Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Rimmer

  “If you want, we can get the roofing paper and shingles on tonight, too,” Jack said. He glanced at his watch. “We have a couple hours of daylight left.”

  “But first, we’re starving,” Luke said. “Mac, why don’t you take Savannah into town and grab us some pizzas?”

  Mac gave his brother a glare. “I can do that, but Savannah doesn’t need to—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, someone tells you to go spend thirty minutes in a vehicle with a pretty girl, and you’re going to argue?” Luke waved toward Savannah’s truck. “Go on, you two, fetch us food. The conscripted labor is going to stay here and take a nap.”

  Mac muttered something about bossy conscripted labor as they headed to Savannah’s truck. She climbed in the driver’s side, then turned to Mac. “You don’t have to go. I can pick up the pizzas if you want.”

  “Nah, it’ll be nice to get away from my brothers for a while.”

  She noticed he didn’t say it would be nice to spend thirty minutes with her. She tried not to let that sting. “They mean well, I’m sure.”

  “They do.” He chuckled. “And that’s the problem.”

  Savannah put the vehicle in gear and pulled out of the driveway. In the rearview mirror she saw Jack and Luke sending Mac a thumbs-up. She liked Mac’s brothers, a lot. “I was an only child, so I would have loved some well-meaning siblings.”

  “And I have one too many.”

  She knew he was thinking about his newly discovered half brother. Savannah was still surprised he’d opened up about that with her. Had he done it because it was easier to share that information with a near stranger? Or because they really were building some kind of relationship here? “You never know. He could be as great as Jack and Luke, and your family could be better for bringing him into it.”

  “I don’t see how that’s going to happen,” Mac said.

  “You never know. Your brothers put up with you, after all.” She flashed him a grin.

  He turned to her in the seat. “Are you agreeing that I’m a pain in the ass?”

  “If the description fits...” She grinned again, then turned right on to the street that led to the pizza parlor.

  He chuckled. “The same could be said for you.”

  “How exactly am I a pain?” Savannah parked the truck in the pizza place’s lot, then turned off the ignition and looked at Mac.

  He grinned. “As we have already established, you’re stubborn.”

  “Some would call that tenacious.”

  “Strong willed.”

  “I call that determined.”

  “Bossy.”

  She laughed. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me.”

  “I’m not bossy.” He considered that a moment, then gave her a conciliatory grin. “Okay, maybe I am used to telling people what to do and having them do it. But that’s not quite the same thing.”

  She arched a brow.

  “You’re also...” He shifted closer, and the air in the car stilled. “Beautiful.”

  Her breath caught and her heart stuttered. “That’s...that’s not a criticism.”

  “I know that.” Mac captured her chin with his hand, then trailed his thumb over her bottom lip. Unbidden, her mouth dropped open, waiting, hoping, wanting. “But I couldn’t find any other criticisms.”

  “You’re just buttering me up.”

  “Maybe...” He traced her lip again and she fought the urge to moan. To lean in to him, to give into the constant temptation to be with the last man on earth she should want. “Maybe not,” he finished.

  The tension in the truck was more intense than that evening on the beach when he’d kissed her. How she craved another kiss, but she knew it would only complicate things. “We...we should get the pizzas.”

  Mac’s eyes clouded, and he dropped his hand and drew back. “Yeah, we should.”

  The moment had been broken, and Savannah told herself that was a good thing. But as they walked into the pizza parlor, as remote as two strangers, she had to wonder if maybe she was fooling herself.

  * * *

  Three large pepperoni pizzas and a double serving of cheesy breadsticks turned out to be exactly enough food to feed three hungry Barlows and one hard-working Hillstrand. The pizzas and breadsticks were devoured in a few minutes, with the four of them taking up spaces along the front porch to enjoy the cool early-evening air.

  Savannah had sat on the top step, just as she had the other night when it had just been the two of them. Mac considered joining her, then figured the rebuff he’d gotten in the car was a clear message. One he should have taken a long time ago—not to mix business with personal.

  But as he watched her eat and listened to her joking with his brothers, a steady wave of longing washed over him. He wanted Savannah to be laughing with him, talking to him instead of Jack and Luke. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be this attracted to Savannah. Yet, despite what his common sense told him, she lingered in his mind, dancing at the fringes of his every thought.

  It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. It was because of all the things she’d considered criticisms—because she was headstrong and stubborn and determined and smart. Because she was in over her head, but refusing to just give up and drown. He respected that, admired it, even.

  But she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in him. Not that he could blame her. He was, after all, the enemy. The one intent on buying her father’s company and selling off the pieces to the highest bidder. Yet, at the same time, he was caught in this weird paradox of helping her salvage the company so he couldn’t buy it.

  Clearly, he defined the words glutton for punishment.

  After they ate, Mac worked alongside his brothers and Savannah as they fastened the shingles to the new roof. Luke and Jack did their best to tease Mac out of his quiet, pensive mood, but eventually they gave up and talked mostly to Savannah. An hour later the roof was on, and the four of them had cleaned up the debris on the lawn. Throughout the work the other three carried on an easy conversation. Savannah fit right in with his brothers, as if she’d always been part of his family. Something that felt a lot like jealousy kept tickling Mac whenever Savannah laughed at something Jack said or shot Luke a smile.

  Insane. She was a colleague, nothing more. He shouldn’t care who she talked to or who made her laugh.

  Still his gaze kept straying to her long, toned legs, to the intoxicating smile that filled her face. He thought about kissing her, touching her. He wanted her. Half of him wanted to haul her into the house and up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. The other half was exercising restraint and throwing up a big yellow caution flag. Then his gaze traveled along those endless lean legs again, and coherent thoughts disappeared.

  Jack clasped Mac on the shoulder as the four of them walked over to Jack’s truck. “One new roof installed, and three large pizzas consumed. A good day overall, I think.”

  “Yeah, a good day,” Mac said. For a brief moment he debated telling his brothers about Colton—because it was clear their father hadn’t—but in the end decided to take Savannah’s advice. Colton was Bobby’s mess. Let his father do the cleanup. And it had been a good day, Mac realized. One he didn’t want to tarnish with the guess what, we have a half-brother news.

  “Thanks a lot, guys,” Savannah said. “I really appreciate the helping hands.”

  “No problem. Looks like we finished just in time,” Jack said. “A storm’s about ready to roll in.”r />
  The sky had darkened in the past few minutes, the fluffy white clouds turning gray and threatening. The humidity had risen to sticky level, and there was a heaviness to the air that spelled a good old-fashioned thunderstorm.

  “It wasn’t supposed to rain until tomorrow,” Mac said. Not that most days he cared what the weather was like. But a part of him had been looking forward to sitting on the porch with Savannah and watching the sun set.

  “And all weathermen are supposed to be right,” Luke said to Mac. “Even the great and powerful Mac Barlow can’t control the weather.”

  He scowled. “I hate when you call me that.”

  “Then I’ll call you the weak and ineffectual Mac Barlow instead.” Luke grinned. “In fact, that might suit you even better. Considering you have two brothers who make great—” Luke patted his chest “—and powerful—” Jack flexed a biceps “—look good.”

  Mac rolled his eyes. “They have drugs for these kinds of delusions, you know.”

  Jack gave Luke a gentle slug in the arm. “Come on, troublemaker. Let’s get out of here and leave Mac alone before he has a stroke. He’s been gone awhile. He’s not used to us ganging up on him.”

  “That’s true.” Luke turned to Mac. “Just imagine how bad we’d be if Mama and Dad had another son. One more Barlow, and we’d be a small gang. You’d never stand a chance, big brother.”

  Jack and Luke said their goodbyes, then hopped in Jack’s truck and pulled out of the driveway, still laughing as they left. Mac watched them go, then kicked at a stray stone in the driveway. The comment about another brother had stung more than his brothers could have imagined. “Damn it. I should have told them about Colton.”

  “They’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure,” Savannah said. “Your dad is going to have to do something soon.”

  “He hasn’t for thirty-plus years. Why would he start now?”

  Savannah gave Mac a sympathetic look. “People change, Mac.”

  Did they? Thus far he hadn’t seen much of that in his own life. His father was still obstinate and opinionated, and their rift stood as strong as the day Bobby had told Mac that no son of his could be so cold. Then again, Mac himself hadn’t exactly made big advances in the change department, either.

  He watched the disappearing tail end of Jack’s truck. Both his brothers seemed happier, more at ease. Jack had lost a lot of that rigidity he’d developed in the military, and Luke had become more responsible. They’d changed—and had fuller, more complete lives because of that. Women who loved them. Futures to bank on. Whereas Mac had this week, then a return to his offices in Boston and more of the same—rinse, repeat, day after day.

  For years that had made him happy. He’d told himself he felt fulfilled. Except after today, listening to Jack and Luke brag about their fianceés to Savannah, Mac had to wonder if his life was as full as he’d thought. Because right now there seemed to be a yawning cavern in his chest every time he thought about returning to Boston.

  The storm clouds began to crowd the sky, blotting out the last rays of sunshine. A low rumble of thunder trembled in the air. “We better get cleaned up and get out of here before the storm starts,” Mac said.

  Savannah nodded. “Looks like it’s moving in fast.”

  A minute later the storm was there, a vicious wind kicking up and bending the trees. The clouds burst and rain dropped in sheets from the sky, drumming a steady, heavy beat. Savannah and Mac rushed toward the house, gathering up empty pizza boxes and the last of the supplies as they went. They charged up the stairs and burst through the front door. He took the supplies from her hands, set them on a bench, then shut the door.

  “You’re soaked,” he said to Savannah. Her hair was plastered to her head, her T-shirt riding along her body like a second skin. Desire flamed in his gut. “Let me...let me get you a towel.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  But he was already gone, pulling open the linen closet beside the hall bathroom he’d been in earlier today, and taking two big fluffy beach towels from the stack. He returned and draped one over Savannah’s shoulders, drawing it closed. She might look sexy as hell all wet like that, but she could also catch one heck of a cold. “There. You want the second one?”

  She shook her head. “No, no. You need it.”

  “I’m fine. Here, you’re shivering.” He unfolded the second towel, and ignored her protests, wrapping it over the first one. He brushed her bangs off her cool, damp skin. “You should get out of those wet clothes.”

  “I’m—”

  A bright light flooded the hall, followed by a sharp crack outside the house. An angry wind battered the windows, rattling the panes and shutters. Savannah crossed to the front window and peered out at the yard. Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, no!”

  Mac came up behind her. “What?”

  She pointed out the window. “My father’s birdhouse. The lightning hit it and now it’s...”

  Her words trailed off, but Mac could see the damage himself. The lightning had struck the pole at just the right angle, shearing the small wooden house off and sending it crashing below. The rain was coming down too fast for the ground to absorb the water, and the birdhouse was starting to sink in the now muddy yard.

  Mac dashed outside before Savannah could stop him. The storm whipped at him, the sky dark and threatening like a furious god, but Mac ignored the angry rantings of Mother Nature. He ran toward the birdhouse and scooped it up, careful not to jostle the contents.

  A second later, Savannah was there, wearing a rain slicker she must have grabbed before she ran outside. She held a second one out to him but he shook his head. He couldn’t hold the birdhouse and put on the jacket.

  “What are—?” Her words were snatched by the wind, so she raised her voice and said it again. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve got to get this up on something high, until we can fix the pole.” Inside the birdhouse, he could hear the nervous chitter of the baby birds. He spun in the yard, heedless of the rain pouring down on his head, his clothes. “There. That shed.”

  Mac carried the birdhouse over to the shed to the east of the house, then nestled it in the elbowed space where the roof met the walls and created a shelved overhang. More worried chirps came from inside the box. He peeked inside, and saw the baby birds, all intact, if not a little wet and scared. “It’s okay, guys, almost all set.” Mac turned to Savannah. “We need to secure this or it’s going to get blown down again by the wind. Where are your tools?”

  “In my trunk.” She patted her back pocket, found her keys and held them up.

  “Stay here, and I’ll get them.”

  “I can—”

  “No. Stay here.” Lightning cracked again in the sky and thunder boomed. “I’d tell you to go inside but I know you won’t.”

  “Because I’m stubborn.” She grinned.

  “You are indeed.” He held her gaze for a moment, then took the keys. He liked that about her, liked that she had braved the storm with him, and thought enough of him to bring a second jacket. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Not without this.” She held out the jacket again.

  He gave her a grin, then slipped it on and flipped up the hood. “Thanks.”

  A moment later, he returned with a hammer, some nails and a couple scrap pieces of wood. The storm whipped at him, tried to snatch the wood from his hands, but he planted his feet and set to work. Mac hammered the scraps into place on either side of the birdhouse, creating a brace to hol
d the box in place. “All set,” he said, shouting to be heard above the roar of the wind. “Hopefully the mama bird doesn’t mind we moved them a bit. Now, come on, let’s get you out of the storm before you catch a cold.”

  They were just heading back to the house when Savannah stopped. “Mac, wait. Did you hear that?”

  Mac paused beside her, listening between thundering booms. And then, there it was, a faint, weakening chirping sound. “I think one of the babies fell out.”

  A few minutes later, they found it nestled deep in the grass, trembling, its chirps getting softer by the second. The bird’s dark eyes were wide and round, and he quaked at the sight of the two towering humans. Savannah shrugged out of her coat and draped it like a tarp over Mac as he bent down, slid his hands across the wet grass and carefully lifted the bird. Except for being wet and scared, it looked none the worse for wear after its tumble.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” he said. “We’ll have you back with your brothers and sisters in a second.”

  With Savannah shielding him and the bird from the storm, they made their way back to the temporary home for the birdhouse. Mac raised the baby bird to the opening and opened his palms, then waited until the bird heard its siblings inside. The fledgling’s attention perked and a moment later it hopped through the hole and back into the nest.

  “Mission accomplished,” Mac said.

  “It is indeed,” Savannah replied, her gaze soft on his and a smile playing across her lips, even as the storm roared around them. “Now come on inside, Mac. It’s time for me to take care of you.”

  Chapter Ten

  It was the way he handled the baby bird that had sealed it for Savannah. All the reasons she’d had for not getting involved with Mac Barlow disappeared the second he cradled that fledgling, then carefully guided it back into the birdhouse. Mac had been so tender, so gentle. And he’d done it all without a second thought.

  To her, that spoke volumes about the man he was. His first instinct had been to save the baby birds, heedless of the storm. It shifted her view of him. Maybe Mac Barlow wasn’t as focused on his return on investment as he made himself out to be.