Make Me Need

by Katee Robert

No, that role had always fallen to Trish.

  She kicked her cheerfulness up a notch—the only way to combat her mother’s concern when she got like that. “I was just about to sit down to dinner.”

  “Dinner? Trish, it’s after seven. You haven’t been working this whole time! Aaron said that partner of his was a good boss, but if he’s got you working twelve-hour days, that’s abuse!” Her voice took on strident tones.

  Trish repressed a sigh. “Mom, you’re getting worked up for no reason. I’m eating late because I stopped by Aaron’s to see my new niece and got distracted with her adorableness.” There’s no need to lead an army down here to haul me back home. An army of three—her mom, her dad and Mary—but no less fearsome for its numbers. Though her mom hadn’t been happy about her needing to move back home after college, she hadn’t exactly shed a tear to have her youngest daughter under their roof again. Now she was treating this move like Trish had left for college all over again.

  And was just as helpless and out of her element as she’d been at eighteen.

  “I worry about you. That city—”

  “Mom.” If she didn’t do something drastic, her mother would end up on an hour-long spiel about all the ways she could get mugged or worse in New York. It didn’t matter that Trish had found an apartment crazy close to where she worked or that she’d pulled it from a list that Aaron himself had put together. New York City terrified their mother and she would spill that feeling over at every opportunity, whether she meant to or not.

  Unless Trish distracted her, she’d be up all night running scenarios—each more terrifying than the last—and her mother would call tomorrow and be a total mess. She cast a longing look at her cooling Chinese food and resigned herself to a reheated meal. “Did Aaron send you the pictures he took of Summer? She was especially cute today. He says she can’t really smile yet, but I swear to God she was smiling at me.”

  The distraction worked. Her mother went on to gush about how Aaron did a video call with her and the baby, and wasn’t his fiancée the sweetest thing, though goodness, they should be married by now if they’re having babies. Through it all, Trish’s mind wandered...right back to Cameron.

  She wanted him to kiss her again.

  Or, rather, she wanted to kiss him again. To do more than kiss. To break half a dozen rules and regulations that she wasn’t even sure Tandem Security had in place.

  Not to mention that Aaron might lose his damn mind if he finds out I’m lusting after his business partner.

  She blinked, realizing that her mother had been silent for a beat too long. Trish faked a yawn. “Mom, I have to go. I have a big day tomorrow, and I want a full night’s rest.”

  The silence extended for a beat. Another. Then her mother sniffled. “I just wish you were here.”

  Oh good Lord. She was going to devolve to sobbing next, and Trish was too tired to be sure she wouldn’t snap in response. She was twenty-fucking-four years old. She couldn’t live at home forever. She understood that her mother’s empty-nest syndrome was in full force, but Trish couldn’t form her entire freaking life around making her mother feel fulfilled. Not that her mom wanted her to. Not exactly. She was just emotional and weepy and Trish wasn’t capable of stepping back and cutting the cord fully. It would hurt her mom and she didn’t deal out pain—only good things.

  So she cleared her throat and smiled so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Mom, how am I supposed to find a man to make an honest woman of me and have a bunch of babies for you to spoil if I’m living in the same room I’ve had since birth? Aaron needs me right now. I can’t leave him hanging.”

  Leveraging Aaron’s name got her mom back under control. She gave another sniffle, but the wavering quality of her voice evened out. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. It’s just so hard not seeing you.”

  “I know, Mom.” She touched the side of her Chinese food container and sighed. Cold. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  It took another five minutes to actually end the call, and by the time she did, it was all she could do to sink onto her couch. Trish stared at her cold dinner and fought against the burning in her throat. She wasn’t overwhelmed. She was capable and positive and could handle anything the world threw at her.

  But, God, she was so tired.

  “I should eat.” Her words barely diminished the growing silence in her apartment. She should turn on the television or do something to get some ambient noise going so she didn’t feel quite so alone, but Trish just couldn’t work up the energy to reach for the remote.

  She closed her eyes. I’ll just rest here for a minute...

  * * *

  Cameron checked his watch for the sixth time in the last thirty seconds. There was no denying it—Trish was late. He stalked to the boardroom, half expecting to find her passed out under the table after a long night of ignoring his order, but it was just as drab and empty as it had been yesterday.

  She didn’t live that far away. How the hell was she late on her third day here?

  He paced across the front office and back again and shot a glare at the elevators. Another look at his phone confirmed she hadn’t answered his texts or responded to his missed calls. She was too damn excited about painting to have gone out drinking last night...wasn’t she?

  When it came down to it, he didn’t know much about Trish at all. She was Aaron’s sister. She was good at her job. She was far too peppy for his comfort. That about summed up his knowledge.

  And she doesn’t follow safety instructions particularly well.

  Cameron stopped short. She was hurt. That had to be it. She wouldn’t be late for anything other than a catastrophic reason, and if it involved Aaron and his family, Cameron would have heard about it. Which meant it had happened either in her apartment or somewhere in transit.

  She could be injured right now, and he’d wasted time when he could have been helping her.

  Not willing to wait for the elevator, he charged down the stairs. Seconds later, he was on the street, nearly running for her place. Thank God she only lives a few blocks away. Cameron made it there in record time. He keyed in the code Aaron had given him for safety reasons and then stopped short. He didn’t know which apartment was hers.

  Cursing under his breath, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and called Aaron. Cameron barely waited for his partner to answer before he cut in. “What’s Trish’s apartment number?”

  Just like that, the sleepiness was gone from his friend’s voice. “It’s 3b. Why?”

  “Call you in a few.” He hung up and took the stairs again, nearly sprinting. He had no idea how he’d get into her apartment if she wasn’t able to answer the door. Should have thought that through. Since he was already there, he pounded on the door and listened closely in case she cried for help.

  Instead, footsteps padded on the other side of the door and a sleepy-looking Trish opened it. She yawned and then froze at the sight of him. Her blue eyes went wide. “Uh... What time is it?”

  Cameron was too busy casting a worried eye over her to answer. She didn’t look injured. No blood or protruding bones. Maybe she fell and hit her head? He stepped into the apartment and slipped his fingers through her tangled blond curls, gingerly feeling for a goose egg that might indicate a concussion.

  Trish frowned. “What’s going on?” She swatted at his hands. “What are you doing?”

  “What did you fall from this time?”

  She blinked and then backed up a few steps. “What are you talking about?”

  She was definitely concussed if she didn’t realize what the hell was going on. Cameron pointed at his watch. “It’s nine.”

  Horror dawned across her face. “Oh God, I’m late.” She looked down at herself and then at him, which was right around the time he noticed that she wore flannel pajamas with little cats frolicking across the bright blue background. It should have made her look chil
dish, but Trish in pajamas led to thoughts of Trish in bed and Cameron turned to survey the apartment before he could follow that to its inevitable conclusion.

  Small place, which was to be expected. A little studio apartment with a door on the other side of the room that must lead to the bathroom. Her bed was made—the comforter printed with brightly colored flowers—and she’d managed to imprint herself on the space in a limited amount of time. Flowerpots perched on either side of the kitchen sink, soaking up what little sunlight they could get this time of year. She’d even managed to find time to hang art on the walls—more florals, though they were strangely moody in black-and-white photography instead of bright oil like he would have expected. The only thing out of place was a container of what appeared to be Chinese takeout sitting on the coffee table.

  Trish cleared her throat. “Cameron. You’re in my apartment.”

  “You were late.” He spoke almost absently, his gaze going back to the paintings. Black-and-white with the faintest hint of color in each. Compelling, though something about the close-ups of the different kinds of flower petals made him a little sad. Or maybe melancholy. One of those less than happy emotions that he wouldn’t have thought to associate with the peppy woman in front of him.

  Cameron wouldn’t have said he was without layers—he was human and humans had layers of personality—but he tended to set aside the bullshit and call things like he saw them. It didn’t always work out in his favor, but at least there wasn’t room for misinterpretation or confusion.

  The more time he spent around Trish, the more he realized this woman was nothing but layers. The bright woman who smiled her way through every situation. The flares of irritation and anger on occasion. The pride. And now this new revelation that he couldn’t quite place within the puzzle that was Trish Livingston.

  He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d fallen off something and hurt yourself.”

  “Cameron.” Her exasperation drew his attention back to her. Trish crossed her arms over her chest. “You know I don’t actually fall off things often, right? I’m not particularly injury-prone and just because I took a tumble off a ladder and you caught me like some kind of romance hero doesn’t mean you need to get all anxious about my health.”

  She sounded perfectly reasonable, but perfectly reasonable people read the instructions on ladders and didn’t step on the top step and lean precariously while painting. He mirrored her pose. “You’re an hour late. What else was I supposed to think?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “That I fell asleep on my couch and forgot to set my alarm and overslept. That’s a very normal thing to do.” She made a face. “Wait, I take that back. I don’t make a habit of being late, and I’m sorry I am, but you’re acting like I’m an accident waiting to happen.”

  He started to argue, but the bottom line was that she was right. He shouldn’t be here any more than he should have done half the shit he’d pulled with Trish up to this point. If he was smart, he’d make some excuse to leave and put this whole awkward encounter behind him.

  At least until she showed up at the office to work.

  Instead, Cameron stalked around her couch and used a single finger to pry open the Chinese-food container. Full. Not even a bite missing. “You skipped dinner.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  He glanced over, but she’d set her mouth in a firm line that told him no more information would be forthcoming. All evidence pointed to her sitting down to eat dinner and then falling asleep on the couch. Missing dinner. Missing breakfast. If he turned around and left now, no doubt she’d get ready and rush straight to the office and not eat until lunch, which put a full twenty-four hours between meals.

  Unacceptable.

  He sat on the couch and pointed at the bathroom. “Get ready. We’re going to have a late breakfast before we go back to the office.” Since there were no paint cans in evidence, she’d actually listened to his order, which was something at least. “We’ll get the paint you want on the way. After you eat.”

  Trish’s eyes sparked, but she got it under control almost immediately. She gave him a sweet smile that did nothing to mask the anger written in every line of her body. “Sure thing. I’ll do my best not to slip on a bar of soap and bash my head against the tile. You know, because I’m so klutzy.” She stalked to the bathroom and shut the door with a resounding snick.

  Only then did Cameron relax back into the couch. They’d gone past the point of should this morning. He’d crossed the line coming here, but he wasn’t sorry. Trish was okay, and that was all that mattered. She wouldn’t be late again, and even if she wouldn’t tell him what really happened last night, he had to be satisfied with that.

  In the bathroom, the water turned on and Cameron groaned. Maybe leaving Trish to her own devices was the smarter option. Because, right now, all he could do was imagine her stepping beneath the spray, to mentally follow the cascade of water down her shoulders, her breasts, to her stomach and then lower yet. He wanted to follow that path with his mouth, to taste her and tease her and bring her to the edge over and over again until he finally tipped her into oblivion.

  He just flat-out wanted her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TRISH REALIZED HER mistake the second she stepped out of the shower. In her huff to get out of the room before she said something truly unkind to Cameron, she hadn’t grabbed clothes. She wrapped a towel around herself and considered her options. Screaming at Cameron to close his eyes was tempting, but her stubborn streak kicked in and wouldn’t let her.

  He’d decided to burst into her apartment and then command her to have breakfast with him. Oh, she knew he’d only shown up because he was worried, and he’d decided on breakfast for the same reason. It didn’t matter. The man didn’t have a subtle bone in his body, but he should damn well try to talk to her like she had a brain in her head.

  Or, rather, like she wasn’t about to trip over some piece of furniture like she was starring in some old-school slapstick comedy.

  Trish wiped down the foggy mirror and stared at her reflection. You know why you’re pissed, and it’s not because Cameron was worried about you. It might even have been kind of nice to bask in his concern if it wasn’t attached to so many conflicting emotions.

  Cameron saw her as Aaron’s little sister. Emphasis on little.

  He wanted her—she hadn’t missed those signals—but he’d just as obviously written her off as untouchable. That should be a good thing. He was her boss, as she had to keep reminding herself. He was off-limits.

  That didn’t stop her from wanting to force him to acknowledge that he wanted her.

  You’re acting like a crazy person. Get ready in here. Walk to your closet like you totally aren’t bothered by a really sexy man sitting on your couch and watching you do it. Retrieve clothes. Retreat to bathroom and get dressed.

  It really was that simple.

  Trish took a deep breath. She could do this. She’d faked her way out of awkward situations before, and she’d fake it out of this one, too. That settled, she quickly did her makeup and worked some product into her curls. Then there was nothing to do but open the door.

  She paused to ensure her towel was wrapped firmly around her body and straightened her spine. I can do this. It’s ten feet. It’ll be fine.

  She opened the door and nearly ran into Cameron. Trish brought herself up short a bare inch from his chest and let loose a squeak of surprise. “Cameron!” Just as quickly, surprise morphed into frustration. She glared at his deep gray tie. “Damn it, Cameron. I didn’t fall in the shower. That was a joke. You don’t have to kick down the door and rescue me from some magical injury. You really need to relax, you know that? Have a beer, smoke a joint, meditate, do something because you jumping up my ass every time I turn around is going to get old fast.”

  Oh shit, I just said that. Out loud.

  Still he didn’t r
espond. She stared harder at his tie, sure that if she looked at his face, she’d see pure fury and then they’d really be fighting. Think, Trish. Defuse the situation. Do something to distract him from the fact that you’re yelling at him in a completely irrational way. Her mind went blank and she panicked.

  Trish dropped the towel.

  Cameron’s only response was a sharp intake of breath. She’d already gone too far to take it back now, so she lifted her chin and glared at him. Mortification threatened to take hold and drive her back to the bathroom. What was she doing? He had her so twisted up, she was parading naked in front of him, and she wasn’t even doing it in a sad seduction attempt. No, this fell firmly into the Panic and Make Poor Choices column. “Don’t you dare say anything.”

  “Freckles.”

  Her whole body clenched at the way he growled the inconspicuous word. She licked her lips. “What?”

  “Freckles,” Cameron repeated. He lifted a big hand and hovered a single finger over the center of her chest. “You have freckles everywhere.” He traced a pattern over her breasts, connecting them without touching her.

  The air disappeared from the room. Hell, the room itself disappeared. There was only Trish and Cameron and that single inch of space that kept him from touching her. Her body warmed beneath his attention, and he just kept tracing freckles, a look of utter concentration in his dark eyes. As if he had nowhere else to be, nothing else to be doing, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d connected every single freckle on her body.

  This could take hours.

  Her nipples went tight at the thought. She actually started to lean forward before she caught herself.

  It was already too late.

  Cameron took a careful step back, and then another, though his gaze never left her body. Each movement was jerky and filled with barely controlled lust. He wanted her. That couldn’t have been clearer. It was equally as clear that he had no intention of touching her again. He bumped into the couch and swung around to face the front door. “You should get dressed.”