He did none of that. As always, the plans Red made for Piper took on water faster than a torpedoed cargo ship.
Instead of declaring himself, he’d simply leaned in and kissed her. Piper had tasted like chocolate, and melted like it, too. Red had left the ring in his pocket and reached around to unzip her dress. He’d smoothed the straps off her shoulders, hiked the hem up to her hips, and taken Piper hard on his dining room table.
And then Red brought her to the theater, sated and starry-eyed because of him and what they had done together. Later, in the dark of the private theater box, it might’ve occurred to Piper what he’d meant by, We’ll get there soon enough.
Only Red hadn’t said it. Any of it.
He still might have salvaged his romantic plan if they hadn’t run into the Dentons after the show—John Senior looking grim as death and Lisa acting so sly and self-satisfied. Red hadn’t wanted to tip them off before he’d had a chance to make the net around them nice and snug, but damn, that woman had goaded him.
He’d had to hustle Piper into the car and away, just so he could make it clear to those greedy fools that he knew all their ducks were not in a tidy row.
Except then their son had strolled up, breathing fire and cheap bourbon fumes.
“It’s bad enough you took our family legacy away,” Jim had complained, “Right out from under us.”
Red had frowned and so did John, both remembering the Trident transaction quite a bit differently.
But Jim had gone on. “You don’t have to stand here on the street and threaten my parents. They’re only a couple of retirees now. You can’t take any more from them. From us.”
Lisa had castigated Red for firing her son, the ‘best damn crime writer in the country.’
John had attempted, once more, to get his family to leave.
And the theater workers had very politely invited them to retire to the cigar lounge next door, where they would be more comfortable. Red had set aside a flash of guilt when he thought of Piper, ringless and waiting for him at home. He’d ridden off into an odd, weaponless sort of battle, where he attempted to say what he needed to without giving any of his strategy—such as it was—away.
TWENTY-SEVEN
JUST AS PIPER was exiting the hot bath Red had prescribed, he’d texted to let her know he was going to be a while more yet. By then, Piper hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open any longer, even with her rampant curiosity about what was happening with the Dentons. She’d climbed into his bed to wait for him and figured Red was bound to show up there eventually.
At some point, he had. As Piper came slowly awake, she registered that Red had already shucked his suit and crawled into bed in his t-shirt and boxers. He lay face-to-face with her and was nudging her gradually into consciousness with light caresses along her arm and kisses to her forehead.
When Piper opened her eyes, Red was smiling sheepishly back at her. His head was nestled on the pillow next to hers, his long body mirroring her own posture. He smelled wonderfully clean and masculine, crisp and fresh—he obviously hadn’t slept at all yet.
“You made it,” Piper croaked out, her voice scratchy with sleep.
He nodded. “Seems like I keep making you wait for me. I’m sorry.”
“You’re a very bad boy.”
“True,” Red’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed, then he shifted forward, easing her onto her back. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” He propped himself on his elbow and trailed his fingers through Piper’s hair, spreading it across the pillow.
“Probably.”
“I wonder how I can convince you to?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Piper was happy to see him, but underneath it burrowed a small, niggling tendril of doubt. How many nights would she have to spend, exactly, waiting for this man to show up? That assumed, of course, that this whole thing with him went anywhere—that he didn’t tire of her too fast for it to even matter.
Red lowered his face to her neck, and his lips grazed her skin before moving on to her ear and down the sensitive side of her throat again. Piper’s eyes drifted closed as she absorbed his presence above her—warm and large, strong and careful. It was hard to be skeptical of someone so solid, but she’d be foolish not to.
“My job is demanding,” he murmured against her skin. “But most of the time, I love it. I get off on it. Overcoming the challenges.”
Piper nodded. He would.
“Except now, there’s somewhere else I want to be. When I can’t get away, it chafes.” Red raised his head and gazed down at her, and she felt the intensity of it before she even opened her eyes. When she did, though, it was too hard to look back. She felt too exposed.
Piper looked away.
“It’s like everyone’s expectations of me got all out of proportion,” he continued, returning to brush his lips over her neck and collarbone. “I never cared before. But now, knowing you’re out there somewhere, being enticing without even meaning to…”
His voice faded away and Piper could feel his breath against her sternum. Suddenly, he rubbed his face against her pajama top like a puppy.
“I don’t want to sit in an office all day,” Red told her.
“I don’t know,” Piper teased. “It seemed pretty nice when I was there.”
He raised up on his arms and looked down at her. “It’s different with you,” he said. “Everything’s different with you.”
Before she could respond to that, Red scooted down and inched up the hem of her top, placing blazing hot kisses along the sliver of skin he exposed. He ran his lips back and forth, tickling the fine hairs there and sending a shiver through her.
“I have something for you. A couple little gifts,” he said quietly.
“I’ll bet,” Piper laughed before her sleepy brain caught up with the uncertainty in his tone.
“No, really,” Red chastised. “I just wrapped them, and I want to give them to you. But I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to buy your forgiveness, or your complacency—or whatever—for being late all the time. It’s not like that.”
“Okay. So, what’s it like, then?”
“I spotted one of them in a store today, when I was picking up a wedding gift for Anika. It made me think of you so much that I just couldn’t leave it there. I wanted you to have it. I wanted to see it on you.”
Piper squinted up at him, trying to parse Red’s explanation. He was making a big deal out of what was bound to be some little trinkets. So why was she catching the faintest whiff of vulnerability coming off him?
Suddenly wary, she wriggled out from under him, needing a little more space for herself. Red sat up and studied her face. What he saw there must have resolved something for him because he nodded briefly—like he’d come to a decision.
Red leaned forward and reached under the pillow he’d been laying on, extracting a long, slim box covered in black paper. Piper untied the satin ribbon and opened it, and saw a beautiful, glossy-blue fountain pen laying inside. Around it was a ring.
“I know no pen could possibly compete with your favorite one,” he began, “But maybe…”
Piper lifted a shaking finger to touch the diamonds winking up at her. Red slid the ring free, lifted her right hand, and put the ring onto her finger.
“What do you think?” he asked softly.
Piper squinted at it, trying to unravel what she was seeing. A wide band of stylized vines and leaves, liberally sprinkled with diamonds, was sparkling up at her. The metal looked different than silver or white gold—platinum, she guessed, by the color of it.
No. Not a guess.
“I know this ring,” she said in shock.
“Do you?”
“I’ve been—I’ve been admiring it for years,” she stuttered.
It was amazing that she’d managed to be even that casual when stalking or lusting were probably better words. But Piper had never gotten it for herself, because—
“I can’t accept thi
s!” she gasped, wrenching it off in dismay. She tried to press it into Red’s hand. “You’re out of your mind. This is way too expensive!”
He refused to take it.
“Stop! What are you doing?” she wailed. “Take it back!”
“No.” He sat on his hands like a stubborn child.
“No? What do you mean, no?” Her voice had turned shrill. Piper was aware of it—accepted it, even. Why the hell not?
“I mean, no. I refuse to take it back. I made me think of you. A lot. So, I got it and I gave it to you, and it looks beautiful on you. You can’t pretend like you don’t love it.” Piper’s chagrin must have been written all over her face, because then he added, “You do love it. Admit it.”
She bit back the automatic denial that bubbled up to her lips and nodded instead. It was totally appalling because she did love the ring—insanely, irrationally so.
She might’ve tried to pretend to herself, but Red was far too perceptive to fall for it. She couldn’t lie to him.
He pried it out of her palm and slipped it back onto her finger.
“It belongs here. I didn’t want to make a fuss, and I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wanted you to have something special from me. Now, let’s just lay here for a little while, okay? It’s been a long fucking day and I missed you.”
Red held Piper against his chest. His breathing was deep and regular—peaceful. Piper willed her stiff limbs to relax, but it was hard. The ring pressed into her skin where her fingers were entwined with his.
He murmured, “The pen is for you, too. It’s a fountain pen that writes like a…fountain pen. I hope you like it.”
“I love it,” Piper smiled. “Thank you.”
For the last couple of years, she’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t be duped by smooth words and a pretty face again. For the most part, she’d been successful, too. But nothing could have prepared her for Red’s will—it was both excruciatingly simple and dreadfully complicated, and Piper was weak in the face of it.
To her everlasting mortification, it seemed she had no fortitude to withstand his blunt words, his direct manner, or his horribly perfect gifts. She couldn’t possibly hope to contain Red or to keep him.
Since she was beginning to suspect she’d stupidly lost her heart already, that meant Piper was doomed.
LYING NEXT TO Piper, Red still hadn’t been able to summon most of the words he’d crafted so carefully earlier that day. Not after he’d had to send her back to his loft alone while he tried to handle the Dentons.
Because—while he might believe they had a future together—Piper might find that hard to envision. What kind of life would it be, constantly playing second fiddle to his job? To his responsibilities?
At least he’d won this tiny victory. The eternity band took up almost all the space below her knuckle, starbursts of diamonds flowing around the circlet with white fire at their hearts. Red had remembered her size correctly, at least—the ring fit Piper precisely and she wasn’t trying to give it back anymore.
Piper’s patent stupefaction had been excruciatingly clear when she’d first stared down at his gift. Once she recognized the ring, she was predictably horrified. Not only had she known where Red purchased it, she knew how much he’d paid for it—because she’d picked it out herself. Red wondered if she regretted saving it to her wish list now.
Had she forgotten mentioning the website to him over dinner? Or that Red was a quick study? It hadn’t taken him long to investigate what she’d been chatting about, and he’d been intrigued to discover, tucked among the photos of home décor and snarky cat memes, all sorts of helpful gift ideas for her.
Shoes and more shoes, but also handbags and lingerie. Sparkling jewels. Mountain cabins. The possibilities were intoxicating.
Yeah, Piper would wear his ring. She’d wear the clothes Red bought her, and the kisses he laid on her, too. She’d wear every single one of his marks of possession, and any other man who spotted them would know to keep on walking.
Piper was his. Once she figured that out, once she began believing it—maybe she wouldn’t question what was growing between them anymore.
Red realized, of course, that he was reverting into caveman territory—he knew he didn’t own her.
Red wanted to be hers as much as she was his. Red wanted Piper to claim him once and for all, and he wanted to be worthy of it. When the time came that they could finally take their relationship public, there’d be no stopping them.
Red knew it like he knew his own name.
IN THE MORNING, Piper’s flight home was delayed while a treacherous front of thunderstorms skated across the Baltimore area. The sudden change in plan seemed to throw her for a bit of a loop.
After watching her pace around the loft for a while, Red finally dragged her into his game room to pass the time, and to take her mind off worrying about the weather.
There was something different about Piper’s expression when she gazed at his pool table this time, some flicker that he’d never spotted on her face before. He wanted to know what it was.
Red leaned over to rack the balls. “Let’s play,” he said, handing her a cue stick before she could whip out her phone to check the Maryland weather for the umpteenth time.
Piper went along with it, smiling a little but not saying much through their first few shots. Red watched the way she moved around the table and contemplated the angles her balls took.
“You’re a good player, aren’t you?” he commented. “Maybe more than good.” She improved more and more with each shot she took.
“I used to play every chance I got,” Piper told him wistfully. “Once upon a time.”
“I can tell.”
“That was a long time ago, though. I don’t find myself in many pool halls anymore. Not too many bars, either.” She frowned at the wall. “None, as a matter of fact.”
Red studied her. “You loved it.” No question. She missed it, too.
Piper sniffed a little, deriding her long-ago self. “I had a bad-ass conception of myself back then. You know—that girl who drinks whiskey, shoots pool, and swears like a sailor. All the guys are supposed to love her. And if I got a couple tattoos and a lot of ear piercings, then maybe I’d be edgier than all the other kids in middle-class suburbia. What did I know?”
“Sounds like fun.” Red’s younger self would’ve killed to meet a girl like her then.
Piper clearly didn’t agree. “No, it didn’t take me long to figure out how naïve I was. I wasn’t actually tough. It was all just foolish posturing.”
Whatever had nudged her out of that life stage still stung, it seemed. “Isn’t that par for the course when you’re twenty?” It wasn’t often that she dropped tidbits from her past into conversation. Red kept his tone mild, hoping to keep Piper talking.
She shrugged, her eyes drifting over the table, studying her options. “When I was twenty, I was still under the impression that I had some fierce spark within me that other people didn’t have. It was going to turn my life into something extraordinary, I knew it. I just…” Piper peeked at him, then quickly looked away. “It took some time to come to terms with the fact that I’m actually pretty ordinary.”
Red tried to school his expression into impassivity. Normally, he’d have thought that this was all an affectation, the kind that so many women of his acquaintance used to fish for compliments he didn’t dole out easily. Only, Piper’s entire demeanor was so woebegone that he knew it was no act.
The question became, why would a woman as lovely and accomplished as her be so intent on minimizing herself? Piper had that spark all right, and had probably possessed it all along. Any person with half a brain could see it—in fact, it was probably why she’d done so well in her career.
The conundrum intrigued him. Instead of singing her own praises so Red would understand why he should spoil her rotten, Piper was awfully keen on making the point that she was really nothing special—despite all appearances to the contrary.
; And she did that because…Red watched her and considered the way her mind worked. If Piper could convince him that she wasn’t exceptional enough to want, then he would probably ditch her before this thing between them even had a chance to get off the ground.
Maybe even before anyone’s hearts were on the table. Which made Red wonder—did Piper already like him enough that she thought he had the ability to hurt her? By submarining her chances before he got too interested, she could be trying to protect herself.
Red shook his head. That was a lot of logical leaps to make, without any of the pertinent background data. But if that was what Piper felt, he probably ought to warn her—telling Red MacLellan not to want something, telling him that he couldn’t have it and shouldn’t try—well, that was throwing down the gauntlet for a man like him.
Red wouldn’t quit until Piper gave him her heart and soul.
“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart,” he told her. “Ordinary isn’t one of them.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE THUNDERSTORMS IN the Mid-Atlantic had turned into torrential rains, and over the course of the day, half of the eastern seaboard had ended up grounded. Piper’s flight, which had been delayed over and over, was finally canceled altogether.
Red went looking for her, so he could give her the good news. Or was it bad? Hard to say. She wasn’t in his study working, as he expected. Instead, Red found her, silent as a tomb, in his kitchen.
Piper’s spine was stiff, and she was knocking back a measure of alcohol with a quick and unmistakable tilt of her head.
Red cleared his throat to let her know he was there, but only managed to startle her—Piper nearly jumped out of her skin and began sputtering. Whether that was from his sudden appearance or from the burn of the scotch was unclear.
“Did you just shoot 50-year-old Macallan?” he wondered.
She stared down at the bottle’s label a moment before defiantly meeting his eye.
“Might’ve,” she muttered.
When he smiled, Piper’s chin tilted up, but her eyes slid guiltily away. Red stepped carefully closer.
The Titan Was Tall (Triple Threat Book 1) Page 29
