Make Me Lose Control

by Christie Ridgway

  Just then, London made a small sound. Her body stilled and she stared across the street, her gaze on a clutch of high schoolers coming into view. Shay recognized Colton Halliday, a pal of his and three girls—two blondes and a curvaceous brunette. They paused on the curb, looking in both directions before stepping into the street.

  “They’re coming here,” London said, a note of panic in her voice. “We should go.”

  “No,” Shay protested. “Not when you look so pretty.”

  Biting her lip, London started to slink low in her chair. She put up her hand to shield the side of her face. “I’m not like them,” she whispered. “They’re so...so...effortless.”

  Oh, the anguish of fifteen, Shay thought, as London’s obvious misery touched a tender spot inside her. When Shay was the same age, still reeling after that disastrous fourteenth birthday, it had felt as if everyone in the world had a comfortable niche but her.

  “Listen.” Leaning across the table, she spoke in a low voice. “Sit up straight, pin on a smile, look like you’re having the most fun ever.”

  London’s eyes darted to Shay, then darted back to the group of kids that had almost reached the sidewalk. “But...”

  She reached out and tugged the girl’s hand away from her face. “Trust me. If you look like you’re enjoying yourself, other people will want to get to know you. Hang around you.”

  Slowly, the teen straightened in her chair. She curved both hands around her cup and gave her attention to Shay, a pained smile on her face. “Do I look like I’m having fun?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have fun when someone pulls out your toenails with pliers?”

  The smile turned more genuine. “That bad?”

  “Now it’s good.” She glanced over London’s shoulder. “They went inside.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Do you think they’ll come out to the patio?”

  “Who knows?”

  London played with the straw in her drink. “He probably won’t even remember me.”

  “He might not recognize you,” Shay corrected. “But you look wonderful.”

  “You think so?” She brightened, then again went on alert as the sound of chattering teen voices emerged—along with their owners—from the coffee place.

  They did not find seats on the patio like London and Shay; instead they continued on their way, arguing over a movie as they walked along the sidewalk, drinks in hand. The girl let out a long breath, even as she gazed over her shoulder, watching the small group, her expression betraying how much she would like to be part of them.

  Oh, yes, Shay thought. She absolutely knew that feeling of being the one stuck on the outside. “It’s going to be okay,” she told the girl.

  London turned back around and the doubt on her face tugged at Shay. Fifteen. Such a vulnerable age. “How do you know?” she asked.

  “Trust me,” Shay said again, and when the girl returned a small smile, she knew she was sunk. Well, invested, which in this case could very well turn out to be the same thing. Maybe it was because she saw something of herself in London. Maybe it was the girl’s particular combination of a smart brain and a poignant vulnerability. In any case, London had opened up something inside Shay that she usually—safely—closed off to just about everyone.

  Which now left her feeling uncomfortably exposed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JACE RETURNED TO Blue Arrow Lake near sunset, after a day taking meetings and handling conference calls in Los Angeles. Keyed up from dealing with dozens of business details and driving through the Southern California traffic, he looked forward to a quiet evening. Loners needed their downtime.

  As he turned into his drive, he blinked, surprised by the number of cars gathered there. Four. One he recognized as Shay’s, then there was the luxury model that Ryan Hamilton had been driving a few days before. Two others were unfamiliar. A work truck with an extended cab and a rack for landscaping tools. Next to it sat a small sedan with a Maids by Mac sign on the side.

  Company.

  Shay’s siblings, obviously. Pulling into the garage, he decided he wouldn’t be able to avoid the ol’ greet-and-grip. But immediately after, he’d escape to the master suite with a beer or two. He hoped they didn’t intend to stay long.

  As he pushed open the front door, however, he could hear talk coming from the deck that overlooked the lake, as well as smell the scent of meat on the grill. Shay had guests for dinner.

  Fine. He’d still head up to his room after introductions and sneak down to the kitchen for a sandwich when the spirit moved him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hold his own socially when necessary, but this time it wasn’t necessary. Shay’s siblings were never going to be more than strangers, really, to him.

  Emerging onto the deck, it seemed as if his house had been invaded by a passel of them. His gaze circled the group. Shay wasn’t in sight, and he only recognized dark-haired Ryan and the little boy that was his stepson-to-be. Two other women stood beside a man tending the barbecue. A teenage girl he’d never seen before, wearing a summer dress, poured lemonade from a pitcher into a plastic cup. Then she crossed to the little kid and handed it to him.

  Since no one had yet noticed him, Jace considered avoiding the crowd altogether. Maybe he’d search out his daughter and see if she wanted to head into town for pizza. He was curious to see the outcome of her trip to the beauty salon. Lady Gaga platinum, he guessed, inuring himself to the idea. It had to be better than blue.

  Then the teenager looked over, catching him still standing near the glass doors leading from the house. Hell, he thought, working not to scowl. Busted. He moved forward, determined to get the introductions over quickly, when his feet stuttered to a stop.

  That teenager, the girl— Jesus. He could not stop staring as he began walking toward her again. Three feet away, he cleared his throat. “London?”

  She lifted a self-conscious hand to her hair. It was a lustrous blend of colors, clearly professionally highlighted, and looked both healthy and age-appropriate. Without the dark frame of the dyed stuff of before, and without the overkill in the liner and mascara department, her face looked...normal.

  More than that. Very pretty.

  And in that dress...fashionable, he guessed was the right word.

  A honey-haired woman walked over to link arms with the teen. “Doesn’t she look fabulous?” she asked, a smile on her face that also beamed from her wide gray eyes.

  “Fabulous,” he echoed. He held out his hand to the small and slender woman. “Jace Jennings.”

  “Poppy Walker,” she said. “And I would have picked you out of a lineup to be her dad. There’s a strong family resemblance.”

  Jace and his daughter glanced at each other, her expression as surprised as he felt. Before, she’d looked like...well, he couldn’t say, because before this transformation her appearance had been disguised by all that habitual black.

  It made him wonder what she’d been hiding from and why she’d decided to come out from behind her mask.

  The other woman he didn’t know strolled over to join their group. She was more Shay’s height than Poppy’s. Her hair was espresso-colored and she gave Jace the once-over out of eyes the same shape and icy blue as her youngest sister. Her handshake was strong. “Mackenzie Walker,” she said. “Mac.”

  Ryan hailed him next, just managing to rescue Mason’s lemonade as the boy nearly dropped it in his zeal to chase after a big dog that was beelining for the house. “Good to see you again.”

  Then Jace faced a man who was wielding a wicked-looking weapon. It took him a moment to recognize it as a grill scraper. It didn’t take any time to recognize that the oldest Walker sibling was naturally reserved. He was muscular, too, the kind gained by heavy, outdoor work that had also lightened his short brown hair. His gray eyes were very much like Poppy�
�s and a scar cut through his brow to his hair. A second was a pale line across the bridge of his nose.

  “Brett Walker.” He transferred the tool to his left hand to meet Jace’s right palm with his own. “And you’re yet another flatlander who has entered one of my sisters’ lives.”

  Jace didn’t think he meant flatlander as a compliment. “On a temporary basis,” he murmured, then looked about. “Is she here? Shay?”

  Poppy nodded, frowning a little. “But has taken herself away, per usual. Even when we arrived with food and birthday cake in tow for her belated celebration.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Jace said, “I think I’ll track her down.” A beer still sounded good.

  Brett passed off the scraper and locked steps with Jace. “I’ll drag her outside if I have to,” he told his sisters.

  They found her in the kitchen.

  Her brother continued into the room while Jace paused at the threshold. Her hair was its usual swirl of brightness, some strands cupping her chin, others kicking out at the back of her neck in a tousled style that seemed a little too close to bed head.

  Sex head. Sex hair.

  He should look away, but he couldn’t. Not since their evenings at the Deerpoint Inn had he seen her in a dress. This one was sleeveless, deep blue and something about the flounce at the hem and the ruffle at the V-bodice struck him as deeply feminine.

  That aspect called out to everything male in him and he took a breath, his chest expanding. He was hyperaware of their gender differences: from the width of his palms and the length of his fingers, to her slender waist and the curve of her hips. His body tightened everywhere, preparing for action—to rush, to defend...to possess.

  When she looked up from the cheese-and-cracker platter she was arranging, her gaze skipped straight past her brother and latched on to Jace’s face.

  Her skin glowed with a light blush that pinkened her cheeks and nose. That telltale sign of nerves seemed to heighten his senses. Even from across the room he thought he could smell a trace of her sweet perfume. His eyes couldn’t miss the pulse speeding at her throat.

  Brett halted midstride, glanced over his shoulder at Jace, then looked back at his sister. She didn’t seem to realize her sibling was in the room. “Shay...” he said, drawing out her name.

  She started, then jerked her gaze to her brother. “Oh, hey.”

  Jace waded through the electrified atmosphere to make his way to the refrigerator. He pulled out a beer for himself, then passed one to the other man without bothering to ask first. Brett accepted it as he studied his youngest sister. “We’re waiting for you on the deck,” he said, his voice mild.

  “I wanted to put together some appetizers,” she replied. Her eyes slid Jace’s way then back down to the countertop. “Hello to you, too. Thanks so much for footing the spa bill.”

  “You’re welcome.” He took a swig of his beer, thinking he had only about ten seconds left before Brett Walker figured out that the charged air wasn’t due to dryer static, but to Jace’s pheromones and Shay’s pheromones finding each other in the room and rubbing together like two sticks on the verge of starting a fire. A mixed pseudoscientific metaphor, he supposed, but it was the best he could come up with when his brain was distracted by all her beautiful bared skin, the apprehensive touch of her tongue to her bottom lip, the darting glance she sent him from beneath dark curly lashes.

  Jace felt Brett’s gaze swing to him, too. It must have worried Shay, because she snapped her fingers and called to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you again, Brett.”

  With a last suspicious look at Jace, her brother returned his attention to her. “Ask what?”

  “Remember when I texted you about my adoption papers?”

  The other man lifted his beer and drank before answering. “I got a text about adoption papers?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you see it? I asked for your help in finding them.”

  “You want to talk about this now?” the other man asked, glancing at Jace.

  “Before I forget,” Shay said. “They must be among Mom and Dad’s things, right?”

  Brett took another swallow. “You’d think so.”

  “I want to locate them—”

  “Not only did Dad have no head for numbers, but they both were lousy at organization, you know that.”

  “Still—”

  “Untold grief, babe,” he said. “Needle-in-the-haystack-level search and seizure and you know what kind of mood that puts me in.”

  She frowned. “Brett...”

  He turned to Jace. “Speaking of moods, I heard you made Poppy ecstatic by doing some work out at the cabins.” With a quick movement, he scooped up the platter of food and started walking from the kitchen. “I’m interested in hearing your opinion on the situation, given that you’re a builder.”

  “Brett,” Shay protested.

  “Come along, little sister. Your party awaits.”

  Just like that, both Jace and Shay were effectively roped and dragged out to the deck. He could have broken away for the stairs, that was true, but when that notion occurred, he caught another glimpse of his daughter. At this moment, he didn’t want to walk away from her. Or from Shay.

  The unexpected party turned out to be no hardship. The Walkers had brought hamburgers and turkey burgers to grill as well as portobello mushrooms. Several salads and watermelon slices were available to fill the party plates—paper ones, with birthday balloons printed on them.

  Instead of sitting at one of the larger patio tables, the group chose to arrange themselves on the more comfortable cushioned sofas and love seats. They all held their plates on their laps, except for Mason, who sat cross-legged on the deck in front of the coffee table.

  The group talked, argued and laughed, and it pleased Jace to see that London often inserted herself into the conversation or was asked questions that started a new line of discussion. They liked his kid, ergo, it wasn’t hard to like them.

  The only thing odd was how Shay kept removing herself. She’d get up to retrieve something for one of the guests—more lemonade, another beer, a second helping—and then rather than returning to her place within the group, she’d sit outside the circle. Her perch might be a tall stool behind her brother. Another time she leaned against the glass-topped table they were using as a buffet, watching the action instead of immersing herself in it.

  He wondered how much of that the others noticed or if they were accustomed to her withdrawing.

  Finally, after birthday cake was served, he decided he couldn’t sit still for it any longer. Without a word, he rose from his couch cushion. Shay stood by the deck railing, a faint smile on her face as she listened to Poppy attempting to pump Brett for information about his love life.

  Jace grabbed her plate of barely touched dessert. When she made a sound of protest, he used it like bait to draw her back into the heart of the gathering. He pushed her onto the couch and then dropped beside her, returning the cake to her hands. At her puzzled look, he merely shrugged and half turned in order to ask Mac how she liked being her own boss.

  As the night darkened, the outdoor lights switched on automatically and a light breeze came off the lake. Jace dragged a couple of patio heaters close, then returned to the couch as the siblings argued about the finer points of some long-ago childhood prank. Shay was part of the discussion this time, he noticed, gratified. London was engaged as well, in a game of Go Fish with Ryan and Mason.

  He sat back, surprised by how relaxed he felt, even among the Walker clan. Perhaps because there was another Jennings in the group—his daughter. Perhaps because he enjoyed the brush of Shay’s shoulder against his as she made some point with the wide arc of her arm. Accustomed to being at the head of a boardroom table or the leader of a team, being in the middle of things was...different. He’d never before experienced the camara
derie of family.

  And for the first time in his life, he had a keen awareness of what he’d been missing.

  * * *

  HURRYING DOWN THE BEACH, London shoved her hands into the hoodie she’d pulled on over her sundress. The evening air was chilled and she still felt self-conscious in the shoulder-baring dress. Though she thought her new hair and clothes looked good, that didn’t mean she felt comfortable inside the look.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what Colton would think of it. Her face went hot just imagining his eyes on her.

  There was no guarantee he’d be in the old boathouse, of course, but this was her first opportunity in days to get away and find out. She figured she had less than an hour before her father or Shay would begin wondering about her whereabouts, so she took longer strides, ignoring the grit that got between the soles of her feet and her new sandals.

  As she neared the dilapidated structure, her stomach twisted and she felt her palms go damp. Through the chinks in the walls, she caught the barest flicker of light.

  It could be anyone, she thought, pausing. Maybe not someone safe.

  She glanced around, aware the night sky lacked a moon and the stars provided little illumination. The glow from the house she’d left was far enough away that it didn’t penetrate the gloom at this end of the deep cove. Curling her fingers together she took a step forward, and then another.

  Steps on the road to her own life.

  The door of the boathouse gave its usual creak when she nudged it forward. A single votive candle rested on the floor, surrounded by a circle of half a dozen seated people. Their faces were impossible to make out in the shadows.

  “England?” a voice asked.

  London’s heart leaped, bumping against her throat. “Yes,” she croaked. “Um...Colton?” She knew he couldn’t see her clearly and it made her both relieved and disappointed.

  “Come in, darlin’,” another male voice said. “Are you as cute as you sound?”

  “Sam...” Colton said, a hint of warning in his voice.