Give a Little (4 page)

“Clo’s right. I should buck up.” He took his phone out of his pocket. “Will you guys watch it with me?”

“Yes,” Chloe said eagerly, pulling up a stool next to them. She sat down and tapped her fingers on the counter while he pulled up the link.

The page came up, and the image on the screen was a still of his grandfather wearing a captain’s hat and a red shirt. In the weeks since Rowdy had seen him, he’d deteriorated. It broke his heart to see it. Instead, he focused on the mischievous gleam that was still in the old man’s eyes.

The video loaded and began to play. “Rowdy, my boy, you were just here. It warmed me down to my balls, seeing you one last time. I’m glad I was still kicking a little and not in diapers, too. I don’t want you to remember me that way.”

Pop pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m not going to be around much longer. I can feel it in my old bones.” He leaned in. “I gotta tell you, boy, I don’t mind moving on. I’m kind of looking forward to seeing my sweet Tillie again.”

Chloe reached to pause the video. “Who’s Tillie?”

“His wife, my dad’s mom.” Rowdy smiled. “Pop used to chase Tillie around their house, trying to catch her so he could kiss her, and my sister and I would cheer him on. They had a great love.”

Viola covered his hand with hers. “Shall we see what he wants to tell you?”

“Yeah.” He pressed play.

Pop reanimated. “I’ve been thinking about life. I’m an old man, and life still passed by so quickly. I realize that there’s a whole lot that I didn’t do that I wish I had.

“So I’m asking you to do some of them for me.”

“Woah,” Chloe said.

Rowdy nodded. “Word.”

Pop continued. “I put together a bucket list. Don’t worry. It’s short. Do each item and then you get your inheritance.”

“Blackmail, Pop?” Rowdy shook his head, impressed.

His grandfather frowned. “Now, you may think this is blackmail, but it’s not. I’m doing this to prove a point. Also, a couple of the things are really important to me. Like the cancer shindig happening in London.”

“Cancer shindig?” Viola repeated, with a raised brow.

“I wanted to go to this shindig myself,” Pop explained. “But your dad wasn’t going to let me travel. He’s a worrier, you know.”

“Is he?” Chloe asked.

Rowdy shrugged. “I’ve never thought so.”

Pop leaned forward, his face lit with determination. “You know how important the shindig is to me.”

“Tillie died of cancer twenty years ago,” Rowdy explained.

“But I got you a ticket to go.” His grandfather smiled slowly, his eyes glinting.

“Uh-oh.” Rowdy glanced at the women. “When he gets that look, there’s gonna be trouble.”

“Since I’m not going to be able to help them raise money,” Pop continued, “I thought you could, so I signed you up to be part of their annual auction. I always wanted to be part of it, but you doing it is just as good. It’s not till the end of April.”

“That’s next week,” Chloe pointed out.

Viola frowned. “What does he mean by auction?”

“No idea,” he murmured, staring at his phone’s screen.

“I wrote down the rest of the items,” Pop said, fishing around. Then he produced a piece of paper triumphantly, holding it out to the lens.

Rowdy paused the video. It was hard to read, but he got the gist of the bucket list. He shook his head, mouth gaping. “Crikey, Pop.”

“Does that say skinny-dipping?” Chloe asked.

Viola covered her daughter’s eyes. “Don’t get ideas.”

“I’m not the one with ideas here.” Chloe took out her phone and began tapping at it. A second later she started to snicker. “They auction off men at that charity event. You’re going to be sold to the highest bidder.”

Rowdy sat up. “What?”

Viola covered her mouth with her hand, but her amusement leaked from her every pore.

Rowdy rolled his eyes. “Say it.”

His friend lowered her hand. “You’re going to be the boy-toy of a rich biddy for a night.” A laugh escaped her, and she covered her mouth again.

“Great.” He glared at the video and then pressed play to get the rest of it over with. How bad could it be?

“Now I don’t need you to show proof that you’ve completed each item. My lawyer wanted it, but I know you, boy. Your word is gold. Your dad raised you an honorable man.” Pop held up a hand. “I know you’re thinking I’ve lost it, but there’s method here, boy. And I know with you opening your sports rehab center that you can use the cash, so I’m hoping you humor me and do this so you can have the money, because I’d like nothing better than to invest in your company. I’ll be the silentest of investors, because I’ll be six feet under. Ha!”

Rowdy shook his head. “Geez.”

Chloe nudged him. “He’s like you.”

It was the best thing someone could have said to him. He slung his arm around the kid’s shoulder.

“It’s win-win,” Pop said with a brilliant smile. “Get out your tux and get ready to strut your stuff. This is going to be fun.”

Mobile in hand, Bea stood at her window and stared out at the view. Her offices were on the top floor, not accidentally. When she’d first leased them, she’d wanted the world to look up to her.

It didn’t take years of psychotherapy to know it was her father whose respect she’d wanted.

She glanced at her reflection in the glass; her smile held no humor. Ironically, he hadn’t cared. Not that she was surprised. Respect for his daughters was something Reginald Summerhill had never been capable of.

It’d been doubly bad for her, because Reginald had expected his firstborn to be a boy. Nothing she’d ever done—nothing she could ever do—was good enough for him. It couldn’t be.

She still fought it, too. His derision was the gift that kept on giving; she just hid it better now than she had back then.

And she’d leaned how to shield herself. Which was why Luca was such a bad idea. Around him, her walls seemed built on sand. Around him, she’d fall into that old pattern she’d tried to move beyond.

Lips firm, she swiped her phone awake and opened her contacts. Fortunately, Stallon-E had fallen into her lap. Researching the company had given her something to occupy her mind.

The company was almost too good to be true. They were boasting that they had the prototype for a high-performance electric car with a five-hundred-mile range.

It was unheard of. Even Elon Musk claimed that his newest battery “should” run about four-hundred miles. That sort of efficiency, added with performance, in a sleek Italian package, was irresistible.

“No thinking about sleek Italian packages,” she said to herself as she waited for her call to be connected.

“Bea, this is a surprise,” Marcus Sutter’s voice came on the line.

“It has been a while, Marcus.” The last time they’d talked was a couple years ago, when they’d gone in together on an investment in a small company that was developing cutting-edge voice recognition software. She liked him, and she respected his opinion. “How’s your family?”

“Growing.” His voice lifted with pride. “I have a new grandson.”

“Congratulations,” she said softly. Vi was having another baby—a girl, she’d found out yesterday—and Bea understood exactly how her colleague felt. “How many does that make?”

“Six. We’re a growing brood.” He laughed. “How about you? Any children yet?”

She’d never wanted children. She was too selfish—she valued her freedom too much. But lately, when she saw the dreamy look on Vi’s face, she wondered what it’d be like.

Marcus didn’t need to know that though. “Children aren’t in my mission statement,” she joked.

“You’d need a wife to raise them,” he joked back.

“All the good ones are taken,” she said lightly, trying not to picture Luca with a blond child in his arms. She straightened her back and got down to business. “Marcus, have you heard of Stallon-E?”

“Who hasn’t? They’re the wunderkind of the automotive industry. Are you thinking of investing in them? It’s not the sort of business you normally seek.”

“Fraser’s interested in them.”

“Ah,” Marcus said in understanding. “How is that bastard these days?”

“The same.” There was no love lost between the two men either. The only difference was that Marcus didn’t have a personal grudge against him. “I wouldn’t mind stealing this out from under Fraser. He doesn’t know I’m aware that he’s making a move.”

“Then time is of the essence,” the older man summed up. “From what little I’ve read, they certainly seem like they have their act together. Aside from their technology, they’re privately funded, and they spirited away the managing director from Ford to spearhead the company.”

“That’s what I understand.” She pursed her lips. “Do you know anyone connected with them personally?”

“No.” There was a pause. “Beatrice, I wouldn’t mind getting in on the action.”

“I wouldn’t mind you in on the action either,” she replied honestly as her office door opened. “Think you can ask around about Stallon-E? Then we can compare notes.”

“Consider it done. Talk to you soon.”

She hung up and turned around. “Inga—”

She shut her mouth abruptly when she saw Luca standing there instead of her assistant, hands in his pockets. He wore dark green pants and a navy velvet coat with a scarf. He should have looked ridiculous, but instead he looked perfect.

“Hello,
Beatrice
,” he purred.

Goose bumps rose on her skin, the way they always did when he said her name like that, like it was sinful and to be savored. And just like always, she had the urge to run up to him and press herself against him, to ask him to hold and kiss her.

But that wasn’t her, she reminded herself. She was a powerful woman and didn’t need adoration. She retook her seat at the desk, master of her universe again. “Isn’t this a surprise?”

“Did you miss me, Beatrice?”

She wanted to say
not at all
, but they’d both know that was a lie. Instead, she crossed her legs and pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t ask him where he’d been the past three weeks.

He smiled as though he could read all her thoughts. He stalked toward her, taking his time like it was part of their foreplay.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, no, you don’t. You aren’t going to get lucky today, Luca.”

“I know.” Turning her chair, he took her mobile out of her hand and set it on the desk. Holding the armrests, he leaned so close that his breath tickled her skin. “You’re the one who’s going to get lucky.”

She shook her head. “I—”

He lowered his mouth, and any argument she’d had was gone.

His lips were criminal. Warm and confident, lingering and lazy like he had all the time in the world—like he knew nothing could possibly be more important than this moment.

“You missed me,” he whispered against her mouth, a hand spearing into her hair.

“I think you’re projecting,” she said, sliding her hands to hold his hips.

He kissed down her neck. “Every moment I’m away from you is an eternity, Beatrice.”

She shivered, and her nipples tightened, tingling with the need to be touched. “How many women have you said that to?”

“One.” He bit her where her pulse beat so hard. “You.”

“You don’t really think I’d believe that, do you?” But—good Lord—part of her wanted it to be real.

“Yes, because it’s true.” His hand glided up her body and undid her top button. “Were you just talking about Stallon-E?”

She tried not to be turned on by the way he said it in his accent—
STA-low-neh
. She’d never admit it, but his voice was delicious. Neither would she admit that her knickers became damp whenever she heard him speak.

“Well, Beatrice?” His finger dipped into her cleavage, barely touching her.

Her back arched of its own volition. “What do you know of Stallon-E?”

“I’m a racecar driver.” He slipped open another button and spread her shirt open to reveal her bra. “I know cars, especially the beautiful ones with delicious curves,” he said, his gaze on her.

She looked down, knowing how her skin looked against the jade of her lingerie. Luca was partial to red, she’d discovered, but based on his expression he didn’t seem to mind jade either.

He bent down to place a kiss where the lace stopped and her skin began. “
Bellissima
,” he said reverently, running a finger inside the cup.

She hissed as his nail scraped her nipple. She was about to lower the lace and offer herself to him when her office door opened.

She looked around Luca’s body to find Inga in the doorway, eyes wide, shock written all over her normally unflappable face.

Bea couldn’t blame her—this never happened. She believed in separation of church and state. Business and sex didn’t mix, and she never allowed any sort of shenanigans to happen in her office, unlike many of her colleagues who often conducted trysts in theirs.

She pushed his hands away and cleared her throat as she rebuttoned her blouse. “Yes, Inga?”

“I thought you were alone.” Inga looked at Luca, curiosity bright in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Bea said curtly. She glanced at Luca, expecting him to be ogling the young woman.

Luca crossed his arms and sat on the edge of her desk, gaze on Bea. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that they had been interrupted, or the prominent evidence in his trousers. “I’d say otherwise,” he chimed in.

That was the last thing that needed to be voiced under her employee’s avid gaze. She glared at him, silently telling him to be quiet before facing Inga. “What did you need?”

Her assistant cleared her throat. “I emailed you the information on Stallon-E.”

Luca faced Bea with a frown. “You never said why you’re interested in Stallon-E.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Cars are my business, and so are you even though you refuse to admit it.” He arched his brow, daring her to contradict him, his sharp gaze unexpected for a playboy racecar driver. “I’m surprised that you’ve heard of them. What do you know of them?”

He asked with intensity she didn’t know he’d have outside the racetrack or bed. She tapped her fingers on the desk, wondering where it stemmed from. “I know nothing yet. That’s what the research is for.”