God, she loved that rough look.
“Hey,” he said stepping aside so she and Connor could file into the room. It was warm, courtesy of a fireplace she’d not noticed before, and she took her coat off and handed it to Rick.
“Hey yourself,” she replied softly, managing to get rid of the silly grin on her face. She really needed to work on keeping her shit together when she was around him.
His eyes held hers for several long moments and then he turned to Connor, who stood a few inches from them. Her brother was rubbing his fingers together—something he did when he was nervous—but before she could do anything about it, Rick bent down and held out his hands, palms up.
“Wanna give me your coat bud? We can go and fool around on the piano for as long as you want.”
Her heart squeezed at the flash of fear in Connor’s eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t like attention and he sure as hell didn’t like direct contact.
“Or you can just sit there and play when you feel like it.” Rick’s voice was gentle and Charlie bit her lip, watching the two of them—the large, masculine guy next to her small, delicate brother.
“It’s your call,” Rick continued. “You don’t have to play the piano if you don’t want to. We can just eat pizza and play Xbox if that’s your thing.”
Long moments stretched thin and Charlie was about to scoop up her jacket and call it a day when Connor shrugged and took off his gloves and hat. He slipped out of his jacket, and after a small hesitation, handed everything over to Rick.
Charlie had to look away because it was that hard for her to watch—really hard—but in a good way. When was the last time she’d seen Connor react to anyone, other than Davis?
“I’ll just sit over here.” Charlie moved toward the sofa.
“There’s cold beer in the fridge if you want,” Rick said. “Corona. Thought we’d have a Mexican night.” He paused. “That’s if you like Mexican.”
She nodded. “We like Mexican.”
She settled on the edge of the sofa, absently fingering some papers that were there as she watched Connor. Her brother didn’t move and kept his eyes on the ground but when Rick sat in front of the keyboard and began playing a slow, beautiful melody, her brother’s head jerked up. Connor watched Rick for a long time and god help her, but Charlie was transfixed as well.
Rick wasn’t just good and he sure as hell was better than great. The guy had chops and feel and he made the keyboard sound as if it was a part of him. He looked so damn sexy sitting there, playing a soft, haunting tune, dressed like a lumberjack (with the shoulders to go with) and all that dark wavy hair and the five o’clock shadow.
Better watch it girlie, you might fall for this one.
Charlie pushed that thought away as quickly as it had come. No way was she going to ruin this moment thinking about something that hadn’t even happened yet. Or rather, thinking about something could never happen because she knew he wasn’t staying in Fisherman’s Landing.
“No one ever does,” she murmured to herself.
Connor moved to the keyboard, inches at a time, his expression rapt as he watched Rick play. When he stopped near the bench and Rick moved over, a big old knot clogged Charlie’s throat.
It took another five minutes before Connor committed himself to sitting next to Rick, and the sight of his slight shoulders, hunched over as he watched Rick’s fingers move, was one that Charlie would never forget.
Rick spoke quietly to her brother, his voice soothing, relaxing even, as he talked about the notes and what they meant. He mentioned things like minor chords and major chords—things that Charlie had no clue about—and he talked about ebb and flow. When he reached for Connor’s hand, Charlie froze, exhaling hard and fighting tears because, Jesus, her brother let Rick touch him.
She blew out a long breath and settled back into the sofa, turning away because she couldn’t bear to watch the beauty of what was unfolding. At least not right now, because right now it was painfully beautiful, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment by breaking down.
Charlie wasn’t sure how much time had passed, because she nearly jumped out of her skin when Rick sat beside her.
“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his knee.
She sat up, realizing that Connor was still…
“He’s still playing.”
Rick nodded. “Yeah. He picked it up real quick. I taught him an easy piece and he’s practicing it something fierce.” They both watched the little hands attack the keys with a passion that Charlie had never seen before.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what would happen. Didn’t know if he’d engage or not. It’s hard sometimes to know what will work with him. And it’s even harder to be disappointed over and over.”
Rick grabbed her chin, his fingers gentle, and forced her eyes back to his. “You’ll have to tell me about him. I’d like to know your brother’s story.” He paused and Charlie’s mouth went dry at the look in his eyes. “I’d like to know your story.”
Charlie wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, legs pressed against each other, eyes unmoving, but when Connor ripped into the piece yet again, with a fury no less, she glanced away.
“I didn’t get my Corona.” Geez, why did she suddenly sound like Marilyn Monroe? Granted, it was a version that smoked a pack a day, but still. She really needed to get some perspective. Rick was being nice to her because he was a good guy. But he was a good guy who was most likely looking to get laid again.
Lord knows that she was.
“Sure thing.”
He grabbed her a cold beer and brought out all the fixings they needed for fajitas.
“You did this?” she asked, walking over to inspect the peppers and tomatoes, the cheese and lettuce.
“Hey, I’m not just another pretty face,” he replied with a grin. “I like to cook and I like Mexican.” He winked and she was flooded with warmth. “And I like you. All in all, that’s a good night in my books.”
He held his beer up in a toast, and with her brother happily banging away at the keyboard behind her, Charlie settled back onto the sofa and watched Rick sear the beef and chicken. He hummed a tune while he worked, his handsome face a work of concentration as he prepared their meal, and she thought that maybe he had some pipes as well.
“Do you sing?” she asked suddenly, sitting on the edge of the sofa, watching him intently.
He looked surprised and took another drink from his beer bottle before answering. “I do.”
She glanced down at the papers again. They were full of jotted notes, what seemed to be lyrics. Again she glanced around the room—at the musical instruments, the guitars and keys and even a fiddle?
“So you sing and write songs? Is that what you do for living?”
“I’ve been known to sing now and again.” He tossed the meat into a container and set it on the bar top. “Though I mainly score music for movies, but it’s something I don’t do as much as I used to.”
“Wow.” She got to her feet and walked over to him. “That sounds impressive.”
He smiled. “It’s not really. I’ve gotten away from doing big projects and the last two films that I worked on were documentaries.”
“How did you…I mean, how did you get involved with that?”
“I’ve always been fascinated by film and when I was younger, I thought that I’d be the next Spielberg or Scorsese, but it didn’t work out.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“When I was fifteen I figured out real quick that girls liked boys with guitars much more than they did a dude with camera. So for a horny teenager it was an easy choice.”
She laughed. “Sounds pretty typical.” She popped a tomato into her mouth. “So where does the singing come in? Have you ever had a song on the radio?” She was being cheeky, but something in his eyes shifted and he was suddenly serious.
“I have, actually.”
“Oh.” Wow. He really was full of secrets. “Anything rece
nt?” she asked, reaching for another tomato.
“I had something on the go last year.”
“Would I have heard it?”
“Maybe.” He set the bowl of garnishments on the table. “Do you like country music?”
She made a face. “No. I’m more of a classic rock kind of girl.”
He grinned. “Hey, I like all kinds of music.”
“Maybe you could sing your song for me later.”
Rick walked toward her, like a predator after prey and Charlie’s heart took off like a rocket.
“Maybe I will,” he said gruffly, bending over to plant one hell of a kiss on her mouth. “If you’re lucky.”
“What do you mean, if I’m lucky?”
“I meant to say if you’re extremely lucky.”
She got up from the sofa and let him envelop her hand with his. “Oh, so you’re thinking about it.”
“Yep.”
“All right. Let me know when you’ve decided.”
He leaned toward her ear and she shivered as his hot breath rolled over her skin. “You can bet your sweet little ass I will.”
The two of them were so caught up in their pre-dinner flirtation that neither one of them realized Connor had stopped playing until he tugged on Charlie’s leg.
“I’m hungry,” Connor said.
“Oh,” Charlie said, keeping her cool as she pointed to the barstool. “Do you want help up?”
Connor ignored her question and climbed up onto the chair himself. He dug into the food without another word, but that was okay. He was coming around. And Rick Simon was the reason.
She glanced at Rick, her stomach somersaulting at the intense, hot, look in his eyes.
“You ready to eat?” he asked.
She nodded and grabbed a plate. Who was this guy?
Chapter Thirteen
Maverick’s cell woke him before the sun was up. He glanced at his watch, groaned when he realized it was barely five in the morning, and promptly tossed his pillow onto the pile of clothes that held his cell, before sliding underneath his other pillow.
Charlie had left around ten the night before—Connor was falling asleep—and Rick had been up until three AM working on a song that had him fired up. He knew he had to get up soon if he wanted to make the sled run, but hell, he needed at least another hour of sleep.
Charlie .
He smiled, burying himself beneath the warm covers. They’d spent a lazy night chatting and flirting outrageously when Connor wasn’t looking. The air had literally buzzed with sexual tension and even though they’d done nothing more than sneak a few hot kisses, the night had been one he wouldn’t forget. She was funny as hell, sweet on her brother, and just plain interesting.
The girl could build an engine from scratch and knew more about cars than most guys he knew. She loved hockey, had an eighteen handicap when it came to golf and played baseball in the summer. She was sexy as hell, and she was the angel who’d infiltrated his dreams. Charlie Samuels was one hell of a woman and Rick closed his eyes, envisioning her bent over his brother’s Shelby in nothing but a sexy black thong.
Yeah baby. That was an image meant for dreams.
He’d just drifted off when he was again awakened by his cell, and this time it wouldn’t stop ringing. With a snarl he rolled out of bed, making a mental note to change his ringtone to something less grating than War Pigs. He liked the Black Sabbath song, just not first thing in the morning.
There was a time and place, he thought, just like this damn phone call.
“What?” he barked, setting the cell against his ear as he searched for his jeans. There was no use in going back to bed and he had to be up soon anyway.
“Hey, it’s me. Sorry about the early hour.”
Suddenly awake, Maverick stilled. “Jack? What’s going on? Is it the baby?”
“No. God no. Donovan is good. Cranky as hell, but good.” His cousin sounded tired, which did nothing to reassure Maverick. Something was up and he sat down on the edge of the bed, gut tight because he had a feeling…
“It’s about Teague.”
“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his chin and staring at the floor.
“Have you been watching the news?”
“No, should I be?”
“Absolutely not,” Jack replied. “Don’t even go there. Most of the reports are exaggerated and are only half truths.”
A sick feeling wove its way through his body and Rick rolled his shoulders, trying to alleviate his tight muscles.
“That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“You know the press and tabloids. They like a good story and anything involving a Simon is going to grab a lot of airtime. I don’t need to tell you that.”
Maverick was almost afraid to ask. Last he’d heard, Jack’s brother Teague was in the Middle East, working for the government. In what capacity, Maverick wasn’t sure—his cousin was a renowned photojournalist—but he also had a history with the military and was known to do other kinds of work for them from time to time.
“So I’m guessing it’s not great. Tell me what you know.”
Jack sighed. “He was in Syria, I think you knew that.”
“I did.”
“I got word yesterday afternoon that he and his team are missing.”
Maverick exhaled roughly. “Missing as in they haven’t checked in? Or missing as in they’ve been taken.”
“That’s the thing. Right now we don’t know. The press is saying that he’s been kidnapped by some off shoot of ISIS but I’ve been in contact with some people in the know and I’ve been assured that there isn’t any proof of that. As far as we know, his team is missing but they could be navigating their way through hostile territory.”
“Fuck,” Maverick breathed harshly.
“You’re telling me. If he’s being held and his captors know who he is, that he’s a Simon…”
His cousin’s words trailed off and Maverick swallowed hard. With the press all over this, it wasn’t just a notion, it could very well be Teague’s reality.
“How did the press find out?”
“Who knows? A leak most likely.”
“I’m sorry, Jack. How are you parents? Auntie Eden must be freaking the hell out.”
“She’s holding up. They’re at the compound in Florida but the press is already starting to gather. I don’t know. I think this is going to turn into a media shit storm, but there’s really nothing I can do about it.”
“No. I don’t suppose so.” Maverick paused. “Have you told Cooper yet?”
“Nah, I can’t get hold of him. Wasn’t he off for a few weeks to Belize? Scuba diving or something?”
“Yeah. That was his plan.”
“I left a message on his cell but who knows when he’ll get it. If you do happen to cross paths, let him know that as soon as I’ve got updated information I’ll get back to you guys. In the meantime, say a prayer for Teague.”
“Will do,” Maverick replied. “I’m out for the day but I’ll have my cell with me if you hear anything.”
“Got it.”
“Take care, Jack. Anything I can do, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Rick. Appreciate that.”
“Give your wife a kiss for me.”
“You bet.”
Maverick sat on the edge of the bed and glanced out the window. It was frosty with cold but he could see sunlight peeking over the horizon. He wondered if Teague was cold or hurt or afraid. His cousin was a big guy—all of the Simon men were—and Maverick knew he could look after himself in many situations others would find bleak. He’d been a Seal for Christ sake, but the stuff going on in that part of the world was a whole new ballgame.
“He’ll make it,” Maverick whispered, getting up off the bed.
He had to.
Maverick showered, grabbed a cup of coffee and avoided the TV. Jack was right. No sense watching reports that were full of speculation. His cousin would call him when there was news of Teague, until then he would head o
ut to Fisherman’s Landing and enjoy the day with Charlie and Connor.
By the time he reached town and found the community center, the place was full of people, milling around, eating hot pancakes and drinking hot chocolate. He was directed to a parking lot full of trucks and gear to transport sleds. His skidoo was loaded in the back and he parked his truck so that he could find Charlie.
It didn’t take him long and maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at the way his heart sped up, but shit, he was. She made him lose his cool with just a smile and for a second, he pondered that. Had he ever reacted to a woman in this way?
Hell no. The thought kind of freaked him out.
“Hey,” she said, pale eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. Dressed in a royal blue jacket and matching snow pants, with a pearl colored knitted hat, she looked adorable. Long auburn waves fell around her shoulders and her cheeks were pink from the cold. “Did you just get here?”
“I did.”
“Huh,” she winked. “And you found me already? That’s gottta be some kind of record.”
He paused a few inches from her. God, she was beautiful.
“I think I’ve got some kind of internal radar going on when it comes to you.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“What? You don’t like me knowing where you are every second of the day?” He winked. “Could come in handy. Just sayin’.”
“Really,” she replied. “Why is that?”
“Well, what if say, just now you finished thinking about IT.”
“IT.”
“Yep. IT.” What was it about this banter foreplay that he liked so much?
“IT, as in…” She leaned close to him, reaching up to whisper in his ear. “IT? The IT that ends with both of us naked?”
He nodded. “That would be the one.” And before she could pull away, he swept his mouth over hers, lingering just long enough for him to know that her heart was beating as fast as his.
She slowly pulled away. “Well then.” She licked her mouth, as if savoring the taste of him. “I guess I don’t mind the whole internal radar thing.”
Maverick Page 9
