Not Husband Material

by Violet Paige

  But for what?

  “We need to keep a clear head about all this,” he said softly. “This week has been… fantastic. Your body is fucking amazing, Jillian. The two of us together, it’s like magic. I’ve never fucked anyone the way I fucked you. It felt… different, somehow.”

  I stepped closer, my heart pounding. “I know. It felt the same way for me. Like we were meant to do this. Like we were made for each other. Uh, sexually, I mean,” I added quickly.

  Bruin smiled, and there was that softness again in his eyes. But only for a flickering moment. He nodded. “Yes. Sexually. So, what have you got planned for when you get back? Going straight to meet up with your brother and tell him you sealed the deal?”

  I blushed, misunderstanding what he meant at first. He seemed to catch on.

  “I mean that literally. As in, he’s getting Mirabella,” he explained. I nodded.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean. Of course,” I said hastily. “I’m sure he’s probably worried sick about me. He calls me almost every day.”

  “Same protective older brother, isn’t he?” questioned Bruin, a little sadly.

  “Yep. I think after Mom and Dad died he took it upon himself to be my guardian. I was already a teenager by then, but he stepped up anyway,” I remarked. “He’s been looking after me ever since. Sometimes it gets a little annoying, but I know he means well.”

  Bruin nodded, a faraway look on his face. “Even before your folks passed, he was like that. I remember if I so much as mentioned your name, he’d get this fire in his eyes. Like he was ready to punch me in the face,” he said.

  “Oh. I never knew it was like that,” I murmured.

  Wow. How long had Jeff been shielding me from Bruin? Was it more than just the regular brotherly instinct? Why was he so aggressive about Bruin, in particular?

  “He’s a good brother, Jill. Now that I’m a father, I get it. He wants to protect you from everything. From the whole world. Especially from guys like me,” he added, shrugging.

  “What do you mean? Guys like you?” I asked, frowning. “You’re a great guy.”

  Bruin chuckled. “You’ve seen a side of me most people never even glimpse.”

  “But it’s the true part of you, right? The real Bruin Kincaid is a sweetheart. You’re not the guy Jeff made you out to be,” I commented. For some reason, this seemed to bother him. He pulled away.

  “All of this, all of me, is the real deal. I’m authentic all the way, baby,” he said, a warning tone in his voice. I backed off a little.

  “Yeah. No, I get it,” I said quickly.

  “No. You don’t,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Look, I need to go talk to Miguel about the plans when we reach port. I’ll be busy for the next hour or so.”

  “Oh. Okay,” I murmured, confused. Why was he acting this way? Hot one minute and cold the next? What did I do wrong?

  “Listen, Jillian. You may think you know me, but you don’t,” he began. His tone was less cruel, more matter-of-fact. “Nobody knows me. You can’t just sum me up in a couple of adjectives. I’m more than that. This week was fucking amazing, but it was just part of the bargain. You held up your end, now it’s time for me to do the same. It was great seeing you again, but that’s it. Okay?”

  I had to bite my lip to stop the tears prickling in my eyes. I’d be damned if I let Bruin Kincaid, or whoever the hell he was, see me cry over him. Screw that. My feelings for him had to stop here. Sure, my affection for him was years in the making, but I was putting them to bed. I had to. He didn’t want me. That much was clear. Or at least, if he did, he was denying it even to himself. And I, Jillian Hargrove, businesswoman and bad-ass, was not about to beg him.

  “Fine,” I said firmly.

  “Goodbye, Jillian.” That flash of sorrow in his eyes before he turned and walked out of the room was enough to shake me. What was going on? I couldn’t figure him out. All week we had been so hot for each other, nearly on fire. Had we really burned out that quickly?

  And I knew I was right. Bruin was more than just the cocky, womanizing image he put out into the world. I had seen his softer, kinder side. I knew about his daughter, about how much he adored her and doted on her. That wasn’t the same Bruin who teased me years ago. He was more than that. But why did he turn away? Why was he so offended when I looked at that softer side? What was he so afraid of?

  And then it hit me. Everything was fine until I’d mentioned Jeff.

  Was that it? Bruin knew how important family was to my brother and me. Maybe he was worried that his presence in my life would piss off Jeff. Drive a wedge between us. And why the hell was Jeff so against the idea of Bruin being in my life, anyway? He was the one who pushed me to make this deal, after all. Did it have to do with Bruin’s daughter?

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I was a grown-ass woman. I could make my own decisions about who I slept with, who I loved. By the time Mirabella came to dock, I was on a warpath. I needed to talk to my big brother.

  19

  Bruin

  The burn I felt in my arms as I lifted weights in my private gym on the Mirabella didn’t do as good a job of distracting me as I wanted. The only other workout enthusiast on the ship’s staff was one of the cooks, and he was spotting me as he counted my twelfth rep, giving me an uncertain look.

  “Let’s call it there, boss,” he ventured, but I ignored him and did another rep.

  My arms were screaming, but I felt like I needed some pain right now. Something physical could distract me from what was storming in my heart if I worked hard enough.

  I did another rep, and this time, I let out a grunt as my teeth gritted. My spotter was giving me a concerned look.

  “Boss… ”

  I did another rep at about half the speed this time, and once my arms were up, the cook took the weights from my hands without my permission.

  “What the fuck?” I snapped at him, glaring daggers.

  “You’re my boss, Mr. Kincaid, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself,” he said in an apologetic tone as I sat up, shaking my arms out. I grunted in response, casting another dirty look at him before I stood up slowly.

  I was pissed at him, but the rational part of me knew he was just doing his job. I’d thank him with a pay raise when I cooled off, but I wasn’t about to let him know that just then.

  “I’m taking ten,” I told him curtly before leaving the gym and heading for the deck.

  I didn’t know what to be more angry about: the way I treated Jillian, or the fact that I wasn’t able to get her out of my head.

  I hated how I’d talked to her on the ship, and I knew it was wrong even as the words came out of my mouth. But I didn’t try to push her away just for me. Jeff was a big part of her business. If something came between the two of them, it could seriously hurt her career. As unbelievable and breathtaking as the past week had been, I knew Jillian was the kind of person who deserved a career like that, without stupid stuff like a week-long fling getting in the way.

  The thought of that just made me more angry, though. Was it just a week-long fling? I knew it wasn’t. I’d felt things with Jillian I hadn’t felt with anyone else, even if I didn’t know what that meant. But I did know that we had to pretend it had been that.

  I heard my phone chime, and I took it out to see an email from Jillian. My heart did a somersault at the sight of her name, and I gave my head a shake. What the hell? Was I in high school to be feeling like this over just getting a message from her?

  But if she’d wanted to say something personal, she’d have called. And sure enough, when I flicked the email open, it was a curt note with a professional tone.

  It said she was mid-flight to San Diego, to my surprise. Apparently, she had gotten a last-minute notice about a client coming in from Hawaii who had another yacht to sell, and that this one couldn’t wait. It was an impersonal apology for making me wait a little longer, with a note that she hoped I would understand.

  I frowned and wan
ted to chuck my phone into the water. I didn’t care about the yacht, of course. While I had Jillian out on the water, I had even forgotten a few times that I was selling it. But with her gone, it meant that it was all the more likely I’d get what I’d asked for by sending her away.

  Maybe that was for the better. But my heart wanted to be wrong.

  As I leaned on the railing of the yacht, I caught sight of someone tall and broad-shouldered storming down the marina, and my eyebrows furrowed. When I realized that someone was Jeff, I gripped the railing tighter, my jaw clenching.

  By the way he was heading toward the yacht, I could tell that pretending wasn’t on the table.

  “Bruin!” he shouted as soon as he was close enough to be in hearing distance. “Bruin, I know that’s you up there! We need to talk, now!”

  “Fuck,” I muttered. It was tempting to make a gesture to pretend I couldn’t hear him, but I was past that kind of childishness.

  “Sir,” Miguel called from behind me, having rushed out to the deck. “Would you like me to call security?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s Jeff Hargrove. I’ll deal with him.”

  I strode past a nervous Miguel and made my way down to the gangway, where Jeff was waiting with crossed arms. I kept my face stern and my stride confident as I crossed the gang onto the dock and crossed my own arms, staring him in the eye.

  “Good to know you haven’t lost your nerve over the years,” Jeff said, and I knew exactly what he meant by his tone, but I wasn’t about to play ball with him that easily. Not with the mood I was in at that moment.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Bruin,” he said, “I was your roommate for years, I can tell when something is up.”

  I raised my eyebrows, looking around the dock curiously. “I’d love to hear what it is.”

  Jeff scowled. “I said, don’t play dumb. Jillian and I talk almost every day. She tells me she has food poisoning and suddenly can’t communicate at all for a week, and at the same time, your yacht vanishes from the marina. After what we talked about at the bar, did you think I just wouldn’t put two and two together? How stupid do you think I am?”

  I put my hands on my hips, squaring off defensively. “I was off on my own business, Jeff,” I said. In all honesty, I was just being an asshole by dragging this out, because I wanted someone to take the anger out on. “Jillian was probably off overworking herself to take care of more business for you.”

  He took a step closer, but I held my ground.

  “Do not pretend that you can use this to take pot-shots at me,” he growled. “Bruin, cut the crap, seriously. I know Jillian went on the yacht with you to wherever you went. She had a tan, for God’s sakes. I thought we were clear when we talked in the bar.”

  I rolled my eyes, looking away for a moment, then glaring back at Jeff. My instinct was to start mouthing off about how Jillian and I had spent the week having mind-blowing sex. I wanted to fly off the handle at him and tell him all about how happy she was, how great my cock made her feel, how much she needed a break from everything and could live so much more if she weren’t under Jeff’s thumb.

  But Jeff and I had history. A lot of history. And as angry as I was, I wasn’t going to throw that all away just because I was pissed.

  “Okay, fine,” I said, letting out a breath and giving Jeff a firm, even, hard gaze. “Jillian was with me. She’s allowed to do that, Jeff. She’s a grown woman.”

  “You keep saying that, man.” He shook his head. “And it’s not right. She should be like a little sister to you, like she is to me.”

  “Why do you keep going back to that? You can’t just keep a leash on her like she’s your possession, Jeff. She can make her own decisions in life. She negotiates for multi-million-dollar deals on a daily basis. She just flew across the country to do just that, all for the business the two of you are building together. You appreciate that, so why can’t you appreciate her personal life?”

  “I do, Bruin.” His voice was biting. “She’s free to do whatever she likes. That’s not what I’m worried about. We know each other, man, we—”

  “So that’s what it is,” I huffed, cutting him off and nodding. “I get it. I’m still Bruin the Fuckup to you, aren’t I? I’m still the playboy driving you crazy in freshman year, is that it?”

  “Bruin, I know what you’re like,” he snapped. “Hell, I hear about your one-night stands constantly. Last time we talked a few months ago, you bragged about it. If you think you can do that shit with Jillian, you don’t know me at all.”

  “Jill’s not like that,” I said, and I’d never been more sure of it in my life, even if I’d never thought I’d say something like that about a woman. “Jeff, she’s...hell, she’s special. You know that.”

  “Exactly, and she needs someone who can treat her like that. You have a daughter, Bruin, one you never expected to happen.”

  I felt the heat rising in my face, and it took a lot of willpower not to throw a punch at my best friend.

  “Emma is my pride and joy, Jeff.” My voice was low and deadly as I took a step forward, pointing a finger at him in warning. “And you know what? I told Jill about her. I was worried she’d react like you are, thinking I’m some fuckup with my past mistakes following me around. But Emma? She’s anything but a mistake, and Jill recognized that, Jeff. She was happy to hear about her. You could stand to learn a lot from your sister.”

  Jeff glared at me long and hard, not a word coming from his mouth the whole time. Finally, he shook his head and turned his back on me, stalking off down the dock.

  “I won’t tell you again, Bruin,” he called over his shoulder. “This is not your garden to play in.”

  I clenched my fists as he went, then turned and stormed back onto the ship, where Miguel was waiting quietly by one of the doors.

  “Get me a triple whisky,” I ordered him curtly. “Neat.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered quickly.

  This was fucked up. I knew I couldn’t back down, both for my sake and for Jillian’s. But if I kept going after her... I was probably going to lose my best friend.

  20

  Jillian

  Today was the kind of day to write home about. I was walking down the streets of San Diego with a coconut-milk iced coffee in my hand, the sun was shining brightly overhead, there was a balmy breeze in the air, and I had just landed a huge contract from a client.

  I couldn’t stop smiling. The temperature was about seventy-seven degrees, which was the ideal climate in my opinion. Nothing more, nothing less. I was on my way down to the beach in Sunset Cliffs Natural Park, looking for a place to clear my head and catch some rays.

  The whole flight over here to California from Fort Lauderdale had been a mess. The seat I had was a middle seat wedged between two less-than-pleasant aisle mates. On my left was a potbellied business guy who talked loudly into his bluetooth earpiece the whole time, getting increasingly more drunk on those tiny bottles of vodka. On my right was a sweet young woman who would have probably been a wonderful, quiet person to sit next to except that she was flying with her infant child, who was not pleased about being on a plane. The baby screamed and cried the whole way here. I took a page from the bluetooth guy’s book and bought myself a rum-and-coke just to get through the stressful flight. Normally, I preferred to fly business class or even first class, but since this has been such a last-minute trip, I’d had to settle for whatever was left.

  By the time I’d landed in San Diego, I was a little buzzed and about ready to tear my hair out. But I had to go straight from the airport to my meeting with the client, who was all in a tizzy over the yacht coming in from Hawaii.

  Turned out, the client was a middle-aged woman this time, buying the boat as a very, very expensive gift for her younger husband. She was concerned that the interior design of the yacht might be too feminine for his tastes and she needed me to comfort her and assuage her fears. When I arrived, the poor rich woman was chewi
ng her perfectly-manicured nails, nervous as hell. I took her on a tour of the yacht, calmly and coolly explaining how easy it would be to redecorate and refurnish the boat to better suit her husband’s preferences. I had calmed her down enough by the end of the tour that she actually gave me a hug and signed the paperwork for the yacht right then and there. It was a huge gain for me. Forty-five minutes of consoling this woman and I had a massive sale under my belt.

  So now I was celebrating. The adrenaline rush I got from making the sale was enough to propel me out of my hotel room and down to the shore with my iced coffee in hand. My hotel was only a few blocks from the park, which was perfect. I found a nice boulder to sit on, and then took out my phone. I wanted to call someone. No, not just someone-- I wanted to call Bruin. I wanted to tell him about my big sale. I wanted, for some stupid reason, for him to be proud of me. But I couldn’t do that. Not after the way we left things in Florida. I sighed, my adrenaline high wearing off as I thought about the sticky situation I was in.

  I liked Bruin. A lot. He made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years, possibly ever. And not just in bed. My heart skipped a beat whenever I thought of him. I decided to call Anna Kate. Maybe she would have some sage advice. I dialed her number on Facetime and she picked up on the second ring, smiling at me from her kitchen, yet again.

  “Hey, girly. What’s up?” she answered cheerfully. Then she squinted. “Wait, where are you? Do I hear the ocean?”

  I nodded. “Yup. I’m in California. That is indeed the ocean.”

  “Damn. I’m so jealous. You’re always jetting from coast to coast and I’m just here in my kitchen again,” she sighed.

  “Yeah, you get to taste cookie dough and cake batter all day, what an awful life,” I teased.

  “True,” she agreed. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you in, like, a week. I was starting to worry.”

  “I was, uh, on a trip,” I said cagily.

  She cocked her head to one side. “A trip? Without cell service? Where’d you go?”