Worth the Risk (10 page)

Color rose in her creamy cheeks and it made him hot knowing he could make her flush with just a look. He slid one arm around her back and captured her mouth in a deep, probing kiss. They explored, stroked; tasting her again made him crave more. He ached for her in a way that felt like a lot more than want and taking a dangerous slide toward need.

Her arms circled his neck and he pulled her closer, letting his hand drift from her hip upward to the underside of her breast. Just far enough to tease the curves that had teased him in the barn. His fingers skated under the edge of her shirt, and he wanted to relieve her of the entire thing.

She pulled her mouth from his at the same time her fingers clamped down on his wrist. “Don’t.”

He’d reached the no-go line. His hand came to an abrupt halt but his heart raced ahead.

She stretched the hem of her shirt down over the top of her jeans. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, breathy, and it took him a second to come back to himself. As much as he wanted her, he had to slow it down. Making out on the couch was evidently way different than kissing against the barn wall.

With a finger under her chin, he gently raised her face. Again he wanted to ask if someone had hurt her. Was there some weird brotherly power thing going on? But her eyes seemed to beg him not to, implored him to let it go. So he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, sat back, and pulled her into his side. “Maybe we should do some of that TV watching.”

An hour later he stood on her front porch working himself up to goodbye. This shouldn’t be so hard. He was open and honest with women. No games. And Hannah didn’t want games. She’d asked him, begged him, not to play with her. But that’s all he did. Anything more serious with a woman just thrust him back to a time of loss and pissed him off.

Hannah stared up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent, her cloud of hair blowing gently around her shoulders. He opened his mouth to say
I don’t do relationships.
“Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

Well, shit.

He tried again. Started to say something like, I’m not sure where this can go, I’m not looking to get involved, even as his hand slid around her back and the other snaked up and into her hair. Then Hannah wound her arms around his neck and he was kissing her.

His lips moved over hers and it was unlike any good-night kiss he’d ever given or received. Still shocked by what just kissing her did to him. But with Hannah, there was no
just.
Everything about her was magnified into a tangle of confusion. Her lips felt like heaven against his. Her taste the sweetest he’d ever known. But he pulled back. If he didn’t do it soon, he’d never leave. “I’ll be traveling the next few days.”

“Okay.”

He peered into the dark woods, not feeling too good about his important trip at the moment. “You need a dog.” Or three.

“I had one.”

He followed her gaze to two silver dog bowls on the end of the porch, empty, stacked one on the other.

“That day in the grocery store…”

Shit. There was a reason she’d been crying, of course there was, though he’d never asked. “Ah, baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. He was old.”

But it wasn’t okay. “Your brothers live nearby?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, looked around again, needing to go, fighting the urge to stay. He made it halfway to his motorcycle when he spun back, climbed the steps, and pressed one more kiss on that sweet mouth.

“Lock up.” He waited until she did, then left while he still could.

Stephen’s private jet touched down at JFK International. He was met by Robert Sinclair’s personal driver, who whisked him into the city during the height of rush hour. Tired of the back-and-forth over this deal, he was ready to make a billion-dollar decision. If his backing wasn’t going into Sinclair Resorts, it would go somewhere else. You didn’t make money by sitting on what you had.

He leaned back against the black leather and watched the world rush by as the workday ended and nightlife began. New York, the city of money and power. The heartbeat of the business world.

But Trace Development was in Virginia, because that’s where his fiancée had wanted it. He’d thought to move a hundred times since, and a hundred times pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t run from memories. Couldn’t run from the fact that she was gone. Murdered by two teenagers who had nothing better to do than follow an unsuspecting woman home.

If he’d had his way and they’d married sooner, he’d have been left a widower. As it was, he’d just been really close. Close to vows, close to rings, then left with nothing to show he’d been weeks from binding himself to one person for life. Nothing but pain and fury eating away at him. Like all the McKinneys, he’d considered himself a one-woman man. That’s who he’d been. Who he
wanted
to be.

A certain woman with golden-brown eyes was threatening that.

A single horn honked, then a chorus, as the car came to a stop in lower Manhattan. The driver opened the door and Stephen went from the silence of his thoughts to the noise and pulse of the city. A few steps took him through another door and into the dark and quiet of the restaurant.

The maître d’ led him through a room done in deep reds and dark wood. The kind of place that fifty years ago wouldn’t have allowed women. They continued down a narrow and dimly lit staircase to a century-old wine cellar turned private dining room.

“McKinney.” Sinclair’s voice boomed and the large man struggled to stand and offer a hand. “I trust Marcus got you here in style.”

“He did, yes. Unnecessary, but appreciated.” Stephen shook the hand of the man he knew wavered between wanting to crush him and wanting to bring him into the fold. Robert believed the old guard should hold the power and the riches over the young. Too damn bad.

“You know Don and Lyle.”

“Yes.” He extended a hand to Sinclair’s son-in-law and the other man who was soon to be, the former sporting an honest-to-God cravat at the neck.

“Sit, sit.” The patriarch gestured to the chair at the far end of the table. “We just ordered drinks, and that little lady should be bringing a plate of appetizers any second.”

“Dave couldn’t make it?” Lyle asked.

“No. He had other matters.” Which was becoming a pattern.

Stephen received his drink in short order and listened to the decidedly unbusinesslike conversation that followed. He wasn’t surprised when ten minutes later Blair, Robert’s youngest and most lethal daughter, swept from the dim staircase and into the room. Dark auburn hair half twisted up, her luscious body poured into a dress the same devil-red as her nails and just as dangerous. He knew. Had even enjoyed it.

“Hello, Stephen.”

He stood, accepted the kiss she placed on his cheek in greeting. Blair’s lips curved in a sly smile as she took the seat beside him, then she deliberately turned her attention to her father.

Sinclair led the table discussion, talking project details; cost projections, increasing potential gains for Trace Development, lessening potential losses. He ate his steak, listened, asked questions, and took in all that was spoken and unspoken. Details given and ones omitted. Carelessly or cleverly, not that it mattered. He was getting the information he wanted, which was why he preferred to do business in person. Better to read a man’s true intentions.

And those weren’t the only intentions going around the table. Each time he glanced up, Blair’s green eyes met his. Challenging. Daring. A game they both liked to play. It continued through dinner and after drinks, her sending him looks, giving him seductive grazes under the table.

Even with the pointy toe of Blair’s shoe sliding purposely up his calf, he couldn’t stop thinking about a kiss and a girl with eyes the same amber color as the liquid in his glass. And he wanted more. Of the girl, not the whiskey.

He was thinking about her too much. It didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel right not to think about her either.

He didn’t think about women when he was doing business. Certainly didn’t miss them or think of calling them, wishing he had their number. Of course, he couldn’t remember ever
not
having a woman’s number. They usually made sure he did.

Dinner ended and they slipped into their coats. Stephen stepped forward and held out his hand to Robert. “Thank you for dinner.”

“This is a good deal, McKinney. You’d be a fool not to get in at the beginning.”

“I’ve never been a fool.”

“No,” Sinclair said, easing out of Stephen’s grip. “I don’t suppose you’d be where you are if you had.”

They made their way up, pausing on the main level, where Blair slid onto a stool at the polished cherry bar.

“I trust I can count on you to get my daughter home, McKinney?”

Stephen glanced over, caught her wolfish smile. He was no stranger to businessmen pushing women to make a potential partner happy, but his own daughter? Not that Blair couldn’t take care of herself. “Yes, sir.” He shook the man’s hand again and watched the group exit to a waiting limo.

Blair raked her eyes over him like a dangerous feline as he sat. “You know…my father would like to have
you
as a son-in-law.” She took the drinks the bartender set before her and slid one to him.

“Really? And what does his daughter say about that?”

Her lips curled. “I don’t know about involving the law just yet. But…we’ve had fun before.”

“Yes. We have.” He wondered if her father knew and didn’t care. “Doesn’t he want his baby girl to fall in love?” Stephen tilted the glass to circle the liquid around the edge.

Amused, Blair eyed him over the rim of her own. “What’s going on with you? Are you dating someone?”

“I don’t date.”

“True.” She took a sip. “Seeing someone then?”

He supposed you could call it that, though he’d held her hand in a movie, for God’s sake. He hadn’t done that since—

“Excuse me for a minute, will you?” Blair smiled over her shoulder, then slipped off to greet a couple at a nearby table.

He watched her move. Drank in the sight of her dress gaping generously to reveal half a breast. One he’d been intimate with. One of many.

It had taken him over two years after burying the love of his life, but a drunken night in Switzerland had broken his celibacy seal. A hot tub, a naked woman, and a fifth of Jack. Then again and again until it had gotten easier. To do. Never easier to live with.

Rote and rough, fast and impersonal. Always from behind so he wouldn’t see their faces. Wouldn’t be reminded of who he was with and who he wasn’t. Stilling the emotion pulsing just below the surface. Holding himself in rigid control because he couldn’t risk more. Wouldn’t risk opening himself up to everything that was inside him. Just taking what he wanted after everything had been taken from him. But the way he wanted Hannah was a very different thing.

Blair returned, drained her glass, then his. She held out her hand to him. “Let’s go.”

The valet brought Blair’s car around and Stephen slipped into the driver’s seat of the tiny Maserati. “Same address?”

“Yes.”

They drove several blocks in silence until he felt her clever hand inching up his leg. There was no reason not to take what she offered, but as soon as he thought it, a golden-eyed angel invaded his thoughts. “Is this your father’s proposition or yours?”

Her hand moved higher. “Which one are you saying yes to?”

“Neither. I’m saying no to one, and maybe to the other.”

Bold as usual, she rubbed him through his pants.

“The maybe is to your father, Blair. The no is to you.”

Quick as a snake her hand tightened. But he was quick too, and always anticipating the next move. He covered her wrist, applied enough pressure to send a strong warning before she got any ideas about twisting his balls.

“Your loss.” Her hand retreated, but her voice was cutting. “My proposal was the better one.”

Neither spoke again until they reached her Manhattan apartment building. He started to get out, figuring he’d take a cab.

“No. Take the car,” she said. “I’ll send for it tomorrow. And I’ll make sure Daddy knows
you
made it home safely.”

He watched her to the door. Not the first enemy he’d made in business, surely not the last. Though a woman scorned made for a particularly dangerous one.

Stephen parked his motorcycle at the recreational soccer complex. He cut the engine and hit speed dial while he unbuckled his helmet. “Hey, been trying to reach you,” he said when Dave finally answered.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. What’s up?”

He put his helmet on the back and stood. “Just wanted to let you know I’ve decided against the St. Kitts deal with Sinclair.”

“He’s not going to be happy.”

“No.” A beat of silence followed and he wondered why Dave cared about Sinclair’s happiness. “Listen, one more thing. That piece of property you were interested in out on Highway Thirty-two”—the one he’d said no to—“it’s not for sale. I’m curious as to why you thought it was.”

“I didn’t. But I had some inside information we could get the jump on.”

“What kind of jump?” And why hadn’t that info been relayed to him?

“Just the scoop on a possible eminent domain case that would likely end in a sale. Why? What did you hear about it?”

“That it wasn’t for sale. That there was still a question of ownership.”

“Mmm.” Dave made a sound like he was only mildly interested. “Where’d you get that information?”

“From the owner.”

“Ah. Camila did mention your little detour a couple of weeks ago.”

That shouldn’t surprise him.

“So you’re that hot for her, huh? That why you were against the deal?”

Stephen heard the sneer, and the muscles in his jaw ticked. “She’s a nice woman. Does something with kids and horses. It’s a good thing. I’d hate to see her lose it. And my answer was no before I knew it was hers.”

“Right. Well, I’m sure if she can produce some certified documents, a copy of the will, there won’t be any trouble.”

“That’s the thing. She doesn’t think there is a will. Just a handwritten letter.”

“Really? Huh. That’s interesting.”

“But I plan to help her any way I can. It’s not high value, I haven’t found any reason they’d be going after it. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Nope. Doesn’t seem to.”

Stephen stuck the keys in his pocket and started walking. “Let me know if you hear anything else about the sale, will you?”

“Sure thing. And listen. I wanted to say I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted lately. My mom’s not doing well. Cancer.”

“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was only tests at first. Guess I didn’t want to say it out loud, you know. Made it too real.”

“That’s tough, man. You need time, you take it. No problem.”

“Thanks, man.”

Shit.
He ended the call and made his way between the fields. High-pitched whistles mixed with the squeals of kids and exuberant screams from parents. The entire expanse seemed to ripple in a mix of colors, running in chaotic packs. Matt had texted him the time and place of Annie’s soccer game, as he’d done several times recently. Matt’s kids were really the only ones Stephen had a chance to have a fresh start with. Until now, he hadn’t taken it.

Hannah’s words had echoed.
They’re all you have.
And here he was.

After locating the right field, it didn’t take him long to find his brother. With the McKinney height and build, Matt stood out. Especially with a tiny curly-topped toddler propped on one arm.

“Hey, man.”

Stephen didn’t miss the raised eyebrow or the surprise in his brother’s eyes. “Hey.”

His brother’s youngest, Mary, held out what might have been a soppy chunk of graham cracker.

“No, thanks.” He brushed a finger over the back of her dimpled hand. She squealed, mumbled something unintelligible, and smeared the goo across Matt’s cheek. God, she was cute. Like a mini version of Gracie. And Matt guarded all of them like a bear. Stephen almost reached out to hold her, but stuffed his hands in his pockets. “How’s the game?”

“Good. Tied.” Matt eyed the field. “Charlie, move back a bit, bud.”

Charlie, who he thought was somewhere around four, logrolled away from the field, coming to a stop against his feet. “Hey, up there.”

Stephen smiled. “Hey, down there.”

“I want an ICEE.”

“Not yet,” Matt answered before Stephen had a chance to say something like,
Sure.

He scanned the soccer field until he found his niece. A few inches taller than the other girls, she kicked and battled among disorganized clumps of red and blue jerseys.

“You better go say hi to your mother. You’re on the bottom, you know.”

He smiled at Matt’s reminder of the board Lizzy had kept as kids, listing them in order of Mom’s most favorite to least. His smile wavered when he glanced toward the bleachers and saw the majority of the McKinney clan cheering.
Damn.
Should have known a whole pack of them would’ve turned out for the seven-year-old’s soccer match.

His stomach took a sudden dive. Dave’s mom had cancer and for the better part of five years he’d avoided his own. But still, he hoped their smiles weren’t so large and hugs not so tight. It embarrassed him. Reminded him of all the times he hadn’t been here, that they hadn’t expected him to be here now.

“Where’s Abby?”

“She took Gracie out to ride horses.”

A funny feeling tightened in his stomach, then spread to his chest. It had only been three days since he’d said goodbye on her porch. It seemed like longer. That very fact had him holding himself back.

He wanted her with a growing desperation, but beyond that—there was no beyond that for him.

“Yeah, they went— Go! Go, baby girl!” Matt erupted at the sight of his oldest breaking away from the pack.

So at odds with the Navy SEAL brother who’d jumped out of planes and snuck up on the enemy in the dead of night. The
I could kill you with a Q-tip
guy. But he’d never seen his brother happier. Just another reason he’d distanced himself from all of them. It hurt. And it scared him. Loving someone had brought out the worst in him. Had shown him the dark places inside him that he hadn’t known were there and never wanted to see again.

“Speed! Use your speed!”

Annie made a sidestepping move, tripped, recovered, and shot. The ball rolled past the keeper and into the far corner of the net.

“That’s the way, baby girl! Just like that!”

She ignored her teammates to look at Matt, sending him the brightest smile.

“My girl’s got talent. You’ve got to admit.”

“How could I miss seeing a future pro soccer player in the making?”

“In the making?” Matt scoffed. “She’s practically there.”

There was a piercing yet familiar whistle from behind them on another field. “Is that—”

“Patrick. Yes.”

Stephen looked back over his shoulder at his brother, fondly referred to as Number Five.

“He’s coaching the under-eight boys.”

“I’m surprised you’re not out there,” Stephen said.

“Oh, I am. I coach Jack. I’d be out there with Annie, but some other dad beat me to it. Won’t happen next year,” he added. “You should join me. I’ll let you be my assistant.”

“That’s funny.”

“Dad.” Charlie pulled on Matt’s free hand, then jumped to hang on his arm. “I want an ICEE.”

“We were talking about getting up a football game after this. You should come over.” Charlie went for the baby’s cracker and she jerked and kicked hot-pink glittery boots the size of his thumb.

“I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

If he was ready to go back to things he used to do. If he was ready to—

“Don’t be an a-hole.”

Stephen raised a brow at his brother.
“A-hole?”

“The kids, you idiot.”

“Idit,” Mary repeated.

“It’s
idiot,
” Charlie corrected his sister and dropped to the grass.

“Great,” Matt muttered. “Now I’m in trouble. You’ll come. You’ll eat. And then I’ll wipe the playing field with your ugly face.”

Stephen didn’t say anything.

“Unless you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“Getting embarrassed on the McKinney field of champions.”

“You wish. I can kick your secret soldier as—
a-hole,
any day.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

Stephen hadn’t been in his brother’s kitchen since the night of Gracie’s party, when he’d run in here to escape Hannah. Or memories. Or both, because somehow one brought the other. And because seeing her holding that baby had stirred something he didn’t want stirred.

Matt popped straws into juice boxes and tossed prepackaged snacks. “That ought to tide them over till lunch.” As the kids stampeded out the back door with their booty, Matt pulled a six-pack from the fridge and passed it to Andrew. “Stephen’s going to coach with me next year.”

“If I do, it won’t be as your assistant. Did you even play soccer?”

“I played soccer,” Lizzy said, walking in and setting a covered bowl on the counter.

“Of course he’ll be the assistant,” Matt said. “I’m older.”

Lizzy smirked and grabbed a beer for herself. “And a little old to be pulling the
I’m older
card, aren’t you?”

As they stepped outside, they argued the merits of being older versus being a woman and therefore naturally smarter.

“Careful,” Lizzy teased. “Better not say anything you wouldn’t want repeated to your wives.”

“Shit. Still got us by the balls.” Andrew shook his head and joined Patrick, already down in the yard throwing with the boys.

More sisters-in-law and kids filtered through the kitchen and to the backyard, tossing out greetings and pleasant smiles. He’d thought to play football, not jump into a family gathering.

“So what’s up with your girl?” Matt asked, eyes on the kids.

“She’s not my girl.” A uneasy feeling spread through the tension in his face to his stomach. She was something, though he didn’t know what that was, or even what it could be. Hannah wasn’t the kind of girl to be just anything to a man. She wasn’t casual. Only an idiot would want her casually.

Matt smiled, looking smug. “Just keep telling yourself that. You know what they say about denial.”

Stephen raised his bottle to his lips, took a long drink, and admitted he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

“Dad!”

“Coming, bud. So what happened after we left you at the barn? You stay or go?”

“I stayed.”

Matt’s smile grew. “Figured you might.”

“Dad!” Jack shouted again before Stephen could tell his brother to fuck off.

Matt tapped the neck of his bottle against his own. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

“In your dreams.”

“Hey, Jack, you better be on Uncle Stevie’s team. He doesn’t really know how to play.”

“Dick,” he muttered at Matt’s back.

Matt laughed. “Hey, Mom, you want to know what Steve just called me?”

“Don’t call your brother that, it’s not his name. And no, I don’t.” She settled herself in a chair under a shade tree. “And both of you watch your mouth. There are little ones out here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As if to prove their mother’s point, Gracie came flying down the stairs, over the grass, and wrapped herself around Matt’s legs. “Daddy! I rode Hazel again and I’m going to be the best horse rider ever! Hannah said so. Right, Hannah?”

Stephen’s eyes jerked up to the shadowed doorway leading onto the deck.

Abby appeared and waved down at Matt. “Hey, babe. Look who I talked into joining us.”

Hannah followed and moved to the rail next to Abby. Her gaze met his with a tentative smile, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. If not seeing her caused a knot in his gut, seeing her brought a damn entanglement. And right this second, he couldn’t remember why he’d been so confused.