by Joss Wood
“The one with the black leather strap?” Linc asked. “It’s vintage.”
“It’s seriously sexy. As are you.” Tate dropped a quick kiss on his bare, big biceps. “And, Linc?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember to smile,” she told him softly. “Your smile... It’s dynamite.”
Heat flared in Linc’s smoky gray eyes. “I’ll be down in...” He looked down at his erection and he groaned. “Give me five minutes. Then again, it’s been a while... I might need ten.”
* * *
It took all Linc’s fortitude and willpower to sit through that interminable photo shoot, to take directions from Jose, the anal photographer. But a millennium later—okay, maybe ninety minutes later—Jose declared himself satisfied and Linc, wearing Connor’s massive alexandrite ring on his middle finger, was finally released from hell, previously known as Connor’s magnificent and lushly decorated library.
Needing a minute, Linc ducked into the bathroom, turned around and leaned his back against the door. He turned Connor’s ring on his middle finger, fascinated, as always, by its colors. When he’d stood by the windows of the library, the stone, in the natural light pouring in from the windows, had looked like a fine emerald, but now, under artificial light, it was the raspberry red of a fine Burmese ruby.
Connor had still been alive when he’d asked Kari to marry him, and thank God that he had been. Had he not, Linc might’ve been stupid enough to give Connor’s ring to Kari on their engagement. She would’ve pawned it as she had her very expensive, stunning five-carat yellow diamond solitaire he’d handed over with his proposal. He could live with losing the diamond, but if he’d lost Connor’s ring, he’d never forgive himself.
He still wanted to give it to his wife one day, if he ever found the one woman on whom he could take a chance. Linc pulled the ring off his finger and stared down at it as he imagined sliding the ring onto a feminine finger, looking tenderly into the eyes of the woman of his dreams. But instead of the blue or green eyes he normally conjured up, honey-brown eyes flashed on his mental big screen. Sparkling, warm, expressive eyes, a mobile mouth, tumbling, crazy blondish-brown hair.
Tate.
Linc shoved his ring back onto his finger and stood up to grip the edge of the tiny basin. He glared at his reflection in the mirror above the wall and told himself to get a clue.
Tate would never wear his ring because Tate was not marriage material. Tate was a free spirit, someone who associated marriage and commitment with all the freedoms of jail.
Yes, they were wildly attracted to each other, and as soon as he could get rid of his family, as soon as the kids were asleep, he intended to discover every nook and cranny of that glorious body. He’d taste her, feed on her, but what he wouldn’t do was get attached to her.
That way madness lay. Harper women didn’t like restrictions or commitment. He’d learned his lesson with Kari and he’d learned it well. This time he’d be better prepared. This was about sex, pure and simple. Later tonight, he and Tate would light the match, set their attraction on fire and, like other chemical reactions, they would burn hard and fast, rocketing their way to a quick end.
Because they were on the same page and reading the same damn book, they’d be able to walk away from each other with only a couple of scorch marks and the wish that their spark could’ve burned longer and harder but understanding that intense reactions never lasted.
This was chemistry, nothing else. They hardly knew each other, were complete opposites and lived totally different lives. Chemistry was all they had...
Chemistry was all they could have, Linc reminded himself when a pang of longing coursed through his system. She was bold and mouthy and intense and complicated, for God’s sake. She wasn’t the quiet, stable, calm person he wanted.
She wasn’t bland or boring, either, his inner devil told him, and Linc closed his eyes, frustrated at his turmoil. He hadn’t felt this overwrought in years, not since...
Not since the other Harper woman dropped into his life and flipped it upside down.
Linc opened his eyes and ground his back teeth together. He would not allow Tate to upend his calm, controlled, orderly world. They’d have sex—there was no way he could deny himself that—but that was where their relationship started and ended.
In bed.
God, he couldn’t wait to get that party started. Did the kids really need a bath? Shaw could, this once, miss out on his nightly story. There were a million places to eat in the city, his siblings could find food somewhere else...
He wanted, this one time, to put his needs and wishes first.
Eight
Linc jogged down the steps and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and great room, taking in the chaos. A lasagna bubbled in the oven. Cady and Piper sat on the big leather couch closest to the kitchen, and Sage was in the chair opposite them, Ellie on her lap, holding her bottle and fighting sleep. Ty, Jaeger and Piper’s son, sat in the high chair next to the granite-topped counter, and Shaw was perched on the counter itself, a piping bag of shocking green icing in his hand, biting his lip as he squeezed the contents onto a cupcake.
His burly brothers were standing on either side of Tate. Beck was using a small roller on what might or might not be bright yellow dough, and Jaeger was pressing a cookie cutter into garish purple icing.
These were going to be the brightest and messiest cupcakes in the history of pre-K bake days, Linc decided as he walked into the room.
Tate was the first to notice his arrival, and their eyes clashed and held as he walked across the great room. Judging by her glazed eyes and half-open mouth, she was reliving their X-rated, happened-in-the-closet kiss. He dragged his eyes off her before he embarrassed himself, and greeted Cady and Piper, bending down to drop a kiss on Sage’s head. Because he could and she was cute, he kissed Ellie’s head, as well. He walked over to the kitchen area and ran his hand over Shaw’s bright head, taking a moment to connect with his son.
Shaw’s eyes, that intense blue he shared with Kari, met his. “This is the best fun ever, Dad. We’re making spacemen cupcakes.”
Beck lifted his head and mock frowned at Shaw. “Spacemen? I thought we were making dinosaurs!”
“And I thought we were making monsters,” Jaeger chimed in, joining the teasing.
“Spacemen,” Shaw told them, his tone suggesting that they were both village idiots. He gestured to the badly decorated, messy batch of finished cupcakes, beaming with pride. Linc had never seen anything that looked less like spacemen in his life.
“They are so cool,” Shaw said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“They really are, buddy,” Linc lied, straight-faced. “How many do you still have to do?”
Shaw held up a half-decorated cupcake in his hand and looked a little disgusted. “Just this one. Tate says that she has to make some that girls will eat, so she’s going to do the rest later.” Shaw sent Tate a hard look. “No pink and no fairies.”
“But I can do flowers, right?” Tate asked, her mouth twitching.
“Just a few,” Shaw reluctantly agreed.
Linc walked over to the huge fridge and pulled out three beers, opened two and placed them in front of his brothers. Unable to resist touching Tate, Linc allowed his fingers to slide up and under her shirt to find the band of soft skin just above the waistband of her leggings. “Wine, Tate?”
Linc noticed that Tate sucked in her breath as his fingers trailed over her skin. Oh, God, this waiting was killing both of them. Good to know that he wasn’t alone in this madness.
“I’m good...thanks,” Tate said as if she were battling to find her words.
Linc checked on the levels in the wineglasses across the room before twisting the cap off his beer bottle and taking a long sip. He was thirsty, hungry and tired but, mostly, he was horny. He’d
ditch the beer and the food in a heartbeat if he could kiss that sexy spot where Tate’s neck met her jawline...
“Have you made any progress finding out who is buying up Ballantyne stock?” Jaeger asked him, leaning his butt against the counter.
Linc, pulling his mind from the bedroom, shook his head. “No, not yet. But I will.”
“As a family we own controlling shares, and as long as we stick together, we are safe from a hostile takeover, so I don’t seen the point of anyone buying up big blocks of stock. Combined, we own sixty percent of the company, but this company, Lach-Ty, now owns five percent. Worrying,” Beck stated, picking up his beer.
Worrying about Ballantyne International was his job, as was protecting his family. But he’d done a crap job so far in regard to finding out who was behind the purchases of the shares. He had a company name, Lach-Ty, but little else. He loathed operating in the dark and decided to ask Reame to look into the situation. His pal had the skills, or employed people with the skills, to dig up the information he needed.
Linc placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll get to the bottom of it, Beck. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“As long as we stand together,” Beck replied, his tone giving away his concern.
“We always do. We always will,” Jaeger told him, and Linc flashed him a grateful smile.
Jaeger nodded briefly. He glanced at the oven and bellowed, “Who is hungry?”
“Me!” Shaw shouted, waving the icing bag around. Linc saw splatters of radioactive green land on Tate’s chin and chest. Reacting quickly, he reached across the counter and grabbed the bag from Shaw. “Easy, Shaw.” He grinned at the streak of green in Tate’s hair, the spots on her cheek. “Tate now looks like a spaceman.”
Instead of rushing off to the bathroom in a panic to clean up, in order to look perfect, Tate dragged her finger across her chin and popped the icing she gathered into her mouth. Her gaze met Linc’s, and his knees buckled at the lust and laughter in her eyes.
“At least I taste good,” she murmured.
That he could vouch for...
“Well,” Jaeger drawled, his eyes bouncing between them, “I have a feeling that dinner is going to be quick, and that big bro is going to be kicking us out of here as soon as we are done eating.”
Linc didn’t drop his eyes from Tate’s.
“Damn straight,” he muttered as Tate blushed. “Feel free to leave now. You can even take the lasagna with you.”
* * *
Tate, feeling sticky and a little headachy from tension and anticipation, piped a pale yellow swirl onto a vanilla cupcake and reached for a premade bumblebee, carefully placing the little bee at an angle. Nine cupcakes down, three to go. Looking around the relatively clean kitchen, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d been surprised, and grateful, when the Ballantyne brothers had cleaned up the mess they, and Shaw, had made in their effort to create their spacemen cupcakes. The dishwasher was loaded, the counters wiped down, the ingredients put away. Sage had even stayed to help her mix up four colored bowls of icing and had even offered to help decorate the next batch of cupcakes.
But Tate knew that Sage still had hours of work ahead of her, so she’d gently refused her help. Besides, she wanted to be alone with Linc. Well, as alone as they could get with two kids in the house. She just needed to get these last few cakes decorated, and she could take a shower and rid herself of her grimy jeans and sticky T-shirt. And then, God willing and children cooperating, Linc would blow her mind...
And, hopefully other parts of her body, as well.
Tate’s head snapped up when she heard Linc’s footsteps and sucked in her breath as he walked across the room to her. He stopped just behind her, slid his strong arms around her waist and laid his chin on her shoulder. “How many more to go?”
Tate tipped her head back to rest it against his collarbone, inhaling his masculine cologne and the underlying scent that was all Linc. “Three. It’ll go quick, if I’m not distracted.”
Linc nuzzled her temple before standing up straight. He dropped his arms and moved to stand next to her, his hip pushing into the counter. “What can I do to hurry this process along? I mean...to help?”
Tate lifted her eyebrows, trying not to laugh. “Are you any better at icing than your brothers and son?”
Linc smiled. “Not really.” He gestured to her pretty cupcakes, a complete contrast to the other messy ones. “Yours look fantastic. Are you going to fix the spacemen?”
Tate shook her head. “I’m not going to do a thing.”
“They aren’t exactly of ChildTime standards,” Linc said, and Tate heard the doubt in his voice.
“Screw the standard,” Tate cheerfully told him. “Shaw made them, he loves them, that’s all that matters. Besides, they are bright and sugary. The kids will inhale them.”
Linc pushed his fingers into his short hair. “You’re right. What Shaw thinks is all that’s important.” He walked over to the cupboard, pulled down two tumblers and a bottle of really expensive whiskey. Linc placed a half-full glass close to her, and she murmured her thanks.
“How was the photo shoot?” Tate asked, trying to think of something to talk about to keep both their minds off the smoking hot sex they were about to have.
She also needed a distraction from the realization that she’d loved everything about this evening, had so relished feeling like an integral part of a family, like she was needed and important. Normally, she would’ve avoided anything that smacked of Harriet Homemaker and run at the first hint of domesticity, but she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself. She even—dare she think it?—wanted more.
You’re losing your mind, Harper. You’re just overexcited because you’re about to get laid, and your brain is working overtime.
Get a grip.
“Long,” Linc replied, boosting himself up to sit on the counter next to her work space. God, how was she supposed to concentrate on her swirls when his long, muscled thigh was a few inches from her hand, when she could see his tanned flesh through the rips in his jeans?
Tate noticed the unusual ring on his middle finger. “Jaeger had Kashmir sapphires. Beck, red beryl. Sage, red diamonds, but I don’t recognize your stone.”
“Alexandrite.” Linc pulled the ring off his finger and held it between his thumb and forefinger. He turned it, and in the red depths Tate caught a flash of green, then yellow, maybe a hint of orange. It was stunningly beautiful.
“Emerald by day, ruby by night,” Linc explained. “It changes color depending on the light source.”
“I’ve never seen you with it before.” Tate picked up the bag of yellow icing and pulled a bare cupcake toward her.
“Despite my job, I’m not a jewelry-wearing type of guy. This was Connor’s ring. I was with him, the day he discovered this stone,” Linc explained, his voice low.
Beneath the lust hovering between them, she heard nostalgia and longing in his voice as he shared an incredible memory. Yes, of course she wanted to explore his fabulous body, but she didn’t mind taking a stroll through his amazing mind. “Tell me more.”
“It was about six months after we moved in here, and I was recovering from chicken pox. I was better, but the doctor insisted that I stay home, and I was bored out of my mind. I couldn’t believe it when Connor invited me to attend an estate sale with him, somewhere upstate. He bid and won this box of what was mostly costume jewelry. But amongst the junk was a stunning ruby pendant and this ring. Connor was beside himself, alexandrite was his favorite stone, and the ring slid onto his finger as if it were made for him. He never took it off until the day he died.”
“And you inherited it.”
Linc’s big shoulders rose and fell. “He was my dad, the only dad I knew. Or wanted. He never married, but, with my mom’s help, he raised four kids and made us feel loved every damn d
ay.”
“And he and your mom?”
Linc smiled. “They were best friends, and she was devastated when he died, but nothing, as far as I knew, sparked between them.”
“And she had no problem with him adopting you?”
Linc shrugged. “I think she did in the beginning. But they worked it out. He wanted me as much as he wanted the others, and I was his son, with or without her permission. Connor convinced her that him becoming my dad didn’t stop her from being my mom.”
Tate placed her hand on his knee and squeezed. “You must miss him.”
“So damn much. He was my North Star, my magnetic pole. Funny, so smart, so full of life. He was, in so many ways, the glue that held us together. He was our charismatic, fearless leader.”
“And now you’ve taken over that role,” Tate observed, thinking how much responsibility Linc carried on his big, broad shoulders.
“Yeah, I suppose,” Linc replied, his voice scratchy with emotion.
“And are you okay with doing that?”
“Connor would expect it, and that’s reason enough. Though, admittedly, there are days when I’d like to run away.” Linc lifted his glass to his lips, and Tate noticed the slight tremble in his fingers. “While this family mostly, runs on discussion and democracy, the buck has to stop with someone, and that someone is me.”
“Your siblings would probably disagree with that. And, to be honest, they look like they are very capable of running their own lives.”
“They are,” Linc admitted. “And they do, but they all know that I’m standing behind them, ready to catch them if they fall. As for the company, I’ll protect the Ballantyne wealth and assets with my last breath.”
He would, Tate realized. His son, his family and their loved ones, were at the center of everything Linc did. He existed to protect his family and the company his father had loved and created. But where did that leave his wants and desires? He was so busy giving that he rarely took, probably didn’t think that he had the right to be loved and protected and cherished himself.
