By Hook or By Crook

by Linda Morris

  “Hang on a minute. I can’t possibly have a fight like this.”

  He yanked his jeans up and disappeared into the kitchen to dispose of the condom and restore his dignity, and then he returned to where Ivy stood, still looking furious.

  “I’m saying that you balance everything out. Fat bank account, check. Good education, check. Solid family, check. Attractive, check. Successful career, check.” He ticked each item off on his fingers. “Actual compatibility, sexual or otherwise, doesn’t rate very high on your list.”

  “We may have sexual compatibility, but nothing else!” she spat.

  “How do you know? You haven’t even given us a chance. You spend all your time railing about how we’re so wrong for each other. On the few occasions you stop thinking everything to death, we’re all over each other!”

  He stopped abruptly, feeling he’d given too much away. His words had come out almost like a plea, almost like he really wanted her. He didn’t want her. He didn’t want anyone. Why pretend otherwise?

  “What do you want, Joe?” she said, her voice taut.

  He thought he heard the sound of a sob, barely held in check. Surely not. He couldn’t imagine Ivy, the voice of cool blue reason, crying over him.

  “Do you want a relationship?” she pressed. “What are you offering me? Are you saying that if I ignore everything I believe about myself, forget everything I’ve learned about the kind of man I need, and defy my father, that you will...what? Hang out with me for a while? Sleep with me for a few months until you get tired of me and move on?”

  She stopped, tears in her eyes now, and waited for his answer. He had none to give her. She was right. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted from her.

  He would never marry. He knew what that was like, by watching his parents and some of his clients, and he would never take that on for himself.

  Ivy was most definitely the marrying kind. He could get involved with her, spend some time with her, and hope he would change his mind some day...

  He caught himself up short.

  What was he thinking? He would never change his mind. If he did, it would be a disaster. He’d been rootless and uncommitted his entire life, and he couldn’t change now.

  He couldn’t even maintain a relationship with his sister, who had never done anything but love him like a big-brother hero. He’d screwed up everything he touched.

  Trying to change and failing, which he surely would, could only hurt Ivy more in the end.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he acknowledged.

  Why push her to give him a gift that he wouldn’t know what to do with? It wasn’t fair.

  For a moment, he saw something flash in her eyes—hurt, and possibly surprise. Only a few feet separated them, but in every way that mattered, they were suddenly miles apart.

  He should be relieved she didn’t want to be with him again—she’d spared him the trouble of ending things later, when they got really messy—but somehow, he wasn’t.

  He was just damn depressed.

  Chapter 14

  Ivy crested the hill and took a moment to savor the view below, breathing hard in the frigid air. Tahoe’s beauty rivaled the most ancient European forests or Alpine valley. The blue of the lake, the deep green of the emerald forests, and the white snow glazing the landscape moved her deeply. The sight gave her serenity this morning. She sorely needed it after last night.

  She had hoped to put the whole incident behind her after a good night’s sleep. Too bad she hadn’t gotten one. She’d lain awake for hours, trying to forget the sweetness of their lovemaking, and how her contentment had quickly turned to fury and confusion afterwards. She’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep, only to awaken with a leaden chest as the first faint traces of light made their way across the eastern sky. She’d trudged outside, hoping to find in nature the tranquility that had eluded her in sleep.

  What did she want, really?

  Joe.

  Whether he was right for her or not, whether her father liked it or not, she wanted him. Denying it any further seemed pointless. But he didn’t want her, or at least not for keeps. She had to face up to that hard truth, too.

  She sighed, brushing back a strand of hair that swept across her face. Another gust nearly caused her to lose her balance. Better be heading back indoors. Hopefully Joe would still be in bed and she would be able to return to her room in peace.

  No such luck. Coming in from the patio, knocking the snow off her boots, she found her sister, nursing a cup of tea, dressed in a pair of loose sleeping pants and a T-shirt. “Want some tea?” Daisy said.

  “Nah.” Her gloom must have come through in her voice, because Daisy’s eyes narrowed.

  “What’s the matter?” When Ivy didn’t answer immediately, she pressed on. “What happened last night? He was all over you on the dance floor.”

  “Nothing important,” Ivy said wearily, tugging off first one boot and then another. She winced as she stepped on the melting clumps of snow on the mat in her stocking-clad feet. The cold soaked through, prompting her to strip off her socks, as well. Maybe she’d better rethink that cup of tea. No, make it coffee. She needed a jolt of caffeine to get her going after her sleepless night.

  “Nothing important. But did something unimportant happen?” Daisy clearly smelled a rat. The woman could be a terrier when she suspected Ivy was hiding something from her.

  “No.”

  “You had sex with him, didn’t you?” Daisy accused.

  Ivy wished she could deny it, but she couldn’t lie to her sister, so she stayed silent, fidgeting uncomfortably. She might as well have made a full confession to her eagle-eyed sister.

  “I knew it!” She leaned in avidly, eyes wide. “How was it?”

  “Fine.” She meant to speak as repressively as possible, but a little smile played about her lips. She couldn’t help it. He had pretty much rocked her world.

  “Ahhh! Girl, that is awesome!”

  Daisy seized her in a bear hug, and she couldn’t help but hug her back despite herself. She’d had so few “girlfriend” moments in her life with anyone, least of all with her sister. The friends she’d met in her lecture classes and research weren’t the kind to grill her about her sexual escapades and then high-five her in congratulations. She had astutely avoided discussing sex for most of her life. She hadn’t had all that much sex worth telling anyone about anyway, so no loss there. The “girl camaraderie” thing felt pretty good.

  “It was good,” she confessed as she measured coffee into the maker and filled the decanter with water. “But afterwards, not so much.”

  “What happened?” Daisy propped one hand on her hip.

  “I don’t know, exactly. We opened our mouths and everything sort of...went awry.”

  Daisy snorted. “I know how to fix that. Next time, don’t open your mouths, unless it’s to kiss. Or something else fun,” she said with a meaningfully raised brow.

  “Daisy!” Her gaze sharpened in reproof. “That’s not very practical. You have to be able to talk to someone without fighting in order to have a relationship. Joe and I don’t seem to have that particular ability.”

  “You don’t have that particular ability,” Daisy said.

  “Please. What’s that supposed to mean? I have arguments all by myself? The last I checked, it takes two to argue.”

  “Maybe, but the other person doesn’t have to try very hard if they’re with you.”

  Ivy slammed the lid down on the coffeemaker and pushed the On switch. “I can’t believe you. You have no idea what went on last night, but you’re sure it’s my fault. Isn’t that a little unfair?”

  “I know who I’m talking about here. I’m the one who has been able to carry on a successful relationship, remember.”

  Ivy paused. She didn’t envy Daisy her relationship, but still, that hurt.

  “You really think I can’t carry on a relationship?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

  “You’re twenty-eight, you’
ve met a great guy, and you’re tying yourself into all kinds of knots. Of course you have trouble with relationships! Most of the men you’ve dated have been total dorks, guys you picked specifically because you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere!”

  Ivy weighed her sister’s comment. She had never thought of herself as being unable to carry on a relationship. Could it be true? No. She rejected the thought immediately. She made responsible decisions when it came to relationships. It wasn’t her fault that none of them had led to marriage yet.

  “It takes a while to meet the right guy,” Ivy said. “I’m young. Lots of women don’t get married until their thirties, if at all. I can’t summon Mr. Right out of thin air, you know. And who says marriage has to be some end-all, be-all, anyway?”

  “Please. You were born to be married. I can’t imagine you forty and not married.”

  “Well, there you go. Joe doesn’t want to get married.”

  Daisy’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my God! You discussed marriage?”

  “No, of course we didn’t discuss marriage—”

  “Then how do you know he doesn’t want to?”

  Ivy sighed. “Daisy, the way you conduct a cross-examination, maybe you should consider a career in law.”

  “Answer the question, please.”

  “We weren’t discussing marriage, like discussing whether we should get married. We were talking about it in general, you know, like did he see it in his future, and he said no.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Every guy says that at some point. They change their minds when they meet the right girl.”

  “Well, I must not be the right girl, because he hasn’t changed his mind yet.” An unexpected dart of pain lanced her chest as she said the words. The truth hurts, she reminded herself, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

  Daisy had no argument for this, she realized after a moment of silence. How could she? Not even her happy hippy sister could put a positive spin on this.

  With relief, Ivy heard the coffeemaker sputter to a stop. She filled the largest mug she could find and held it under her nose for a long moment, savoring the heat and aroma and, more importantly, trying not to think about this truly depressing topic of conversation.

  How long were she and Joe going to be cooped up together like this? Now that they’d been together, seeing him every day would be painfully awkward. She had to talk some sense into Daisy soon. After she accomplished that mission, they could go back to Chicago.

  In Chicago, they wouldn’t have to worry about Cantor and Ramirez. She could no doubt talk her father into repaying them whatever Pock had cost them, but her father wouldn’t do it if Pock and Daisy were still together. She wasn’t telling Daisy that, of course. Holding a threat like that over Daisy’s head would be the best way to guarantee defiance.

  If she didn’t succeed in ending the wedding plans, however, she would be on her father’s blacklist right along with Daisy. Her father could make both of their lives miserable without trying very hard. For starters, he could withhold financial support. Ivy had no idea how to support herself. If she wasn’t an heiress who dabbled in art history, who was she? She didn’t want to find out anytime soon.

  “So have you given any more thought to what we talked about? About Pock?” Ivy nudged. “I know he’s a nice guy and everything, but do you still think he’s somebody you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

  Daisy didn’t answer as she rummaged in the fridge for the milk. She poured a bowl of cereal, appearing to think her response over carefully. The delay gave Ivy hope. She must be having second thoughts. If she hadn’t changed her mind, she’d have no compunction about blurting it out.

  “Nothing’s changed.”

  So sure had Ivy been that her sister was reconsidering this disastrous marriage, it actually took her a moment to process Daisy’s answer. When she did, her shoulders sagged. She couldn’t contain herself.

  “Daisy, how can you say that?” she blurted. “He tried to fix a fight! He associates with gangsters. He put us all in danger with his stupid behavior.”

  “He’s not stupid!” Daisy shot back, anger flaring. She jabbed one finger on the kitchen counter, punctuating her words. “He loves me and I love him. That’s all I need! I know you wouldn’t understand that, but it’s how we roll. You want to break us up because you and Joe haven’t worked out. You’re miserable, and you can’t stand to see anyone else happy. Pock and I are compatible on every possible level, and it makes you crazy.”

  Ignoring the personal insult, Ivy stuck to her guns. “That’s ridiculous. If you remember, I came out here to try to talk sense into you long before I became involved with Joe, so leave him out of it. Besides, I didn’t say Pock was stupid. I said his behavior was stupid and he put us in danger because of it. It was stupid! No matter how sex-addled your brain is, you can’t dispute that.”

  “She’s right.” A low, masculine voice from the doorway had them both spinning to see its source. Pock stood in the doorway, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, huge shoulders slumped. “I did something really stupid, and that’s why we’re in danger. I can’t defend it, and you shouldn’t try to, either. I just really, really wanted to impress you.”

  Ivy said nothing. As much as she wanted to drive a wedge between Pock and her sister, his humiliation made her feel bad. She began edging away to the other door, but Pock stopped her. “No, I want you to hear this too.”

  “Why did you think you needed to impress me?” Daisy said.

  “Because you’ve grown up with everything,” he said simply. “My family had nothing when I was growing up, and they’ve still got nothing. I worked as a bouncer, and God knows if I’ll ever make it in MMA. Cantor came along and gave me a shot at a major bout at one of the big hotels, but it came with strings attached. A lot of money, and promises he would get me more fights in the future, but I had to throw the first fight. I couldn’t ask you to marry me and come live in my shitty apartment back in Chicago. It wasn’t what you were used to,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  He looked like a little boy confessing his sins to his mother, and, for a moment, Ivy at least partly understood what her sister saw in him. His inherently sweet nature made him lovable, or at least likeable.

  “I met your dad once, remember?” he said. “I know he thinks I’m a loser. So does your sister. How could I ever hope to win you over if I didn’t have their approval? And I couldn’t get their approval unless I could support you. Cantor offered me good money, and I couldn’t turn it down. Then I got to thinking about what it meant to throw a fight. People out there would believe in me and put their money on me, and I’d be cheating them.”

  “You idiot,” Daisy said. Tears streamed down her face, but her words had no heat to them. “Did you ever think of asking me? Telling me you were going to throw the fight, and asking me what I wanted? Or did you decide for me that money mattered more than being honest with me, more than your life?”

  “I didn’t want to put you in that position. I knew you’d say no, and then I’d never have the opportunity to succeed, never have the opportunity to earn your love.”

  His voice grew gravelly, and Ivy’s throat burned. What would it be like to have a man who loved you so much, who would endanger his own life and throw away even his integrity for you? However misguided he’d been, he’d acted out of love—real, selfless love. Ivy couldn’t condemn him too harshly for it. Neither could Daisy, if her sister’s flight across the room to Pock’s open arms meant anything.

  Ivy bit her lip in dismay. She didn’t want her sister to marry Pock, but she didn’t want to hurt the gentle giant either. Yet that’s just what she would do if she succeeded in disrupting their wedding plans. At this point, though, she didn’t appear to have much of a chance of doing that anyway. Their passionate kiss filled her with equal parts embarrassment and envy. Only last night she and Joe had kissed like that, but they never would again. Given that she’d reached the age of twenty-eight before finding that k
ind of compatibility once, she didn’t know whether she’d ever find it with another man.

  Pulling away from Pock, Daisy murmured, “You couldn’t make me stop loving you, no matter what you did. No one could.”

  Unwilling to witness yet another Pock-and-Daisy make-out session, Ivy fled the kitchen, unnoticed this time, only to nearly collide with a hard male body in the hallway.

  “Gah!” The gasp broke from her lips involuntarily.

  Joe steadied her. The pressure of his hands through her coat felt good. God, what was wrong with her, that his touch through two inches of goose down could set her on fire?

  “You okay?” The words were tender, solicitous—obviously referring to much more than a near-collision in the hallway. They made her want to cry.

  “Yes, fine,” she said. When he looked past her to the kitchen, she shook her head in a warning. “Don’t go in there. They’re having sort of a...private moment.”

  His brows shot up. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Not that private. At least I don’t think so.” She shot a nervous look over her shoulder toward the kitchen. They had been pretty into each other—probably better not to go in there for a while.

  “Come on.”

  He steered her back down the hallway to the living room, to the couch they’d made love on last night. A flood of memories—intimate, hot, and wistful—came over her as she sat down, a foot away from him, feeling as fragile as glass. Her defenses were down, both from making love with him and from the scene she’d witnessed in the kitchen.

  Dressed in a black corduroy shirt he’d picked up yesterday, his unvarnished masculinity called to something inside her. He leaned back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  Somehow, he seemed to have wrinkled the brand-new clothes already, and his hair was even messier than usual. Disheveled seemed to be his natural state. Still, he was gorgeous.

  He wasn’t movie-star handsome, and he certainly didn’t bother much about his clothes or hair, but something about him drew her. Thinking of the many women he’d slept with and would no doubt sleep with in the future simply saddened her.