by Coleen Kwan
Saffron rolled her eyes. “I’m not at school now, am I? Please, Dane. I won’t get in your way, and I’ll do anything you say, as long as it’s not too gross.”
Dane’s heart squeezed as the teenager watched him, half-cautious, half-expectant. He’d never thought he’d be in this situation—a brother who was actually wanted. He and Saffron had a lot of catching up to do. Regardless of whether he ended up with a slice of the family company, his sister was part of his life now.
“It would be awesome if you could,” he said, “but I’m not allowed to have any outside help. It’s against the rules.”
“Stupid rules.” Saffron huffed. “I want to help you paint.”
Dane’s gaze drifted to the tins, rags, and hand tools in the corner. He’d spent several hours cleaning the walls and puttying up the holes, and he wasn’t finished yet. He needed to get on, but at the same time he didn’t want to discourage Saffron from visiting him. At least here she’d get some positive attention.
He was still wondering what to do with Saffron when Holly appeared in the main door. She was carrying two coffees in a cardboard drinks holder and a white paper bag.
“Hey, I thought I heard voices in here.” She strolled into the suite and smiled at Saffron. “Hello.”
Dane made the introductions.
“Hi, Saffron,” Holly said.
Saffron made a muffled noise that sounded vaguely like “Hey.”
“The coffee shop on the corner was having a twofer special,” Holly said, holding out one of the paper cups toward him. “Would you like a cappuccino?”
“I’d love one,” he said, accepting the coffee.
“Sorry I don’t have one for you,” she said to Saffron. “But I got some pistachio cookies. Want one?” She offered the bag to the girl.
Shrugging, Saffron took a cookie.
“What do you think of the Halifax?” Holly asked.
Saffron pulled a face. “Guess old people like it.”
“Old people like me and your brother.”
Saffron shrugged again. “Suppose so.”
Dane took a gulp of coffee and marveled at how Holly persevered with his sister. Most grownups would’ve given up trying to hold a conversation with her by now.
“It’s stupid I’m not allowed to help him,” Saffron added with a scowl.
Holly grinned. “You don’t like rules, huh?”
“Rules are for stupid people.”
Dane met Holly’s eyes. “As you can see, Saffron has an independent mind.”
“That can’t be a bad thing.” Holly looked at Saffron. “What school do you go to?”
Saffron’s face clouded. “The devil’s academy. Also known as Burton Academy.”
“Hey, that’s where I went too. Seems like you’re enjoying it about as much as I did.”
“Yeah?” Saffron’s mouth fell open. “You mean you skipped school too?”
Holly laughed. “On a regular basis.”
For the next ten minutes Saffron poured out her woes about her school while Holly listened, not interrupting except to give a few sympathetic comments. Dane decided to keep his mouth shut. His sister’s sudden outpouring came to an abrupt halt when her cell phone started beeping.
“Omigod!” she cried out when she’d read the message.
Dane instantly stiffened. “What is it?”
“Barneys is having a flash sale! Oh, I gotta have that Chloe.” Saffron rushed toward the door. “See you later, guys.”
Dane stared after his disappearing sister, then looked back at Holly. “What the hell just happened?”
“A handbag sale. Specifically, a Chloe handbag.”
“A handbag.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, I thought it was an emergency.”
She chuckled. “For Saffron, it is an emergency.” She gathered up the empty paper cups and bag and deposited them in a nearby trash can. “She seems nice.”
“Hey, thanks for listening to her gripes about school,” he said, moving toward her.
“No problem. I remember what it was like at that age. Burton Academy isn’t a bad school, you know, but I was going through a bad patch then, just like Saffron.” She stared down at her hands for a second. “But I had Kirk, and Saffron has you.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do for her,” he admitted.
“You don’t have to do anything, you just have to be there for her. I remember what it was like at that age having an older brother who seems so cool and grown up.”
He stepped nearer. “Are you admitting I’m cool?”
She shook her head, the corners of her lips twitching. “I’m not admitting anything.”
Her lips caught his attention. Man, how he wanted her mouth on him again.
“How you going with your room?” he asked. Maybe they could go out for a drink tonight. Somewhere dim and quiet where they could talk, and he could cup her cheek and run his tongue down her slender neck.
“Not good. I spilled a can of paint stripper over the bathroom floor. Spent forever cleaning the tiles.” Grimacing, she headed for the door.
“That’s too bad,” he said as he walked with her. Guess he wasn’t going to lick her neck tonight. “You shouldn’t have let Saffron ramble on for so long.”
“I like her.”
He nodded. He liked Saffron too. His family was dysfunctional, no doubt about that. But they were still his family. His father had extended a conditional olive branch to him, and he wasn’t going to blow that chance. Even if it meant defeating Holly. Holly was smart and talented, and her family loved her, that much was obvious. If she didn’t win the Gilbert Challenge, they’d still love and accept her. The stakes for her weren’t as high, but for him, he didn’t dare lose.
***
Pressing her palms into the small of her back, Holly let out a long groan. She couldn’t remember when last she’d put in such a hard day’s labor. Clearly working in the Rochester offices was turning her into a softie. But at least she’d finished two walls of the living room. She surveyed the glossy oyster paint from different angles. Did it look okay? Should she do another coat?
The other walls would get the geometric wallpaper she’d already bought. She still had the bedroom walls to clean and paint, plus the bathroom needed sprucing up. She was also expecting deliveries of drapes, carpet, and furniture. And then she had to persuade her dad to lend her some of his most prized possessions. So much to do still, but would it be enough to impress the Gilberts?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She swung it open, and her heart did a flip when she saw Dane.
He walked in and glanced around him. “Hey, it’s looking good.”
“Thanks, but there’s still a lot to do.”
“It’s almost ten.” His eyebrows drew together. “You’re not going to work any later, are you?”
“Guess not.” She massaged the complaining muscles in her neck. She hadn’t realized it was that late. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since those cookies this afternoon.”
“Come back to my place and I’ll cook you dinner.”
“Um…what?” She squeezed her fingers against her neck. “Your place? Dinner?”
The tiredness vanished. Did he really mean to cook her dinner, or was that a euphemism for something else?
“Yeah.” He leaned against the door frame.
“You do mean food, right?”
“What else do you want it to mean?”
She ought to turn him down straight away. Being alone with him in his home was far too dangerous. She wouldn’t have the willpower to resist.
“What’s the matter?” he challenged her. “Nervous about being alone with me?”
Her chin went up. “The only thing I’m nervous about is your cooking.”
The corners of his eyes creased. “You sure about that? You’re not nervous that you might forget yourself and try to seduce me?”
That was exactly what she was afraid of.
“Huh. How about
you? Think you can concentrate on your cooking and not me?”
“I’m a multi-tasker. I can concentrate on you and my cooking at the same time.”
She bit back a smile. “I don’t think I should. I don’t want the other contestants seeing us leave together. Too much gossip.”
“Everyone left ages ago. It’s just you and me, honey.”
A flutter started in her belly that morphed into a sudden growl of hunger. Oh jeez, even her stomach wanted her to say yes. “It’s late. I can only stay for dinner.”
“Fine by me. I’ll feed you and have you home and tucked up in bed before you know it.”
The flutters multiplied at the prospect of Dane tucking her into bed. “I really shouldn’t be doing this…”
Dane lifted an eyebrow. “And you always do what you’re supposed to do?”
“I’m trying to this time. I’m trying real hard.”
“Hey, it’s just dinner. Think of it as payback for the meal you shared with me last night. And putting up with Saffron today.”
She wished he hadn’t mentioned Saffron. Seeing big, muscly, tattooed Dane being so concerned and patient with his little sister had tugged at her. He wasn’t just a sexy badass; he was also sensitive and kind, and that made it harder to turn him down. Impossible, in fact.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Just dinner, right?”
His eyes said dinner wasn’t enough, but he murmured, “If that’s all you want, then that’s what you’ll get.”
***
Holly stared at the gleaming motorcycle parked in the side alley next to the Halifax Hotel. “You’re giving me a ride in that? I thought you had a car.”
“A car gets stuck in traffic, and it’s a bitch to park around here.” Dane unlocked the helmet strapped to the bike and held it out to her. “Here, put this on.”
“What about you? Shouldn’t you be wearing it?”
“I’m riding, so I’ll be responsible for my own head.” He pushed the helmet into her hands. “Put it on.”
She fitted the helmet over her head while Dane swung a leg over the bike and fired it up. He revved the engine and sent her a wicked grin. She didn’t like admitting it, but god he looked hot on that motorcycle.
“Come on. Get on board,” he ordered.
She scrambled onto the saddle behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Oh, his solid bulk felt so good. As he steered the motorcycle into the main street, she couldn’t help snuggling closer to him. The night was warm, and the dark streets peeled away beneath them. With the motorcycle purring beneath her thighs and her body curled around Dane’s, she forgot herself, forgot the challenge, forgot everything except for the pure pleasure thrumming through her veins.
All too soon, the ride was over. They reached a large, industrial building in the SoMa district where Dane used a remote control to enter the basement parking garage.
“A friend of mine offered me the use of his apartment. He doesn’t spend much time in San Francisco.” Dane said as they climbed off his motorcycle.
They rode a steel-plated elevator up to the top floor and entered the apartment through a repurposed bank vault door. The penthouse was huge and dramatic, with lots of polished concrete, exposed brick walls, and massive timber beans. Black walls paired with filmy white drapes and antique chandeliers gave it a dramatic yet intimate atmosphere.
“This place is stunning,” Holly said as she took it all in. “Your friend has good taste. Is he an old buddy from around here?”
“No. He was a client of mine back in Texas. I designed and built a custom motorcycle for him, and we became friends.”
Dane led her through one of the multiple living areas. This one contained huge couches covered in cowhide, an enormous television, and several large photographic studies of various motorcycles.
“Ah, this must be the man cave,” Holly said. “I’m guessing you spend most of your time here?”
“Here, and the kitchen next door.”
She followed him through a giant archway into a massive, fully equipped kitchen. The counters were made of hammered blue metal, the walls were lined with stainless steel, and the oven looked big enough to fit a whole cow. A forest of copper pans and pots hung above a chunky butcher’s block that looked like it had been hewn from the biggest redwood in California.
“Hey, this is a serious set up,” she said as he scrubbed his hands at the sink.
Dane pulled two bottles of beer out of the stainless steel refrigerator, popped the tops, and handed one of them to her. “Make yourself at home while I cook.”
Sipping her beer, she wandered around the kitchen and the den next to it. The penthouse was impressive, but it didn’t interest her much because it wasn’t Dane’s home. After a few minutes, she sauntered back to the kitchen and perched on a stool by the metal counter.
“So where’s home for you?” she asked.
Dane glanced up from the chopping board where he was dicing vegetables. “Austin, Texas. I bought an old warehouse and did it up. I live upstairs, while my garage and workshop is below.”
“Workshop? Is that where you build your custom motorcycles?”
“No. I’ve built a proper facility for that. My workshop is just for my own tinkering.”
“Have you always been into motorcycles?” She leaned over and stole a stick of carrot from his chopping board.
“Yeah. Got my first motorcycle when I was fourteen. Too young to get a learner’s permit, but that didn’t stop me.” He hefted a giant copper pan onto the stove and poured oil into it. “I was always messing around with engine bits, trying out new things, making a total hash of the garage.”
“What did your parents think of it?” Holly nibbled on her carrot stick.
Dane shrugged. “My mom had already passed, and my dad, well, of course he didn’t like it. He hated the thought of his son tinkering with dirty engines. In fact, part of the appeal of motorcycles was that it pissed him off so much.”
The oil sizzled as he threw the vegetables into the pan. Holly watched as he worked the vegetables with a spatula.
“I can understand,” Holly said a few moments later. “When I was sixteen I was a raging, full on goth, and I think I did it just to annoy my dad.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He scooped out the vegetables before throwing in a bowl of sliced up chicken.
“I wasn’t really into the goth subculture. I only did it to get his attention.” It hadn’t worked. Acting up and being a pain in the butt had earned her a few lectures from her father, but after that he’d withdrawn into his shell again, and she’d been left feeling lonelier than before. She straightened her shoulders. No more wallowing in the past. “And you? Why did you want to piss off your father?”
“Same as you, I guess. I wanted his attention. But I was stupid. If I’d wanted his attention, I should’ve aced my exams, got on the football team, and dated a cheerleader, like my brother did.”
There wasn’t a trace of bitterness in his voice, but still something squeezed at her heart.
“Your older brother Eric? Do you get on with him?”
Dane stirred the hissing pan of chicken. “Not particularly.”
“But you and your dad are good now, aren’t you?”
Somehow it seemed important to her. For years she’d nursed her anger and hurt, but she’d finally gained the maturity to see beyond her father’s reserve. Her wounds were healing; she hoped Dane’s were, too.
Dane didn’t answer. He busied himself adding soy sauce, fish sauce, and cilantro to his chicken and vegetables before picking the pan and placing it on the metal countertop between them. He pushed a fork towards her. “Dinner is served. Dig in.”
The tantalizing aroma distracted her thoughts. She crammed a forkful of food into her mouth and moaned as the spicy flavors enveloped her senses.
“Oh my god,” she mumbled around her mouthful. “That is seriously divine.”
“Glad you like it.” He smiled as he helped himself t
o some food.
For a while they didn’t talk except to grunt in satisfaction. The pan was piled high, but they made quick inroads into it, aided by their beer. Finally Holly set down her fork and placed a hand over her stomach.
She groaned. “That was so good. I never realized you were such a great cook.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
He was that, all right. “Where did you learn to cook like that? Your mom?”
He shook his head, his mouth straightening. “My mom wasn’t into cooking. No, I was taught by Rosa, my dad’s housekeeper.” He twisted the fork between his fingers. “My mom died when I was twelve, and Rosa, well, she was always the motherly type.” He shrugged.
And he was the motherless boy, ignored by his father in favor of the older brother. She looked at his large hand resting on the counter just a few inches away and wanted to squeeze it.
“I lost my mom when I was twelve, too,” she said.
He looked at her, his eyes as fathomless as the sea. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
He inhaled a breath. “Anyway, I don’t regret much. I’ve built up my business, made my fortune. No one owns me. And I love what I do.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty settled in Texas. Is this move to San Francisco just temporary?”
He leaned back, looking momentarily caught off guard. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Does it depend on whether you win the Halifax?”
“Maybe.” He rubbed a chin that had a good inch of stubble on it. “There’s a lot to consider.”
She couldn’t help noticing his rough, unshaven jaw, remembering how it rasped against her sensitive skin as he kissed her inner thighs. Her legs shifted as heat bloomed. To distract herself, she pushed off the stool. “I’ll do the washing up, seeing as you did the cooking.”
“No way.” Before she could take another step, he whisked the pan and forks away and dumped them in the sink. “That can wait until tomorrow.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the archway. “Let’s chill out in the man cave for a while.”
She should’ve said no. She should’ve thanked him for the meal and then called a taxi. But her common sense was obviously asleep, because before she knew it, she was saying, “Sure”, and heading to the couches with her bottle of beer.
