Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance)

by Sarah Mayberry

  Perhaps inevitably, anger followed hard on embarrassment’s heels. Because they’d been having such a good night until Seth had taken things too far. They’d been talking, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. But that hadn’t been enough for him. He’d had to push, to see how far he could go. God forbid that he have a member of the opposite sex in his pool and not make a pass at her. God forbid that he exercise a little self-restraint for once in his life.

  Right, that little scene in the pool was all on him. Where, exactly, did you think things were going when you jumped into the water in your underwear? And when you flirted with him and wrestled with him and grabbed a handful of his boxers?

  The starch went out of her backbone and her outrage simultaneously, and she bowed forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.

  The truth—difficult as it was to acknowledge—was that she’d been dancing with the devil tonight.

  Toying with herself, with Seth, with the situation. Enjoying the heat of their chemistry and the spark of their banter and the sheer electric thrill of the potential that always seemed to arc between them.

  Wondering what would happen if they got naked again, and if the payoff would be worth the risk.

  And Seth had called her bluff. He’d read her signals, interpreted them to suit his own agenda—which was pretty basic and predictably male and not that different from her own—then gone for it.

  And she’d reacted like a startled horse.

  She could still feel the echoes of her panic, it had been that strong, that instinctive.

  That revealing.

  She lifted her head. It was time to be honest with herself. Finally. She took a deep breath, feeling more than a little shaky. As though she was about to open Pandora’s box and unleash something that could never be contained again.

  All these years, ever since she’d met Seth and they’d exchanged their first ripostes, a part of her had known that he was dangerous to her. That if she allowed herself to, she could fall for him. Hard.

  Hence her constant efforts to keep him at arm’s length. To define, limit and control her responses to him. He was her Achilles’ heel.

  Every time she saw him she felt the same zing of attraction she’d experienced the first time she’d laid eyes on him, a testament to the enduring chemistry between them. And it wasn’t just a sexual thrill—although there was plenty of that going on. Absolutely. She loved matching wits with him. Loved dishing it out and getting it back in equal measure. He was one of the few people with whom she could be completely honest. She wasn’t sure why that was. Maybe because they both understood that neither of them was perfect, and therefore that screwing up was part of the rich tapestry of both their lives.

  The thing was, Seth had never had a long-term relationship. Ever. The longest she’d heard of was six months. And while she’d had her fair share of just-for-the-hell-of-it flings, she’d also been in love with Franco and had wanted to stay that way. To her knowledge, there were no broken hearts in Seth’s past. Not on his side anyway.

  An affair with him would be mind-blowing, but it would also be a one-way ticket to Disasterville. She didn’t doubt it for a second. And she was sane enough and sensible enough, she liked herself and valued her happiness and peace of mind enough to want to avoid that kind of pain if she could.

  Hence her undignified retreat of ten minutes ago.

  Well, I guess that clears a few things up.

  It did. It definitely did.

  There would be no more cozy drop-in visits for her and Seth. It didn’t matter that he was in the toughest spot of his life. He had friends and family aplenty to support him. He’d survived a whole ten years while she’d been in the U.S., after all. He didn’t need her. And she didn’t need him.

  Feeling calmer than she had in days, she headed for home.

  * * *

  SETH KICKED THE fridge shut so hard it rattled. He’d screwed up. Big-time. He and Vivian had been having fun, and he’d messed it all up because he’d misread a bit of playful flirting and horseplay for something more adult. She’d come over to make sure he was okay. She’d labored in the stuffy torture chamber of the spare room with him to help him assemble baby furniture—and he’d paid her back by trying to get it on the second an opportunity presented itself.

  He was pretty good at reading signals, female and otherwise. But when Vivian was involved, he was usually too busy being turned on, amused and challenged to engage the executive part of his brain. Which was probably why he often wound up looking and feeling like the humpy dog his brother had once accused him of being when she was around.

  Such a good look.

  He went outside and turned off the pool filter, then stared at the glint of the patio lights reflected in the water, guilt and regret tugging at him. There were so many reasons for him to have kept his hands to himself tonight that it would take him hours to enumerate them all.

  For starters, he was a father now. He had a daughter who relied on him for everything. In a few days’ time, she would be home with him and it would be up to him and him alone to ensure her health and happiness. His days of letting his whims guide him were over.

  Then there was the fact that Vivian was family. Not blood-family, obviously. But there was no getting around the fact that she was someone who would be a part of his life as long as his brother was married to her sister. Which looked like a very long time, the way Jason and Jodie still looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. Vivian was the last woman he should be hitting on. The very last.

  None of which had stopped him from trying tonight, though.

  Reminds me of something else.... Oh, that’s right—this is like the last time you tried to get Vivian into bed, isn’t it, humpy dog?

  Seth tried to silence the cynic in his head, but it was too late, the memory was already rising out of the dusty corner of his mind he’d consigned it to five years ago. For good reason—it was far from his fondest or finest moment, and he’d been more than eager to pretend it had never happened.

  Vivian had been living in New York at the time and had come home on a flying visit. He hadn’t approved of her cropped, dyed blond hair, but he had liked the way her jeans fit her and the way she’d flirted with him over dinner. If he was asked to swear on a stack of Bibles, he’d be forced to admit that he’d drunk a little too much on purpose that night so he’d have an excuse to crash at his brother’s place.

  So they’d be under the same roof.

  Jodie had insisted he take the trundle bed in Max’s room, since Max was just a baby and could easily spend one night in with her and Jason. Seth had waited impatiently till the house was silent before sneaking to the living room, where Vivian had crashed on the sofa bed. In hindsight, simply lifting the duvet and attempting to climb in with her had perhaps not been his smoothest move. He could still remember the way she’d rolled over and stared at him incredulously.

  “You have got to be kidding,” she’d said.

  “What?”

  “No. Not while my sister and baby nephew are sleeping down the hall.”

  “Now you’re shy?” he’d said.

  Again, not his best line ever.

  “There’s some hand cream in the bathroom if you’re that hard up,” she’d said witheringly, then she’d rolled away and done a very convincing job of falling asleep.

  He’d lain in the dark with a throbbing hard-on, hoping against hope that she’d change her mind and put him out of his misery. She hadn’t, and he eventually returned to Max’s room, where he spent half the night staring at the ceiling feeling disgruntled, horny and stupid.

  Seth winced. There was a reason he’d worked hard to pretend that moment had never happened. He’d been drunk and cocky. He’d shown about as much finesse as a brown bear in mating season.

  Kind of like tonight, minus the drunk part.

  The apology he owed Vivian was growing longer and more elaborate by the day. The way she’d beaten a retreat tonight... She hadn’t
even waited long enough for him to get her a towel—that was how desperate she’d been to get away from him.

  More than a little over himself, he entered the house and locked up before making his way to bed. The light was still on in Daisy’s room, and he stopped in the doorway. In the time it took him to inhale and exhale, all the stuff with Vivian shrank to assume its rightful proportion.

  Yes, he’d screwed up tonight, but he had bigger fish to fry. He would apologize to Vivian when he saw her next—which would probably be next year if she had any say in the matter—but the person he needed to focus on wasn’t Vivian or himself. It was the little girl who would soon occupy the crib lying on its side in front of him.

  She was it. The one thing he had to get right. Everything else was white noise.

  He knelt and put his screwdrivers in his toolbox. Then he tidied the packaging and other debris. Once the floor was clear, he pushed the crib into the corner, then placed the change table opposite it. His parents had brought bags of clothes and other gear over the moment they learned about the accident, and he opened the closet and rifled through the carefully folded and stacked shelves until he found the bed linen and quilt. He made up the cot, then somehow found himself unpacking and assembling the musical mobile his mother had insisted Daisy would love. When it was suspended above the crib, he turned to the change table, stacking it with diapers and wipes, setting a diaper bucket beside it.

  Both the crib and table looked way too sterile when he’d finished, and he frowned at them, trying to work out what was missing. Max’s and Sam’s rooms were colorful, chaotic messes, with decals on the walls and posters of their favorite cartoon characters and tote bins full of toys. They felt alive and warm; his daughter’s room looked like an ad from a catalogue.

  He shrugged. He had no idea how to make things homey. He was a guy. He killed spiders, changed flat tires and watched sports on TV. His gaze fell on the big bear Jodie and Jason had given him, and he plunked it in the cot, adding a couple of other colorful plush toys to the change table.

  Better. Definitely better. There were probably things that creative people like Vivian could do to make it warmer and livelier, but that would have to wait for another day. On impulse he pulled out his phone and took a picture. Before he could think about it too much, he called up Vivian’s contact and typed in a message so he could send it to her as a text. She’d sweated with him to get it finished, after all. Seemed only fair that she see the end result.

  Getting there. Thanks again for your help. I’d still be ignoring the instructions if you hadn’t shown up.

  He started adding another apology, then deleted it. The least he could do was look her in the eye while he owned his screwup. Apology via text was not going to come even close to cutting it.

  He hit Send on the abbreviated message and went to brush his teeth, keeping an ear out for the chime of a return message. His phone hadn’t made a peep, however, by the time he’d climbed into bed.

  Maybe she was asleep already, or elbow-deep in her own work. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to encourage him.

  Either way, it was late, and he had a big day ahead.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  VIVIAN DIDN’T SEE Seth’s text message until the next morning when she collected her phone from the charger.

  She read the message, then stared at the image he’d sent—the carefully arranged plush turtle and rabbit on the change table, the big bear in the crib with the Sesame Street mobile hanging overhead. He’d clearly spent an hour or two setting up the room after she’d left. Making sure it was perfect for his daughter.

  The thought made the back of her eyes prickle with emotion, amplifying the unease she’d been feeling. He was trying so hard. He was scared spitless by the enormous responsibility that had landed so unexpectedly in his lap—and she’d made his life that little bit more confusing and difficult with her reaction last night. The look in his eyes—equal parts chagrin and confusion, with a dash of humiliation thrown in for good measure—as he stepped back from her in the pool had haunted her dreams.

  She stared at her phone, debating her next move. They’d always been straight with each other, and the need to apologize to him—or at least explain—was almost irresistible. But she hadn’t forgotten that today was huge for Seth. He was picking up Lola’s parents at the airport, and they were having difficult conversations with Lola’s doctors.

  Vivian doubted very much that she was at the top of his mind right now. As uncomfortable as it felt to wait, she would hold off on clearing the air with him. She could afford to wait—Lola and Daisy could not.

  The sky was clear blue again, and the weather bureau predicted another scorcher. She dressed in tailored black shorts, strappy wedges and a black-and-white diagonally striped silk tank with acid yellow straps before heading into West Melbourne with the air conditioning blasting.

  She managed to get yesterday’s outline finished by early morning, and she had it finalized and off to their client by one. Robin had a shoot the next day for a housewares importer that was using its own stylist, and she worked with him to ready the studio space so everything would be ready for an early start.

  She was helping Robin unpack the stock he’d be photographing when her phone buzzed at two-thirty.

  “Won’t be a sec,” she told Robin when she saw it was her sister’s number. Jodie was a great respecter of work hours and never called between nine and five unless it was something that couldn’t wait.

  She moved toward the window as she took the call. “Yo, what’s up?”

  “Thank God you answered. Please tell me you’re not in the middle of a million-dollar shoot that can’t wait, because I really need your help.” Jodie sounded about three seconds away from outright panic.

  “I’m not in the middle of anything that can’t wait. What do you need?” she said calmly.

  “Sam fell off the monkey bars at kindergarten and they think he might have broken his arm. I’m on my way to the hospital as we speak.”

  “Is he okay?” Vivian was alarmed by the tight sensation in her chest. Sam was so sweet, so bright and funny—the thought of him being in pain made her feel more than a little sick.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet. I got the call about five minutes ago. The thing is, I was on the way to the airport to pick up Lola’s parents as a favor for Seth, but now I can’t do it and Jason’s in a meeting and Mum isn’t answering her phone....”

  Vivian shook her head, confused. “I thought Seth was picking them up.”

  They’d talked about it last night, about how much he wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “He was, but someone threw a brick through the window at the bar after lunch, and one of his staff was hurt. The police need him there and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to get away.”

  “Bloody hell, he can’t catch a break at the moment, can he?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay.” Vivian walked toward her office, where her handbag was stowed in the bottom drawer of her desk. “I’m on it. What time do Lola’s parents land?”

  “Thank you. Bless you for coming home from L.A. I have been freaking out the last five minutes, ringing everyone I could think of.”

  “Next time call me first, save yourself some stress.”

  “You can take that to the bank.”

  Vivian grabbed the flight number before telling her sister to keep her up-to-date regarding Sam’s broken arm, then took two minutes to check on the flight status on her computer. It was running on time, with an expected arrival time of 3:30 p.m.

  “Robin, I’m bailing on you,” she said as she strode to where he was stuffing shredded paper into a box. “I need to pick up some people from the airport. I’ll come back tonight and help you finish.”

  “We’re almost done now. I don’t think there will be anything to come back to. Which means you are free to go save the world and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He blew her a kiss and she pretended to catch it and put
it in her pocket. “For later,” she told him, and his laughter followed her out the door.

  She had a clear run to the airport, arriving in plenty of time to ensure she had a long period of kicking her heels before Lola’s parents might be expected to appear in the international arrivals hall. The enforced breather gave her ample opportunity to consider why they were coming and what they were about to face. They’d be expecting Seth, of course, and she’d need to explain why he couldn’t be there as well as her relationship to Seth.... Messy. But this was a messy situation, wasn’t it?

  Belatedly it occurred to her that she had no way of recognizing the Browns when they arrived, nor they her, and she made the trek to her car to grab some paper and a marker to make a sign. It was forty minutes before a soft-looking, weary couple exited the quarantine area, their gazes lifting to Vivian’s face when they registered her sign. Mr. Brown had faded blond hair and bright blue eyes, Mrs. Brown long brassy blond hair that could only have come from a bottle. They looked to be in their forties, which made sense, given Lola’s age. Vivian offered them a smile as she walked forward to greet them.

  “I’m Vivian, Seth’s sister-in-law. He had something he needed to deal with, so he asked me to collect you on his behalf,” she said.

  Mrs. Brown blanched. “Is it Lola? Is she okay? Please tell me she hasn’t died.” She clutched her husband’s arm, her fingers showing white around the knuckles she was gripping him so tightly.

  Vivian kicked herself for not choosing her words more carefully. “Lola is still stable, as far as I’m aware. Seth had some trouble at his bar. Someone threw a brick through the window and one of his staff was injured.”

  “Oh. Thank God.” Mrs. Brown swallowed nervously.

  Her husband slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a bracing squeeze before offering his free hand to Vivian. “Good to meet you, Vivian. I’m Dennis, and this is my wife, Melissa. We appreciate you helping us out.”