“The next time you call me cupcake, I’m going to shove one in your face. Fair warning. And if you think I’m going to just walk away from this and pretend everything’s okay, you have another think coming. This is my project, Asher. My job. Work with me here.”
She wasn’t going to leave this alone. He’d known Kennedy long enough to realize that when she sank her teeth into a problem, she didn’t let go until it was solved. Her single-minded determination was both frustrating and admirable.
Nothing stood in her way. In some ways, Kennedy reminded him of his grandmother. That woman hadn’t pulled any punches, literally. She’d been a true Southern matriarch, willing to cuff him upside the head for being disrespectful, only to follow up the deserved punishment with the warmest, biggest hug on the planet.
She’d never hesitated to put him in his place when he’d needed it, and as an angry, scared, hurting adolescent, he’d needed it often. She’d had the highest hopes for him, expecting him to do her and the memory of his father proud.
When his father was killed in action and his mother abandoned him, his grandmother had given him a safe place. So he’d wanted desperately to make her proud. His every decision growing up had been for that one purpose.
But the pressure he’d felt to live up to the glowing ideal of his father and make up for his mother dumping him on her doorstep had been huge. Difficult for a child to shoulder.
Right now, he felt the same weight as Kennedy stared up at him expectantly.
“I’ve got this,” Asher forced out.
“Obviously not, or you wouldn’t have run from that room like someone had tossed in a grenade.”
Kennedy pressed closer. Asher countered with a single step backward. He would have gone farther, but his back collided with the solid plane of the wall. Damn the small room.
She crowded him, glaring up out of those mesmerizing eyes, golden and fierce.
“You’re not going to g-give up on this, are you?”
“No.”
He stared down at her, his mind spinning and his body in turmoil—his need for her intertwining uncomfortably with the fear that surfaced each time he thought about standing in front of those damn cameras.
“Fine. Then why don’t you come up with a solution to a problem I’ve been dealing with since I was six.” Asher crossed his arms over his chest, placing a physical barrier between them.
Her mouth opened and then shut. She stared up at him. Asher could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes. God, he loved watching her mind work. She was observant and intuitive. She was good with people, which was a skill he’d had to fight tooth and nail to develop.
Her lush lips tightened. Her shoulders straightened. And tiny grooves crinkled the spot right between her eyes as she gave him a little frown. “I’m sorry, Asher. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t handle the problem.”
“Oh, I think you did. I get that this project is important to you. But I’m the one in f-f-front of the camera.”
She shifted, resting a soft hand on his arm. The heat of her palm soaked through the thin layer of the dress shirt, sending a zing of need ripping straight through him.
“Okay, so the cameras make you nervous?”
“The cameras. The people. The idea of stuttering in front of an audience. I don’t know what I’m doing, Kennedy, and stress makes the stutter worse.”
“I’ve seen you in stressful situations before without any sign of a stutter.”
“Sure, because I was trained and prepared, knew I could handle things. I’m not ready for this.”
A smile bloomed across Kennedy’s face.
Asher blinked, unable to look away. Kennedy was gorgeous in a girl-next-door kind of way. But when she smiled, true happiness or excitement shining from those tempting golden eyes...there was nothing more appealing.
“I think I have an idea.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’m going to see if I can work some magic. Meet me in my room in an hour.”
She turned to leave but paused just inside the doorway, her eyes raking over him from head to toe. Every molecule in his body felt the weight of her gaze.
“Leave the shirt and slacks on.”
And then she was gone.
* * *
KENNEDY WAS OUT of her element, but that didn’t faze her. She’d figure it out.
Hunting down one of the cameramen, Neil, she hauled him off to a quiet corner of the ship.
“I need to borrow your camera.”
He blinked. “Uh...what?”
“I need to borrow your camera.”
“Not just no, but, hell no.”
Kennedy wasn’t stupid. She’d known it would take some cajoling to get what she wanted. She’d once been told her brother was a brilliant strategist. She wasn’t so bad herself.
Glancing down, she sauntered closer, tipped her lips into a sultry smile and then looked up at Neil through her lashes.
“Neil, do you like your job?”
The man was young, probably only a couple of years older than she was. A junior member of the team. Someone she’d immediately picked out as a weak link.
“Yes.”
“Well, so do I. We have a problem. I’m trying to fix it. But in order to do that, I need to borrow your camera.”
“It’s an expensive piece of equipment, Kennedy. If I give it to you and something happens, I’m responsible for it.”
“No, you’re not. First, I won’t let anything happen. Second, if something does, I’ll accept responsibility, and Trident will cover the cost of the camera.”
Neil swallowed hard. “Okay.”
She gathered the equipment she needed, grateful for the semester she’d worked as an intern at the local TV station.
The camera was only a foot or so in length and light enough to be handheld, with a large fuzzy mic protruding out the far end. It was portable, although she set it up on a tripod in the corner of her room. She needed the camera running but didn’t have enough hands to operate it.
The rest of the time she spent with her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop as she took a crash course in everything she could find on stuttering.
They had a problem; she was going to solve it. Because this project could not get delayed. Not when Seattle was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
A little over an hour later, she had a plan of action. Distraction seemed to be a key component for stuttering therapy. Stutterers often found that their issue became a self-fulfilling prophecy. High-pressure situations made them worry about stuttering, which often led to an increased occurrence of the stutter. Based on what Asher had told her, that sounded exactly like what he was experiencing.
She was fiddling with the camera, making sure all the wires were connected correctly, when a voice sounded behind her.
“What’s all that?”
Kennedy let out a startled squeak and jumped, spinning to find Asher standing next to her bed. She hadn’t even heard him come in.
“A camera.”
He’d left the clothes on as she’d instructed, and she was struck again by just how amazing he looked.
“I can see that. Why?”
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he rocked back on his heels.
“We’re going to put you in front of it and see if we can figure out something that’ll help you get through the next couple weeks.”
Kennedy turned away, continuing to fiddle as she spoke to him over her shoulder. “I thought a session with just me and the camera might help you feel more comfortable tomorrow, take away some of the stress so you’re less likely to stutter.”
Satisfied everything was working, she turned back to Asher and stopped dead in her tracks.
With nowhere else to sit, he’d chosen her bed. But he hadn’t been content with perching on the edge. Nope. At some point he’d toed off his shoes and sprawled out, making himself completely at home. Propped up on one elbow, there was something wicked and unapologetic about th
e way he gazed at her like a lover waiting patiently for her to rejoin him in bliss.
Kennedy cleared her throat.
His arm bulged against the rolled shirt cuff. The fabric gaped against the tanned skin of his chest, giving her a little glimpse of his muscled pecs beneath the starched cotton.
Nope. She wasn’t going there. Forcing her gaze away, she grumbled, “Sit up,” smacking at his leg to make her point.
Moving back behind the camera, she focused it. Asher in all his masculine, larger-than-life, charismatic glory filled the small screen in front of her face.
She hit Record, watching as a red light blinked several times before going solid.
Not only had Asher ignored her direction, he’d rolled over on to his back and was staring at the ceiling.
Kennedy opened her mouth to argue with him, but shut it before she could say anything. If that was the first step he needed, then she’d give it to him. They had to start somewhere.
“What do you want me to d-do?” he asked, directing his question to the ceiling.
Kennedy could feel the gentle sway of the ship beneath her spread feet. Hear the distant hum of the engine as it vibrated through the room. Somehow the normal background noise made Asher’s reluctance even more pronounced.
“Talk,” she finally answered.
“About what?”
“I don’t care. Trident. Your dog. The last woman you screwed.” Oops, she hadn’t meant to say that one out loud.
Twisting his head, Asher glared at her. “Not funny, Kennedy.”
She shrugged, trying to brush it off as a joke. “Whatever takes your mind off the camera.”
He turned his head again, bringing his focus up. “I don’t have a dog, something you already know. You could probably speak more intelligently about Trident than I could.”
Which wasn’t true, but since those were easily the most words he’d said to her at one time without glaring or following up with some smart-ass remark, she wasn’t going to interrupt him to say so.
“And I’m not touching the last one with a ten foot pole.”
“Oh, come on. I’ve heard you with the guys. You have no problem giving Jackson and Knox a blow-by-blow—pun obviously intended—account of your conquests.”
A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. Kennedy took a couple of steps sideways, wanting to see his expression better.
“Have you been eavesdropping, naughty little g-girl?”
She scoffed, the harsh sound scraping through her throat. “It can’t be considered eavesdropping when you make zero attempt at keeping the conversation private. Naughty? Yes. Little girl? Not in a very long time.”
His deep green gaze found hers, sending an unwanted shiver racing down her spine. “I remember,” he drawled, pulling the syllables out in that slow, sexy way of his.
His voice was lethal, even with the stutter. Maybe especially with the stutter. It made him endearing, a word she never would have used to describe him.
“How long did it take you to get rid of the idiot who got you arrested, anyway? I never asked.”
“About twenty minutes after you bailed me out of jail.”
He grunted, a sound she took as approval. Not a difficult mental leap to make, considering he’d been pissed that she let the asshole talk her into something so stupid. The car ride home that night had been humiliating and uncomfortable. Asher had glared at her, silently judging even as he’d refused to yell at her as she knew he’d wanted to.
If he had, maybe their entire relationship would have been different. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt so guilty and ashamed around him.
“It wasn’t entirely his fault.”
“On that we both agree. What in God’s name possessed you to get naked on a park slide in the middle of the night?”
Kennedy felt her skin go hot. She normally wasn’t the kind of woman to get embarrassed. Her parents had instilled in her a healthy sense of self-esteem. Her actions and decisions were her business, and there were only a handful of people whose opinions mattered to her. Unfortunately, Asher seemed to be one of them.
“Hormones?”
Getting arrested for indecent exposure had been the most embarrassing experience of her life...and of course Asher had been there to witness the aftermath.
Jackson had only been home for a few weeks at that point, bringing Asher and Knox with him to begin the process of opening a new business.
That night, a guy she’d met at a party had coaxed her into doing something spontaneous and daring. Stupid.
Thanks to an abundance of alcohol, she’d been pretty uninhibited, right up until the cops arrived, and the self-righteous coward had fled, leaving her half-naked and alone to be carted off to jail.
Her humiliation had been complete when she’d walked down the hallway of the jail to see Asher waiting for her on the other side of the locked door.
He’d been pissed, his jaw drawn so tight she could see a muscle ticking there from several feet away. He hadn’t said anything. The way he’d glared at her out of those flashing green eyes had been enough to send her stomach somersaulting.
And she hadn’t much appreciated it. She’d already been emotionally raw, and Asher’s silent judgment hadn’t helped.
She’d also been bedraggled, exhausted and scared. Not her finest hour.
Shaking her head, Kennedy realized they needed to move off this subject...especially since it was on camera and she’d successfully hidden her one stint in jail from her parents and brother. Somehow, Asher had gotten the charges dropped. She’d never asked him how. Actually, she’d never thanked him. Because she hadn’t realized he’d done it until days later.
“Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?”
“Taking care of the charges.”
He shrugged, stacking his hands behind his head and shifting to get a better view of her. “Not a big deal.”
“It was to me. And for keeping the incident to yourself. Most guys would have gone running to my brother.”
“Please. Jackson’s in no position to cast stones. He’s made plenty of boneheaded decisions in his life, and I was present for more than half of them. Hell, I even talked him into a few of them.”
She laughed, the tension that had filled her body slowly leaking out. This was nice. Something she really hadn’t experienced with Asher before. From that night going forward, there’d been this wall of antagonism sitting between them. But tonight, it was gone, replaced by something a heck of a lot more dangerous.
Slipping onto the edge of the bed, Kennedy folded her legs beneath her. “You’ll have to tell me some of those stories.”
“I don’t think so, cupcake.”
Part of her wanted to growl at him for using the derogatory nickname again, only this time when he said it, it didn’t sound like a curse, but a caress.
And she wasn’t going to push. Not when he’d been talking for five minutes with the camera rolling and no sign of a stutter.
“So, tell me something else. What were you like as a kid?”
He stiffened. Kennedy didn’t understand his reaction, but before she could ask, every muscle in his body relaxed again, as if on cue.
“I grew up with my grandma. She raised me after my dad was killed in Iraq, in the same house he grew up in. I slept in his old room, played with the toys she’d saved.”
Kennedy had no idea how to react to that.
“Wasn’t that...kind of heavy? I mean, a constant reminder of what you’d lost.”
“No, it made me feel closer to him.”
Kennedy wanted to change the subject, partly because this wasn’t where she’d expected the conversation to go. But mostly because she was too interested. She didn’t need to think of Asher as a grief-stricken little boy.
She didn’t need to be thinking about him at all. And, yet... “I’m guessing you were a hellion.”
He flashed her that wicked grin, the one that made her go weak in the knees whenever he aimed it in her direction.<
br />
“Are you kidding me? My grandma wouldn’t allow me to be a hellion. Although, my teenage years were a little harrowing for both of us. It was difficult not having a male figure in my life. Luckily, I had coaches and teachers who tried to fill the void as much as possible. When I’d let them.”
Kennedy rolled her shoulders, realizing for the first time just how much strain had settled there. The past few days had been hectic. Hell, the past few weeks had been stressful as she’d worked to pull all the pieces together for this project and interview for the position in Seattle.
Reaching up over her head, she tried to work out a kink.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Asher grumbled beneath his breath. She couldn’t hear all the words but caught enough to realize he was bashing all women who employed the word nothing when it obviously didn’t apply.
“Fine. I think I pulled something carrying the camera equipment. It’ll be okay. I just need to loosen it up.”
“Come here,” Asher said, shifting his body until he was propped up against the wall at the head of the bed.
“What?”
Motioning her closer, he repeated, “Come here.”
She eyed him. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“Jeez, just do as you’re told.”
She laughed. “Not likely.”
That smirk was back, a wicked little tilt to his lips that matched the impish glint in his eyes. This was the dangerous, crafty and ruthless man she’d come to expect over the past two years. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders or not?”
Kennedy stared at him. It was obviously a trick question. Who wouldn’t want the strong, maddening, sexy man touching them? But she shouldn’t. Couldn’t.
However, that didn’t seem to matter. She twisted, scooting backward.
His hard thighs pressed against her. Heat rolled off of him...or maybe the sizzling sensation was strictly internal.
She started to pull away, but his heavy hands settled over her hips.
And she was done.
5
ASHER STARED AT the curve of Kennedy’s back. The fall of her dark blond hair across her shoulders. Crap. Why had he offered to touch her?
But now that he had...
Under Pressure Page 5
