quickly followed by her whole look. But when she came over it was her eyes that captured his attention—big, brown, with heavy shadow and that eyelash goop that made them even more pronounced. Even more than that, though, was their soulfulness, though he wouldn’t have told anyone that. Sounded too sappy.
Her eyes, even without all the makeup, still had that soulful look. In fact, they were even more compelling. They also held shadows of sadness that made him want to ask her why. He knew it had nothing to do with her accusations against Blake. She truly believed he’d taken advantage of her, no doubt about it.
“I’ll take the coffee, but I’ll pass on the doughnut.” She patted her stomach, then took the mug, the milk, and some sugar packets. “Thank you.” She tore open two packets and poured them in, adding a dash of milk.
And he watched her. Delicate fingers, nails short and painted pink. Her movements were graceful. When he raised his gaze to her face, he discovered that he’d been caught. And damn if he couldn’t pull his gaze from hers or come up with some bit of conversation to distract her. “Sorry about not warning you the construction crew was coming early this morning,” he finally dredged up. “With construction, generally the workers come first thing. But if you’re not used to that you wouldn’t know.”
Something softened in her expression. “It’s all right. I’m glad they’re here working on the kitchen. The sooner they get it done, the better.”
And the sooner you’ll be gone, he figured she was thinking. But there was no indication of that thought on her face right then. Which prompted him to say, “And I apologize for getting in your face last night trying to get you to admit you might have misjudged the situation. You obviously still have strong feelings about your position.”
She’d been taking a sip of her coffee but lowered the mug, her eyes on him. “As do you. I apologize, too. I was an instigator. Being back here, it’s dredging up a lot of bad memories. Maybe we can call a truce while we’re in each other’s space. For my father’s sake, if nothing else.”
He held out his hand to her without even thinking about it. “Truce accepted.”
Her mouth curved the slightest bit, but she took another sip of coffee before it went any closer to an actual smile. Which made him want to see a full smile. Cut that out, Pax. You do not need to see her smile. She hesitantly clasped her hand in his and surprised him with a firm grip.
It surprised him when he didn’t want to release her. But, of course, he did.
She set her mug down, all traces of warmth gone. “Just because we called a truce doesn’t mean I would ever call one with your brother. Or your family.”
“Understood.”
“Is Blake still in town? I need to be prepared if there’s a chance I could run into him.”
“Yeah, he’s in town. Owns a car dealership. He’s married, has two daughters. I suspect he’ll avoid you as much as you’ll avoid him. I imagine you will avoid him?”
“Like the proverbial plague.” She stuck her finger into the liquid for a quick stir. “Though a plague isn’t actually a proverb.”
But he could see that she’d never seek Blake out. “Sorry, didn’t think about the stir stick.”
“ ’S fine.” She stuck her finger into her mouth and sucked off the liquid, and damn if it didn’t make his cock twitch. Oblivious to the effect she had on him, thank God, she said, “I’m about to head to the hospital. I wanted to get a handle on whether I would need any passwords in case he’s awake and I can ask. But I got right on.” She ran her fingers through hair that looked silky soft, leaving one lock sticking straight up. “Now I just have to make sense of the booking program.”
“Can’t help you there. I came to tell you I’d be out of your hair
”—he gestured toward her hair and that one lock, almost but not quite pointing it out—“for the day. The work crew will probably be here all morning and into the afternoon. The fridge works, but the stove and the dishwasher are toast. I already have them on order and scheduled to be delivered once the cabinets are in, which should be next week.”
“You…you’re managing the construction?”
“Yeah. I’ve done some of this type of work before.”
She tilted her head as she studied him, which sent a warmth brewing in his stomach. “Thanks for doing all this.”
“He’s my friend. It’s no problem.”
She kept that thoughtful gaze on him. “If you want to sleep in one of the guest suites, go ahead. It’s the least I can do.”
The warmth escalated. He should say no. That she was right; it would be awkward and weird and intriguing. No, not intriguing. “Thanks. If you’re sure?”
“It’s the least I can do,” she repeated. An obligatory offer, then.
“Thanks. I’ll keep the old man company after lunch. That was another warning, in case you didn’t notice.”
“A warning?”
“So you can avoid me. Like the proverbial plague. I’ll stop by midafternoon to check on the boys here, then I have a family dinner before I’m back for the evening.” He gave her a wink. “Don’t wait up for me.”
She smirked. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
They were bantering like old friends. Even worse, his body was totally tuned in to her. This was not good. He made himself push away from the counter he’d been leaning against and head to the door. She grabbed her purse and followed him down the stairs, drinking the coffee as she went.
When they reached the kitchen, the guys all grinned. The chainsaw dude said, “She looks happier now.” He glanced at his watch. “Five minutes. Yeah, that’s about right.”
“Speak for yourself,” Pax said, sailing out of the kitchen before Gemma could ask why the guy would say something like that.
“Why did he say that?” she asked anyway as he opened the back door and let Harley in.
“Just making assumptions.” He rolled his eyes the way he’d seen women do. “Men.”
She narrowed hers, but before a word could come out of those lush lips she caught her reflection in the hall mirror. “Seriously, you weren’t going to say anything about my hair sticking up?”
He caught himself about to apologize and say that she looked adorable with the lock sticking up. Hadn’t he slipped earlier and said she’d looked cute with the smudge? Yes. Yes, you did, idiot. He needed to put some distance between them. “Look, I’m not your friend. It’s not my job to enlighten you about smudges on your face and hair sticking out.”
She paused on the front porch as he skipped down the steps and around to the garage, Harley on his heels. Mission accomplished. Except that he felt like a schmuck. But they weren’t friends. Nor could they be. A truce was as close as they’d get.
When he realized the dog was no longer with him, he looked around. Harley circled Gemma’s feet, with her eyeing him as though he were a gator.
“Harley.” When the dog didn’t respond, Pax stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. The dog finally trudged over, his tail down. Pax punched in the code to open both garage doors and called out, “You have a good day, y’hear?”
He tried hard not to look her way, but his eyes betrayed him as he climbed into the truck after the dog. She looked a little hurt or maybe just annoyed, and she left without a glance his way.
“I have to be a jerk to her,” he said to the dog as he backed out a minute later. “Man, we cannot be friends. No how, no way.”
Or anything else. When he saw the creamy length of her leg last night, all he could think was that she was naked under her robe. Which made sense, since she hadn’t known he was going to be there. What didn’t make sense was the stirring in his body.
Harley sat down with a whine.
“Don’t even suggest it. Not happening with that girl.”
Harley barked.
“Don’t back-talk me. And what was that business, you circling her? Did you feel sorry for her ’cause I said something that wasn’t nice?”
Harley tilted his head.
“You just like her ’cause she doesn’t like you. And maybe I like her for the same reason. And ’cause I’m not supposed to.”
Wait. He didn’t like her. But he’d sure been acting as though he did.
He checked in with the subcontractors who were slated to do the next stage of renovation as he headed to the car dealership. He wasn’t ready to tell his dad the news, because he knew how ugly that would get, but Blake would be an easy start.
The sales office wasn’t open yet, but Blake always arrived at work early. Not surprising, given that he was the NOS—Number One Son. Pax had dubbed him thus long ago, back when he was bitter about it. Once he realized the price Blake paid for that privilege, though, Pax was happy to let him have it. But he still called him the “nose” in his mind…as in brown.
Also not surprising, the key he’d had since he worked there back in high school still slid into the front-door lock. The showroom lights were off, but enough morning sun shone through all the windows to illuminate the two brand-new vehicles gleaming on the marble floor.
Their granddad had opened this place decades earlier, and Blake had started as a salesman when he blew out his knee and his football aspirations along with it. The knee also prevented him from becoming a cop like their dad, a huge blow for NOS. Taking over the dealership was the second-best plan for the overachiever, and Granddad had left it to Blake when he passed a few years ago. Pax got a nice chunk of money, enough to buy a fishing boat and a house not far from the beach. He was happy not to get a share of the dealership; he’d already been saddled with one job obligation.
A gasp made him pause. Blake’s office door was closed, one of the few offices with a door and walls. Another sound echoed off all that glass and marble, this one more of a whimper. The hairs rose at the back of his neck.
“You all right in there, Blake?” Pax called out as he headed toward the office. He reached for his weapon, out of habit. But he wasn’t carrying at the moment. Had no need to.
“Fine, I’m fine. Who’s there?” Blake responded over shuffling noises. After a pause, “Is that you, Pax?”
“Sure is.”
The door burst open, and his secretary shot out. Her fair cheeks were flushed, and her brown hair was disheveled, though she smoothed it with rapid pats to her head. She barely gave him a glance before retreating to her desk.
“Morning, Lily,” Pax said, forcing her to face him.
“Morning, Mr. Sullivan,” she murmured, shame all over her expression.
He saw no trace of shame on Blake’s face as Pax closed the door behind him.
Blake tucked the tip of his dress shirt into his waistband, his smile strained. “What brings you by so early, P—”
“You screwing your secretary?”
Blake gave a laugh that was as hollow as a rotten tree trunk. “No. Course not.”
“What were the two of you doing in here, then?”
“I was giving her an evaluation.”
Pax sank into the chair, his eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
“It’s her six-month eval. Nothing more to it.”
“Must have been a bad one, ’cause she was gasping and whimpering.”
Blake shook his head, looking weary. “She has some areas that need improvement.”
“You think I’m stupid? You two locked away in your office before opening hours, and you with a hard-on. Her running out of here like Harley does when I catch him rooting around in the trash. You are a Class A asshole, Blake.”
“Come on, Pax. Lighten up.”
Yeah, Pax was a bit sensitive on the subject of cheating. Watching Raleigh’s dad and his mom flirting years ago had made his stomach churn. He hated it, and, deep inside, h
ated the fear of what his father might do if he caught them. He must have picked up on their chemistry, though. He banned Raleigh from coming to the house, taking away his dad’s flimsy reason for coming over. Knowing what a deadbeat dad he was—and worse—Pax now knew for sure that bringing his son over and “keeping him in line” was nowhere near the reason he’d hung out at the Sullivans’ on hot summer days.
“You have a wife. Kids. What the hell are you thinking?”
Blake sank down, rubbing his temples. “That I have a nympho secretary who’s hot for me. That Tracy’s more interested in selling her fancy makeup than she is in being a good wife. That the only reason she keeps me around is the paycheck.”
“Then make things right at home. Those two little girls deserve a family, and Tracy’s not going to put up with you cheating on her.”
“She probably doesn’t even care, Pax. I found a vibrator in her nightstand.”
“That’s a good sign. Means she’s still interested in sex, and she’s probably not getting it anywhere else. And neither should you.”
“Dad cheated. It’s no big deal, Pax.”
He slammed his fist on the desk. “It is a big deal. It’s a big fucking deal.” He’d hated his suspicions about the times when his dad had come in late and taken a shower in the guest bedroom before going upstairs. “Just ’cause he did it doesn’t make it right.”
Blake lowered his head and ran his hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just that I need—”
“What? If you need sex, see your wife.”
He lifted his face, jaw tight. “It’s not just about sex. I need to be a man, dammit. I need a relationship where I’m the one giving the orders.”
Whoa. NOS wanting to give orders?
“Then why did you marry Dad?” Pax asked.
“What?”
“You married a bossy, controlling person just like Dad. You should have married someone meek, like Mom. Course, she’s passive-aggressive, so maybe not. You need a woman who’s your equal. I think Tracy can be that woman, if you two work on it. Sticking your dick where it don’t belong is not working on it. You done this before, cheating on her?”
Falling Hard Page 5