The Titan Was Tall (Triple Threat Book 1)

by Kristen Casey

  Piper rose to clear her plate. Red grabbed his, too, and followed her to the sink. He kept a little distance, though, like she was some kind of skittish animal, and not a woman bent on maintaining her independence from him.

  “Want to have a look in person? We could go today.”

  “I don’t know, Red.” She shook her head and frowned. “This is all so…” She drifted away to slump back into her chair. “What if…”

  “Listen, I know what you must be thinking,” he sighed. “What if he’s not for real? What if I can’t trust him? What if it all goes wrong?”

  The guilty look on Piper’s face said it all.

  “I get it, little dove. I’m asking you to move out of your home. To hand over the keys to a place that’s been in your family for a very long time. I recognize that it’s a lot to ask.”

  “What I don’t understand,” she said, “is how you are so sure of me. Doesn’t it occur to you to wonder if you can trust me? What if I’m not what I seem? What if I’m just trying to take you for a ride?”

  Red swallowed, not liking how close to home her words hit. Before he’d met her, that would’ve been exactly the direction of his thoughts. Piper must have seen her arrow land, too, because she rushed to reassure him.

  “Red. That’s not at all what I’m doing, I promise. But I’m amazed that you aren’t more suspicious of me, given what you’ve said about the other women you’ve been with.”

  The chair next to her creaked slightly when he lowered himself into it. “Piper, from the very beginning, my gut has told me that you are exactly what you seem.” He leaned in, holding her gaze with his. “My gut is not often wrong. And here—in my shriveled, dark little heart—this thing between us feels all kinds of right. So, you tell me. Why shouldn’t I do this for you? When I have the means, and I know it would help? To me, right now, not helping feels like the dick move.”

  WITH THE PROMISE of Eric and his renovation magic dangled in front of her, Piper had been easily enticed into coming back to New York with him for a few days. Red might not have asked if she hadn’t looked so forlorn watching him pack to go home.

  But finding her a seat next to him had been simple, and he’d promised not to cajole her into staying longer than planned. The weather report even looked good—cool and clear, with no storms and no early snow in the forecast.

  Piper still hadn’t seemed completely enamored with the new condo idea, even after visiting it and admitting it was nice. So, after mulling it over for most of their flight, Red had eventually burst out with his other idea on the car ride home from the airport—a notion that would’ve seemed inconceivable only a few short months ago.

  Now though? The thought of having Piper there in Manhattan with him—all the time—got Red’s heart thumping in an entirely new way. Maybe, if she liked it enough, she wouldn’t want to leave. Maybe Piper would actually want to stay.

  He could make it good for her. Red knew he could.

  She was hesitating, however, in that way she had—standing in the middle of his living room and looking around with a gimlet eye.

  “What am I supposed to do?” she demanded. “Just move all my stuff in here? With —” She waved her hands around, broadly encompassing the contents of the loft. “—all this?”

  Red shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Oh, right,” Piper sneered. “Like that would work.”

  “Why wouldn’t it?” Red got close and stroked her arm. “Piper, I thought by now you’d get it. All of this stuff is meaningless to me. I couldn’t care less if you gutted the place and started from scratch. Shit, you could burn it down while I was at work if you wanted. I just want us to be together.”

  She wasn’t buying it. That much was clear. “I’m seriously supposed to believe that you don’t care about one single thing in this entire loft? What about those new pictures on the wall? Or your new couch?”

  Red thought hard. Piper was right. “Well…” He debated telling her, but he was in this far—what could be the harm in digging a little deeper? “Okay. Maybe there is one thing.”

  “One?” she squawked.

  He nodded.

  “Show me.”

  Red lingered, wondering if he was crazy to play this out. But if he didn’t put anything on the line, how could he expect to gain what he wanted? His feet were moving before he’d really made the decision, carrying him to his study while Piper trailed behind.

  He led her over to the desk chair, sat her down, and pointed to the top drawer.

  “Open it.”

  She glanced at him, curious, then did as he’d instructed.

  Inside, right where it always lay, was the folding frame. Its two photos sat side-by-side in easy reach, where Red could look at them quickly or contemplate them at length, depending on what the day or the moment required. He kept a twin of it in the same place at his office, too.

  Piper lifted it out of the drawer and studied the images. In one, she was soft and vulnerable in sleep, her hair making a halo on his pillow. In the other, she was laughing directly at him—eyes shining, dimples so damn cute they made his chest seize up, her incomparable heart etched into every plane of her beautiful face.

  “These—where did you get these?” Piper stammered.

  Red slipped his phone from his pocket and waggled it at her sheepishly. If she asked him why he’d bothered getting the photos printed and framed when he could just as easily have kept them on his phone, he’d never be able to explain it to her. Red wasn’t sure he understood it himself. He only knew, at one point, the impulse had felt necessary.

  It was hard to read her expression. Maybe he’d crossed a line, stepped clear into stalker territory. It would probably be smart of her to consider him capable.

  “There must be millions of dollars of art and…and stuff in this place, and you’re worried about two little crappy pictures of me?” Piper sputtered. “You’re insane!”

  Red smiled. She was most likely right.

  “It would be hard to convince me to part with these,” he said, taking the frame from her and cradling it in his hands. “But if I had you here with me instead, maybe I could be persuaded.”

  She huffed out a disbelieving breath and stared at him. Then she dropped her head to the desk, hiding her face from Red entirely.

  From inside the cave of her arms, he heard, “You drive a very hard bargain, mister.”

  His heart leaped into life, beating double-time while he waited for Piper’s answer.

  Eventually, she said, “Okay. I’ll…I’ll do it.”

  “Really?” Red didn’t pump his fist, but damn, he wanted to. Then it occurred to him that he wasn’t sure what she’d agreed to. “Wait—do you mean the condo? Or here?”

  “Only the condo,” she glowered, standing. “While we’re at it, however…you’ve badgered me relentlessly about your little pet project, but I haven’t pestered you one bit about my thing. Now, though—now you owe me a discussion about that stupid Millhouse & Rock deal.”

  Red groaned. He’d forgotten that wasn’t in the ‘done’ drawer yet. “All right. Fair enough. What do you want to know?”

  “I’D LIKE TO know if you’ve lost your goddamn mind,” Piper snarled, doing her level best to shoot daggers at him with her eyes.

  Red appeared to be immune. Cool as an autumn breeze, he said, “Piper, I know you don’t care for Millhouse & Rock, but calm down and listen to me for a minute. This is going to be great for you.”

  Naturally, she ignored that asinine directive. Any woman worth her salt would.

  “In case I wasn’t clear before, let me reiterate,” she said, her voice emerging from her throat with a deathly chill to it. “Millhouse & Rock wouldn’t know a good romance if it whacked them upside the head. We are going to have to battle for every inch of shelf space, every front table placement, and every window display. What’s more, the second some ex-president decides to write a memoir, those pretentious assholes are going to kick my ‘inane girly books’ right into th
e recycling bin.”

  Red flinched, and Piper knew the M&R executives had probably used exactly that term with him, too—it certainly was one of their favorites.

  He powered on, though. “That’s the beauty of this deal, don’t you get it? They can’t do that, because now they’re under contract. They’ll have to give you a fair shake, or they won’t make any money. It’s like the biggest middle finger you could give them. We’ve got them by the proverbial purse strings now.”

  “Oh, Red.” Piper almost felt sorry for the guy. He really had no idea how wrong he was. “They’re only going to resent us more for that. People don’t like being cornered—it makes them bitter.”

  “You can’t possibly believe they don’t want to make any money, here? All their old sales models are failing. They’re desperate for it!” he exclaimed.

  “And those models are failing because of one thing: Millhouse only likes making money if they can be pompous pricks while doing it.”

  Red scowled. “Who cares about the why? The important part is that now we have a foot in the door—and the chance to win them over. We’ll force them to see what they’ve been missing.”

  “Tell me you don’t really believe that,” Piper groaned.

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have brokered this deal.”

  “Red, you and I both know they only agreed to this because they want Rachel Wilbon—and her stupid Goldstein Award.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his forehead. She knew she’d hit a nerve.

  “Have you even read her book?” Piper prodded.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Forget about happy endings,” she fumed. “There wasn’t even an ending at all! The entire last chapter was blank!”

  “I’ll admit, that was a strange choice.”

  “I assure you—literary critics may be a rare breed, but actual readers get tired of schticks like that real quick.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. He’d obviously decided to dig in his heels, the bone-headed man. But he’d learn, just like Piper and all of her love-peddling sisters and brothers had.

  Finally, Red sighed, “Piper, Millhouse may have been reluctant to take on romance but, ultimately, we are providing them with a product that is a known, verified seller. If hunger for cash is what got us through the gate, then so be it. They won’t be nearly so precious once your books start making them serious dough.”

  Piper examined him. “Is that what you thought when you first started sniffing around Trident? Is that how you sold the idea to the PKM board?”

  To his credit, he looked her dead in the eye and didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he admitted. “But you may have noticed that I am a very fast learner.”

  Red certainly was, but Piper wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He approached her gingerly, probably worried that she was going to stab him with her new fountain pen—and, as ideas went, it had merit.

  “Piper, honey, this kind of thing—this is what I’m good at. This is what I do. You have to trust me on this. I’m not going to let those bastards screw you over.” He reached out and stroked her cheek.

  He really, really believed that. Of course, he did.

  “The least you could have done is tried for Eva East Books first,” she grumbled. “At least they care about the genre.”

  “Piper, who the hell is that? I’ve never even heard of them.” Red’s exasperation was growing, but she wasn’t done.

  “Your loss, then. Kiki Eastman started out as a romance blogger before she and her cousin founded their own romance-only bookstore. When that went well, they opened a micro-chain of them, all over the Northeast.”

  Red’s voice did not even veer into condescension when he said, “I’m sure they’re very nice, but they don’t sound like they have the scale we need to help launch Trident into the upper echelons.”

  “We’ll see,” Piper hummed. Some lessons were simply better learned the hard way.

  “Let me guess,” he chuckled darkly. “You’ve already lined someone up to tattoo ‘I told you so’ across my forehead if this goes bad.”

  Piper relented and smirked up at him. “Don’t worry, Red. I’m sure it’ll look very stylish.”

  Red must have decided she was nonthreatening again because he took her in his arms and held on. Piper could feel his tension—and no matter how sanguine he pretended to be, she knew he was worried about this deal, too.

  She’d always assumed that he was merely dabbling with Trident, that it was only a tossed-off deal he could’ve finessed in his sleep. But maybe Red had more on the line than she’d thought.

  The idea that he had some actual skin in the game was what finally allowed her to relent. Piper rested her head against his chest and sighed.

  “Now that we’re in this,” she murmured, “what can I do to help?”

  Red’s relief was instantly apparent. “Sweetheart,” he said, “All you need to do is keep being you. Beautiful, charming, talented you.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  IT WAS OFFICIAL. As they’d planned, PKM’s public relations department had made the announcement about the Millhouse deal the afternoon before. Today, Red was certain it would be the talk of the business world. Despite Piper’s concerns, it was going to be a game-changer for all of them. On impulse, Red had hopped on the plane bringing Piper back home himself, making the trip to Maryland for the second time in a week.

  He wished she’d chosen to move in with him instead of opting for the condo, but it was probably for the best. All along, baby steps were what had worked best with her. Getting them to the point of living in the same zip code would be no different.

  Red wandered downstairs in her cozy, creaking house and found Piper in the kitchen making breakfast. She was wearing his undershirt from the day before, and it hung off her shoulders and draped over her breasts in a far lovelier way than it fit him. His eyes tracked down to the hem, where it grazed her thighs several inches below her ass. He knew she was wearing lacy little panties under his shirt—he’d watched her put them on no more than ten minutes ago.

  Red poured himself coffee and edged around the kitchen table, choosing the chair that gave him the most unobstructed view of Piper. She was making him eggs, and he was sure they’d be perfectly cooked. Piper was the only person besides himself who could ever get them the way Red liked them. Yet another point in her favor, to add to all the others.

  He watched her delicate ankles and feminine bare feet move around the wood floor. Her toes were painted a pale lavender this time. Red had been trying to decide if he could gauge her mood by the colors she chose—they ranged anywhere from black or navy blue to a rusty deep red, to soft pastels. So far, he hadn’t quite decided what each variation signified, but he was developing theories.

  His eyes trailed up her strong, slim legs, watching for any suggestion of her delectable ass through the shirt. As if she could feel his look singeing her, she turned and shot him an uncertain smile. Piper’s fingers stilled on the English muffin she was prying apart when he returned her smile with a grin of his own. She flushed across her cheeks and neck and turned quickly back to the toaster.

  Oh, yes—she knew what he was thinking. Piper always knew what he was thinking.

  Sunlight streamed through the large arched window over her kitchen sink, catching the diamonds in her ring and casting a spray of white fireworks across the cabinets behind her. His ring, her finger—Red massaged at the pang that somersaulted in his chest.

  He’d never in his life given a woman any kind of jewelry. Superstitious about it, he supposed. It had always felt too momentous, too significant an act, to waste it on a virtual stranger. Before Piper, Red had been meticulous about not getting a woman’s hopes up, and it had been all too easy to imagine the sort of conniptions a small velvet box might provoke.

  He’d had no such qualms with Piper, however. Last week, in that jewelry store…Red still had no idea why he’d gone in himself. He could have had Wayne
place an order from Anika’s registry for him. Red could have sent the gift, and never thought about it again.

  Instead, he’d elected to leave the office in the middle of the day, purchase the candlesticks himself, then linger while they were gift-wrapped. And while he’d waited, he wandered—directly to the sparkling glass cases in the center of the store.

  Looking at Piper now, he couldn’t regret it. The ring was perfect for her. She was perfect. And that knowledge made Red ponder a different sort of ring—one made only for Piper, that only she would wear. It shouldn’t feel right to think about it so soon, but it did.

  She placed a loaded plate in front of him, wrenching him from his reverie.

  “I was wondering,” she said. “Have you always been called ‘Red’?”

  “I’m sorry?” Had he missed a conversational segue somewhere?

  “You know. When you were little, were you ever called Pat, like your dad? Or Paddy, even?”

  “God. What do I look like—an eighty-year-old man in an Irish sailor hat?”

  Piper snickered. “Hmm. You’re right. What about Mac? That’s a little cooler.”

  Red couldn’t help it—it was like she’d tossed him a fat softball directly over the middle of home plate. “Nailed it. Everyone I knew called me Mack Daddy. Still do, as a matter of fact. You should try it sometime.”

  An eye roll—he could’ve predicted that.

  “More like a Mack truck,” she muttered.

  Red snorted. “You want me to deny that I like to drive into you? Repeatedly?”

  “Not necessary.” Piper flamed crimson, making him laugh. He’d seen that coming, too.

  She scampered back to the stove to fuss with her own plate, gathering her composure. As far as he was concerned, breakfast couldn’t be over soon enough, perfectly-cooked eggs or not.

  Red took the newspaper out of its plastic sleeve and unfolded it, satisfied as only a man could be when his business was tight, his woman was cared for, and he’d gotten laid—repeatedly—the night before.