by Mari Carr
As she considered that, she looked back toward him and discovered he was staring at her. She held his gaze for a moment, and then glanced away. It was no good. She still felt the weight of his eyes on her.
“Do you know Lucas Whiting?” Ailis asked.
Caitlyn shook her head as she faced her cousin. “No. Why?”
“Because he’s staring at you. Big time.”
Caitlyn forced herself to look back. And sure enough, Ailis was telling the truth. Whatever study he’d been doing of the pub appeared to have ended with her.
She felt the inexplicable need to escape that heavy gaze. It unnerved her. And, well, dammit, it turned her on. She experienced an arousal she hadn’t felt in months. No, strike that. A year.
Caitlyn worked hard to put that uneasy feeling away. It wasn’t a state she wanted to dwell on. After Sammy’s betrayal, she’d decided to take a year off from dating to recover from her broken heart and focus on her career, get her priorities straight. She had stayed with Sammy for all the wrong reasons.
Actually, just two wrong reasons.
The first was the same one that had existed in all her previous long-term relationships. Love. Caitlyn wanted it. Desperately. She longed for a relationship like her parents had, or any of her aunts and uncles. She wanted to come home every night to the one person who made life worth living.
And she wanted that so badly, she’d tried to force Sammy into that role, tried to convince herself that what they shared was a great and lasting love. Just like she had with Matt and Brad and…
Every single time one of her relationships failed, she was forced to face the fact that she’d fallen for the wrong man again. One who didn’t love her as much as she loved him or who wasn’t as committed toward building a life with her.
The other reason she’d hung in there too long with Sammy was at least unique from her other relationships. The sex. It had been great. So much so, she’d tricked herself into believing that the rest of their relationship was fine. When it wasn’t. She had that truth knocked into her when she’d come home early and found him boinking the middle school music teacher who lived across the hall.
Caitlyn had packed her bags and moved into the apartment above her family’s business, Pat’s Pub, where she shared the spacious space with six of her ten cousins. Riley had taken to referring to the second floor as the Collins Dorm after several of the cousins moved in, and the name stuck.
She tried to stifle a yawn. Her family was going to have to deal with Lucas Whiting on their own. It had been a damn long day. “I’m beat. Think I’ll go upstairs and relax for a little while.”
After law school, she’d opted to work in the public sector as opposed to pursuing a job with a big firm. She’d started as an attorney with Baltimore Legal Aid, a nonprofit firm that provided free legal services to low-income people, working her ass off for very little pay, while gaining experience.
Then, once her cousin Colm graduated from law school too, they opened their own practice, the Collins Law Firm. While it was Colm’s last name as well, the name of the firm was actually a nod to their beloved Pop Pop, who was so proud of them with their “big, fancy law degrees,” as he referred to them, that he fairly burst from the emotion.
For the past five years, she and Colm had worked long hours in an attempt to build a name for their firm. Caitlyn specialized in services for seniors, serving on a local committee that worked to keep older citizens not only in their homes, but to ensure they were living in safe environments. Colm’s specialty was in family and children’s services.
Their firm had acquired a reputation for wheeling and dealing on payment. Which basically meant they only charged what their clients could afford to pay. Her mom, Keira, claimed she and Colm reminded her of old-school doctors, trading their services for eggs or a fat hog. Caitlyn had always laughed at that description—until a couple months earlier, when Colm had literally accepted freshly caught trout and a bottle of homemade moonshine as a payment. Then she realized things had gotten out of hand. Not that they’d change their policy. They had just as many clients who could afford to pay as those who couldn’t, so it wasn’t like they were starving. Besides, poor people deserved good legal help as much as the rich.
“Are you going to come back down later?” Ailis asked.
Caitlyn shrugged. Ailis was worried about her. Actually, the whole Collins clan was. Her entire family had managed to pull her aside at some point over the past few months to talk to her about her all-work, no-play lifestyle and how it wasn’t healthy. They weren’t telling her anything she didn’t know, but she was finding it too hard to break the pattern.
At first, work had been a salve to her wounds. Now, it was all she could remember how to do. She was too afraid to look for love, or even just sex. Her relationship with Sammy had been a disaster. Shit, her last three long-term love affairs had ended badly, each one leaving her with a broken heart.
She was starting to get trigger shy. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for marriage and happily ever after. Of course, every time that thought crossed her mind, she felt like crying, so she tucked it away again.
“Caitlyn,” her cousin began.
“If I don’t fall asleep on the couch, I’ll be back down in an hour or so.” Caitlyn vowed to try to keep that promise, but she was dog-tired, weary to the bone, and in no mood to be around people or noise or—
She groaned softly.
Sammy walked into the pub.
“Seriously?” she muttered. “Fuck my life.”
Fortunately, he hadn’t spotted her yet.
Ailis groaned. “Jesus, he’s thick. If Uncle Tris spots him, he’s a dead man. I’ll run interference while you escape.”
Since “the one time he ever cheated on her,” Sammy had called, texted, and hounded her on social media to beg for her forgiveness. At first, she’d told him to fuck off. Then she’d blocked him on everything. When he realized he couldn’t get to her through the regular channels, the dumbass had actually Venmo’ed her twenty bucks because he realized he could send her a long message with the money. She’d pocketed the cash, deleted the message without reading it and threatened to slap a restraining order on him if he didn’t leave her alone.
That had been four months ago. She’d thought the threat had been enough because he’d been quiet since then.
Caitlyn nodded her thanks and headed toward the back of the pub, to the door that led to the stairs to the second floor. She’d nearly made a clean getaway when her path was blocked. By a very large, broad, power-suited chest.
She didn’t bother to look up. She knew who was standing in her way. “Excuse me.”
She tried to sidestep Lucas Whiting, but he followed her direction, not allowing her to pass. She flashed him an angry look.
“I said excuse me.” While most of her cases were settled in conference rooms, on occasion, deals couldn’t be struck. Which meant she was no stranger to courtrooms. As such, she was the master of many tones. She could sound conciliatory or infuriated or sympathetic—whatever she thought would be most effective on the judge or jury. Right now, her tone was pure irritation.
“I apologize.” His face didn’t match his words. He wasn’t sorry. He also wasn’t a thug. She’d only had a distant view of him from across the room. Up close, Lucas Whiting fell into a category she’d never created before. In a world of hot or not, Lucas sort of straddled the line. He was handsome, but terrifying. Attractive, but intense. Every pleasant feature on his face seemed marred by something she could only think to call power…or maybe it was hunger.
His deep-set midnight-colored eyes were too sharp, too focused for her to enjoy the hue. His chiseled jaw appeared to be clenched just a smidge too tightly. And she wondered if he kept the beard as a way to hide his far-too-serious face rather than as a fashion statement. Maybe he thought it made him less intimidating. She almost laughed aloud at that thought. The man was intimidation incarnate.
“I was wondering if you would like to join me fo
r a drink.”
Of course. Obviously, Whiting knew who she was. Granddaughter of the owner.
The asshole probably thought he could pour a couple glasses of wine into her and have her spilling all the family secrets.
“No, thank you. I was just leaving.”
He frowned as he glanced behind him. Then he pointed toward the front. “The exit is that way.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “And my home is that way,” but his confusion caught her unaware.
Maybe he didn’t know who she was.
“Yes. But…” Caitlyn debated how to play this. If Lucas didn’t know who she was, perhaps she could employ the same plan she’d suspected he was using on her. She could join him for a drink, draw him into a conversation about the pub and see what his intentions were.
Before she could figure out the best way to go, Sammy found her.
“There you are.”
Caitlyn turned at the sound of her ex’s voice, Lucas Whiting forgotten in an instant. “Do you have some sort of death wish?”
“It’s been months, Caitie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Caitlyn,” Sammy quickly corrected, as if his reticence would work on her.
She’d hit her limit with the idiot. “I’m filing the paperwork for a restraining order in the morning.”
Sammy blanched. “You can’t still be this mad at me. I’ve said I’m sorry a thousand times. And I am. God, Caitlyn. I’ve been kicking my own ass every night since you left. I screwed up. Big time. I know that. What we had…it was special. I miss you. I miss…” He paused, and she knew where he was heading.
Sex. He missed fucking her.
Wow, didn’t that make her feel special?
“It’s over between us, Sammy. I don’t know how to say that to you any more clearly. Go back to Ms. Middle School Music.”
Sammy shook his head rapidly. “No. No. I don’t want her. She didn’t get it. Didn’t like,” he swallowed loudly, “what we like.”
Caitlyn flushed with anger, balling her fist. She’d never hit anyone before, but she was more than ready to kill him. “How dare you—”
“I think perhaps you should move on. The lady told you it’s over.”
Caitlyn was startled when Lucas decided to enter the conversation. She assumed he would move on at the first sign of Sammy’s drama. For some strange reason, knowing he was there allowed her to calm down. While she was fairly certain her punch wouldn’t leave a mark, Lucas Whiting looked the type to do some serious damage to Sammy. Which was exactly what she wanted.
“Who are you?” Sammy kept his tone fairly non-confrontational. Probably because he was smart enough to take one look at Lucas and know he wouldn’t win in a physical fight against the man.
“I’ll tell you who I am. I’m your worst nightmare if you don’t get out of this pub and leave this woman alone.”
Sammy blinked a couple times, no doubt trying to figure out if he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. Dumbass actually looked at her for help, and it took all the strength she had not to roll her eyes.
“Go home, Sammy. Don’t come back.”
The air seemed to seep out of him as Sammy held her gaze a second longer. And then, he turned to leave.
She twisted back toward Lucas, grinning despite her annoyance with basically everything at the moment. “What the hell was that? It was like you were channeling Liam Neeson or something for a second. I will find you. I’m your worst nightmare,” she mimicked in a deep, deadly voice.
Lucas didn’t look her way, didn’t even acknowledge her joke. Instead, he continued to watch Sammy’s retreating form.
Caitlyn saw her ex walk out of the pub. Then she glanced toward the bar. Very little happened that Uncle Tris didn’t see or hear. He stared at her for a second. She gave him a covert wink to let him know she was fine. Regardless, his face remained stoic before he gave her a subtle nod.
He was going to leave her alone. For now. But she didn’t fool herself into believing he wasn’t going to be watching her like a hawk as long as she was talking to Lucas Whiting.
“Thank you for stepping in to help,” she said, her gaze slipping to the door to her apartment. She was so close. To pajamas and a glass of wine and repeats of Lucifer on TV.
“Is my chivalry enough to convince you to join me for a drink?”
She glanced back at his table, surprised to find it unoccupied. “What happened to your friends?”
“They’re business associates. And our meeting is over. They’ve gone home to their wives.”
He gestured toward a chair and she gave in. Tiredness gave way to curiosity.
“No wife for you?”
He shook his head. “Would I invite you for a drink if there was?”
“The idiot you just kicked out of here was coming home to me after work. When he beat me there, he decided it would be a good idea to invite another woman to our bed. You’ll forgive me if I’m not super trusting.”
“I’m not married. Not engaged. Not living with or seriously dating anyone.”
Caitlyn found herself trying to figure out Lucas’s age. He had one of those faces that made it virtually impossible to guess. Not that she’d have to wonder for long. No doubt there was plenty of information about him on the Internet. She could discover that answer in one quick Google search on her phone.
“Divorced?” she asked.
“No.”
She realized they’d sort of started this conversation in the middle, so she thought she’d try to drag them back a few steps to the beginning. “I’m Caitlyn Wallace, by the way.”
His expression gave her no clue as to whether or not he recognized her name. If he’d done any research at all on the pub, he would have certainly come across her mother’s name.
Pop Pop and her grandma Sunday had raised their seven children in the upstairs apartment Caitlyn was sharing with her cousins, in addition to running the pub and restaurant below. As they became adults, Tris took over the pub half of the business with Pop Pop while her mom, Keira Wallace, and Uncle Ewan ran Sunday’s Side.
“Lucas Whiting.”
“I know.”
For the first time, she saw just the trace of a smile on his face. It made him appear almost human.
“The man who just left—”
“Sammy,” she added.
“Former boyfriend or husband?”
“Ex-boyfriend. It’s been a small consolation knowing that at least I was smart enough not to marry him.”
“He asked?”
She shook her head. “Actually, no. He didn’t.”
Sammy was the last thing Caitlyn wanted to talk about tonight. Especially with Lucas Whiting. “Do you do a lot of business in pubs?”
Lucas lifted one shoulder casually. “Depends on the business.”
Hello, Mr. Vague. She probed for more. “Okay. So what was tonight’s pub-worthy business?”
“Real estate acquisition.”
Fucker was good. He gave nothing away.
“Can I get you all something to drink?” Ailis was looking at Caitlyn curiously.
“I’ll have another Guinness. Caitlyn?”
“I’ll have the same. Thanks.” She hoped her cousin wouldn’t say anything to reveal her identity. The lawyer in her was determined to get to the truth in Lucas’s short answers.
Ailis paused for just a second, but when Caitlyn didn’t look at her or say more, she turned for the bar.
“I can’t imagine there’s much real estate left in Baltimore your family doesn’t already own.”
Lucas’s gaze held hers intently. “There’s always more to buy.”
His response tweaked her for some reason.
“What if someone doesn’t want to sell to you?”
His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. Someone who was paying less attention wouldn’t have even noticed, but Caitlyn had locked onto him. Her words had triggered something. Shit. She’d shown her hand. Revealed herself.
> “Everyone has a price.”
Her family didn’t. Not when it came to this business. It wasn’t just the Collins’s livelihood. It was their home, their legacy to future generations. In some ways, the pub felt like the heartbeat of the family, the one thing that kept them all tied together.
“So no one has ever said no to you?”
For the first time, Lucas grinned. Caitlyn’s response shook her. She was torn between running away from the hungry wolf and baring her neck to the beast.
Oh shit.
He leaned closer to her, his dark eyes penetrating, missing nothing. His expression seemed to say he knew she wouldn’t say no to him.
Her pussy clenched, and she felt a trickle of wetness between her legs. What the hell was going on? Lucas shot one sexy freaking look at her and she was ready to tear off her clothes? It was definitely time to start dating again. Her hormones had decided to make a comeback…with a vengeance.
She tried to imagine what Lucas would look like without his shirt on. Did he have any tattoos? His thick, muscular arms seemed made for ink.
“What do you think?” he murmured.
About the tattoos? It took her a moment to stop undressing him with her eyes and recall her original question.
She’d asked if anyone ever said no to him.
“I don’t know.” She hated the almost breathless quality in her voice.
Her cheeks heated under his intense gaze, and she feared she was blushing. Lucas wasn’t even bothering to hide his attraction to her. His eyes darted down to her breasts, and the shadow of his grin reappeared.
She averted her eyes when it became impossible to hide her own unwanted desires. Unfortunately, looking down only made it apparent that her nipples were poking through her blouse. They’d tightened the moment she sat down at the table and gotten a whiff of his musk cologne. Which meant Lucas knew exactly what effect he was having on her.
“People say no to me all the time, Caitlyn.”
Her gaze lifted as she wondered if she would have the strength to deny him. In her mind, she could imagine him bidding her to strip, to kneel, to bend over the table. And she didn’t doubt for a second she would comply. “People,” she murmured. “Women?” The question slipped out unbidden.