Emerald Fire (26 page)

Still, just for tonight, she wanted to believe. How wrong could it be to shove aside every doubt, every negative thought, and just live in the moment? It might be every kind of bad idea, but it’s exactly what she wanted. The mere thought sent her pulse surging.

Finn’s house wasn’t far, a hundred yards max, but it sat on a piece of high ground. They headed for the SUV, driving the short distance so they wouldn’t have to carry their bags over in the dark. A few scattered light poles lit the grounds, showing Chloe just how spread out the place really was, their pale yellow glow displaying a charming mix of old and new.

The house porch light was on, and they climbed the steps without a word. Finn unlocked the door and ushered them inside.

“When I built the house,” he finally said, “I intended to move Dad in here, too. It’s twice the size, better insulated, and equipped with modern appliances. But he refused, said the old place suited him just fine.”

“I like the old place, too.”

“Not surprised, not with all the history under that roof.” He flipped on a few lights and Chloe glanced around her with curiosity.

The house was definitely bigger, but that was probably the high ceilings and open floor plan. Where Ronan’s house was all wood, quaint features, and old world in style, Finn’s house was large windows, gas fireplace, and long, clean lines. The walls were light, the furniture dark, and décor was minimal. It was more austere than cluttered and pleasing to the eye, a lot like the man himself.

Finn dropped their bags on a sectional sofa that faced a large flat screen TV hanging on the wall above the fireplace. “I haven’t had time to do much with the place since building it. I’ve spent near every waking hour on NorthStar.”

She nodded in acceptance of that and spotted an open set of pocket doors off the main room. Well-stocked bookshelves were visible, something no historian could resist, and she gravitated toward the threshold. It was an office and obviously a place where he spent a lot of time. Signs of his personality were everywhere, from ship schematics to a geographical globe to a huge mahogany desk covered with a computer, open books, industry magazines, and a notepad filled with his strong handwriting.

“How about another glass of wine?”

She turned to see him standing in the kitchen, holding up a bottle of white and fishing in a drawer for an opener. She moved over to join him and climbed onto a high-backed stool at the island.

While he expertly opened the chardonnay, she took in the pale gray cabinets, dark granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. Very masculine and attractive kitchen, but used very little based on the lack of usual items competing for counter space.

“There’s probably not much in the fridge for breakfast in the morning. I usually join dad at his place. He’s the cook in the family.”

That made perfect sense. “If he makes breakfast half as good as his stew, I’m so there.”

Finn handed over a glass filled to the brim with chilled wine, and she sipped, enjoying the cool sensation on her tender throat. Then took another bigger sip for the false sense of courage it offered. The prospect of an entire night alone with him made her nervous. Or was that excited? She couldn’t decide, so she sipped again.

“I keep thinking that I’ll drive over to Providence and pick up some…um…kitchen things.” He waved a hand to indicate the bare counter space.

She gave a soft laugh. He really had no idea what things he wanted. Or needed. But the single most required appliance in any household was glaringly absent, and that could be problematic. “You do have a coffee maker, right?”

He smiled. A grin that clearly said he was up to something as he stepped over to a cabinet that nested on the countertop by the fridge. He lifted a rollup door out of the way and slid out a stainless steel contraption that boasted a mirror finish, LED lights, and steam gauges.

“Meet Simonelli, my Italian espresso machine.”

“Oh. My. God.” Surely she'd died and gone to heaven.

“It has a high performing efficient heat exchanger and a pre-infusion system for full flavor extraction.”

She blinked, could not believe her ears. He couldn’t name a single kitchen utensil, but when it came to the important stuff, Finnegan Kane knew how to deliver. Her fingers itched to touch the cool, hard metal, so she slid off her stool, giving in to the lure. She rounded the island and reached out to reverently stroke Simonelli. “Oh, man, I think I’m in love.”

He leaned a hip against the counter next to her. “If you think that now, wait until you taste the coffee.”

A smile of delight crossed his lips, or maybe it was anticipation, and she wondered if he did irresistible on purpose.

“I don’t get it,” she said, looking around. “You haven’t bought a single thing for this kitchen as far as I can tell, and yet you have this?”

“I didn’t actually buy it. It’s sort of an incentive award.”

He must’ve made someone very happy. “Incentive for what?”

“Last summer I restored a nineteen-thirty-eight Scottish fishing trawler to peak condition. The owners wanted it tricked out with every bell and whistle and wanted it fast so they could participate in Sail Amsterdam.”

She lifted a brow in question. “And that is…”

“A special regatta that only happens once every five years. A show of shows and spectacular. I made the tight deadline, and they were able to arrive in time.”

“So they gave you this?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “Turned out to be a major coup for NorthStar, too. We were contacted about other work because of it.”

“Yes, but this?” She still couldn’t believe it and brought a hand to her heart, trying to still the excitement. “I cannot wait for tomorrow morning.” Her infatuation with the bounty hunter just escalated to a new level. “Fine espresso is my weakness.”

“Really?” Blue eyes stared at her, looking more interested than a fondness for coffee warranted. “What else makes you weak in the knees?”

She didn’t have near enough wine in her to answer that question. “Why would I hand over that kind of weapon? I’d be crazy.”

Using one hand, he pushed the machine back into the cabinet and rolled the door back down. “Because Simonelli says.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes narrowed. “You are not holding my morning espresso hostage. Hell hath no fury like a woman without coffee.”

“I thought by now you knew who you were dealing with. A Kane stops at nothing to get what he wants. We use every tool at our disposal.”

The images that conjured in her mind were dangerous. And probably exactly what he intended. She refused to be manipulated. And coffee wasn’t something you used as leverage.

She turned away from temptation, both Simon and Finn, and reached across the island to grab her wine. She’d never been the type to need reinforcement for a decision, but she’d never handed over a secret without being in control of the outcome. Still, she didn’t plan on second-guessing that decision. It felt risky and exhilarating, but it didn’t feel wrong.

The reason was Finnegan Kane. She took another sip of wine and titled her head at him, contemplating the man as he leaned against the counter contemplating her. He wore sexy like a second skin. And she couldn’t deny that she wanted him. She knew he wanted her as well, but what if it was only about the emeralds? Was there more to this attraction than the dangerous treasure hunt they were on?

Fact one, he’d done nothing but help her since the day they met, not always willingly, but help he did. Fact two, he was totally gorgeous with his dark hair, blue eyes, wide shoulders and rock hard waist. Fact three, when he kissed her, the whole world disappeared. And there was that whole destiny thing. Maybe she should trust the fates. Drop the paranoia, the constant questioning of every move or motivation and just go with what felt right.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

She shook her head. He actually sounded concerned, he who intended to withhold coffee. He owed her. “I gave you one of my weaknesses,” she said. “Now you have to give me one of yours.”

Wariness settled around him. “What are you doing?”

Maybe it was the result of her life being threatened, or finally getting close to the emeralds after years of doubt and searching, but she wanted to stop being the mistrustful Chloe and for once throw caution to the winds. She just had no idea how to go about it, probably wasn’t wise to try.

But she was a woman. Wasn’t seduction supposed to be second nature or something? “It’s occurred to me that if we’re destined to solve this mystery together, then I should get to know you better.”

“I thought we already did that in the Bahamas.”

She fought back a grin. He did not just bring that up. Then again, wasn’t that what she wanted? A repeat performance of the magic she already knew he could work? Was it ever really in doubt? She was in. “If you’d like to do that again, then give me a weakness.”

Serious interest flared to life in his eyes. “You’re going to use sex to get information?”

“So? You were going to use coffee.”

“That sophisticated thing is just an act, isn’t it?”

“You’re stalling,” she said, beginning to feel empowered. “Give it up.”

He rubbed at the five o’clock shadow darkening his chin. Indulged in a drink of his wine. She suspected he took his time to think up an answer that would satisfy her curiosity, but not give away anything she can use against him.

“I like hot showers.”

She dwelled on the thought for a second then huffed out an impatient breath. “That’s not a weakness, it’s a preference. Try again.”

“You have something against hot showers?”

“Not in the least. I plan on taking one shortly.” She needed to wash away the memory of this morning, of a wicked knife and a pirate choking the air from her lungs. “But you aren’t playing the game right.”

“Maybe we should go take one right now.”

She opened her mouth to decline and froze on a visual of him, naked and soapy. She clamped her jaw shut and shook her head, but it wouldn’t go away. She tried a gulp of wine, but it was useless against that kind of imagery.

Then she realized he was turning the tables on her. The Bahamas was a seduction. His. Not that she was complaining, but shouldn’t it be her turn? She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

“Taking a shower is out of the question until you answer me.” Maybe she should clarify. A mutual shower was out of the question. She still intended to take one.

“I can’t do that.”

“Then no shower.” What was wrong with her? The ultimatum felt more like punishment than anything else. She was horrible at this seduction thing.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I only have the one shower, and it’s even better than the coffee maker.”

* * * *

Chloe’s eyes widened at that statement and Finn fought the urge to smile. He knew exactly what he was doing. Throwing her for a loop was the most fun he’d had in days, but he didn’t know how much more he could stand. He was beginning to lose the ability to act like he was unaffected by her game.

Especially now that he was imagining all the things he’d do to her in the shower.

“You are impossible, you know that? It’s a simple question.”

She was right; it was. “It’s a complicated answer.”

“Why?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, set down his wine glass, and gave her what she asked for. “Because, Chloe, my weakness is you.”

That stopped her in her tracks, just like he knew it would. The words were true. And that reality worried him. Danger followed them as they chased a two-hundred year old treasure, and keeping her safe overrode everything else. There wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t sacrifice to protect her. That made him and everything he’d worked for vulnerable.

“That makes no sense,” she said, waving it off. “It should be something like classic cars, international travel, or hot fudge sundaes. Not hot showers and not me.”

“Why not you?”

“Because I’ve caused the people I love nothing but trouble with this search. You’ve got to find another weakness.”

That was an interesting comment. “Any suggestions?”

She grew quiet for a moment, just sat there sipping on her wine. “I don’t understand,” she finally said. “Why me?”

By the saints, she’d done it again. Their conversation had changed. A minute ago they were doing the tango, dancing around the prospect of what he thought they both wanted. But she’d turned it into an impasse, demanding an explanation for something he didn’t want to define. If he’d any hope of circling back, he had to try.

“Two hundred years ago a promise was made by my ancestor.” The words came out without him even thinking. “It’s all there in the journal. I’m the man from NorthStar. That means I have an obligation. I’m not going to break it.”

Family honor was a legacy drilled into every Kane, including him, but he hadn’t realized until now what that truly meant. He felt a bond. A deep-rooted responsibility he intended to honor. What he didn’t have was a sense that he’d chosen his words wisely.

Chloe had suddenly turned frosty, her brows drawing together in a frown. “That’s all I am to you?
An obligation
?”

“No. It means I’m serious about making sure we all come out of this alive.” How could she take something so critical and make it sound like she was merely part of the job? She was the whole reason he risked everything.

She stood and downed the rest of her wine in one long smooth drink before carefully setting her glass down on the granite. “Well, thank you. I appreciate the admirable job you’ve done so far. Now, if you’ll just show me to the guest room, I’d like a shower.”

Damn it! They’d gone from hot and bothered to ice-cold distance, and he wasn’t sure how it had happened. How could she believe the only thing she meant to him was an obligation? He’d risked his life, walked away from a paycheck that would have completed his plans for NorthStar. Just this morning he’d faced a knife-wielding pirate to save her from bodily harm. Why did that mean so little to her?

She stood at the edge of the kitchen, waiting. She wanted a shower? Fine.