When We Kiss (15 page)

Once a quarter? What, did she want him to sign a contract or something? He might've behaved like a manwhore at various times in his life, but he wasn't
actually
one. “Let's be direct. Please? Do you want me to have tea with you every three months, or are you asking for something else?”

“You'll have to spend the night with me. And have sex. At least twice.”

Oh for fuck's sake. She was insane. “Good-bye, Whitney. I'm blocking you now.” He disconnected the call and Googled how to block her number, then did just that.

As he set the phone down, he heard a footfall in the hallway and looked toward the half-open door.

Evan pushed inside. “Hey.”

Liam turned, the stiff seat of his old chair creaking as he tried to maneuver it. In the end, he had to push on the edge of the desk to rotate properly. “Hey, Evan.”

Evan's gaze was on the chair instead of Liam. “You need some new furniture.”

Liam laughed. “A chair, maybe, but I don't spend enough time here to make it worthwhile.”

Evan walked into his room. “Are you sure? I was pretty surprised to get back from my honeymoon and find that you were still here. What gives?” He went to the double bed, which felt cramped after Liam's king back in Denver, and sat down.

“I'm hanging out for the zoning appeal.”

“Why? From what I understand, Aubrey's still working on her response, and then it could be a few weeks until the oral argument. Seems like you could do everything you're doing from Denver.”

That was more than true. “I've, uh, been checking out The Alex, doing some skydiving, and working from here, of course.” He gestured to his open laptop on the desk.

Evan vaguely nodded, his gaze landing on Liam periodically during the conversation. “I'm surprised. It's strange enough that
I
came home, but your being here defies logic.”

Liam didn't understand what he meant. Logically, they all should have come home, at least temporarily or intermittently to help with the project Alex had laid out. But life wasn't logical. Evan, however, was sometimes ruled by logic.

Liam rested his elbows on the arms of the chair he'd gotten when he'd started high school. “Why is that, exactly?”

“Because you've worked harder than anyone to establish a life outside of Ribbon Ridge that would be difficult to leave. Kyle had no strings in Florida, and Sara wasn't that far away to begin with.” She'd been living about forty-five minutes outside Ribbon Ridge and running a successful event-planning business when Alex had died.

“Sara still had a business.”

“Which she sold, like I sold mine.” Evan had been a tech consultant with his own one-man firm. “Are you really going to sell your business?”

Right. Sell off millions of dollars' worth of commercial real estate and the revenue that generated. “Hell no.”

“My point exactly. You're never coming back here, and you set it up that way.”

Liam still wasn't sure where Evan was going, but that wasn't necessarily surprising. He sometimes rambled or just outright talked in circles. It was part of his autism. It was also what made him the brother Liam loved. “So your point is that I moved away with the intention of never coming back.”

“Yes.”

“Didn't you do that, too?” Liam asked. Evan had moved a couple of hours north into southwest Washington.

“Yes, and do you know why? I mean, do you
really
know why?”

“To exercise your independence?”

Evan quirked a smile. “You could say that, too, but that's a lame explanation, and you know it. I left because of the noise. Everyone was always hovering over me. They did the same thing to Sara. That's why she left, too.”

Liam didn't want to, but he couldn't help but think of Alex. No one had endured more hovering than him. But he hadn't been able to leave. Well, Liam supposed he could've, but who would've taken care of him when he was ill?

“You didn't really
have
to go, though. You had a built-in job and everything.” Evan was referring to Archer Enterprises' real-estate division.

“I wanted to build something on my own. You know that.”

Evan lifted a shoulder. “You could've taken Archer Real Estate to the next level, but you didn't.”

“I'm really confused now. It defies logic that I came back, and yet you're saying I never should've left.”

“No, I'm not making any kind of judgment whatsoever. It defies logic that you came back, because you worked so hard to leave, to escape this situation.”

Liam's chest twisted. This conversation was edging very close to something he'd never discussed with any of them. “And what situation was that?”

He leaned forward, his gaze landing on Liam for a long, solid moment. “Alex. You hated being here. Seeing him. And that's okay, because he hated seeing you, too.”

Holy shit. Evan had laid it out perfectly. The things that he and Alex never said to each other but were tacit understandings.
I'll do my thing over here, you do yours over there. We keep in touch, we do the sports, we don't have to live
together.

Liam's pulse slammed in his throat. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because I'm wondering if you're ready to come home now that he's gone. You can be here without feeling guilty, without worrying how much he resents you.”

Of course Evan, who had practically zero filter, would state things so truthfully and also so accurately.

“You haven't talked about this to anyone else, have you?” Liam hesitated to ask him that. He didn't want it to seem like Evan shouldn't say anything. He was terrible at secrets.

“No, and I won't. I think some of them get it anyway, even if they don't really think about it. I mean, why
would
you think about it? It's kind of depressing and fucked up, isn't it?”

So. Much.

“Anyway,” Evan continued, “I'm actually really good at secrets now. When I got the job at Archer last fall, no one knew it was me for a few months.”

Liam stared at his brother. Like the rest of them, he'd changed. He'd . . . evolved or something. And now he was going to be a father. “You're going to be a great dad, you know.”

Evan barked out a laugh. “I don't know that at all, but thanks for saying so. Alaina's going to be the world's best mother, so I figure I have a little wiggle room.”

“You like being back here? Working at Archer?”

Again, Evan looked him in the eye. “I love it. I honestly can't believe how much. The job is . . . fantastic. And Alaina and the baby . . . ” He swiped his hand through his hair. “I was pretty overwhelmed at first—still am sometimes—but I've never felt like this before. I never imagined I could feel like this. I mean, I've always been happy enough. I love the family. Things are good. But this transcends all that.” He laughed. “Listen to me being all poetic and shit.”

Liam was still trying to process everything Evan had said. What he was describing almost felt like the way Liam felt when his adrenaline rush took over, that indescribable high that, yeah, pretty much transcended everything. “I think I get it.”

Evan shook his head. “You only think you do. Until you fall in love, until you find that person who just makes everything
right
, you don't really know. Sorry, bro.”

Irritation scratched at Liam's brain. He didn't like it when people told him he didn't know something. But maybe Evan was right. Liam had never been in love. He had no idea what that felt like and probably never would. He'd actually have to let someone close enough, and that wasn't happening.

And why was that exactly?

Because letting someone into his heart meant exposing himself, being vulnerable. It meant letting them see the ugly truths Evan had just revealed out loud. It also meant tying himself to something permanently. Like to an oxygen tank.

Liam jerked in physical response. He sat up straight and pulled his arms from the chair, resting his hands in his lap.

If Evan saw him twitch, he didn't say so. He stood up from the bed. “I just stopped by to say hi. I had to pick up a few things that were still in my room. Can't be officially moved into my new house until my stuff's on display.” He had to be referring to his myriad of sci-fi collectibles.

“If that was you saying hi, I'd hate to see what a heart-to-heart looks like,” Liam joked.

Evan wiped a hand over his face. “Yeah, I hadn't planned on coming in here and getting all sentimental and crap. Sorry. I'm just glad you're here, for however long. See you later.”

Liam watched Evan go, but the sense of unease his words had generated lasted long after he'd gone. Liam was just glad Evan hadn't pursued wanting to know whether he was staying in Ribbon Ridge permanently. Because right now the answer was still a fat no. It was becoming evident that those who came back settled down, and he'd just established that he couldn't do that. There was no way his future was in Ribbon Ridge.

W
AS THERE ANYTHING
better than a smooth pinot gliding down your throat after a long day in court? Aubrey sat back on her couch and put her feet up on the ottoman.

Okay, maybe buttery soft yoga pants, fuzzy socks, and a favorite sweatshirt were a close second. She reached for the remote and turned on the TV, intent on checking out her DVR to see what treasures she'd missed the past few weeks while she'd been furiously working on perfecting the zoning brief along with all of her other matters. The only thing she'd kept up on was
Game of Thrones
, and that was only because the Archers had invited her over.

She had a great time at those Sunday dinners and would be disappointed when they stopped. When would that be? When the zoning was finalized? But she would still be overseeing Alex's trust until The Alex was finished. That would be in a couple of months or so. Maybe then she'd part ways with the Archers.

But she didn't see that happening. She'd become good friends with so many of them, and she had privileged access to their mudroom door. Plus, Ribbon Ridge was a small town, and she wouldn't be able to avoid the Archers even if she wanted to.

Okay, so they were friends forever. Or something. That didn't mean she had to continue going to Sunday dinner over there, especially when she found Mr. Right and started her own family.
Game of Thrones
only lasted a few more weeks, damn the short seasons anyway, so by the end of that, she could politely excuse herself from the routine.

Bummer.

She sensed it would be far easier than parting ways with Liam, although they'd made good progress on Sunday. They'd spent the entire evening in each other's orbit without touching, and she'd kept her mind out of the gutter. Mostly.

After finally finding satisfaction with the brief, she'd forwarded it to him last night. He hadn't responded. No
Thanks for sending
or
I'll get back to you soon
. Nothing. She might have fired it off into a black hole. If he could keep ignoring her like that, her job of ditching him would get a whole lot easier.

Sinking farther into the couch, she pulled up the DVR menu and scanned the shows she'd recorded. Ugh, why was she still recording some of these? There were shows she hadn't watched in over a year. As she set about cleaning things up, a knock on the door startled her.

She set the remote on the couch and stood up to look through the windows in the door. Liam again?

He knocked, and she went to the door, opening it wide. It was a good thing, because he walked right in without waiting for her to invite him.

“Hi, Liam. Come in.” She shut the door with a loud click.

He walked into the front room and set his helmet on the window seat. “I read the brief.”

She stepped toward him but kept her distance. Given the firm downturn of his mouth and the pitch of his brows, she gathered he hadn't liked what she'd written. “What's wrong with it?”

His expression didn't alter. “It's fine.”

“Then why are you looking at me as if I've just fed you bad fish?”

At that, his features loosened, but only for a moment. The grooves in his forehead came back almost immediately. “Because it's not good enough to beat Sutherlin.”

How dare he? She'd worked her ass off on that brief. Pure anger scalded her insides and burned away any trace of shame she'd felt at being in his presence again. “How would you know?”

“Because I've been a party to a dozen of these cases. Maybe more. How many have you done?”

One.
This
one. She bristled but refused to let him see her vulnerability. “Why does that matter?”

“Because Sutherlin has probably done
hundreds
.”

She crossed her arms, and her shoulders tensed up. “Tell me specifically what's wrong.”

“I e-mailed you a detailed list about a half hour ago.”

A detailed list?
“As you can see, I'm done working for the day. I'll read it tomorrow.” She dropped her arms and turned toward the front door. “Sorry you rode all the way over here just to tell me something you'd already put in an e-mail. I thought you were a little more technologically savvy than that.”

He advanced on her, his gaze softening, turning almost condescending—or so it seemed in her agitated state. “I wanted to talk to you in person. Like a friend would.”

“A friend who tells you that you're a terrible lawyer? Thanks, but I think I'm actually good on the friend front.” Unlike her vulnerability, she didn't bother trying to hide her smirk or her annoyance. “You know, if you had such a problem with me handling this case, you should've said so from the start.”

He stared at her. “I did. I also never said I had a problem with you handling it. I just have a problem with the brief. Read my notes, and fix it. You'll see I'm right.”

“Or maybe you should find a new attorney, and
they
can fix it.” She turned and walked toward the door, intent on throwing it open and shoving him outside.

He followed her. “Hey, why are you so mad?”

She put her hand on the doorknob and was about to turn it when he put his palm flat against the edge, holding it closed.

“Tell me why you're so mad.”

She didn't release the doorknob but turned her head to glare at him. “You just came here to tell me my hard work is subpar, and you have the gall to ask why I'm mad?”

He lifted his hand from the door and brushed it through his hair. “Hey, I'm trying not to be a dick. Sometimes with work stuff I can be a little too intense. Sorry. Was I a dick about it?”

Maybe not, but that didn't change things. Change what exactly? That he was here in her house again, and all she wanted to do was drag him upstairs and toss him on her bed?

She turned the knob and pulled the door open, but he slammed it shut with his palm.

“What the hell?” Her eyes widened, and she stared at him.

“I think you're picking a fight with me on purpose,” he said. “This feels strangely like the first time we met. When I picked a fight with you. I accused you of taking advantage of Alex, of billing him for hours and hours of work when you knew he was going to kill himself. I did everything except come out and accuse you of helping him to commit suicide.”

“Actually, I think you might've done that, too.” She'd been horrified by his anger, but even more than that, she'd been anguished by his grief—because she'd felt it, too. She'd felt incredibly used and duped by Alex, a man she'd come to like, respect, and trust.

Liam had been so angry that tears had actually leaked from his eyes. Not many, maybe two or three, and she wasn't sure to this day if he'd even been aware of them. But from the moment she'd seen them, she hadn't been able to sustain her anger with him. Desperate to help him, she'd reached out and touched his face.

And that was all it had taken.

The contact had been like electricity—sharp and sudden, transformative. She hadn't known then but in hindsight recognized she would never be the same.

He ignited something within her. A power and drive, a connection to another person that seemed to eclipse any other relationship she'd had.

All of their grief, their desperation, their need had flowed between them. A moment later, when their lips met, it had honestly felt like some Grand Destiny, the kind of epic love story moment that made most people roll their eyes.

It was remarkable considering he'd stormed into her office like a giant . . . dick. Not like tonight. He might've been dick
ish
, but he hadn't been as awful as that night.

“I'd rather not think about that,” she said at last, too aware of his hand on the door and its proximity to her hand on the knob.

“I can't seem to think of anything else right now. Something happened that night . . . ”

Oh God, if he said anything close to what she'd felt, she would melt into a giant puddle, and there would be absolutely no hope for her where he was concerned. She was trying so hard to get over him, and he was making it impossible.

“Please don't talk about it.” She sounded croaky as a frog.

He moved his hand down the door. She saw it happen, could've moved her hand away. But she didn't. When he touched her, it was that night in her office all over again. Except this time she knew. She knew how it could end.

His fingers grazed over her thumb and stroked up to her wrist. “It's too bad you're seeing Stuart, because if you weren't, I would put that night to shame.”

Desire, already pooling thick and hot in her belly, ignited into a firestorm of lust. Unable to look in his eyes, she kept her focus on the door. “As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing Stuart, so I guess you'll have to rely on your ‘friends' excuse.”

He twined his fingers through hers and lifted her arm, pinning it against the door as he pivoted into her. She had no choice but to turn with him until her back was against the wood. His blue-gray eyes bore into hers, stoking the need rioting through her. “I'd rather be your lover than your friend. Will you let me? Please?”

She shouldn't. He wasn't her future. He didn't know how to plan past next weekend's thrill ride. But he was right now. Here. And she'd never wanted anything or anyone so badly in her life. One more time. One more night to carry her through all the other nights to come.

With her free hand, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward. “
Yes
. For tonight. Just like the song.” She knew he would understand the Dave Matthews Band song she meant.

He slipped his hand along her neck and cupped the back of it as his lips found hers. As familiar as his kiss had become, it was always as thrilling as the first time. Even when she'd been drunk the other night, she'd reveled in the rush of excitement and her insatiable need for him.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth as his hips came against hers, grinding.

Apparently his need was just as insatiable.

She pushed his jacket off and tossed it toward the window seat, but missed. Uncaring, she clutched at his back with her free hand, then moved it down to his ass. She widened her stance and pulled him harder into her body. She wanted to feel him against her core. She wanted him to ease the ache she'd been living with for far too damn long.

He licked and sucked at her mouth, reminding her of why he was the most skilled lover she'd ever had. He'd used that word—
lover
—and she'd been lost. She'd had boyfriends, but she didn't think she'd ever had a
lover
. She worried she wouldn't have one ever again.

She closed her mind to that thought. To everything but the heat of his tongue, the pulse of his chest against hers, the rigidity of his cock pressing between her legs.

He released her hand and brought his hand to her side, massaging her through the bulk of her sweatshirt. The cozy garment had been a great idea for relaxing on the couch. Not so much for sexy times with the hottest guy she'd ever known. She let him go in order to tug at the hem and pull it over her head.

Realizing her intent, he helped. And was much more efficient as he stripped it from her with one fluid movement. He had to break the kiss, and he'd apparently opened his eyes—as she had.

“You aren't wearing a bra,” he rasped.

“I thought I was done for the day. You know, snuggled up on the couch with a glass of wine. Who needs a bra for that?”

The way he stared at her breasts made her heart pound. He made her feel so sexy and desirable. Like he could never get enough of her. But then, that's what
insatiable
meant, wasn't it?

“You don't need a bra ever again, as far as I'm concerned.” He brought both hands up and cupped her, weighing her flesh, driving shocks of need deep into her core. Her legs quivered with desire. He ran his thumbs over the nipples, then rolled them between his fingertips before pulling just enough to make her gasp. He repeated the series—cup, thumb, roll, pull. Once, twice, by the third time she'd cast her head back against the door and closed her eyes, letting sensation overtake everything else.

Then his mouth replaced his touch, and she nearly crumpled to the floor. She clutched at his head, threading her fingers into his thick hair, and held onto him as if he could hold her upright. He braced a hand on her hips, squeezing her, and that helped her stay on her feet as dizzying waves of pleasure washed over her. He sucked and licked, making a feast of her flesh, before moving to the other one, where he repeated the delicious torture.

She widened her legs, and he seemed to understand her unspoken need as his palm covered her and pressed against her clit. But then, he always knew what she wanted before she did. He knew things she wanted that she'd never even imagined. Things that were now firmly entrenched in her dreams.

But this wasn't a dream. This was real. This was happening. And it flew in the face of every bit of common sense she possessed. He pressed harder against her. A flash of light ignited behind her closed eyes as ecstasy warned her that an orgasm wasn't far off.

Screw common sense.

He pulled his mouth from her breast and came back up. His lips and tongue teased her ear as his hand moved over her yoga pants. “Where? Here? Someplace else?”

They'd had sex in some interesting places and in probably every position imaginable—at least that she could think of. She wouldn't put it past Liam to have something up his sleeve.

She wanted him now. “Couch to your left in the TV room or dining-room table to your right.”

His tongue traced the shell of her ear before he whispered, “There's the window seat if you want to give the neighbors a little show.”

She wasn't really interested in exhibitionism, but damn if he didn't make it sound sexy as hell. “You're a bad influence, you know that?”