by Kirk, Cindy
“You only live a few blocks away.” Beck took a seat beside her, resting an arm across the top of the settee. “And I believe we’ve already determined that it’s always snowing in Wisconsin.”
“True enough.” Ami couldn’t keep from laughing. She shifted in her seat to face him and leaned forward. “Tell me about your brothers.”
“Ladies first.” He offered a sardonic smile. “I want to hear about you and your other sisters.”
“Me? There’s not much to tell.”
“Any old boyfriends or ex-husbands still pining for you?”
“I’ve never been married. Or engaged.” Ami shrugged. “Any old boyfriends are so far in the past I find it difficult to picture their faces.”
“A sign you’ve moved on.” Beck felt a stab at the thought. Lately he’d been having difficulty bringing Lisette’s features into focus.
Ami thought of the two men—boys, really—she’d dated in college. “I never loved either of them.”
“Tell me about your sisters.”
Ami pinned him with her gaze. “As long as you understand I’m not leaving until I hear more about your brothers.”
Beck appeared unconcerned by the threat. “We have all night.”
“I agreed to wine and conversation, not a sleepover.”
He flashed a smile. “Who said anything about sleeping?”
Ami chuckled and rolled her eyes.
“As I could talk about my sisters all night, I’ll give you the condensed version. I’m the oldest. Fin—Delphinium, the one I mentioned earlier—is the next stair step.”
He lifted one brow. “Stair step?”
“The first three girls in our family were born a year apart. There’s eighteen months between Primrose and Marigold, the baby.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” He held up a hand and counted off on his fingers. “There’s you, Delphinium, Primrose, and Marigold.”
“That’s correct.”
“You’re the only one in Good Hope.”
She nodded.
“Where do the others live?”
Ami went with the least-complicated sister first. “Marigold lives in Chicago. She works in a hair salon on the Gold Coast.”
“Upscale area.”
The comment told her he was familiar with the neighborhood located north of downtown Chicago. “It’s very nice.”
“Does Marigold get home much?”
During the discussion his hand began to knead her shoulder. It should have been relaxing. But not when the tips of his fingers seemed determined to dip inside the edges of her dress.
“Marigold,” he prompted. “How often does she come back to Good Hope?”
“Twice a year.” Ami cleared her throat. “Ah, she came last May and will be here for Christmas.”
“You must be looking forward to seeing her.”
“I am.” Ami shifted slightly, hoping to encourage those fingers to delve a little farther inside the silky fabric . . .
Amusement lit Beck’s eyes. “You were about to tell me about Primrose.”
Ami blinked. “I was?”
“As you began with the baby of the family, I assume you were going in reverse order.” To her chagrin, he lifted his hand from her neckline to twine her hair loosely around his fingers.
“Yes, yes, I was.” Ami tried to ignore the heat that continued to course through her body. “Prim is the only Bloom who is married. Or rather, she was married. Her husband died a little over two years ago. Their boys, twins, are almost six now.”
His fingers stilled on her hair. “I’m sorry to hear about her husband. How did he die?”
“Rory had CF—cystic fibrosis—but that’s not what killed him,” Ami added when Beck began to nod, obviously drawing the same conclusion most in Good Hope made when they heard of Rory’s death. “My brother-in-law was an adrenaline junkie. He died in a rock-climbing accident.”
“That had to have been difficult for her.” Sympathy shimmered in his dark eyes. “Where do she and her sons live?”
“In Milwaukee. She has this great job as an actuary for a large insurance company. She considered moving back, but the twins are happy and she has this—”
“—great job,” he finished the sentence. “And last, but not least, the magnificent Fin. You said she’s currently living in LA.”
“That’s correct. And yes, she is magnificent.”
Beck would see that for himself once her charismatic sister arrived in Good Hope. Ami forced the nip of jealousy aside by reminding herself she didn’t have any claim on Beck or his affections.
If he did prefer Fin, it would be a repeat of what had happened with Kyle, the boy she’d dated her freshman year in college. When she’d brought him home that summer, he’d been dazzled by her sister.
Ami had overheard him hitting on Fin at a fish boil. Of course, her sister had shut him down immediately. Before Fin could even tell her what happened, Ami had broken it off with Kyle and sent him scurrying back to Madison.
Beck cleared his throat.
She blinked and found him staring, concern in his eyes. He took her hand. “Is something wrong?”
“Nope. I’m done.” Ami smiled brightly. “Your turn.”
“It’s getting late—”
“We have all night.” She found great pleasure in tossing his earlier words back at him. “I want to hear all about your brothers.”
As if realizing protesting was pointless, Beck settled back against the settee. “Elliott is an investment banker in Atlanta. He and his wife, Suellen, have one child, Jefferson. Elliott is extremely disciplined. His life has followed a traditional path—college, marriage, and now a child. Anders, on the other hand, is more of an adventurer.”
Clearly intrigued, Ami leaned forward. “How so?”
Beck poured more wine into her now-empty glass before answering.
“After he graduated from Cornell he spent three years in a large PR and advertising firm, steadily moving up the corporate ladder. Then, out of the blue, he quit. For the last year he’s been crisscrossing the country working odd jobs.”
There was no censure in Beck’s tone when he spoke of his younger brother, only fondness and admiration.
“Where is he now?” Ami asked. “Or do you know?”
“We stay in contact by text.” Beck gazed into the burgundy liquid, then up at her. “Right now he’s a ski instructor in Aspen. Before that he was putting up hay in Wyoming. Who knows where he’ll be next.”
“You sound as if you envy him.”
“Anders is his own man. I respect someone who follows their own path.”
“What about you, Beck? What did you do after you graduated from college? Did you follow Elliott’s traditional path?”
“I did. I graduated from Vanderbilt, attended law school at Duke, then married.”
“You’re m-married?” The word stuck in her throat.
“I was married. I’m not anymore.” Beck took a sip of wine and stared into the fire for a long, quiet moment. “My wife died in a car accident eighteen months ago.”
“Oh, Beck.” Ami slipped an arm through his and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
Though he didn’t push her away, his bicep was stiff and unyielding. She stroked his arm with a gentle hand.
His eyes had taken on a faraway look. “One minute she was there, the next she was gone.”
“Were you in the car with her?” Ami spoke quietly.
“No. I wasn’t in the vehicle.”
Relief surged through Ami. She continued to stroke his arm. “Tell me about her.”
“Lisette was a physician, a beautiful, accomplished woman with her whole life ahead of her.”
“She sounds amazing.” A doctor. A beauty. Ami sighed. What kind of person was jealous of a dead woman? “I take it you didn’t have children.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “No children.”
A heaviness now hung in the air, a pall Ami was determ
ined to lift.
“You may be a twin, but from your description of the two men, you appear to have more in common with Anders.”
Puzzlement furrowed Beck’s brow. “What makes you say that?”
“Think about it. Anders chucked it all to bale hay in Wyoming. You chucked it all to flip burgers in Wisconsin.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “It might appear to some that Elliott is the only sane one in the family.”
He chuckled. “You’ll think I’m really crazy if I tell you how I decided to move here.”
Ami was pleased to see the haunted look in his brown eyes had disappeared. “Tell me.”
“I opened a map of the United States, shut my eyes, and let my finger drop. It landed on Good Hope.”
“Seriously?”
“Told you it was crazy.”
“Actually, it seems to be more ‘meant to be’ than ‘crazy.’” Ami tilted her head. “Are you really an attorney?”
“I am.”
“What type of law did you practice?”
“I was a criminal defense attorney in Athens, Georgia.”
Ami pulled her brows together. “Why did you stop practicing?”
“I started to see the people I’d kept out of jail killing again, hurting others again. While I believe everyone is entitled to a defense, I no longer wanted to be the one getting them off.”
Ami mulled over his words. “Did you ever think about changing sides? You know, become a prosecutor?”
“No.”
No other explanation. Just no. Ami was curious, but not once had Beck interrogated her about her decision not to drive. She would afford him the same respect.
“I’m happy that your finger landed on Good Hope.” With her arm still looped through his, Ami snuggled up against him. “Though I’m sure your family misses you.”
“I stay in touch.” Unexpectedly, he leaned forward and gently stroked the side of her cheek. “Tell me about the tattoo.”
“When my mother was diagnosed, I was so angry. At the situation. At the unfairness of it all.” Even now Ami remembered the rage and overwhelming despair. She took a long drink of wine and stared into the fire. “I not only got a tattoo, I started staying out past curfew and talking back. My grades dropped. I was a mess. I wanted to scream or to chuck it all. I don’t know if you can under—”
“I understand all about rage and despair.”
“I feel bad that I added to my parents’ stress at a time when they were already overloaded.” Ami often thought of those months with a sense of shame.
“What made you finally stop?”
There were any number of things she could tell him, but Ami wanted to be straight with Beck. Of course, that didn’t mean confessing all. “I was in an accident. My friend, a passenger in the car I was driving, was badly injured. Blasted Bambi.”
Beck paused in the act of refilling her wineglass. “What did you say?”
“A deer. It was in the road. I swerved to avoid it, lost control, and hit a tree.” Ami was able to keep her tone even but couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. She placed her wineglass on the table next to the loveseat, sensing Beck’s sympathetic gaze. “It was an old car, no air bags. I was wearing my seat belt but Lindsay was not. She hit the windshield.”
Ami wasn’t sure when it happened but Beck’s arms were now around her. He pulled her close and held her, resting his head against hers.
“Lindsay Lohmeier?” he asked after a long moment.
Ami nodded. “She had facial lacerations, a closed-head injury, and a badly broken leg. The doctors worried she might have permanent mental impairment. Thankfully, she made a full recovery. If not for the scar on her face, you’d never know she’d been so seriously injured.”
“Is that why you don’t drive?” The rich baritone soothed as it probed.
“I’ve tried numerous times,” she admitted. “I get panic attacks.”
She waited for him to tell her that she needed to be strong and soldier through her anxiety. Instead he continued to hold her. The closeness of his body and the warmth of his acceptance comforted her.
“Since this seems to be confession time.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirtfront. “I must confess that I know your secret.”
His brown eyes turned razor sharp. The intensity of that gaze left no doubt he’d been a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. But Ami was equally strong and ready to be direct.
“You didn’t bring me here to talk. Or to drink wine.”
Beck blinked, nonplussed. “I didn’t?”
“No.” She trailed a finger up the front of his shirt. “You have nefarious motives.”
A smile cracked that stern expression. “Think so?”
“Absolutely. You bring me up to your bedroom—”
“Sitting room.”
Ami glanced pointedly behind them at the bed. “You ply me with alcohol.”
“Wine. And you haven’t finished one glass.”
“You made it clear you want to see my tattoo.”
He finally caught on and his smile widened.
“Bedroom. Wine. Tattoo search. If that doesn’t qualify as nefarious, I don’t know what does.” She gave Beck a self-satisfied smile. “I rest my case.”
He chuckled. “For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right.”
Ami felt a stir of excitement. “Am I?”
“About some, but not all.”
“Clarify, please.”
“I brought you to the sitting room,” he overemphasized the word, “and offered you wine because I thought it’d be nice, not because I wanted to get you drunk and take advantage of you.”
“Disappointing, but continue.”
A quicksilver smile flashed. “You are right, however, about one thing.”
She leaned closer, which was next to impossible, considering she was practically in his lap now. “What is that?”
“I want you to show me that tattoo.”
Chapter Thirteen
Beck kissed Ami under her jaw. “So, tell me, my little sugar nymph, will you stay and play?”
Anticipation fluttered through her as Ami gazed at his handsome eyes, so warm and sparkling with just a hint of mischief. After the tiniest hesitation, she smiled.
“I’d like to stay and play . . .” Ami spoke in a light tone, then sobered. “But one question first, do you have protection?”
His expression turned equally serious. “Yes.”
She took a breath, let it out. “Well, then . . .”
With his gaze firmly locked on hers, Beck rose to his feet and extended his hand. When they reached the bed, he kicked off his shoes and hopped fully clothed on top of the navy duvet. He sat up, propping the pillows behind his back, then stared expectantly at her.
Intrigued and curious, Ami sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come closer, please.”
She met his gaze and their eye contact turned into something more, a tangible connection between the two of them. A smoldering heat flared through Ami, a sensation she didn’t bother to fight.
“What do I get if I do?” Her sultry whisper appeared to surprise him as much as her.
He grinned. “Me.”
“In that case . . .” With a chuckle, Ami hiked up her dress and scooted over to him.
His arm slid around her shoulders and he pulled her close. With a contented sigh, Ami rested her head against him. Her head fit perfectly just under his chin. Having him so close was a dream come true.
She loved the way he smelled, a woodsy mixture of cologne and soap and maleness that brought a tingle to her lips and heat percolating low in her belly.
“This has been a good evening.” His voice was a gruff rasp.
“You sound surprised.”
As he stroked her arm and played with her hair, it struck her that he was getting her used to his touch.
“I went to the party at the Rakes Farm out of a sense of duty.” His brown eyes resembled pools of rich chocolate in the soft li
ght. “Jeremy is a good guy.”
“I like him, too.” Ami sighed with pleasure as Beck nuzzled her neck. “A lot.”
When he lifted his head, she grinned. “Not in that way. He and my sister, Fin, were inseparable back in high school. If such a thing as a golden couple existed at Good Hope High, it was Delphinium Bloom and Jeremy Rakes.”
Beck appeared to absorb the words as he took her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled.
Shivers rippled across her skin. “Jeremy, he . . . he was so supportive and good to Fin when our mom got sick.”
“You really want to talk about Jeremy?” Beck asked as he licked the sensitive skin behind her ear.
“I thought you did.” She gasped the words as Beck’s fingers slipped inside the neckline of her dress. Ami arched her head back to give him better access.
He chuckled, a low, pleasant, rumbling sound. “What happened between him and your sister?”
Ami’s breath caught, then began again. Beck’s fingers reached the edge of the lacy bra. What had he asked? Oh, yes, about Fin and Jeremy. “She—she broke up with him before they left for college. They wanted different things out of life.”
It took Ami a heartbeat to realize that while she’d been dishing on her sister’s dating history, Beck had used his free hand to unzip the back of her dress and was now pushing the garment down.
Though the air in the room had been cool only minutes earlier, Ami’s skin now burned as if on fire.
His hands spanned her waist. Beck ran his palms up along her sides, skimming the curves of her breasts before the edges of his fingers brushed the tips through the lacy fabric.
“Enough about them.” Beck’s voice sounded low and strained. “Let’s talk about you.”
It took Ami several erratic heartbeats to find her voice. “Me-e?”
Then he unfastened the hook on her bra and her breasts spilled out into his waiting hands, and rational thought became impossible.
She felt a shivery kind of ache all over.
“Oh, Ami.” Wonder filled his voice. “Your body is exquisite. The color of your nipples reminds me of a . . . fully ripe peach.”
He cupped the soft curves in his hands, his thumbs brushing across the tight points of her nipples.
