Harlequin Desire June 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2

by Maureen Child

  “I like the fact that I can knock you off your game,” Finn said.

  Beah really wanted to smack the smirk off his face. She looked at the door, considered the size of his head and squinted at the door. “Are you certain your monstrous ego can fit through the door?”

  Finn grinned. “I manage.” He sat down on the corner of his desk and stretched out his long legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Do you always walk into offices and start kissing the hell out of your colleagues?”

  “Do you always start your conversations with your colleagues with a French kiss?” Beah volleyed back.

  “Touché.”

  Beah needed to get this conversation—and her thoughts and her damned priorities—back on track. Damn Finn for having this effect on her, for being able to shut down her brain and send her spinning.

  “I came down here to talk to you about the wedding…”

  “Thank you for helping me out, by the way.”

  “I’m doing this for Piper and Ben, but mostly for Piper. Every woman deserves a fairy-tale wedding.”

  Finn nodded. “Fair enough.” He picked up a baseball from his desk and tossed it from hand to hand. “So you stormed down here, a few hours after you landed at Logan, to talk to me about the wedding. Are you that much of a control freak, Beah?”

  “I am not a—” But yeah, she was. Keeping control was how she now managed her life; everything was put into boxes and corralled and contained. It would be much easier if she took over all the arrangements for the wedding; then she knew everything would be done to her exacting standards.

  Having Finn involved made her feel like a three-year-old was rummaging in her just-tidied box of toys and tossing stuff over his shoulder. Beah shuddered.

  Beah jammed her hands into the pockets of her slim-cut, straight-legged trousers. She would not lose her temper but really, did he not realize the wedding was in four weeks? That Piper and Ben would be here in three and everything had to be in place by then? Piper did not need any additional stress; she just needed to enjoy every aspect of her big day. It had to be perfect…

  “Flowers? Chapel? Caterers?” Beah pushed the words out.

  “For someone who wasn’t going to help with the wedding, you have become very involved.” Finn linked his fingers against his flat stomach. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust you not to get involved in some research and leave everything to the last minute. Or for you to run off on one of your adventure trips and leave their wedding un-arranged,” Beah snapped.

  “That’s not fair, Beah. I readily admit I wasn’t the best husband, but I never shirked my responsibilities or broke my promises.”

  But he had. He’d promised to love her until they died but when their marriage no longer worked, when it got too much to handle, he bailed. His need to be free had been more important to him than she was.

  And it still hurt, dammit. It shouldn’t, but it did.

  But what she wouldn’t do was rehash their old arguments or fling blame. They were divorced. Their marriage was long over, so it shouldn’t matter anymore.

  But it—

  No, enough. Move on, Beah. Stop flogging this very dead horse.

  Before she could change the subject, Finn spoke again. “Are you trying to help Ben and Piper because it reminds you of what you went through with your mom?”

  She was trying to keep perspective but she couldn’t help the surge of anger and resentment. No, he didn’t get to mention her mom, not now. How many times had she tried to talk to him about what she went through watching her mom die? But every time she reached out, he shut her down, changed the subject, distracted her with sex. “Subject closed, Finn.”

  “Why?”

  Beah sent him a hard look. “You couldn’t talk to me about her when I most needed you to, Murphy. I worked through my issues around my mom’s death—and my dad leaving—on my own, without help from you. Or anybody. Why would I want to rehash now and why would I want to do it with you?”

  Beah thought she saw regret in his eyes, remorse on his face, but the light was too low and the emotion too subtle for her to be certain. Besides, it didn’t matter—this conversation was over.

  She lifted her hand and pointed a finger at Finn. “Don’t go there, Murphy. We might still be attracted to each other and, yes, I was quite keen to sleep with you just minutes ago. But chemistry is all there is between us. I have no interest in talking about the past, yours, mine or the brief time we shared together.”

  Instead of responding, Finn just stood up, picked up a folder off his desk and walked over to the door. He turned the lock, opened the heavy door and stepped back before gesturing her to take the lead.

  Beah started to walk toward him, annoyed by his lack of response and confused by the thoughtful expression on his face. It didn’t matter; she’d made her point and also put up a strong barrier between them.

  Shrugging, she walked into the hallway, thinking she had to go back to ignoring Finn Murphy because nothing good came of being in the same space as him.

  Beah turned to see what was keeping him and winced when she saw him picking up her tote bag and her coat from where she’d tossed them before she’d started kissing him. Beah rubbed her temples with her fingers. Finn still had the ability to mess with her head, to knock her off her stride…

  To make her lose control.

  FIVE

  Finn followed Beah into the elevator, feeling disconcerted and off-balance. He wasn’t the type to look back, never had been, preferring to put his past behind him. Of course he’d thought about Beah over the years, probably more than he should—he often remembered how amazing the sex was, the way her hair glinted with streaks of gold in direct sunlight, her whiskey-colored eyes, open and filled with love, as she first looked at him in the morning—but up until Beah’s recent reappearance in his life, he’d never spent a lot of time analyzing their marriage, preferring to believe they had been too young and too dumb to have made such a lifetime commitment.

  Beah’s phone rang and she pulled it from a side pocket of her bag, lifting it to her ear. “Your Highness, how nice to hear from you.”

  Beah wasn’t being facetious; Finn could think of at least five of their clients holding royal titles.

  “I’m sorry, I’m in Boston, but how can I help you?”

  Finn tuned out of Beah’s conversation, silently admitting that he was mostly responsible for them crashing and burning. Yeah, Beah had been clingy and emotionally demanding, but had he been more mature, a little less selfish, he would’ve realized any woman who’d lost her mother to cancer and her father to abandonment would need extra reassurance.

  “He’s a Moroccan sculptor working in glass. He’s phenomenal,” Beah stated.

  It both shamed and irritated him that he’d never given her the space to talk about her mom, about what she went through as a teenager. On the few occasions he did try to listen, he hadn’t known what to say, how to respond, how to comfort her…how to make it better.

  Because he found talking hard, because he found emotion difficult, he’d chosen not to engage at all. Why was so it tough with her? Was it because hearing about her mom reminded him of his own losses—his birth mom, then his stepmom, Raeni? Or was it because he couldn’t change her past and he felt incapable?

  “But do you like his work, Princess Sofia? Or are you buying it as an investment?”

  Whatever the reason, he knew the man he’d been—that selfish boy—had failed her. He’d brushed over her pain and attempted to slap a Band-Aid onto a gaping wound. Finn rubbed the back of his neck. If he could, he would go back and kick his own ass. Hard.

  He’d messed up and he owned that. But what could he do about it? What did he want to do? What did he want from Beah this time around? And more importantly, what could he give her?

  The thing was, while he might be a bit more self-aware
these days, he hadn’t changed much. The thought depressed Finn because he was educated enough to know age should bring some sort of emotional growth, but he still wasn’t comfortable with emotion; he still liked his own space. He still thought it was better to hold back than love someone completely.

  But he liked Beah, enjoyed her, loved what they did to and for each other. When he made love to Beah, he felt like he was flying over fresh powder, felt the same rush of dopamine as he did when he donned a wingsuit and flew off a cliff.

  With Beah, he felt intensely alive.

  And that scared the crap out of him.

  “He only produces a few sculptures a year and they get snapped up pretty quickly. I can put out some feelers, ask if he’s interested in doing a commission. I can also contact a few collectors who own his work to see if they want to move any along.”

  She was so smart, knowledgeable and personable. And she was so good at her job.

  Finn shot a look at her pretty profile, idly noticing her spectacular hair was pulled back into another of her complicated smooth twists. He wanted to find those pins, yank them out and feel those pretty strands on his fingers, over his hands, his stomach and his thighs…

  “Okay, we’ll chat soon. Thanks so much for the call and my regards to your family,” Beah said, ending her call.

  Finn banged the back of his head against the metal skin of the elevator. He needed all his determination not to blow off their meeting with Ronan because he desperately wanted to slowly undress her and go back downstairs to bend her over the arm of his sofa.

  See how easily he was distracted by her? One minute he was thinking about how much he’d failed her, how alive she made him feel, and two hops and a skip later and he was thinking about her naked…

  That, he suspected, wasn’t going to stop.

  But God, he should apologize for being such a selfish prick all those years ago.

  “I’m sorry,” Finn forced the words out, keeping his eyes closed.

  “What are you sorry for, Finn?” Yeah, he heard the ice in her voice, the thread of irritation.

  “For blowing you off when you wanted to talk about your mom.” Finn forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at her. “I should’ve listened more.”

  Astonishment flickered in Beah’s copper-colored eyes and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried again with the same result.

  Shaking her head, she lifted her hands. “I—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, the elevator stopped and the doors opened and Carrick stood in the hallway, looking impatient. Carrick, immediately sensing the tension, placed his hand on the door to keep it open and briefly kissed Beah’s cheek. “Hi, Bee. Nice to see you again.”

  His brothers had always adored Beah and had given him a hard time about the failure of his marriage, frequently telling him he was making a mistake by letting her go. But Finn was, like them, as stubborn as hell and he’d genuinely believed the divorce was for the best.

  Carrick darted a look between them, a tiny frown appearing between his dark brows. “I can catch another elevator if you two need to talk.”

  Beah gestured him inside. “No, come on in.”

  Carrick stepped inside, the elevator resumed its ascent, and Carrick stood between them, a solid shield. Finn darted a look at Beah and saw she was staring down at her feet, her arms crossed over chest.

  Yeah, this silence was as awkward as hell. Thank God they only had to endure another twenty seconds of tension. When the elevator opened, Carrick looked from Beah to him and shook his head.

  His oldest brother sighed. “It’s going to be a long couple of long weeks,” he said before stepping out.

  Beah started to follow him but Finn’s hand shot out to grab her elbow, halting her forward momentum. He waited until Carrick was out of earshot before meeting Beah’s eyes. She looked down at his hand clasping her arm and very deliberately stepped away.

  “Oh, please, just now you had your hand in my pants.” Finn shot the words out and immediately regretted them. Yep, he went there. God, he really wasn’t good at talking. Finn released a frustrated growl and linked both his hands behind his neck. He released a low curse. “Okay, sorry, again.”

  Confusion and frustration jumped in and out of Beah’s eyes. “Let’s just go find your brothers, Finn.”

  Finn took the risk and grabbed her fingers, linking them in his. “Just hold on a second, Beah, let me get this out.” He looked for the right words, mentally tested and discarded a couple of sentences, and went with his gut. He’d either flame out or not, but Carrick was right—it was going to be tough if they didn’t find a way to deal with each other.

  They all had important jobs to do and a show to put on, art to sell. “Can we try, at the very least, to be friends?”

  “This again?” Beah tugged her fingers away. “Seriously, Finn? After everything, you want us to be friends?”

  Finn lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I wasn’t a good friend to you while we were together, Bee. I’d like to change that.”

  Beah looked astounded and he didn’t blame her. Hell, he barely understood the request himself. “Well, what do you say?”

  Beah looked at her watch, hauled in a breath and gave him a what-the-hell look. “Okay, whatever. Give it your best shot,” she told him, her voice saturated with doubt. She expected him to fail, Finn realized, as he followed her down the hallway to the conference room.

  At the door, she turned and lifted her fine, arched eyebrows. “And what are we going to do about our still ridiculously strong chemistry?”

  Finn grinned at her as he reached around her to open the door. “I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase friends with benefits?” He immediately noticed her shock but managed to swallow his laughter. He placed a hand on her back and gestured for her to precede him. “After you.”

  Carrick, standing just a couple of paces from the door, looked from him to Ronan and grinned. “And so it starts.”

  Finn’s eyes jumped between his brothers’ smirking faces. And what did Carrick mean by that?

  * * *

  Finn pulled up in front of Mounton House, cut the engine to his Porsche Cayenne and took a moment to look at his ex-wife, walking down those stone steps. He’d texted her early this morning, telling her he needed her input on the upcoming wedding, and asked if she would spend part of the morning with him. He’d expected her to say no but here she was, heading toward his vehicle. Finn leaned across his seat and pushed open the passenger door. She took the hand he held out and he gently tugged her into the car, casting an eye over her beautiful face.

  “I miss your freckles.”

  Beah sent him a surprised look. “What?”

  He shrugged, punched the start button and his powerful car roared to life. “You cover your freckles with makeup, but I like seeing them.”

  She touched her nose. “You do?”

  “And I also miss your curls.”

  “Fire-red curls and freckles make me look like I’m fifteen and it’s not how I need my clients to see me,” Beah said, crossing her legs. She looked incredible in a bulky oatmeal sweater worn over tight black jeans tucked into knee-high boots.

  Finn pulled out into traffic and turned down the heat, thinking this was one of the first sunny days Boston had seen for a long, long time and he could actually feel some heat in the sun. It had been a long winter and he couldn’t wait for spring.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” Beah asked.

  Before he could answer, Beah’s phone rang and she dug in her tote bag, pulling out the expensive device. Since he’d stopped for a red light, he looked at her as she stared down at the screen, obviously debating whether to answer her call.

  He wanted to peek at her screen to see who’d put the excited but hesitant look on her face.

  “Hi there.”

&n
bsp; Okay, not Beah’s standard way of greeting anybody, making him think she didn’t want him to know who was on the other side of the call. Which just, dammit, made him even more curious.

  The light turned and Finn accelerated.

  “I’m good, thanks. Just very busy,” Beah said, and was silent for a while, her concentration fully on the person on the other end of the call. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back in London but I promise you, as soon as I know, we’ll get together.”

  A potential date? Another lover? Finn felt acid flare up in his gut. Yeah, he couldn’t deny it, he felt a green monster gnawing on his backbone.

  “I can’t answer your question right now,” Beah said after another long silence. “But you know it’s something I’m thinking about.”

  Hell, what was she being asked to do? Take a holiday? Go on a date? Sleep with someone? Move in with someone? Finn’s hand tightened around the steering wheel and he glared at the back of the sedan in front of him.

  He felt Beah’s eyes on his profile and heard her softly spoken words. “I’ll call you…when I can talk.”

  Yep, there was definitely something she wasn’t telling him. And why did she feel the need to keep secrets from him?

  Oh, that might be because you two are no longer married, and you’ve barely spoken for the past nine years.

  Beah disconnected the call and put her phone back into her bag. He wasn’t going to ask; he didn’t have the right to pry. He’d lost that right when he filed for divorce.

  “Who’s the guy?”

  Hell of a thing when your mouth no longer obeyed your brain.

  “None of your business,” Beah replied. And it wasn’t; it really wasn’t.

  “Are you sleeping with someone else?” Finn asked, trying to sound casual but missing by a thousand miles.

  “Would it bother you if I was?” Beah asked, and he heard the amusement in her soft question.

  This wasn’t funny, dammit. “Damn right it would. I don’t like sharing.”

  He turned his head and caught Beah’s nod and the thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t like sharing either so, fair enough. Just for the record, I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”