There was something damn sexy about the swell of her naked breasts peeking out from the sides of the front chest pocket, the expanse of smooth skin where he could just see the shadows of her ribs, and—
“Jay, are you listening?”
He took a second to take another swipe at his face, wishing his dick didn’t twitch with every damn memory, then blinked and found Larkin handing him a wet cloth.
“You can use the washroom by the back door. A little soap and water should get that right off.” She giggled behind her fingers.
He grabbed the towels and shot a glare at Blayne, but she’d returned to work with an innocent expression on her face, painting the wall as if he wasn’t standing there covered in primer.
But he knew better.
He had the strongest urge to spin her around and press her up against the damn wall.
And what?
He gritted his teeth.
Every idea that followed tightened his body in a wild knot of need, but he didn’t have the right to help her up from the floor much less kiss the look of sweet triumph off her face. Not when he’d abandoned her at the first opportunity to move up in his family’s company. He’d been a selfish bastard and had chased ambition with singular focus at the expense of anyone around him. It’s when he’d also realized that she’d be a helluva lot better off without him.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t feel like you have to stay.” Blayne’s husky voice with the slightest hint of an Irish brogue followed him down the hall. Yeah, he imagined she wanted him to leave, alright.
Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but that’s not happening again.
Not in this lifetime anyway.
He made quick work of his face then, glancing down at his chest, he sighed. There wasn’t much to be done about his favorite shirt. Maybe Maxine could work a bit of her magic on it; that moonshine of hers could get the purple out of a Malbec grape.
He turned the vintage, black crow-wing faucets to their off position then stepped into the hallway. He couldn’t resist a quick detour into the Van Buren honey room and a whole different kind of guilt settled in.
Back in the day, he and Ryker had been goofing around and found a stash of his dad’s whiskey in a cupboard under the sink. Ryker had kept telling him to put it back, but being an arrogant teen who knew more than anyone else, Jay hadn’t listened and accidentally dropped it.
He’d never forget the look of fear on Ryker’s face followed by a look of resolve.
The next day at school Ryker had shown up with a black eye and a split lip. Jay later found out his buddy had taken the blame in an attempt to protect him.
With a deep indrawn breath, he lingered in the sweet scent of honey and let it ease the difficult memory.
There was something amazing about seeing the room up and running with cleaned frames in a stand on the counter and the spotless sterling pot of the honey extractor.
Jay couldn’t count the broken hearts littering his footprints. It never mattered that he was clear from the beginning he wanted nothing beyond a casual fling. Every woman had thought she was the one to change him. But his attention had always been on the next win. In business and relationships.
However, if Ryker had been able to face his demons and right the wrongs of his past, even those he wasn’t responsible for, well then, so could Jay.
As he made his way to the ladies, the front door slammed closed. He found Blayne all alone, having finished one full wall and well on her way with another. Grabbing a brush, he said, “Larkin left?”
“Claire came to help, but they ran out to grab another gallon of paint so we could start early tomorrow.” She paused, not bothering to hide the smirk on her perfectly painted lips. “You don’t need to stick around either. We both know that’s not your strong point.”
The needle burned, but he let it slide on through. “I deserve that.”
“Yes, you do.”
He dipped his chin and his paintbrush, then turned to the wall.
“I don’t remember you being so…”
She turned, her brush held in front of her like a weapon. “So…what?” With slow steps, she rounded the ladder. “Determined? Strong? That’s what happens when you’re an eighteen-year-old woman in a foreign country with few friends and no family.”
His gut turned at the thought. What the fuck had he been thinking to leave her? He’d needed to be richer? More successful? More of an Astor?
He’d struggled with the need to prove he deserved the name since he could remember. So much so, he’d turned into a selfish prick to make it true. Every decision he’d made had been so thoroughly justified, not even his mother had been able to get through to him.
He certainly had been successful at the ass part of Astor.
“At least you were already a citizen,” he offered, though the sight of her sharp brows drawing together gave him fair warning it was the wrong thing to say. He immediately threw his hands out. “I’m sorry.”
Fire sparked in her eyes. “Yeah, my dual citizenship was a warm blanket in our big bed when I was left all alone.”
The muscles between his shoulder blades pinched tight. “I thought you would have gone home. I’ll be honest, the idea killed me, but I expected it.”
She shook her head, a few black tendrils fluttering about behind her yellow bandana. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said.” Dropping her brush in the paint can, she turned to him, brushing off her hands. “Go home? After the stunt I pulled? I dropped out of university and left the country with a boy I’d known for a half a second.” Her eyes wavered, the pain there a knife to his gut.
“I would have been no more welcomed home than I was to go with you.” Even if it had been only half the truth.
“Blayne,” he said softly. “I told you why you couldn’t go.”
“You…” she began. Then suddenly she straightened. The pain in her eyes hardened into something else as her spine stiffened and her lips drew tight.
He wanted to hold her, to beg her forgiveness, to make her laugh. Anything to get the flat, cold look out of eyes that used to sparkle like gems anytime he made a joke. But the feeling of a door closing on him sparked his adrenaline, and all he could do was push.
“I what? Came back uninvited? Fuck yeah, I did.” He advanced on her. “I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you, and I’m not going anywhere until you see how sorry I am. I’m here to stay.”
Her eyes flared, and she stepped away. “It doesn’t matter. You left and should have stayed gone.”
He tried to control the rising tide of panic clawing up his back at the finality of her tone. “The hell it doesn’t. It’s the only thing that matters.”
“Too bad Ryker and Larkin couldn’t hear you say that. Then they’d know I should be working this project alone. And if not, maybe I need to reconsider my part in all this.” She sighed in an overly drawn out, dramatic show of boredom. “Listen, I need to finish up here, then get some work in. I have a proposal for Ryker.”
He recognized that tone, and the threat it posed, he couldn’t let her leave the project. The best way to make her stay was to tell her to leave. Their dance was one he knew only too well.
“He’s not going to change his mind. I’m here. But you know, with my background, I can easily take on your side of this project.” As the words left his lips, he questioned his sanity. His drive to win would ruin any chance he had with her—even if it was a chance in hell.
He couldn’t handle the barrage of emotions bombarding him in her presence. Hell, if this kept up, he’d be joining his dad under the cardiologist’s knife.
“Easily?”
He’d hit a nerve, just as he’d hoped. “Look, I have the education and the experience necessary for a deal like this and—”
“And what? You don’t think I’m qualified? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m just saying—” He stepped toward her, faking a casual dismissal when wh
at he really wanted to do was pump his fist in victory.
She stomped toward the front door, and just before it closed, added. “You can kiss my ass, you egotistical, uninformed, asshole. I’m not going anywhere.”
As the door slammed in his face, he grinned.
Chapter 3
The following afternoon, Blayne stood in the center of the front room of the Cape house watching Jamie and Ryker critique her priming job, growing more pissed than when a derby opponent tried to sabotage her on the rink.
Just looking at the way Jamie filled out his damn Armani suit made her blood boil. The arrogant, self-righteous…
How was it that men thickened in the most delicious way with age, but women had to fight the same fate like it was their full-time job?
“Quit staring.” Maxine Van Buren, Ryker’s grandmother, nudged her none too gently. “I know you think you’re scowling, but it’s more of an I’m-in-the-mood-for-meat and only-that-particular-meat-will-do kind of look.” She jabbed her thumb toward Jamie.
“You’re mad.”
“No, you’re mad, and you’re also still in love with him.”
Heat rushed across her skin with the ridiculous accusation. Thank God she didn’t suffer the same fate as Larkin. When her best friend got embarrassed, it was like a gallon of red paint had been dumped on her head. At least Blayne’s was felt and not seen beyond a thin bead of perspiration along her upper lip.
She scoffed. “No offense, but you’ve been drinking too much of your shine, Maxine. Either that or worse, you’ve turned into one of those women who wants everyone else happily wed since Judge Carter asked you to marry him.”
Maxine raised a brow in warning.
“Jamie destroyed any love I once had ten years ago.” A small hiccup escaped.
Son of a bitch.
Her damn telltale sign of lies—even those she told herself—used to get her in the worst trouble with her ma and da as a little girl. Every hiccup told on her faster than her siblings ever could.
Maxine snorted. “If you say so.” Giving her silver locks a quick smoothing, she looked around, effectively ending the topic. “Where’s Ryker? I need to store a few things downstairs to keep Teddy’s nose from getting bent all out of shape. I swear, if that man wasn’t so good in bed…”
Blayne almost choked on her own breath as Ryker walked up just in time to hear his grandmother. She’d never seen such a big turn green so quickly.
“Grandmother, come on.” He pressed the space between his brows with a grimace.
Maxine gave a wave of dismissal. “Oh, please. Larkin is proof you already know what I’m talking about. Though the South Cove Madams are a cold lot, we North Cove Mavens have a reputation, you know.”
The North Cove Mavens were a group of creative and feisty women who lived north of the cape and sparred good-naturedly with the logical and deliberate women of the South Cove Madams. Something about two sisters who’d lived on opposite sides of town and the one boy who’d captured both their hearts. The feud’s history was as old as the town itself.
“Yeah, not the one you think, Grandma,” he said.
Blayne didn’t even try to hold her laughter in this time.
“By the way, I’m glad you’re here. I want to use a little space in the basement.” Maxine raised on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“Like you’d listen if I said otherwise,” he grumbled.
She smiled. “You always were a smart boy.” She followed up the kiss with a soft pat.
Jay joined them with heated look solely for Blayne. “Looks like I missed an invitation to the party.”
“Nope, if there had been one, the slight would have been on purpose.” She made her smile as sickly sweet as possible. It was so damn hard to keep her head straight when he was around. She constantly volleyed back and forth from wanting to throw herself into his arms and bash him over the head.
“Play nice.” The look on Ryker’s face was a brewing storm.
Jamie shrugged. “Have you thought about what I said?”
“Are you serious?” The man was mad—she cared fuck all about anything he had to say. “I think I made myself quite clear.”
Appealing to Ryker, she said, “This launch is life-changing for the town.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jamie’s small nod of indulgence and it snapped something inside her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now more than ever we need
someone with a rational mind and common sense to lead this project.”
“Like I said.” Jamie added.
“And since that is clearly not you, I propose the launch remain in my capable hands, starting immediately.”
Ryker lifted his head. “What’s this?”
“Now wait a minute,” Jamie said.
Blayne gestured to Ryker. “Your friend here told me he could easily do my job, and why didn’t I take my pretty little face home.”
Ryker shot Jamie a look that questioned whether or not he’d gone insane.
“That is not what I said.” Jamie ground out, glaring at her.
“Close enough.”
Larkin joined Ryker. “What’s going on?”
Blayne appealed to her sister-in-arms. “Ryker’s friend here said I’m not capable of doing the work.”
Larkin’s lips thinned, and she slowly turned her head toward Jamie. “I’ll have you know…”
Jamie jerked is head up. “That’s not what I said. I—”
Blayne’s chest tightened to a burn. “That’s exactly what you said. Are you really going to stand there and lie to my face?”
“Enough!” Ryker shouted. “You two are worse than Teddy and Maxine when he catches her selling her moonshine.” He swung his hand in a wide arc. “This is not a joke! It’s simple. Blayne, Jay will make you better.”
Her stomach turned in betrayal. The hell he would. He did not make her anything. Of all the things Ryker could have said, that was by far the most ridiculous.
“And Jay wipe that damn smirk off your face because Blayne will make you better. We only want the best, and for the needs of this specific project, it isn’t either of you on your own. Pull your shit together or get out of my goddamn house.” The level of his voice increased with each word until she swore her spine vibrated.
Larkin slid her hand into Ryker’s, and he looked down at her almost in surprise. Drawing her into his side, he gestured toward Maxine and Claire who’d just slipped in through the front door. “Everybody out.”
Claire blinked in surprise, hiding behind Maxine. “But what about the room? We’re supposed to be painting.”
“Don’t hide behind me.” Maxine tried to move away, but Claire grabbed her like a shield.
“The hell I won’t. He’d never hurt his own grandmother.”
“Shows what you know, he’d hurt me first.”
Ryker ignored their banter and walked toward the foyer with Larkin by his side. “Our two idiot friends can do it. And if they don’t do it without incident, I’ll find someone who can.”
The threat was crystal clear.
Blayne waited until the room emptied, then glared at Jamie, pressure building in her chest. Getting home to Ireland with her head held high, being there for Larkin, doing good for the community, were all dependent on the successful launch of this project. And Jamie was tossing it about like confetti. “Nice going, asshole.”
A you-can-kiss-my-ass chuckle rumbled from his chest, and the sound of it rolled along her nerves in a wake-up call. “There’s the girl I know and love.”
She stared at him a moment, suddenly feeling as though she were the butt of an unknown joke, then turned away. Hearing the word love from his mouth hurt more than she wanted to admit. She’d always imagined how classy and reserved she’d act if she ever saw him again.
Clearly, she was failing at that daydream.
Grabbing gallons of paint from the wall, she hauled them to the work table. The quicker they finished, the better. Since Ryker had
made it clear they were working together, or not at all, it was time to swallow her pride and do her job.
At least that was something she excelled at.
She tossed Jamie a brush. “Here. Make yourself useful.”
He caught the brush, squeezing the handle so tight the whites of his knuckles glowed in contrast to his tanned skin.
Aww, was she annoying him? Well, too damn bad.
Ignoring any urge to poke the sexy bear further, she opened her radio app on her phone and found Metallica. Since it had been their favorite rock band, he’d get the message. “War” would be an appropriate song.
She handed Jamie a gallon of paint then grabbed one for herself.
“You edge, I’ll fill in the wall?” he suggested. And there was no way to confuse the heated look in his eyes.
She forced herself to keep her movements casual as an image of the two of them in their apartment took her back. She’d been younger and much more naive, but she’d also been so happy. Her lungs seemed to forget how to function, making her next breath an effort. She nodded, walking to the far corner of the room.
“Do you remember that night?” he asked softly.
She’d never forget it. They’d painted well past midnight and finished with the hottest sex she’d ever had, rolling around on the tarp used to protect the floor. They’d made their own art—and had a hell of a time getting all the paint out of her hair the next morning. But it had been worth it.
Inhaling deeply, she dipped her edging brush into the light gray paint then dragged it along the top edge of the old six-inch baseboards. “You don’t get to do that, Jamie.”
“Do what? Remember?” Using large strokes, he made a ‘W’ on the wall with the paint roller.
“Talk to me like we’re friends. Make me remember things that made a mockery of what I thought we had between us.” She continued down the wall.
“I’m not mocking anything. What we had was different. Special.”
Finishing the baseboard edge along the length of the wall, she worked up the corner to the ceiling. She moved the ladder over and climbed until she could reach the top.
Honor on the Cape Page 3
