by JS Scott
Satisfied that things would work out fine, she yawned against Simon’s shoulder until her breathing matched his, deep and even, and fell into a dreamless, contented sleep.
Three days later, Simon scrawled his signature on the last of a stack of mile-high documents that his secretary had dropped on his desk earlier that morning. Slamming the gold pen on the top of the pile with more force than was necessary, he leaned back in his enormous leather chair with a frustrated sigh, wondering how many more days he could take of the tension between him and Kara.
No sex. No touching. No waking up in the morning with her delectable body wrapped around mine like a silken blanket.
God, that morning three days ago had started off as the best morning of his life.
Unfortunately, what happened at breakfast also had it ranking right up there with one of the worst.
She had wanted to talk about the night before.
He didn’t.
Oh, he had been more than willing to talk about and repeat what had happened after his freak-out. The actual panic attack?...not so much.
Raking his hand through his hair, he leaned back and tried to relax his body, admitting to himself that the distance between the two of them wasn’t really her fault. Much. She had taken his unwillingness to discuss it gracefully, giving him one of her sweet smiles and telling him that she would wait until he was ready. But then...just when he was thinking she might end up waiting until she was old and gray before he wanted to discuss it...she dropped the bomb.
I can’t make love with you, Simon. Not until you trust me enough to tell me what happened. I just can’t.
Then, after turning his world upside down with that comment, she had kissed him on the forehead like he was a child, wished him a good day, and sashayed her sweet little ass out the door. And she had done it all with a smile. What. The. Hell.
To her credit, she hadn’t been a bitch to him, hadn’t raised her voice or thrown a tantrum. Shit, he wished she would. Maybe he could generate a lot more anger at her to help him through his current torment.
The only thing that really pissed him off was the fact that he did trust her. He just didn’t want to talk about that.
“You look like a man who’s ready to attend his own execution. What’s the matter, little brother? Getting tired of Kara? ’Cause if you are I would gladly-”
“Touch her and you die.” Fists clenched on the desk in front of him, Simon leaned forward, the threat of fratricide on his face, as he watched his brother saunter across his office. “Don’t you fucking knock?” He knew Sam was goading him about Kara, trying to push his buttons. In reality, his brother would never come near her again. Sam had made that perfectly clear to Simon when he had apologized for his behavior at the party. However, it didn’t stop Sam from trying to irritate the hell out of him.
Sam shot him a cocky grin as he dropped into a chair in front of Simon’s desk. “Why would I? I own the company.”
Simon decided that the only thing worse than owning Hudson with Sam was the fact that they both had an office on the same floor. “Last time I checked, so did I,” he snapped back at Sam, not in the mood for his older sibling’s bullshit.
“I’m older. It gives me seniority.” Sam propped his Italian leather-clad feet casually on Simon’s desk.
Simon waited, watching his brother relax back into the chair. The bastard. Leaning forward, Simon swept one muscular arm across the desk, knocking Sam’s feet into the air. “Get your damn feet off my desk!”
Really, was there anything more amusing than watching a man in an immaculate designer suit flailing his arms like a baby bird, trying to catch his balance before his chair flipped over? Simon didn’t think so. Not when it was Sam fluttering his arms while his chair tilted. The only thing that would have made it better was if his brother had tipped the chair over and landed flat on his ass.
Sam’s feet found purchase on the floor. He glared at Simon as he opened the buttons on the jacket of his perfectly tailored suit and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Was that really necessary?”
It was Simon’s turn to grin, his smile evil. “I thought so.”
“It’s not my fault that you made the mistake of falling in love and now you’re miserable. Shit, I thought you’d be happy now that she’s living at your place again.” Sam sat back and laced his fingers over his stomach, his expression grim.
Simon’s head jerked up. “Who said I love her?”
Rolling his eyes, Sam replied, “You didn’t have to say a damn thing. I think I figured it out when I ended up practically blind from the swelling when you beat the hell out of me just because I touched her.”
“That doesn’t mean I love her,” Simon grunted. “And it wasn’t because you touched her. It was the intent.”
“When was the last time you thrashed me because I touched a woman?”
“Never.”
“Exactly.”
Simon sighed. “Kara and I had a slight disagreement.” Okay, for him, it was more than slight, but he didn’t mention that to his brother.
“About?”
“She wants me to trust her. Tell her about the incident that left me scarred.” Simon’s voice was hoarse. “She thinks I still have”-he hesitated before choking out-“issues.”
Eyes narrowing, Sam asked, “And do you? Still have issues?”
“No! Hell no! For Christ’s sake, it happened over sixteen years ago,” Simon answered quickly. Too quickly and too defensively.
“Time doesn’t necessarily make everything go away, Simon,” Sam answered thoughtfully. “Maybe you should just tell her. Maybe you need to. Is your silence really worth losing her? She obviously loves you, and whether you want to admit it or not, you love her too. Guess you just need to decide if she’s worth it.” Sam leaned forward, spearing Simon with a sharp glance. “Don’t fuck up. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do.”
Pain? Regret? Sorrow? For a fleeting moment, Simon could see every one of those emotions reflected in his brother’s eyes. By the time he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to ask his elder brother about it, Sam’s expression had turned indifferent and apathetic. Simon snapped his jaw closed, recognizing the look on Sam’s face, the unequivocal signal that meant his sibling didn’t want to talk about it.
“She’s being unreasonable,” Simon grumbled, returning his attention to his current problem. He wouldn’t push Sam to share his pain if his brother didn’t want to.
“Admit it. You love her.” Sam crossed his arms and shot Simon a knowing look.
“She’s stubborn.”
“You love her.”
“I trust her. I tell her everything else.”
“You love her.”
“Fuck!” Simon slammed his fist down on the desk so hard that the solid oak shook on its foundations. “She makes me crazy. She makes me happy. I think she’s so beautiful that I want to just sit and look at her for hours. One minute, I’m perfectly sane, and the next, I’m totally losing it. She couldn’t give a shit less about the fact that I’m rich, and I think the woman is blind because I swear she doesn’t even notice that I’m scarred. The way she looks at me sometimes makes me feel like I’m ten feet tall. And she’s looking at me. Not the billionaire, not the wealthy executive. Just the man. She can be as stubborn as a damn mule, but I even like that because she’s determined. Smart. Kind. And she puts up with my cranky ass, accepts me exactly as I am.” Breathless from his tirade, Simon sucked in a trembling, uneven gulp of air. He slumped forward, his anger spent. “So, yeah. If these wild, lunatic, possessive feelings for her that I have every fucking minute of every day are love...I’m screwed. I can’t even imagine having to live my life without her.” Voice vibrating with emotion, he looked up at his older brother, his expression tortured.
“Then don’t,” Sam answered simply, his brow lifting, meeting
Simon’s questioning glance. “We built this company together. We started in a crappy, one-bedroom apartment, bro. Now we’re wealthy beyond our wildest dreams and a major player worldwide. If you can accomplish that, you can handle this.” Sam’s voice went from serious to teasing as he added, “Pull your head out of your ass and solve the problem.”
Simon’s lips curved up in a small smile. He hadn’t heard Sam say those words in years. It had been a frequent statement back in the days when they were still building Hudson. If one of them got stalled in the business by a roadblock, the other would deliver a swift kick to the rear with those exact words. It had become their mantra, but they hadn’t needed it in a very long time. They had plenty of employees who were paid very well to solve those problems before they ever got to Sam or him. “Sometimes I think that I’d rather rebuild a whole business than to have to deal with this.”
Sam shrugged. “Business is business. It’s not always easy, but the outcome is fairly predictable. Relationships are messy. You have no data, no statistics. Nothing to justify taking the leap, except for emotion.” Sam shuddered, as though the thought of jumping into a serious relationship was akin to torture.
“Then why in the hell are you telling me to do it?” Simon pierced his brother with an irritated glare.
“You need her.” Sam stood abruptly and buttoned his suit jacket. “But if you ever decide you don’t want her-”
“Don’t start!” Simon rumbled, his voice lacking venom. If he had realized anything today, it was the fact that his brother had his own secrets, a woman in his past-very likely Maddie, judging by Sam’s strange reaction to the curvy redhead-who still haunted him. He suspected that whoever she was, she was the reason that Sam went through women so fast, so unemotionally. Sam was trying to fill a void, trying to forget. Simon shook his head, knowing that his elder brother was smart enough to figure out eventually that it just wouldn’t work. If a woman got under your skin, she stayed there. Simon’s whole world revolved around Kara now, and no other woman could ever be a substitute, could ever fill the black, huge vacuum she would leave inside him if she ever walked away.
Sam’s charming smile was back. “You love me. You know you do.”
“Not right now,” Simon answered automatically.
Sam swaggered to the door, not a hair out of place, his suit and tie undisturbed. No one would ever know that he had just watched his younger brother practically have a nervous breakdown before his eyes.
Sam placed his hand on Simon’s door. Before he could exit, Simon called after him in a husky voice. “Sam?”
Sam turned back with a quizzical expression. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for listening.”
The look that passed between them spoke volumes. Simon wanted to tell his brother how much he cared, but a lump formed in his throat. They sparred like brothers often did, but Sam had sacrificed a lot for Simon and his mother. Worked his ass into the ground for all these years.
“Nobody deserves happiness more than you, little brother. It’s within your grasp. Take it,” Sam answered, his voice full of brotherly support, as he exited without another word.
Blowing out a shaky breath, Simon stood and grabbed his briefcase, looking around the plush, executive office. Other than his desk and chair, everything was decorated in art deco, a design that he really didn’t like. How in the hell had that happened?
The office had been done years ago, but he’d never really noticed, never really cared.
Maybe because you told the decorator to do whatever she wanted.
Yeah, that’s exactly what he had done years ago. He couldn’t have cared less what decor the interior designer chose. He came to work, took care of business, and retreated back to his condo so he could immediately bury himself in his lab at home. Maybe he grunted a greeting to his secretary and personal assistant when he arrived and departed from the high-rise building every weekday morning. Or maybe not. He was usually so hyper-focused on work, so enclosed in that bubble, that he didn’t even remember.
He jerked at the knot in his expensive burgundy tie to loosen it and undid the top button of his shirt. Christ, how he hated wearing a suit.
Careful with the tie. It’s one of Kara’s favorites.
Actually, that might not be true. He wasn’t exactly certain that she had a favorite. She told him every morning how handsome he looked when he arrived in the kitchen, dressed for work in a business suit and tie. But the very first time she had told him that, he had been wearing this tie. Since that day, he found himself reaching for this particular tie pretty damn often on his workdays.
He snorted softly as he walked toward the door of his office, his stride nearly silent on the plush carpet. Christ, he was going off the deep end.
When had he started caring which tie he wore, how his office was decorated, whether or not he was cordial to his employees every day?
It was definitely time to go home.
Home. Kara makes me think of the condo as home. Her laughter. Her voice. Her smell. Her very presence makes it home, and not just a place where I go when I’m done in the office.
He exited the office, letting the door close softly behind him. He glanced at Nina’s desk, halting abruptly in front of it.
“You need something, boss?” Her tone was professional, but she had a genuine smile on her face.
He looked over the top of an abundant bouquet of roses that was placed prominently on her desk, frowning at his gray-haired assistant. Had he forgotten her birthday? No. No, he hadn’t. Nina’s birthday was in September. And his secretary, Marcie, always reminded him. “Nice flowers. What’s the occasion?” he asked curiously.
Nina gave him a puzzled look, peering at him over her reading glasses. “Boss, it’s February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day. You know...hearts, flowers, romance.” The little woman’s smile broadened. “My Ralph has sent me two dozen red roses every Valentine’s Day for thirty-seven years.” She sighed. “He’s still so romantic.” Her voice vibrated with affection and adoration.
Valentine’s Day? Yeah, he knew the holiday; he had just never paid any attention when it came and went every year. It was just another day, a twenty-four-hour period of time when he saw a lot of Cupids and red hearts-when he chose to notice them, which wasn’t very often.
He shot a quick glance at his blonde secretary, her desk situated next to Nina’s. “Where are your flowers?”
Marcie paused, turning her head toward him and away from the computer on which she had been clicking away on diligently before his question. “Haven’t gotten them yet. My hubby will give them to me before we go out to dinner. He always does.”
“Uh...is this normal? Dinner? Flowers?” He looked back at Nina with a scowl. Shit, he hadn’t planned anything for Kara. She deserved romance, hearts, flowers, and whatever else a man did for a woman on a day for lovers.
“It depends. Most couples make their own traditions,” his assistant answered, her eyes questioning. “Are you okay?”
Damn it. He didn’t know what to do and he hated that feeling. What else was traditional? What else would make a woman happy, feel cherished? Had Kara gotten flowers from her ex? Had he taken her out for dinner?
Setting his briefcase on the floor, he tried to squash the jealousy and possessiveness that were rising up inside him. It didn’t fucking matter what some man had done for her in the past...Simon was determined to do better. She was his woman now. His to protect. His to cherish. He wanted to make her Valentine’s Day so memorable that all she could think of was him from this day forward. Except he had no idea how to accomplish his goal.
He leaned over Nina’s flowers and told her in a hesitant, low voice, “Kara.”
Nina grinned. “She’s a gem, boss. A wonderful young woman.”
Only one woman could make him say three words that he never thought would come out of his mouth. “I need help.” Really, when it cam
e to Kara, the words weren’t all that difficult. “I’m not sure what to do. Can you help me, Nina?”
His assistant sprang out of her chair with an enthusiasm and speed that really shouldn’t be normal for a woman of her age, motioning vigorously to Marcie to join her. The two of them surrounded him, peppering him with questions.
He should have been embarrassed, but strangely enough, he was not. Simon Hudson, billionaire and co-owner of one of the most powerful corporations in the world, in a huddle with two female employees, listening raptly to every word the women spoke, to every bit of advice they gave.
Sam passed by them, smirking as he made his way to the elevator, obviously able to pick up part of the conversation even though they were speaking in low, conspiring voices.
Simon shot his brother a one-finger-salute when he saw Sam’s mocking expression, barely taking his eyes away from the two women in front of him who seemed to know the answers to all of the mysteries of women. Right now, to him, they were goddesses.
He completely ignored the snicker he heard from Sam as his brother walked away. The bastard. He couldn’t wait until the day that his elder brother needed advice.
Turning his attention back to Nina and Marcie, he listened and learned.
Kara let out an audible, heartfelt sigh as she sank deeper into Simon’s garden bathtub, the hot water and bubbles covering nearly her entire body, leaving only her head bobbing above the water. He had offered her the use of his tub in the master bath any time she wanted it, but she had never taken him up on the offer. She had a perfectly wonderful tub and shower attached to her own room, but it wasn’t nearly as elaborate as this one.
Admit it. It isn’t the size of the tub. It’s the fact that it’s his that made you come in here.
Frowning, she grabbed a large loofah sponge from the ledge of the tub and starting scrubbing her arms with enough force to make her skin burn. Damn it. She didn’t want to admit that she missed Simon so desperately that she wanted to use the tub he used, breathe in his scent that lingered in his bathroom.