by Nalini Singh
Oh, he had every intention of seducing Ísa.
First, however, he’d look after her, give her that TLC she needed. Which included a good meal. “Let’s get this food cooking—I don’t want you hungry,” he murmured. “I’ll eat up the rest of you later.” Another shiver.
He smiled just a little smugly before releasing her to turn on the grill he kept on the balcony. Once he had that going, he went inside the house and quickly wrapped up a couple of sweet potatoes in tinfoil. Those he chucked onto the hottest part of the grill, where the flames licked through, to roast while he prepared the fish.
Ísa followed him inside, watching as he seasoned the fish.
“My brother’s recipe,” he told her. “The brother you met today. He loves muscle cars and cooking, wants to be a chef with a Mustang if he doesn’t make the top rugby squads.” Having a fallback passion could only be a good thing in the high stakes world of sports. “Our youngest brother, Danny, still thinks cooking is for girls.”
Propping her elbows on the counter, her face cupped in her hands—and her skin a little flushed from their play on the balcony, she said, “The rest of you don’t?”
“Ha! My mother made damn sure we never grew up with that particular belief—even Danny only mumbles about cooking being for girls when she’s out of earshot.” His kid brother would grow out of that soon enough; at fourteen and the baby of the family, he was currently on the border between child and youth.
“We’re not great cooks, Gabe and I, but we can feed ourselves. Though,” he admitted, “Mom feeds me too when she thinks I haven’t been taking care of myself. She’d do it for Gabe as well except the team nutritionists take care of the players’ diets.” Not that it stopped his older brother and closest friend from turning up for Sunday dinner.
Ísa dropped her hands to the counter, her expression soft, vulnerable. “I can’t imagine that, you know.” Again that lingering sadness in her.
Sailor decided to hell with it. Leaning forward, he kissed her nose before he went back to dusting on a bit of some herb Jake had left him with strict instructions not to go overboard with it. “What can’t you imagine?” he asked the redhead who was staring at him as if he were an alien… but an alien she liked. Sailor could work with that. “Me and my brothers cooking?”
“No.” A shake of her head, her hair a burst of sunset. “A mom who cooks for you even though you’ve moved out of her home. Does she make you frozen meals?” She said the last as if they were talking about some magical discovery, all wide-eyed wonder.
Sailor was fascinated by her fascination. “It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but yes. She knows I’m working all hours to get my business off the ground, so every so often, she makes extra of whatever she’s cooking and sets a few portions aside for me that I can reheat.” Seeing Ísa’s continued interest, he figured he might as well admit the whole of it. “And my dad has been known to drop off fresh groceries so I won’t live on canned goods.”
Sailor knew he was lucky with his tightly bonded family, had always known he was lucky, but it was only now, as he looked into Ísa’s wistful face, that he understood exactly how lucky. “I’m guessing Jacqueline wasn’t much of a cook,” he said, with another kiss on the nose. “Your dad?”
This time she smiled, as if warming up to the nose-kissing alien in front of her.
“My dad’s basically the charming male version of Jacqueline.” Dry words. “When I was a toddler, they both spent so many hours at the office that I apparently started to call my nanny Mommy and the cook Daddy. Jacqueline and Stefán had to switch to short-term contractors to keep me from getting confused.”
Ísa rolled her eyes as she said that, as if it was just an amusing little anecdote, but Sailor saw nothing funny in a child so disregarded by her mother and father that she’d tried to find family in her parents’ employees. Who the fuck did that to their baby? And then to take those familiar figures away just so Jacqueline and Stefán could still feel like parents?
Unforgiveable.
Sailor clenched his jaw. Hoping she’d at least had grandparents who’d given her love and spoiled her stupid, he was about to ask about her extended family when her phone rang.
The ringtone was the theme music from Star Trek.
“It’s Harlow,” Ísa said with open affection. “My brother.”
Sailor tried not to listen in on the conversation, but there wasn’t much he could do to make his apartment bigger. So even though Ísa had stepped out onto the balcony, he still heard pretty much every word.
Her first words were cheerful. “Hey, Harlow.”
Silence for a minute or two before Ísa spoke again. “You got the job fair and square.” A firm tone. “I spoke to Ginny—she told me that HR had no idea who you were until it was time to actually offer you the position and you confessed your identity.”
Another period of silence followed by “Of course I’m sure. Have I ever lied to you?” She listened again. “No,” she said in response to Harlow’s reply. “Mother wouldn’t have taken it from you. You know she admires initiative.”
Sailor happened to be looking over at her right then, and so he saw the fingers she’d crossed behind her back.
By the time she finally hung up and came back inside, he was finished with the fish prep. “Problem?”
Pressing her lips together, she put her hands on her hips. “Harlow won an internship at Crafty Corners after applying under a pseudonym so there’d be no cries of favoritism. But an unsuccessful applicant from his school posted something nasty online about it.” Her eyes sparked with temper.
Impressed at the steps her brother had taken to make the process fair, Sailor said, “So why are you crossing your fingers behind your back?”
Ísa’s skin flushed a delicate pink. Folding her arms, she said, “You weren’t supposed to have seen that.”
He wanted to take little bites out of her. “Come on, fess up.”
“It’s family business.”
Sailor put together what he’d heard of the phone call with what he knew of Ísa’s family. “Jacqueline being a hard-ass?”
A scowl from his redhead. “Stop using your telepathic powers on me.”
Feeling young in a way he rarely did, he grinned. “How old’s your brother?”
“Seventeen.” Ísa regarded his grin with suspicion. “Technically we’re stepsiblings. Jacqueline married his father when Harlow was twelve.”
Sailor hadn’t paid too much attention to the tidbits about Jacqueline’s personal life in the research he’d done. He’d been more far more interested in her business strategies. Some of that information had, however, stuck, so he knew the marriage Ísa was talking about couldn’t have lasted long. Yet she’d embraced Harlow as her brother.
That said a lot about his curvy spitfire.
Her phone rang again just as she’d parted her mouth to speak, the ringtone a generic one. Ísa glanced at the screen. “It’s Oliver, my mother’s current husband.”
Lifting the phone to her ear on that mystified statement, she answered in front of Sailor. “Oliver, hello.” Then, “What?” in pure astonishment. “You know I don’t have that kind of influence on her.” She listened for a while. “Oh, I’m sorry. Look, I’ll try, okay? Can’t promise anything though.”
Hanging up, she blew out a breath. “I have to make a call. Is there any point in my going to the balcony?”
“Nope. You want to go in my bedroom? The sheets are still messy from this morning,” he said in deliberate provocation. “Hot dreams about a hot redhead.”
Color on her cheekbones, but she held her ground. “Probably matches my bed. I took off my pj’s in the middle of the night, I got so hot. Nude sleeping apparently has a lot of health benefits.”
“Oh, I know, spitfire,” Sailor drawled. “I don’t own pj’s.”
Her pupils dilated, her breath catching.
And Sailor’s body began to push for hard, dirty, physical TLC.
21
Kn
ight in Gardening Armor
SAILOR GRIPPED THE EDGE OF the counter and tried to count to a hundred to get his erection under control while, across from him, his wicked little playmate made her call. Her voice, he was pleased to note, was breathy, the pulse in her throat moving too fast.
“Mom,” she was saying, “Oliver cooked you an anniversary dinner, even timed it for your usual late finish. You know this is a big deal for him. Go home.” A long pause before she said, “Shall I order the divorce cake now? Chocolate or red velvet?”
When she hung up a few seconds later without further words, Sailor figured Jacqueline had decided to go have dinner with her husband. “Does that kind of thing happen often?” he asked as he walked out to the grill to put on the fish.
“That’s a new one.” Ísa leaned in the doorway of the balcony, and it felt intimately comfortable—as if they’d been doing this forever.
As if he knew her bone deep.
Yeah, Sailor wasn’t stupid. This, what they had, it was something special. He’d do whatever it took to convince his redhead to stick with him. Even if meant using his manly wiles and body to confuse her every time she thought of a good reason why they weren’t suited.
“Poor Oliver,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s like a marriage between a befuddled puppy and a barracuda.”
Her phone rang for the third time before Sailor could reply.
Worry swept over Ísa’s features like a tidal wave. “My sister’s a texter except when there’s a problem.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Catiebug?” Her body straightened. “Catie, honey what’s the matter? Is it—” A pause. “Yes, I’ll do it now.”
Shoving a hand through her hair after hanging up, she paced back to the counter as she made another call. Then it was back to Catie. “Your father’s fine, sweetheart. He must have his phone on silent. The hotel concierge confirmed for me that Clive is on the gaming floor.”
A minute later, she walked out to take a seat on the single chair he had on the other side of his postage-stamp-sized space. “Sorry about that,” she said, her arm hooked over the back of the chair. “Catie heard about a Kiwi man of her dad’s age getting mugged at the hotel where he’s staying and panicked.”
Yet instead of calling Jacqueline, the other girl had called Ísa. And Ísa had just handled it, was now sitting chatting with him as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t been extraordinary, as if she hadn’t just put out three emotional fires without blinking.
Sailor was both proud of his redhead and irritated by the other adults in her life who clearly weren’t pulling their weight. From what he’d witnessed so far, it was starting to look like she was the main support for her siblings. “He’s your dad too?”
“No, Jacqueline and Stefán were long divorced by then,” Ísa clarified. “Catie’s father is a smooth-talking idiot named Clive. He deliberately turns off his phone when he just can’t be bothered. I swear to God, if I could microchip him, I would.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Sailor braced his hands on the arms of her outdoor chair. “You’re cute but ferocious.”
“Grr.”
Shoulders shaking as her eyes danced on that mock growl, he snuck in a kiss before going into the apartment. When he returned, it was with a girly cocktail in hand, the color a lush pink. He’d even managed to find a tiny toothpick umbrella to stick in it.
“Here,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Just a frozen cocktail mix that I keep for when my mom visits.”
* * *
HE KEPT ON DOING THAT. Kept on doing things that made her happy.
Accepting the drink with a feeling of falling deeper into a dangerous hole, Ísa took a cautious sip. Cold and sweet and tart, the flavors exploded on her tongue. She’d have told him it was delicious regardless, she was so undone by the way he kept giving her the TLC he’d promised, but now she didn’t have to.
“I love raspberry daiquiris,” she said and was rewarded with a pleased grin from where he stood by the grill, carefully flipping the fish fillets.
He looked so good standing there against the backdrop of the night, dressed in comfortable clothes. And she felt so good sitting there, the two of them just relaxing after a long day at work. It was a flash-fire moment, her dreams colliding with her reality.
Be in this moment, she whispered to herself. Don’t fear the heartbreak to come.
“I can tell it’s not very alcoholic,” she said when her throat threatened to close up. “That’s good, because I’m a bit of a cheap drunk.”
A deep chuckle. “Now I want to see you being all drunk and adorable.”
“The night is young.” Feeling silly and young, Ísa pretended to open up the cocktail umbrella and use it as a parasol.
Sailor grinned, and they talked about this and that as the food finished cooking.
She discovered that his elder brother was Gabriel Bishop, a gray-eyed force of nature who was the most worshipped rugby player in the country. Both his younger brothers were also aiming for a professional rugby career.
“I’m the black sheep,” Sailor said with an unrepentant grin. “I just play for fun. There has been talk of disowning me.”
Compelled by this new glimpse into what was clearly a very close-knit family, Ísa asked more questions as they sat down to dinner. He asked some in turn. She couldn’t remember time ever moving so fast, but they’d finished dinner before she knew it.
“I’ll get dessert,” Sailor said.
But rather than the cheesecake she’d picked up, he put a perfectly decorated miniature cake in front of her, the frosting dusted with sparkles. “There’s a café/cake shop real close to my parents’ house. I saw this in the window and thought of you.”
Ísa couldn’t take it anymore.
Fisting her hand in his T-shirt, she hauled him down to her mouth.
He tasted like red-hot sin and temptation designed to lure a woman into the worst mistake of her life. Ísa didn’t care. Sliding her hand around to the back of his neck, she gloried in the strength of him as he angled his head, and, thrusting one hand into her hair, licked his tongue against hers.
Her nipples furled into tight points, each brush against the lace of her bra making her want to rip off her clothes to free the excruciatingly sensitive flesh. So he could touch them with those big, capable hands. So she could press them to the hard wall of his chest.
When he broke the kiss to crouch in front of her chair, she bit down on her swollen lower lip. His eyes zeroed in on the act, his chest heaving as badly as hers. “We need some ground rules.”
Ísa blinked. “What?”
“I’m not your employee, but I am working for your company.” He pressed his finger to her lips when she would’ve parted them to speak. “The first rule is, when it comes to the physical stuff between the two of us, it’s only Sailor and Ísa. Not a contractor and the VP.”
Ísa was too far in to back away now. “Done.” That was when Devil Ísa took over her mouth. “Where are the handcuffs?”
A sucked-in breath, a dangerous smile.
Rising to his feet, Sailor held out his hand. “Come into my lair, my innocent redheaded spitfire. I promise to only bite a little.”
Breasts aching and skin electric, Ísa was about to go all in when her fantasies of being at Sailor’s mercy died a sudden death under the burst of a ringtone she’d already heard once earlier that night.
“This isn’t good.” She scrambled to grab her phone from her satchel. “Catie is scarily competent for all that she has to deal with. If she’s calling me again…” Phone in hand, she lifted it to her ear. “Catie?”
The voice on the other end made her blood run cold. “Martha? Why are you on Catie’s phone?” The former nurse’s answer had her trembling. “Where was she taken?” Mentally noting the location, she said, “I’m on my way.”
Hanging up, she looked at Sailor, her heart a huge piece of concrete in her chest. “I have to go. My sister’s had an accident.”
Eyes
grim, Sailor put his hands on her upper arms. “How bad?”
“Martha—her live-in helper—says she’s fine, but I need to see for myself.” Breaking away, she grabbed her satchel. “Catie hates being in the hospital.” She wasn’t the only one; the mere smell of antiseptic was enough to send Ísa right back into a nightmare.
Looking up at Sailor, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I know this wasn’t how you probably wanted the evening to go. I’m really sorry.” All the reasons she’d listed for why they were so wrong for each other and she’d forgotten one thing: the ties of family.
What twenty-three-year-old male would want to be with a woman who was basically the parent-on-call for two teenagers? Ísa would never regret giving Catie and Harlow the solid foundation she’d searched for her entire life, but she was horrified to find herself on the verge of tears at the idea that this was it with Sailor. That she’d never see him again, never kiss him, never make that horrible mistake.
He scowled at her. “Don’t think you’re getting out of the handcuffs, spitfire. That’s just been delayed.”
God, he was wonderful. “I’ll call you. I promise. Not like with the cookie date.”
But Sailor shook his head. “No need, because I’m going to be with you. Let me grab my keys. I’ll drive you to the hospital—I know my truck looks a little beat up, but it’s a smoothly oiled working machine.”
Ísa could think of nothing better than to do this with him, but it wasn’t possible. “No, you don’t understand. Catie lives in Hamilton.”
Sailor tapped his finger on the table. “It’s doable,” he said. “With the new roads and the lack of traffic at this time of day, we should be able to get there in an hour and forty-five minutes.”
“I might have to stay overnight. You have work here.”
“You’re my boss,” he pointed out with another one of those affectionate nose kisses that kept on sweeping her feet out from under her. “It’s not like you’re going to put me on notice.”
