Keep Me Wanting

by Angela Addams

  When Dad got sick, things really fell apart. The stroke nearly killed him, and for eight years, I think I’ve been holding out hope that somehow he’ll come back to us and be the man he once was. But each year that goes by, his medical needs get more pronounced, and I’ve realized that my dad as I knew him is gone. He can’t speak, and he can’t move on his own.

  And he sure as hell can’t stop his eldest son, my brother Shawn, from taking the Doyle family name and turning it into something dark and dangerous.

  Shawn and I, we used to be super fucking tight. All of us brothers were. But when Dad got sick, some kind of switch flipped in Shawn, and he became this guy who would do anything. At first, he’d do anything to protect us, to keep us from losing the house because Dad couldn’t anymore, but then Shawn turned into the guy who would do anything to get ahead, to get rich. Including betray me.

  Dad has no idea that I’d been set up so I was arrested and did the time Shawn should’ve served. With the way Dad is now, I don’t even know if he realizes that I’m back—or that I was even gone for four fucking years.

  Now I’m trying my best to keep my brothers, Cormac and Ronan, from following Shawn down the same dark path. But I’m not my dad, and I don’t think I can stop the train wreck that’s coming. Shawn cares about no one but himself, and I am constantly worried that my brothers are going to end up doing time or, worse, dead because of him.

  My family isn’t the kind to brag about, and the fact that Maggie even asked me to pretend to be the kind of guy who deserves to hold her hand… Shit, it was more than I could handle.

  She was looking at me with these big green eyes of hers, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink, her ample chest heaving, and what did I do? I got up and walked out. Because how was I supposed to respond to something like that? She wouldn’t want to get involved with a guy like me, not even for five minutes. Not if she knew what kind of guy I am.

  Now I’ve got my eyes on my car, ready to get the hell out of here, when I see that there’s one bundle of roses left for sale among a pile of carnations in a plastic bin filled with water at the corner store.

  I stop walking.

  She’d never have to know my family history or who I am. There’s no way she’d be dragged into my Hellish world in the span of five minutes. Right?

  I pick up the roses, the water dripping from the unevenly cut stems onto my shoes.

  Maggie needs my help, and I have to admit, it took a lot of balls to ask me for such a wild favor in the first place. And it’s not like I haven’t fantasized a million fucking times what it would be like to be with a girl like Maggie.

  I can never have a girl like her. Not with who I am now.

  But would it hurt to pretend?

  Am I seriously talking myself into this?

  I buy the roses. I even ask them to cut the thorns off.

  Maggie doesn’t see me walk in at first because she’s too busy answering her mother’s rapid-fire questions. She’s got her hands up like her mom’s got a gun on her, taking one step backward at a time, trying to get distance, but her mother is following her.

  “This is the uniform they make you wear?” Her mother tsks in that disapproving way some mothers have. “Don’t they have a bigger size? It’s really too tight.” She leans forward and pretends to whisper. “For goodness sake, your boobs are practically falling out.”

  I stifle a growl. I like that tight shirt. It highlights the curve of her tits in the hottest way, like they’re just gonna burst free at any moment. Fantasy fodder when I’m rubbing one out.

  “You’re not going to your interview later dressed like that, are you, dear?”

  “I have a change of clothes in the back,” Maggie mumbles.

  Interview? She’s looking for a job?

  “Maybe it’s the clothes you’re wearing to these interviews that’s preventing you from getting a job. Go get your change of clothes. Let me look at them.”

  “Mother, I told you, I’m not getting any jobs because it’s me against, like, a hundred people, every time.”

  “Well, you could choose a different field, you know. Your sisters—”

  “Marketing is my field. I like my field. It’s just tough out there right now. I’ll find something, maybe today. My interview is at two.”

  “You know how I feel about all this.” Her mother waves her hand around. “Wasted time.”

  The other coffee girl, the one with the purple hair and fuck-me eyes, tries her best to get Maggie’s mom to shift directions. “Ms. Chandler, can I get you a coffee?”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. Chandler?

  Maggie’s mother turns her head so I can see her face as she looks over the coffee menu. I take out my phone and scroll through the files my brother Ronan sent me. I pull up a series of pictures. Rebecca Chandler. Pieces I really don’t want to connect start coming together.

  Ohhhhhhh fuck.

  “So where’s this boyfriend of yours, Liam something or other?” She isn’t looking at Maggie, but Maggie is sure as shit looking at her. “Come on, Margaret, you’ve talked about this man like he’s God’s gift. Where is he?”

  Maggie’s face has gone red. Her mouth is open, and I can see her thoughts are spinning. “Well, um, he’s busy with work, so he might not be able to make it…?”

  I’m standing there with flowers in my hand, hiding behind a shelf filled with decorative mugs and potted plants, wondering if I can get out the door without being seen while at the same time knowing that there’s no way in Hell I can let Maggie suffer, not when her mother is expecting her to produce this boyfriend and I’m the perfect guy for the job.

  Despite having a firm grip on common sense, I know I can’t let her handle this alone even though I now know she’s Maggie Chandler, daughter of Detective Fredrick Chandler, the very man who has been gunning for my family for years now, the man who put me away, and the man who probably would give his left nut to put my brother behind bars for good.

  “Oh, Margaret, don’t tell me you broke up with him?”

  “Mom, I-I-I…” She’s sinking with panic in her eyes.

  I suck in a deep breath then let it slide out of me, shaking my head the whole time. I just can’t walk away when someone is floundering that bad.

  I square my shoulders and walk out from behind the shelves. Maggie sees me first, and her eyes go wide. I make it to Mrs. Chandler before the woman has completely turned.

  “For you, Mrs. Chandler,” I say as I hand her the flowers. “Maggie, sorry I’m late.” I don’t wait for a response from either woman.

  I take Maggie in my arms, something I’ve wanted to do for months now, and make sure every part of her is pressed into me. My arms are around her waist, hands snaking to her ass. I look into her eyes, which are still wide with surprise, and then I kiss her sweet, pouty lips. She yields to me, her lips moving with mine. She slips her hands up my arms then around my neck, and it feels so damn good to have her there. She smells like cookies and butterscotch, and I want to lick every bit of her skin. Her tits are pressed to my chest. I can feel her perky nipples budding to hard points, and my thoughts turn to all the dark and dirty things I’d like to do with her. She gasps into my mouth as I press my hardening cock to her stomach.

  I’m so going to Hell for this.

  Who am I kidding? I’m going to Hell no matter what. Might as well enjoy it on the way down.

  Her mother clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I only know your given name. Liam, I believe it is?”

  I slowly unlatch myself from Maggie, my lips lingering, reluctant to stop our kiss. Maggie pulls away first on an explosion of breath.

  Her face is flush, and she’s panting slightly. “Yes, Mother, this is Liam…”

  “Walsh.” My voice sounds hoarse, even to me. I clear my throat, hold out my hand as I simultaneously pull Maggie back toward me, my other hand on her
hip, making sure she’s wedged into my side. I like her there.

  I shouldn’t.

  “Liam Walsh.” Mrs. Chandler says it like a fine whiskey she’s tasting, rolling it around in her mouth, her lips curling into a pleasant smile.

  It’s not my actual last name because, despite the colossal mistake I’m in the process of making, I’m not completely unhinged. Can’t have her running back to her husband to report that her sweet Maggie is dating a Doyle. He’ll know right away who I am and why he wants his daughter nowhere near me. He’d probably throw me back in jail just for touching her.

  “What is it you do for a living, Liam? Maggie has always been so vague.” She flips a hand up and rolls her eyes.

  “I’m a broker.”

  “Oh? What kind of broker?”

  I lean toward her and wink. “If I tell you that, I’d have to kill you.”

  She laughs, Maggie laughs, I laugh.

  My brothers, however, would not.

  “Just kidding. I dabble in this and that. Moving commodities, trading, you know.” I nod toward the door. “I’ve got to head out and get my things packed. Don’t want to miss the big family reunion I’ve been hearing all about.”

  “Oh, yes! Of course! The family will be so thrilled to see you there. Maggie hasn’t brought a date to a family function in ye—”

  “Mother, your coffee is ready.” Maggie grips my waist. “I’m going to walk Liam to the door. Take a seat. I’ll be two seconds.”

  “I’m just going to sneak into the office and see your interview outfit.”

  Maggie groans but keeps us moving to the door. “You came back!” Her voice is low, barely a whisper.

  I squeeze her side then let her go. “I did. It was rude of me to walk out on you like that.” I rub the back of my neck, suddenly uncomfortable. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not—”

  “Coming.” She laughs in a hacking kind of way, like she’s choking on air. “I’ll make up an excuse, no worries. I’m kind of a pro at that where my mom is concerned.” She gives me one of her lopsided sexy grins. “Thanks for doing that for me. That kiss…”

  I shrug like it was no big deal. “Had to make it look convincing, right?”

  Her face flares red again. “Right, yeah, that certainly was believable.”

  I chuckle. “Not like I didn’t enjoy myself. Not every day you get to kiss a beautiful girl first thing in the morning as a favor.” I wink.

  She beams like I’ve never seen her smile before, and it makes me realize that she maybe doesn’t hear that often enough.

  “Well, um, thanks, thank you, for doing that. You saved my ass.” She starts to back away, her eyes anywhere but on me, her face so red it might actually be hurting her. “Coffee, on me…two months, for real.”

  And then she ducks into the coffee shop and heads back to her life.

  Which is exactly how it should be.

  …

  I was still reeling a bit as I drove home, thinking about that kiss…and thinking about the crazy fucking odds that Maggie, the sweet, sexy coffee girl I’ve been crushing on for months, is a Chandler. Of all the girls in Boston.

  I have the worst fucking luck, I swear.

  Detective Chandler is after my brother like an eagle on a muskrat. He’s watching and waiting for someone to fuck things up, but he just can’t catch Shawn. That’s thanks in huge part to Ronan, who manages our security and tech-related logistics. He makes sure Shawn is slippery as fuck, which we fight about often.

  Shawn doesn’t deserve his loyalty, not after what he did to me, but Ronan is a people pleaser and can’t handle confrontation. He and Dad were super close, and being the youngest, I guess he latched on to what seemed like the next best father figure. And since I was out of commission for four years, Shawn had plenty of time to get his hooks into Ro.

  “Hey, Ro, you think you can pull up your files on Chandler?” I’m leaning against the door of the basement where he has a bank of computers nestled in one corner. It’s the power hub of our family, and Ronan sits in the middle of it all on a huge as Hell chair that lets him shift from one screen to the other fluidly. When I went away, Ronan was only dabbling in Shawn’s deals; now he’s neck deep and has the bags under his eyes to prove it.

  “You get your coffee fix?” Ronan shoots me a smirk over his shoulder knowing that I duck out every morning partly to get the hell away from Shawn and partly to see the sweet little coffee girl working at the Coffee Hut. Maggie wasn’t the only one with a fantasy date on her mind.

  “You could say that.” I push myself from the doorframe and walk in. The room smells like lingering cigar smoke, not exactly unpleasant but a little too much like Dad for my liking. “You got tabs on them this weekend?”

  “They’ve got some big family thing planned at a resort in Lennox.” Ronan’s fingers fly over the keyboard as he calls up the file I’m asking for. Images start to load, featuring the Chandlers in various candid shots. Rebecca, Fred, Amelia, Charlotte. All accounted for.

  There’s no evidence of Maggie. Strange that Ro missed a detail like that, but if she was away at school, it’s possible he didn’t search beyond the obvious. There’s also a pretty big age gap between her and her sisters, from what I can tell. It’d be easy to mistake her as a niece or something if he had found her.

  Ronan looks up at me and pushes his glasses from the tip of his nose. “I’m going to send someone up there to keep tabs on them this weekend. Shawn wants to make sure the detective doesn’t get anywhere close to the city while the deal is going down.”

  Fuck me. Another deal?

  There’s no way I’m sticking around for this. I need to get out of here, to be anywhere but where my brother will be stirring up what’s bound to be more illegal shit. I did time for him once, and I’m not doing it again, not if I can help it.

  And the idea of someone watching Maggie doesn’t sit well with me. At all. This will put her on Ro’s radar, not to mention how little I trust anyone my brothers might send.

  I hesitate.

  No. I am not considering what just popped into my head.

  Except it’s kind of perfect.

  My mind flashes back to her soft, smiling face, and her body, which is curvy, supple, young. She plays the sweet girl next door image really well—perfectly, actually—and yet I see something beneath the fluttering eyelashes and deepening blush. Like when she was talking about muffins, I swear she wanted to eat me alive. Like she was ready and willing to get on her knees and suck me off right there in the coffee shop.

  My cock jolts like it usually does when I think about Maggie’s lips on my body. She has fire in her, and that is damn intriguing. Especially now that I’ve tasted her myself.

  And she’s stuck. I could see it on her face, her tone, the underlying plea in her request. It makes me get that jittery feeling in my stomach. She really needed my help. I get the feeling she never would have asked for me to pretend if she didn’t have her back against the wall.

  I can do her one better than a five-minute pretend boyfriend. I could do it for the whole damn long weekend.

  There’s only one reason I’m even considering this. Maggie is different from all the women I’ve known before. She has no hidden agenda, and she wears her feelings on her sleeve. When she’s embarrassed, she blushes; when she’s excited, her body vibrates. I want to sit with her, talk to her, touch her, and yeah, I want to fuck her brains out because she’s just too sweet to pass up. But if I’m going to do this, I can’t touch her. No way. No matter how much I want to. She’s too good for a guy like me, and I’d never be able to give her what she probably wants: a stable life, with kids and family all around, a big house, and an SUV. I’m a low-life ex-con. I’m not fit for that kind of life, let alone to be with a girl like Maggie. So if I do this—and that’s a huge if—I gotta keep my lust under control and make sure the weekend stays PG. />
  I run my hand over my face. This is a crazy idea.

  Sure, she didn’t exactly invite me, but I can be very convincing.

  “Yeah, well, about that.” I clear off some paper and gadgets from the corner of his desk then take a seat. “I’m going away for the weekend—”

  “Where?”

  I look up to see Shawn sauntering in wearing a blue terry cloth bathrobe with gold filigree designs down the lapels. I feel the instant rise of revulsion that comes with the sight of him. He walks around here like he owns the place when really he’s just a low-level criminal ruining our family name.

  I feel the whip of guilt for thinking of my brother like that. I’m mad as hell at him, sure, but I remember the guy he used to be, and there’s a part of me—it’s a small part, but it’s still there—that hopes he’ll snap out of this macho man shit and get real again.

  I shift to the wall, putting distance between us. “The girl that’s been serving me at the coffee shop—”

  “The one you’ve got a raging boner for?” Shawn says with a sneer. “You hit that yet, bro? I mean, come on, you’ve been out of commission for four years now, and you’re not hitting anything around here. Kinda been thinking you like it the other way now…” He raises his hands. “Not that I have anything against the gays, you know. I’m an open-minded kind of guy, but you used to be a fuck machine around here, so now some of the girls are wondering.”

  I cock an eyebrow. Really? “They aren’t to my taste anymore, I guess.”

  “Not like your coffee girl, eh?” Shawn makes a motion with his cigar, shoving it through the circle of his thumb and index finger.

  Before I can answer, Shawn points to the screen with his cigar, the smoke wafting toward me as he gets closer. “What’s up with the Chandlers?”

  “Liam was just making sure I have all our players accounted for,” Ronan says.