Worth the Risk (4 page)

After cake, the entire party moved down to the yard. Stephen stood with his brothers and watched the madness that was a child’s birthday party.

“So, where’d you find her?” Tony gestured toward Hannah where she knelt a few yards away, tying his nephew’s shoe.

He’d hung back, let her do the girl thing, let her keep the spotlight away from him as he’d wanted. But she’d never been out of his sight. “Grocery store.”

“Really?” Andrew grinned. “Didn’t know you shopped. Being sexiest, most eligible man, and all.”

His brothers laughed, added more colorful comments.
Shit
. “I’m never going to get past that one, am I?”

“Never,” Tony said. “Maybe we should rough you up a bit.”

“You can try.” He smiled at the familiar sibling harassment, how some things never changed.

Though he’d been hugged by his mother at least eight times, received multiple pats on the back by his father, tonight hadn’t been as uncomfortable as he’d feared. Because of Hannah. His family’s curious spotlight shined on her, as he’d known it would.

God, she was sweet. The way her hair sparkled in the last ribbons of sunlight poking through the pines. The way she blushed every time their eyes met. But the delicate fabric blowing against her chest, outlining perfect breasts he dreamed of cupping in his hands…that didn’t bring to mind the word
sweet.
Unless he was thinking about them in his mouth.

Shit. He tipped his bottle and took a long drink. How could someone with such a hot, luscious body look so damn innocent? Definitely a puzzle.

His nieces and nephews were certainly drawn to her, as she now had a line of untied shoes. Luke stood across the yard, nodding at something Matt said, and their eyes met. It was a game they’d played all evening. Each letting the other know he was watching. And knowing that, he took three purposeful strides to stand beside Hannah.

She glanced up and smiled, quick and nervous. He held out his hand and felt the slight tremble when her fingers touched his. He pulled her to her feet.

“Cute,” she said, almost wistfully as she watched the last kid run away.

“Yeah.” But his eyes were on Hannah. The evening breeze lifted a few satiny strands and brushed them over his arm. Barely a touch, but the heat that rushed through his body burned hot and strong.

He forced his attention to a group of kids, running, puffing, and diving, in a desperate game to keep feathers off the ground without using their hands.

“Would this have been one of those times you and your brothers did something crazy?”

“Probably. You need a drink?”

He’d barely gotten the words out when he felt a thump on the arm followed by a cold splash and Hannah’s gasp. Water balloon. He took in her stunned expression, her wet shirt now practically transparent on one side.

He looked around for the source and saw his nephew Jack a few feet away, obviously the guilty party with his hand still hanging in the air. Matt stepped close and laid a protective hand on Jack’s shoulder. All adult chatter ceased and he felt their eyes fall on him like accusing fingers.
Are they that afraid I’m going to lose it?

Shame washed over him, knowing why they would. He’d blown up on Christmas Eve three years ago. Broken a bottle against his mother’s hearth, screamed and cursed in front of his brothers’ kids. Made his sister’s baby cry. So consumed by anger, guilt, and grief.

After that he’d made sure he was out of town for holidays. For most days.

Rome. Zurich. Barcelona. Didn’t matter. He’d pour bourbon down his throat, screw the woman in his bed, then drink more to forget what he’d just done.

His family worried, looked at him with sad sorry eyes as they did now. And he hated it. They wanted the old Stephen back, the gentle, lighthearted man he’d been. That man didn’t exist anymore. He wasn’t fit for a children’s party, even if Matt didn’t want to believe it.

His gut reaction was to leave, throwing a dark cloud over another family gathering, except…Hannah laughed. A sound so beautiful he was caught by it, in it.

The game went on. Squeals and shouts. Conversation and movement. Everything continued around them, disaster averted.

The silk of her blouse wasn’t loose anymore, but sticking to her chest, outlining her bra beneath. Her nipples stood hard against the thin, soaked fabric and his mouth went dry. “You’re cold,” he said, finally finding his voice. “I mean…” It
was
cool out, but—
Fuck.
“Are you cold? Do you want to take it off?”
Shit
. Of course he hadn’t meant here and now. He should stop talking.

Her smile slipped and the pretty pink blush on her cheeks spread along her delicate throat, leading his eyes lower…where they did
not
need to go.

“Stephen.”

He jerked his eyes from her chest at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Get your friend a towel.”

A towel. Right.

“Hannah.” Abby approached. “I’m sorry about that.” She passed her a towel as if she’d known they’d be needed eventually.

Jack edged up beside his mother. “Sorry, Uncle Stephen.”

He looked down into the brown eyes of a boy he barely knew. His own fault. Not Jack’s.

“It’s okay,” Hannah said. “No harm done.”

“Yeah,” Stephen added. “Good aim.”

“Not really. I was trying to hit Charlie, but he ran behind you.”

Oh, well.

Jack didn’t wait, just smiled and took off. Abby turned away as well, leaving him trying not to watch Hannah rub her breast.

“Hannah, push me!” Gracie shouted to her from the swing set.

Good idea. They both joined Gracie at the swings. He watched Hannah push, and spent the next fifteen minutes trying hard not to check the status of her drying shirt.

Soon the party wound down. The kids went inside to watch a movie, leaving the adults to relax on the deck against the backdrop of a setting sun. Adult drinks were poured, beers opened, and someone picked up a guitar.

By the time he got to the deck, Lizzy already had Hannah talking, which was good. It seemed he’d forgotten how to talk to a woman. For a guy so seemingly charming, he never had to use much charm. Or any. There were plenty of women who were happy enough to do all the talking. Hannah wasn’t one of them. But that was one benefit of a big family. Always someone to pick up the conversational slack.

He sat with his arm around the back of Hannah’s chair and listened to her, much more at ease talking to his sister than to him. Matt’s oldest daughter, Annie, cuddled quietly in his lap while he and Luke sat in deep discussion about the latest toys Uncle Sam had to offer. Lizzy, a child psychologist, continued to pick Hannah’s brain about the benefits of animal therapy, specifically horseback riding. It was interesting, but more than anything, he liked listening to the sound of her voice.

The whole scene was very domestic. And very not him.

This was the first time he’d been around his family with a woman since…no. He blocked the name and the pain that came with it. Not so sharp he couldn’t breathe, but that was only because his heart no longer worked.

“You brought me a present?” Gracie asked, surprise and delight shining in her eyes.

He hadn’t noticed his niece join them. He’d seen a pile of gifts inside from family members he assumed were to be opened later. But Abby, being the perfect hostess, must have called Gracie out to open Hannah’s gift while she was here.

“Well, it is your birthday, right?” Hannah smiled sweetly down at his niece.

Gracie reached into the bag filled with silver shreddings and pulled out a stuffed pony covered in a patchwork of rainbow-bright fabrics, silky and glittering.

“I
love
horses!” Gracie threw her arms around Hannah’s neck. “I love them more than anything in the whole world.”

Hannah returned the hug. “Well, maybe your mom and dad can bring you out to see my horse.”

“Mommy, she said I can go see her horse! Can I? Will you take me? Daddy, will you take me to see Hannah’s horse?”

Not waiting for answers, Gracie turned back all smiles and happiness. “I’m coming to see your horse, Hannah. Maybe I’ll even ride him with you.”

Hannah glanced up at Abby with a soft expression. “She really is welcome. Just call me.”

“Thank you. She’d love that.”

With all eyes on her, Hannah seemed to retreat a bit. She wet her lips, fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “Of course all of the kids are welcome. Anyone really.”

There was a yell from inside, and his brother’s wife, Sarah, stood with their newborn in her arms.

“I’ll take her,” Abby said.

The baby was passed to Abby but just barely, before Charlie came out screaming about how he’d been wronged, something about his spot.

Abby turned. “Hannah, could you hold Lily for me?”

Hannah’s arms were full of baby before she had time to answer. She adjusted in her seat, arranged the blanket, and reverently touched a finger to the baby’s downy head. After a few minutes of reverent staring, she looked at Stephen with a smile so bright, her expression so radiant, so full of love, that for just a second it felt…good. And then his heart imploded.

Yeah, he’d wanted her, but not like this. He didn’t ever want a woman like this.

It was wrong. All of it. Being here. Hannah holding the baby. And it was too much. This entire night was suddenly too fucking much.

“Excuse me.” He shoved back in his chair as memories gained a chokehold around his throat. The iron legs scraped across the wooden deck, and he made a swift exit to the kitchen. He’d spent too many family gatherings imagining his wife beside him. Imagining his own babies being passed around the table, his own children adding to the mayhem.

But that had all died a violent, bloody death. And so had he.

With his hands braced on the edge of the sink, he sucked in air through his nose, trying not to be sick. His fist tightened on the bottle in his hand. His muscles tensed, thinking how good it would feel to heave it across the room, hear the glass shatter. Hear something outwardly break, like he’d been broken.

He’d spent the first two years in a bottle and he’d still felt lost. The next two years screwing a multitude of women. And he’d still been alone.

Then he’d turned to work, where he managed, commanded. It had brought him wealth and power, but it hadn’t brought her back. It only filled the holes, or if not filled, at least covered them.

The muscles in his arms trembled at the need to throw something bigger. Hit something. Hurt someone. This is why he avoided his family. Why he avoided anything and anyone that made him feel too much.

He pushed the bottle aside and looked down at his hands, white-knuckled, blue veins thickening to the surface. The hands of a man who wanted to draw blood and cause pain. Hands he knew could kill. Inviting Hannah here had been a mistake. Coming here at all felt like a royal mistake, even more so when he heard swift footsteps entering the kitchen behind him.

“I like her,” Lizzy said, coming further into the room.

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced out a long, heavy breath. He did not want to blow up at his niece’s party. He’d had a bad moment, but he was pulling it together, pulling himself back together. He might not entirely like the man he was now, but he could live with it. He could function instead of being the broken-down mess he’d been for so long.

Lizzy opened the dishwasher and started loading it like it was her own house. “She’s nice.”

“Yeah.”
Too nice.

“Looks like a keeper,” Lizzy said, rinsing a glass.

“Maybe for someone.”

“Really?” She stopped what she was doing and faced him. “So you’re not trying to keep her?”

“Hell, no.” Stephen turned to stare at her, appalled she would even think that, that
anyone
would think that. He’d wanted a date, a diversion. Not a— “I was just being nice, for God’s sake. Does she
look
like the kind of woman I’d want to spend time with? Jesus, Lizzy.”

Movement across the room caught his eye and too-sweet Hannah stood there, looking at him like he’d just slapped her across the face. Her wide eyes swung from his to Lizzy’s and back again. “I um…I was just…” Her entire being seemed to collapse like wet cotton candy.

Fuck
. “Hannah—”

“I have to go.” Even as she spoke she was turning, her hair flying out around her shoulders.

Stephen wiped his hands over his face, throwing out every curse at himself he could think of. He caught up with Hannah a half second after she reached her brother, still deep in conversation with Matt.

“I’m ready to go.”

Conversation between the men ceased, her brother’s attention swinging to her. “Okay.”

Luke rose and shook Matt’s hand while Stephen stood to the side like an unnecessary extra.

Matt held out his hand to Hannah. “Glad you came. And thank you for Gracie’s gift. She’ll no doubt be dreaming of horses.”

“She’s welcome anytime.”

Matt gave Stephen a curious look, as he was standing so far away from his date. Yeah, he should be right beside her, trying his damnedest to get another one.

Not going to happen.

Stephen followed the three of them to the door, an awkward few steps behind, saw Luke take her elbow, and caught his low, “What’s up?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

She was lying. Stephen could see that, figured her brother could too. Her smile faked and forced, not at all like the one he’d worked for last night at dinner or the one she’d given freely just an hour ago.

But he didn’t want to have to work to make her smile, or worry when she wasn’t. Didn’t want to be with someone who mattered. So he stepped up, opened the front door, and stuck out his hand to Luke. “Thanks for coming.”

Luke squeezed. The look in his eyes said he hadn’t believed his sister’s nothing answer. Stephen squeezed back, meeting the man’s strength, each sending his own message.

And Hannah walked out of the house without a word or a backward glance, clearly sending hers.

Hannah stabbed at the soiled hay and hefted another load of manure into the wheelbarrow. She didn’t mind the work, it was the memory of her weekend she was trying to scoop out. Frustrated, embarrassed, and the more she fought it, the louder the replay.

How happy she’d been with his family, how just looking at him gave her butterflies. How she’d started thinking about maybes and what-ifs.

Stephen’s words hadn’t been aimed at her on purpose, but thirty-six hours later she was still feeling the direct hit. A valuable lesson. There was more than one way a man could hurt you. And good that it happened now before she’d figured out exactly what those maybes and what-ifs might be.

With a sigh, she tossed fresh hay on the floor. The scent tickled her nose and tiny bits glittered through a stream of morning sunlight from the stall’s outside window. Had she actually thought a man like him would be interested in her?

She finished spreading and lifted the heavy wheelbarrow, pausing at the initial pain in her arms and hands. Just as she rounded the barn to dump its contents, the crunch of tires on gravel made her turn.

Luke.

Wearing jeans, his standard green T-shirt, and scuffed boots, her brother sauntered to the fence, propped his big foot against the lowest wooden rail, and waited.

Might as well get it over with. She left her chores and came to stand beside his tall, muscular frame. He remained silent and so did she.

Having begged off her brothers’ invitation last night, claiming exhaustion, she hadn’t seen or spoken to Luke since he’d dropped her off after the party. He’d given her a knowing look, but thankfully hadn’t pushed. She wasn’t about to discuss it with her brothers.

Not what had or hadn’t happened with Stephen. Or worse, what she’d
wanted
to happen. That she’d been naive enough to think one date meant something.

The open fields of Freedom Farm stretched in front of her, meeting the vibrant blue sky. Winnie swished her tail at a fly and tossed her glorious blond mane. Hannah took a deep breath, inhaling the clean scent of spring air. Just being here eased her. It’s where she’d healed. Where she was strongest.

Luke still hadn’t spoken and she took in his tightly fisted hands, hanging over the rail. He didn’t say much on his few visits home. Fierce and strong, quiet with a touch of sad. But his eyes had always said he loved her. “I’m surprised Nick hasn’t been all over me,” she said. “No doubt you shared.” She cringed just thinking about Nick’s reaction to her going to a strange man’s house.

“I don’t report to Nick. He asked. I answered.”

Great. But the tension when he said Nick’s name had her wanting to smooth what she could. “It’s okay, Luke. I’m not mad. I mean, I was a little, but—”

“Damn it, Hannah, you should be. You’re too damn soft.” He spoke with a bite of heat, then shook his head and sighed. “Sorry. I came out here to say I’m sorry. Not for going with you,” he added quickly, “or putting a kink in your party or
date
or whatever the hell it was. But…for insinuating that you’re not smart. I mean, hell, obviously you are.”

Yeah, she’d taken college classes at fourteen, but it hadn’t been the kind of smart a girl needed. And she knew what her brother meant. “Just not life smart.”

“Shit, Han. You’re smart all around, but…”

“But?”

“But you don’t even know that guy.”

“That was kind of the point.
Partly
the point,” she added at Luke’s glare, “because he didn’t know anything about me either. But don’t worry. It won’t be a problem. I’m not going to see him anymore.”

“Why?”

She looked at the ground. “Just didn’t work out.”

Luke made a rough sound under his breath. “Then he’s a jackass.”

Hannah smiled. Luke was sweet, in a broody sort of way, intense and handsome. He should have someone to love who loved him back. Sometimes she wondered if all her brothers avoided fatherhood after being so abruptly thrust into the role because of her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wow,” she said, raising her eyebrows and smiling. “You really do feel bad, to apologize twice.”

“I’m not apologizing for that. I’m apologizing…for leaving and…for not being there all those years.”

She knew the years he meant that he didn’t want to say, the years nobody wanted to talk about. But also the years before. He’d left when she was three and she’d always wondered why. Because of their parents’ death? Because of her? The next time she’d seen him she’d been ten and barely recognized him from a picture on the mantel.

“I guess the other night I was just thinking I have a lot to make up for.”

She wrapped her arms around her brother’s wide shoulders, squeezed him as hard as she could. “No, you don’t.”

His arms came around her in a hug that nearly crushed her ribs. “I want you to be happy, Han. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He drew back, looking like maybe he wanted to say more. “I better get going.”

She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to be happy either.”

Luke just nodded and set off across the field alone. She wondered what he did exactly. What he’d seen. Why he was home now and for how long.

Seemed the tables were turning with her and her brothers. It was her turn to worry about them now. It felt good.

“Dee, can you get me Allen Mason on the phone?”

“Certainly, Mr. McKinney.”

“Also, line up a call with Crenshaw. If not today, then tomorrow.” Stephen released the intercom and spun his leather chair to a second computer. He worked hardest when he was trying to forget something and today he was running full speed. You get enough balls in the air, you can’t look down, can’t look around. Not even at yourself.

He continued scrolling through a list of figures, double-checking the numbers that would likely win him a bid on a high-end resort off the coast of Indonesia. One that would make people feel better? A vision slammed in. Hannah’s sad eyes staring at a beer case, her lashes heavy with unshed tears. Her smile that knocked the breath from him over candlelight. Then that sharp look of shock and hurt on her face standing in the doorway at his brother’s.

That’s the one he couldn’t get out of his mind. It was arrogance he’d let get in the way when she wouldn’t give him her phone number. Because he didn’t lose. Well, he sure as hell hadn’t won.

Maybe it was just his mother’s voice in his head or his Catholic conscience, but he felt an overwhelming need to apologize. He might be a ruthless ass in business, but he didn’t hurt people intentionally. Or he didn’t use to. Had he changed that much?

It was a fine line between shutting down to heal, to
survive,
without turning off completely. For years he’d danced dangerously close to that line between a man who felt too much and a man who felt nothing.

The people he spent time with didn’t care, weren’t hurt. Business associates were just as hard, and women wanted nothing more than a really good, really expensive time. He didn’t like that he’d hurt Hannah.

Maybe he’d look her up, just a quick phone call, smooth things over. But to what end?

Before he could figure that out, there was one quick knock on his door and Dave entered.

Stephen shook off the personal and shifted his attention to a stack of papers, giving his initial where needed. “What’s up, Dave?”

“I finished up the Lennox deal. It all went down about like we figured.”

“Okay. Send me the file and I’ll look it over.”

“No need to look it over. It’s taken care of.”

“Great.” Stephen raised his eyes to Dave’s. “But I’ll take a look just the same.”

Dave held his gaze for a long second and there was just the slightest ripple of tension. Then it was gone. “I also met up with Stan Goodwin. Had a nice golf game.”

“Good.” It always helped to have positive relationships with the city planner’s office.

“So, what about that new property I told you about? Want to ride out there later?”

“Not today. I don’t have—”

There was a delicate knock and before he said “Come in,” a leggy brunette in a cherry-red pencil skirt and breast-hugging blouse slipped through
.

“Hey. Camila.” Dave waved her in. “You’re just in time. Stephen’s going to scope out that area we spoke about earlier.”

Great. Dave was so hot for this, he’d already made noise to their lawyer.

“Sounds fun,” she said with just a hint of the sexy Cuban lilt she dialed up and down at will. “But I came by to go over the Fieldstone documents.” She lifted her leather briefcase.

“Well, ride along.” A satisfied smile spread across Dave’s face. “When we move on this, we’ll need you up to speed.”

“
If
we move on it,” Stephen said clearly.

“Of course. If. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

“Great,” Camila said. “Besides, I’m starving.”

The feral look in her eyes said she wasn’t just talking about food, and Dave’s smile slipped even as Camila’s grew. She loved nothing more than to know a man wanted her. It was no secret Dave did.

“Come on, Stephen. I’ll read it to you while you drive.” Camila ran a hand over her skirt in a not-so-subtle way of drawing attention to her curves. “Then you can take me to lunch.”

“Fine.” Stephen stood, eager to get moving. He did need to go over Fieldstone. At least it wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

Stephen led Camila to the parking garage and maneuvered the two-seater into traffic. Irritated with the stop-and-start pace, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, grateful when Camila took a call and he could be with his own thoughts.

Twenty-five minutes outside town, the four lanes narrowed to two, the upscale shops and restaurants gradually gave way to clumps of trees and open fields. He couldn’t imagine why Dave was so interested. Even though the city was always expanding and pushing outward, an office building or shopping plaza this far out didn’t make much sense. But he owed it to his partner to at least look.

Dave had held things together when he could barely hold himself together. Even so, he wasn’t willing to put his signature and a huge chunk of revenue into a bad investment.

He glanced down at the scant information Dave had given him while Camila opened another pocket of her briefcase and kept talking. When he reached the end of the road, he made a left, taking them along the backside of the property.

Nearly forty acres, three-quarters wooded with mostly tall pine, the land rolled gently to the northeast corner, where it rose slightly to the highest point. There were no property line markings to show the exact sale portion, but he got the gist. His answer was still no.

Anxious to get back to the office, he made two more turns and picked up speed along the south side. Wide-open fields flew by on his left, his right was dotted with small houses set back from the road. Winter grass trying to turn green, trees pushing out new leaves, horses, cows—
Freedom Farm.

The iron gate whizzed past, but not so fast that he missed the small black-and-white sign. Was that Hannah’s place? He’d half heard the name pass between her and his sister. Something
Farm
for sure.

He slowed and angled off the pavement, before whipping around in a tight U-turn.

Camila grabbed for the stack of papers sliding across her lap. “What are you doing?”

“Just hold tight.” He slowed and turned through the open gate.

“You know someone here?”

“Maybe.” He followed a gravelly dirt road up a short distance, then down to a weathered barn straight out of a storybook. He stopped next to a shiny, black Suburban parked on worn grass.

“I thought we were going to lunch.” Her full lips pushed up in a pout, but her eyes were all predatory.

They’d had a quick, meaningless something over a year ago. Three times in bed, maybe four. Either way, it didn’t constitute a relationship. Camila had known that was off the table going in. She liked it rough and he’d liked giving it to her. The fire between them had burned fast and furious before going out, though the hand on his thigh said she’d like to strike a new match.

“Make a phone call or something. I’ll just be a minute.” He got out, leaving the car running.

It was eerily quiet; the only sound was the wind with no tall buildings to block it. A chunk of land divided by wooden fences lay to the right of the barn with another larger, open space rolling out behind it. Stephen walked toward the structure, dirt dusting the shine of his black dress shoes. He pulled at his tie and released the top button of his dress shirt.

Three yards short of entering the black opening, a body stepped out of the darkness. A large man about Stephen’s height, filling out a button-down and khakis. His brown eyes studied Stephen like a human lie detector. Not the most welcoming for a children’s riding facility. Of course, this might not be the right place. He held out his hand. “Stephen McKinney.”

Without a word, the man returned his firm grip.

“I’m looking for Hannah Walker.”

Eyes narrowed suspiciously and he dropped his hand. “What about?”

Ahh.
So he was in the right place. And he’d bet a cool million the grim-looking man in front of him was another brother. Stephen smiled. “That’s between us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” The man shifted into a tighter stance.

Stephen tamped down his temper, always at a low boil. It wouldn’t take much. He lived on the edge of wanting to hurt someone. Then he saw her.

“Nick. I can speak for myself.” Hannah came toward him, tightly drawing together the sides of a long-sleeved button-up as she moved, closing herself off. Bit by bit she’d opened up to him over dinner, let her guard down. He hated that she looked braced for another slap.

“Can we talk?”

For a long minute her golden eyes held his, maybe searching for his true intentions. Maybe deciding if she even cared.

She raised her chin a fraction and he caught the challenge in her eyes. “You can talk while I work.”

Okay. Not exactly a conversation, but she’d listen.

She turned on her heel and he followed, eyes on the tan fabric hugging her ass and thighs. Long and lean and sexy as hell in her knee-high riding boots. God, he loved this look on her. A cell phone buzzed and he heard her brother answer with a terse “Walker.” But he wasn’t much interested in what was going on behind him. Not when Hannah was in front.