BROCK (7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes Book 5)

by St. Claire, Roxanne

  “A couple of Boston rats nearly drowned, but not…” He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Struck by lightning.”

  She gave him a look that was no less meaningful even with her streaks of mascara. “Struck by something.”

  That was for damn sure.

  He just held her gaze for a few heartbeats, both of them completely still except for the rise and fall of their chests as they caught their breath after the run. And in those few seconds, his whole world seemed to shift a little. Everything felt off-kilter and unbalanced and…warm.

  She let out a little sigh and inched away. “I think I’ll find a ladies’ room,” she said, finally looking away from him.

  “Yeah, it’s…there.” He spotted the sign toward the back of the restaurant on the opposite side of the bar. When she turned her head to follow his gesture, he let his gaze slide away from her high cheekbones and shapely lips to appreciate the way a yellow cotton dress stuck to every delicious inch of her.

  As she turned back, he looked up, but he knew from the glimmer in her eyes, she’d caught him. “Maybe I’ll just stand under the hand dryer for an hour,” she said with a dry laugh.

  He managed a smile, not bothering to act like he hadn’t been looking. “Not on my account.”

  That made her laugh again as she stepped away and pointed to his chest, then let her finger slowly go south. “You’re just as wet…Harvard.”

  He plucked at the decade-old T-shirt he wore with his alma mater’s famous emblem, feeling a smile pull. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

  She backed a step away, still holding his gaze. “What’s your name, by the way?” she asked.

  He almost told her the truth. Almost. But Brock was an unusual name, and women frequently changed if they knew the last name that went with it. He didn’t want anything about this encounter to change.

  “David,” he said easily, using his common middle name, as he often did with strangers. But once he knew her—if he ever knew her—he’d tell her his real name.

  “I’m Jenna.” She gave a little wave and then held up a finger. “One minute. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Watching her walk away, he realized that maybe coming back to Boston could be nice and easy after all.

  Chapter Two

  Jenna slipped into the bathroom, took a shaky, ragged breath, and closed her eyes before she looked in the mirror. She didn’t want to ruin that delicious, flirtatious, unexpected moment with the reality of what the rain had done to her hair, makeup, and clothes.

  But…David. He was true to his name—a work of art. Made even more attractive by long dark hair and a scruffy beard and the professorial glasses around dark eyes that melted her with one blistering look. Even the Ivy League T-shirt was cute.

  Cute? No, that guy sailed past cute when he got into the cab and insisted on paying. Then he slid right into adorable when he tried to protect her from lightning. And when he peeled that Harvard emblem away from the well-defined cuts of a broad chest and six-pack? Yeah, that was one smoking-hot stranger waiting to have drinks with her out there. Drinks and…

  She opened her eyes and cringed at the sight in the mirror.

  Surely he couldn’t be hitting on that.

  Leaning in for a closer examination, all she could do was moan at the rivers of mascara. “Urban Decay,” she muttered. “You can say that again.” Her normally pale blond hair was now the color of a wet rat, flattened to her head and spiraling in dripping curls over her shoulders.

  She twisted the water faucet, loaded her palm with foamy hand soap, and scrubbed her face clean. After she dried it with paper towels, she pulled her hair straight back off her face and wrapped the ponytail with a hair tie she had on her wrist.

  The clean face and schoolteacher hair pretty much guaranteed that she’d get carded despite her twenty-seven years and David in the Rain wasn’t going to make a move on her tonight.

  Which was…a shame. Not that a hookup with a stranger was in her wheelhouse, but that stranger? In a city where no one knew her? After her last project tanked, her career was on life support, and being told by her mother that, once again, Jenna Gillespie was a disappointment?

  Oh yeah. A little David in the Rain was exactly what the doctor ordered tonight, no matter where it led.

  She stepped back from the mirror to examine her yellow Gap T-shirt dress, barking a laugh. “Oh God.” She might as well be naked. No wonder he’d looked at her like…well, like she was naked.

  Her stomach tingled at the memory of the heat in his eyes when she’d caught him checking her out, the hint of a smile kicking up one corner of his mouth under that facial hair that was not quite a beard, but not that fake scruff thing that some guys did, either. Whatever it was…it might leave a little burn in its wake.

  “Whoa, Jenna May Gillespie. Settle down.”

  But nothing in her was settled. Nothing.

  She pulled the dress from her skin just as the door popped open, and two women shouldered their way in, heads close in conversation and laughter.

  With no desire to make even small talk, Jenna slipped into an open stall and closed the door.

  “I still can’t believe what I just saw,” one said excitedly. “If I didn’t think it could get me fired, I’d take a picture to share with the rest of the girls in accounting tomorrow.”

  “No kidding.” The other stall door opened and closed with a solid push. “For a minute, I didn’t even know that was Brock.”

  Brock? Did that girl just say Brock? The head of brand management for Blackthorne Enterprises? The very gatekeeper she had to impress tomorrow morning? How many Brocks could there be? Here, in the same neighborhood as the office she’d just scoped out to be sure she knew where she was going tomorrow morning?

  She stifled a grunt at the thought of being seen by him, soaking wet and flirting with a complete stranger in a bar, and then having to make her case to the famously uptight Brock Blackthorne tomorrow. She wasn’t even sure what he looked like, since all those Blackthornes looked so similar, with their square jaws and dark eyes oozing pride and whiskey. No, no. Whisky. Use an e, and Brock will ice you out, someone had warned her.

  Was David worth the risk?

  “Gotta say he looked hot, though,” said the woman using the stall next to Jenna.

  “Easy, Olivia. You have about as much chance with a Blackthorne as I do with a Hemsworth.”

  The laughter was lost on Jenna as she let out a sigh. Brock Blackthorne was out there, in the bar, maybe sitting at the table next to hers. The very man who currently held her career in his hands, whether he knew it or not, or she liked it or not.

  “But, whoa, that weekend look,” the woman in the stall crooned. “Mama like.”

  The other one giggled. “I’ve heard rumors that he has a Blackthorne logo tattooed on his…” She snorted a laugh. “Maybe the thistle and barrel he’s always sending memos about stretches to full size when—”

  “Olivia!” The other woman punctuated her warning with a toilet flush.

  But Jenna just closed her eyes and stifled a grunt of frustration. She had to end this pleasant little interlude and get out of this bar so she didn’t come face-to-face with the man who, at this precarious moment in her career, had so much power over her.

  Damn it! She hated Brock Blackthorne, and she hadn’t even met him yet.

  “Come on,” Olivia said over the sound of sink water running. “Let’s go walk by him and see if he recognizes the underlings.”

  “Not a chance,” the other one replied. “I don’t know what brought him down from Mount Blackthorne into this dive on a Sunday night, but it sure isn’t so he can pick up a local.”

  “Right? This place is so lowbrow, they don’t even serve Blackthorne here.”

  Then why was he here ruining Jenna’s fantasy night?

  It didn’t matter. She had to get out of here.

  She stayed in the bathroom long enough to call an Uber, not wanting David to try to talk her out
of leaving.

  Two minutes later, she walked out and scanned the tables and booths for the clean-cut, handsome Brock Blackthorne she’d seen in photos. But her gaze landed on…David.

  He sat in a corner booth with two drinks in front of him, his hair a little drier now, but still tousled, with one lock falling close to those sexy glasses. When he saw her, he gave that little half smile with enough smolder in his eyes to know they were both having the same thoughts about this.

  He searched her face as she approached, and his smile faded, almost as if he knew something had changed. Well, the Urban Decay had washed off, and maybe he was disappointed as she got closer.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” He gestured toward the drinks. “I ordered the best they have, which, I have to say, isn’t that great.”

  She gave a longing glance to the glasses that held something the color of iced tea, but was probably much stronger.

  “Look, I hate to say this, but…” She nibbled her lip and slipped onto the edge of the seat across from him, not committing to fully sitting down. “I have to go.”

  A frown tugged. “Okay.” He drew the word out with just enough disappointment to make her want to cry. “Is it something I said or did?”

  She glanced at the room again. Not all the tables were visible, and she didn’t see any man who looked remotely like those publicity shots on the Blackthorne Enterprises website, but he could be right behind her for all she knew. “No, no. I just got an emergency text.” The lie tasted like crap on her lips.

  “You can take a call here,” he said. “I don’t care.”

  She shook her head. “I—I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Very slowly, a knowing smile threatened as he stood. “You’re chickening out.”

  “Not…no. Not exactly.”

  “I can tell you’re not the type to…” He made a face that kind of said it all. “I’m not really, either, truth be told.”

  She sighed out a breath. “I might have been,” she admitted on a whisper. “You’re really nice, David.”

  He flinched a little, like a man who just found out he’d almost had a great night. “So are you, Jenna.” Standing slowly, he angled his head. “How long are you in Boston?”

  It all depended on how that meeting went tomorrow. She slid a glance to a tall guy at the bar, but his hair was too light and long to be the corporate stiff that Brock was purported to be.

  “A few more days,” she said, looking up at him, appreciating that V-shape of a broad torso and narrow hips. God, she wanted to rip that Harvard T-shirt off. With her teeth. “Assuming things go well with my project.”

  “How about we have dinner tomorrow night?”

  An unexpected rush hit her chest. “I’d love that.”

  “The Colonnade, right? I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “I’ll be in the lobby.”

  “Great.”

  She started to stand, but he held up a hand, then slipped the other in his pocket for a phone. “Let me get you an Uber. Even if the rain stopped, it’s a long walk.”

  “I just called one,” she said, turning her phone over to check the app. “He’ll be here in two minutes.”

  “Okay.” David pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on the table. While he did, Jenna rose and took one more scan of the bar.

  “You don’t have to go,” she said. Maybe he could find other company.

  He gave a soft laugh and adjusted his glasses. “This booze isn’t worth staying without you.”

  “Oh.” That was so sweet. “But…”

  “Don’t worry.” He put a hand on her back to usher her toward the door. “I want to walk you out.” He lowered his head to get his mouth close to her ear. “Gotta have at least one kiss goodbye.”

  Her whole body tensed and heated at the baritone whisper and how much she wanted that kiss. And more of that sexy voice sending chills up her spine all night long. “Maybe two,” she replied, leaning into him a tiny bit.

  As they stepped outside, they both laughed and looked up.

  “Now it stops,” she said, holding her hand out to feel barely a drizzle.

  With his hand on her shoulder, he turned her a little to face him. “But as rainstorms go, that one was pretty damn fun.”

  “Yeah,” she said, sounding a little breathless as she locked on to his gaze. “It was.”

  For a long moment, they just looked at each other, and she felt that same warmth curl through her, but with a little more urgency than before. A little ache started low in her belly as she memorized the lines of his face and the depth of his eyes.

  “You sure you have to go?” he asked, sliding his hands around her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “I had to leave that bar.”

  “Why?”

  She swallowed. “Someone was in there who…” She shook her head, not willing to admit she was afraid of a man she’d never met. “I had to leave.”

  “Oh, I get it.”

  He didn’t, but let him think it was an ex she wanted to avoid. She glanced over her shoulder for the Uber, wishing like hell the driver would be at least five more minutes so she could stay this close to David’s solid, warm body. “Don’t worry. If he comes out, I’ll cover you.”

  She smiled. “How?”

  He dipped his head. “Like this.”

  His lips came down on hers, hot and sweet and tasting like rain and maybe whatever was in that glass he’d left behind. She let a moan escape her throat as goose bumps rose over her body, and a little tornado started building between her legs. His tongue traced her teeth as he rubbed his hands up and down her back, every move slow and deliberate and…promising.

  The rumble of a car pulled her back into the moment, followed by the soft spray of tires in the gutter next to them.

  “Picking up Jenna?”

  “Damn it.” They whispered the words in perfect unison, right into each other’s mouth right before they broke the kiss.

  “I’m Jenna.” The words came out rough, her breath trapped in her lungs.

  David held her a little tighter, as if letting go would physically hurt. “Can I share your Uber?”

  The question spilled over her like more rain, hot this time, and welcome.

  “Yeah.” She didn’t want to give it too much thought. Didn’t want to analyze and paralyze. All she wanted was to go with the moment…and with David.

  He opened the door for her, then slid in after. “The Colonnade Hotel?” It was as much a question to her as an instruction to the driver.

  And as soon as the car moved, David pulled her closer, smoking her with one long look. “Five more minutes,” he whispered. “Better make the most of them.”

  She closed her eyes and slid into another hot kiss, as dizzy as if she’d downed both those glasses left on the table. She wrapped her arms around him, tucking herself into his body for the sheer pleasure of it.

  With a sweet sigh into her mouth, he slid his hand up and down her waist, slipping to the front, grazing her breast with a sure, talented touch. “What do you want, pretty, pretty Jenna?”

  She eased back to open her eyes and look at him. What did she want? Distraction? Escape? A night not to worry about tomorrow but to give in to what her body was screaming for?

  “This.” She lifted her head and let his lips sear her throat. “That.” She arched her back to offer his hand full access to her body. “Everything.”

  “Everything can be arranged.” On the next kiss, he slid his tongue into her mouth to make her whole body quake with need. “You sure you want to go to your hotel, or would you like to visit my place?”

  His place. That was…a little too real. “I have an early meeting.”

  “So do I.” He kissed her lightly, as if he sensed her trepidation. “The Colonnade it is.”

  “Yes.” Hotel sex with a stranger was…not fine, exactly. But what she needed.

  With her career on the line and her life on the brink of a solid failure, she needed
comfort and warmth and a mouth that made her forget everything for just one night.

  Tomorrow, she’d fight her battles with Brock Blackthorne. Tonight, she’d give in to the raw, rugged promise of David in the Rain.

  Chapter Three

  “Whoa. Whoa. Holy…whoa.”

  “Whoa…what?” Brock looked up from his desk, pulling his thoughts away from the night before, to meet the familiar gaze of a woman he trusted as much as any other in his life. Familiar and, this morning, shocked.

  “That’s quite the fur coat you’re growing on your face.”

  He rubbed his beard. “Almost four weeks in King Harbor.”

  “One more, and you’ll need a weed wacker to brush your teeth.”

  He laughed and shook his head, always amused by Karen Whitmeyer, who’d been his administrative assistant since he first walked into this office, fresh out of business school, five years ago. “No one complained…” Last night. “In Maine.”

  “Well, your eight-thirty meeting just arrived in the lobby. But Duke is on his way up to cut your hair and do something about that…” She tipped her head, scrutinizing him with her keen maternal size-up that she probably gave to her teenagers when they came down for breakfast every morning. “Normally, I don’t like a beard on you, but with that Armani? Something’s working on you today.”

  Something worked on him last night. “Yeah, well, I feel good. Maine always does that to me.” And a woman with the sweetest lips, the sexiest body, and a surprisingly adventurous spirit. Just the thought of Jenna in his arms all night until he had to slip out at six that morning brought a smile to his face.

  “You certainly look…” She crossed her arms and studied him again. “I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

  Satisfied. Charged. Ready for more tonight when he would pick her up at seven. He gave a sly smile. “I met someone, all right?”

  She sucked in a breath. “In Maine?”

  “Actually, right here in Boston.”

  “Oh my word.” She pressed the files she was holding to her chest like he’d just given her the secret to a happy life. “My prayers have been answered, Brock.”