by Judi Fennell
He didn’t say anything for a second. He didn’t have to. He remembered. She really wished he didn’t. She’d like to forget that night.
“And since we haven’t seen each other since then, how could you possibly know a thing about me?”
“How could anyone not? You’re always plastered all over the media. Which actress are you dating this week? What endorsement deal did you just sign? Who tweeted what about you now? How can I not know what you’re up to?”
“You seem mighty interested in a guy you claim to not be interested in.”
She hadn’t said she wasn’t interested in him. She specifically hadn’t said it because she didn’t want him challenging her. She knew Jared; had grown up with the guy. He was all about taking dares and bets, one of the reasons he was the perfect friend for her brother. She’d been glad Liam hadn’t invited him to that poker game because he would’ve been one more person she’d have had to beat, and after losing her adolescent heart to the guy, she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to.
“Mac?” He gave her that cockeyed smile that she’d thought had been so cute years ago.
Unfortunately, now it was just plain sexy. So she was not about to give him any satisfaction by arguing with him. She was over him. Had been when he’d laughed at her.
“Or maybe you are interested?”
He took a step closer and if Mac hadn’t been so shocked that he’d even think she was still interested, she would have high-tailed it up the stairs.
“That would explain the attitude.”
Mac stared at him. There were no words to describe this guy’s hubris. And she’d thought she’d come up with so many of them while she’d put her broken heart and dreams back together.
“Okay, okay.” Jared turned on that killer smile that put him on the entertainment magazine covers as well as the sports ones. But she was immune.
Even from that dimple in his left cheek.
Really.
“I’m a good sport, Princess. Come back down here and I’ll sign whatever you’ve got. Or I’ll even give you a peck on the cheek if that’s what you want.”
Of all the arrogant, egotistical—
Mac stormed backward down the stairs, the damn ladder preventing her from turning around.
So she dropped it, all clings and clangs as it hit the hardwood. Crap. She hoped she didn’t have to refinish the treads.
But it’d be worth it, since she could now stare Jared in the face at eye level and point a finger at him. “Are you out of your—”
She never got the last word out.
Because he kissed her.
His hands clasped the back of her head, his thumbs tilting her jaw, his touch searing her nerve endings as she tried to process the jolt of electricity that shot through her, sending her on a roller coaster ride of need and want, and had her legs threatening to give out. God, she would have killed for this when she’d been seventeen. Of course, she wouldn’t have been able to handle it when she’d been seventeen.
She wasn’t so sure she could handle it now.
But then the kiss was over. And if her lips weren’t still tingling—and he weren’t grinning like a Cheshire cat—she might have thought she’d imagined it, some holdover from her teenaged dreams.
But then reality rushed back in and it took all her self-restraint not to whack him across the face even if he did deserve it. She was not going to let Jared get under her skin. “What the hell was that?”
Jared chucked her under her chin. “Kiddo, if you don’t know, you have a lot more problems than ugly uniforms to worry about.”
She could only gape as he gimped back into the living room on one crutch—and she didn’t know if it was because of the uniform comment, his arrogance, that damn kiss, or . . .
The fact that she’d enjoyed it.
Chapter Three
YOU sure you don’t need any help up there?” Jared’s voice echoed—for the third time in the last half hour—up the hardwood steps, bounced off the bare walls, and slithered under Mac’s skin to grate on her nerves.
Help? She didn’t need his help. She didn’t want his help. She wanted nothing to do with him. He’d loved tormenting her when they’d been younger; time obviously hadn’t changed anything. Kissing her, of all things—
“Mac? I wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
Sure he wouldn’t. And he’d kissed her because he wanted her.
Not.
She exhaled. “Sure thing, Gimpy. Just hobble your way up here and climb this ladder to do the crown molding.” There. He wanted to help? He probably thought she wouldn’t take him up on it. Then he could go around saying he’d offered but she’d turned him down. Fine. The man wanted to prove he was all that? Let him.
Mac snorted. Yeah, right. Jared work? Jared had had everything handed to him on a silver platter his entire life. She never remembered him mowing the lawn or raking leaves. Jared had been all about baseball his entire life while she’d had chore after chore after chore.
She winced. That wasn’t fair to Gran. Gran had done her best, but the four of them had been a handful. Chores had been necessary, not something to keep the kids occupied while Gran went off and ate bon-bons.
Thunk.
That was not a crutch on the staircase.
Thunk.
Oh hell, it was.
Mac scrambled down the ladder, careful to keep all the soapy water in the bucket, but almost took out the swing-arm porcelain lamp that’d been in Mildred’s living room years ago until the boys had toppled it.
She rubbed her hairline. Four stitches had prevented it from crashing to the floor.
She almost wasn’t as lucky this time, though at least she didn’t need stitches. Still, she did take a healthy thwack to the shin. “Son of a—”
“I can hear you.”
“Good. Then listen up, Jared.” She set the bucket down and wiped up the water that’d dribbled over the edge. “Stay down there. I’m perfectly fine without you and I really don’t feel like explaining to the cops how you broke your neck when you fell down the stairs.”
It was one thing to challenge him; it was another entirely to spend time in the same room with him. Especially since that kiss.
“I can manage stairs when I need to, Princess.”
She ignored the nickname. He’d enjoyed pissing her off with it when they were younger; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction now. “Well right now you don’t need to. I’ve got everything covered. Why don’t you make yourself comfy in the den and turn on a game or something?”
Silence. She didn’t even hear the slide of a crutch.
“Jared?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
She heard the thunks again, but this time they were headed toward the foyer.
She leaned against the doorframe and put a hand over her thudding heart. She was going to have to set the record straight with him. She wasn’t that same girl who still thought his blond hair and green eyes were to die for. To go and kiss her like that . . . It was just like him to toss the crush in her face.
Well she definitely wasn’t crushing on him now and he could take his stupid kiss and . . . and . . . well, go kiss someone else.
She grabbed the bucket and headed into the bathroom to change out the water. Poor Mildred hadn’t cleaned the molding in years. It was going to take Mac a long time to get through this place if every room was as neglected as this one, and she didn’t want to have to be here one minute longer than necessary. Not with him in the house.
She filled the bucket with clean hot water, then headed back in, glancing over the banister to the foyer below.
He’d taken her advice. She’d be surprised except that Jared was a sports nut. And not just any sports nut; he’d been so into the game that his parents had moved a personal trainer into his house. It�
�d been a big topic of conversation at her house because her brothers loved sports. And if they did, she did. Those stitches on her forehead were nothing compared to the broken bones and sprained ankles she’d had over the years. Gran had put up with a lot. The poor woman had probably thought she’d been getting a cute little girly-girl in ruffles and lace, but Mac had been all about knee pads and baseball bats.
She laughed at herself now. So young and trying so hard to keep up.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror with her Manley Maids shirt on. Her company. Her business. Like Sean and Liam’s ventures and Bryan’s movie career, this was her success or her failure.
She shrugged. Failure was not an option. She was going to be as good as her brothers.
Even if it meant putting up with Jared Nolan.
* * *
JARED hobbled into the den, Mac’s little directive ringing in his ears: “Go relax and watch a game.” Really? A game? Did she not get that he ought to be playing in the damn game? Or was that little dig to get back at him for kissing her?
Why had he kissed her? That should be the last thing he’d wanted to do to Mac Manley. God knew, he’d had the chance when they were younger. Hell, she’d even asked him straight out to do it.
He shook his head, remembering that night. He wasn’t surprised that she’d wanted him to, but her request had shocked the hell out of him.
She was Liam’s little sister. There was a guy code, and baby sisters being off limits was, like, rule number one. She’d never gotten it, always following him around with puppy dog eyes, and butting in on his fun whether it was with her brothers or his dates. He’d finally had to nip it in the bud. So to speak.
He grimaced, remembering the look on her face when he’d said the first thing that’d popped into his head. But he’d been worrying about draft picks and signing bonuses; dating a high school senior had never been on his radar—even if she hadn’t been Liam’s sister.
He probably could’ve been nicer about turning her down, but it’d put an end to the crush, which was better for everyone.
Yet now he’d gone and kissed her. Must be the pain meds.
Except he hadn’t taken any today.
Or maybe he’d just wanted to shut her up. Which it had.
Or maybe, now that you’re both adults you want to see if there could be anything between you—
He shut that up real quick. She was still Lee’s baby sister and that put her on the Do Not Touch List. For life.
Then explain the kiss.
He couldn’t. And now that he knew what kissing her was like, he knew enough to know that that little peck had been a mistake.
Mac tasted good. Felt even better, and the kiss . . .
He was Out. Of. His. Mind. If it wasn’t the meds, it had to be the pain itself making him think this shit. He’d had no business kissing Mac. No business even thinking about her like that. About any woman for that matter. Not now. Not for a long time.
He banged his shin on the damn footstool. Grandma had these dainty things all over the house, and on a good day, he wasn’t dainty. Give him crutches and he was a walking disaster. Or rather, a not walking disaster. He couldn’t wait for the doctor to take him off these damn things.
Jared dropped onto the sofa, grabbing the stupid crutches before they clattered onto the delicate little side tables filled with glass and porcelain figurines, the quintessential little-old-lady’s parlor. A den it was not. A den would have padded leather chairs, a big comfy sofa, a flat screen, and an ottoman the size of a Fiat for a coffee table, like the one he had at his place.
Where Camille still lived.
That pissed him off to no end. Camille had strung him along while still playing house with her previous boyfriend Burke on the sly, using his bank account to rack up stuff for the two of them. Then Jared had been stupid enough to think he’d loved her and had her move in.
That’s when the fun began.
The boyfriend got jealous and staged an “accidental bump” in a parking lot, landing Jared in the hospital and Burke in his bed. Sadly, with eviction laws being worse than divorce laws, Jared was the one who’d gotten screwed; the criminal investigation had gone belly up when Burke’s alcohol count had come in within the legal range and he’d claimed it was an accident.
Accident, Jared’s ass. The guy hadn’t put the truck in drive instead of reverse by accident. Jared had seen his eyes and the determination on Burke’s face. But the media circus of a civil trial—even if he won—wouldn’t get him back into shape any faster.
So here he was, stuck with knick-knacks, doilies, and Mac Manley until the eviction went through.
He looked at the ceiling. She was up there, in his grandmother’s house, going through things . . . The grandmothers had probably planned this. Too bad they didn’t know Mac was over her crush.
He’d hoped she would’ve been after that time he’d told her to wait for him in the tree fort years ago, and she had. For six hours.
He’d been home by then for batting practice in the cage his father had had built in the backyard, but he’d had a clear view across the field to see her grandmother standing at the bottom of the ladder while Mac had climbed down.
Not his best day. He’d known that even then. She’d been a kid, after all. But so had he and he’d been desperate to hang with the guys, and just as desperate that she wouldn’t. So he’d put her where he’d known she’d stay and he wouldn’t have to worry about her showing up to wreck their afternoon.
She hadn’t looked at him for two weeks afterward, and the look she’d given him when he’d ended their kiss now reminded him of the one she’d given him back then.
And damn if he didn’t get the same hollow feeling of guilt as before.
Not to mention a few others . . .
Sighing, he grabbed the remote as he remembered sliding his fingers behind her neck and feeling the heat there. Of bypassing her cheek when her mouth was right there. And the soft crush of her lips, the scent that said she wasn’t wearing perfume because she didn’t need any. The warmth of her breath as he stole it, and the sweet movements of her lips against his until he’d come to his senses.
He changed the channel. The kiss had been a boneheaded move and one better served from the teenager he used to be. But now he was thirty-five years old, for chrissake. He ought to be able to handle suddenly being attracted to her.
He flipped to the History channel. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so sudden. She had driven him nuts since the first time he’d seen her, riding the motocross trail he, Liam, Bryan, and Sean had built in the field separating their neighborhoods that first summer after he’d moved in. For a few seconds he’d been stunned to see a girl—a little girl at that—with her attention so fiercely focused on each dirt mound as she rode over it, until he realized that she was shearing off parts of them, undoing all their hard work.
He’d called out to her, and she’d missed the turn, taking a header over the highest mound, the one that had the sweetest air. He’d been pissed off that she’d ruined it, but he’d had enough compassion to make sure she was okay before he’d started yelling at her.
Only . . . she’d yelled back. Something about breaking her concentration, which he wouldn’t have done if he knew anything about riding the course, and he better leave her alone or she was going to tell her brothers and that would not end well for him.
He’d been surprised at her attitude, and, thinking back on it now twenty-some years later, he’d had to admire her spirit, too. Her grit and determination to both ride the motocross and tell him off.
But he’d seen that same grit and determination in getting her way one too many times with her brothers. Like the time Liam had had to bring her along on the Halloween parade because she’d insisted on showing off her costume, which had put an end to their house-egging plans.
Probably had kept him from getting in
to trouble, but still. She’d ruined their fun.
Then there were the too-numerous-to-mention times she’d tagged along to the swimming hole and the pickup ice hockey matches and T-ball games, and hell, everywhere he’d turned, Mac had been there. Put a real crimp in his idea of fun, and he hadn’t believed that Liam and the guys had put up with it.
Liam had just shrugged and said she was his sister, she was family.
Jared stretched his arms across the back of Grandma’s scalloped-edged sofa with its floral fabric and ruffle-edged pillows, feeling like a behemoth in a froufrou dollhouse. Family as Liam described it was a foreign concept to him. His parents’ sole reason for having a son, it seemed, had been to get him into the major leagues. Well, at least his father’s had been. He’d even gone to the extreme of building a batting cage in the backyard and moving Bill, one of the biggest trainers in the industry, into their home to work with him. That was when his life had become a series of training sessions with miniscule breaks for school and friends tossed in.
He’d cherished those times with his friends.
Something crashed overhead. Jared sighed and pushed himself to the edge of the well-indented sofa. And just like those times, Mac would somehow manage to get involved, usually when they’d had to rescue her from one disaster or another.
Seemed that damsel-in-distress issue hadn’t gone away.
Chapter Four
JARED was about to head toward the stairs when someone rang the doorbell.
He glanced up the stairs. “Mac?”
“I’m fine.”
She’d say that even if she weren’t, but she was a grown woman now; he was no longer responsible for her safety.
He opened the door.
“Hey, Mr. Nolan.” A tow-headed kid of about seven stood on the front porch.
With a baseball and glove.
“Uh, hi.”
“My dad said you’re staying here and I was wondering if you could help me work on my throw. I want to play in the majors like you when I grow up, so I gotta practice. My dad said you had a batting cage and trainer when you were my age. I bet that was cool.”
