Be My Everything (Brothers From Money Book 11)

by Shanade White

  He was being ungrateful. He was very lucky, he knew that. But then, ever since the accident, his family had started dropping pointed hints about mortality and settling down.

  Adam knew that it all came from a good place. They cared about him. His father believed that he must carry on the family name, though Richard could do it just as well. They thought that at thirty-one, he needed the stability of a family to get past the accident. They worried that he was burying himself in work, which could be as destructive as his former hobby. It was understandable, since he had sought solace in work when everything else seemed to fail.

  It had worked, hadn’t it? He had managed to pull himself out of everything because he had had work. People might not see the creativity in technology, but he was known for innovative apps now. He had made a whole new fortune as one was being spent trying to make him whole again.

  He had poured everything he was into work, and his mother, of course, worried. She had put him through hell.

  Apparently, what he needed was to settle down with a good woman. The thought made him chuckle.

  Why did mothers and grandmothers think that a good woman could sort everything out for their sons? Was that what they did with their sons’ fathers? Well, women had changed since then. If he brought one of the women he dated home to his mother, she would pretty quickly change her mind.

  Adam had no disdain for the women he dated. He liked women. They were soft and sweet and sexy. But he did know that his mother would not like any of the trust fund babies he found himself with, all the time.

  Though perhaps his mom would prefer it if he dated even a trust fund baby, since he hadn’t dated since the accident. She was worried, as she told him, every chance she got.

  But Adam had never really considered a real commitment. Most women he dated had understood that, too. They didn’t understand that he had made his fortune in his early twenties, so his attitude to wealth was quite different from theirs. He knew what it was like to not take everything for granted. He knew how difficult it could be to make ends meet if you didn’t have the right opportunities.

  Of course, he made sure that he made all the right donations, but he gave back in every way that he could. He had never dated a woman who truly understood that. Even if they were on committees for fundraisers, they’d never really got it.

  No, his mother would just have to wait a while longer for those grandchildren. The mother of his children would be different. He wouldn’t compromise there. His father could hold on to his duty until Adam was ready.

  With a start, he noticed that the sun was up. Damn! It was past seven. Where had two hours gone?

  He shook his head in bemusement. He didn’t often lose track of time like that. It was an odd day.

  He didn’t know that it was only going to get odder.

  Adam was already well into his workday when he checked the throwaway email account again. He had wanted to check it multiple times, so he had avoided checking it, on principle. He didn’t want to be ruled by impulses. He wouldn’t let this tattoo be important enough to interfere with his work. After all, he hadn’t let his injuries do that. Why would he cave for a tattoo?

  But there was a reply from Birdie Campbell.

  He read it and sat back, smiling. He read it again.

  Well, well, well.

  Birdie Campbell was obviously no pushover. She had effectively put him on audition, turning the tables very neatly.

  He hit ‘reply’.

  Dear Ms. Campbell,

  I believe I understand your position. I would like to meet you, tonight, at Wings. I assume you know where it is. I’ll be there by eight, if you confirm that you can make it.

  We can see if a commitment as big as this would work for both of us.

  I look forward to seeing you. The mystery of my identity amuses me enough to keep it a secret that long. But tonight, it will be solved for you. Until then, I’ll be just

  A.

  Adam read it once, nodded and hit ‘send.’ He had a feeling that it would annoy Birdie Campbell.

  Strangely enough, that thought amused him. For the first time in a long while, he was interested in something other than his work. He didn’t realize it, but things had changed, even if he wasn’t sure he was ready for any kind of change.

  *****

  Birdie was irritated with herself. She’d been checking her mail far too often, and it was distracting her from her work.

  Of course, she was doing a fairly routine touch-up that she could do in her sleep. But the client was an old regular who came as much for conversation as her skill. She wasn’t giving him her best. That was unacceptable.

  “I’m sorry, Sam, tricky bit here,” said Birdie, but she was lying. There was nothing tricky about the dancing cartoon skeleton she was doing on Sam.

  At seventy, Sam had a sense of humor that Birdie hoped she would, too, when she was his age.

  “You’re distracted,” remarked Sam.

  Birdie was about to shake her head, but she paused, wiped, and shrugged.

  “Maybe a little bit. Just a potential new client who is being a bit too mysterious for my tastes. It’s no big deal, I should be able to put it out of my mind.’

  “But you hate mysteries,” said Sam with a chuckle.

  Birdie grinned and started again.

  “I do, at that. But I’ll cope. Anyway, I’ll probably be meeting him soon enough, so mystery will be solved, and life can go on as usual.”

  “So, you’re meeting a mysterious stranger? Maybe I should come with you, for protection,” teased Sam, who was at least two inches shorter than Birdie and quite a bit softer. Birdie was all hard, lean, toned muscles.

  She nearly snorted derisively.

  “Yes, I definitely need protection, I suppose. However will I be safe in the hard world out there? It’s no place for a weak little woman like me!”

  Sam chuckled.

  “Shh, stay still,” admonished Birdie, and she made an effort to have a conversation with him instead of wondering if that damn A had replied.

  Maybe she should’ve let Marley see if the email could be traced. Birdie knew that her work had been getting quite a bit of attention. Usually, that was a good thing. More attention meant more clients, and that was always good for business.

  But attention could mean all kinds of things. There were all kinds of weirdos out there, and oddly enough, a lot of weirdos thought tattoos were cool. They also thought that people with tattoos were weirdos.

  Birdie loved her own tattoos, though she didn’t have nearly as many as she might have been expected. For one thing, most tattoo artists seemed to have sleeves nowadays. Birdie didn’t like sleeves, especially since most people didn’t care about the significance of them.

  Sometimes, Birdie turned down idiots who wanted tattoos that should be sacred. It might mean losing a bit of business, but Birdie preferred that to losing parts of her soul.

  Thankfully, Marley agreed. It was nice to be in business with somebody who agreed with her on just about everything that mattered.

  “I think we’re done for today, Sam. We’ll need another session to finish this, but give it a couple of days.”

  Sam nodded.

  “You’re doing a wonderful job,” he declared after examining it closely. He made Birdie laugh by striking a Hulk Hogan pose for her.

  “Perfect. This tattoo is obviously an expression of absolutely everything you are,” teased Birdie.

  “You are right, as always. I’ll see you soon.”

  He began to turn away, then changed his mind and turned back to Birdie.

  “Something about this mysterious potential client of yours has gotten you a bit jumpy, my dear. Make sure you meet in a public place, preferably on your turf somewhere. If not, take Marley with you. I know you can take care of yourself,” he hastened to add when Birdie opened her mouth indignantly, “but the world is a shitty place and you might not have to take care of yourself if you’re with a man who looks like he could take anybo
dy down. I don’t want you to have to throw a punch, even if I know you can and connect very well.”

  Birdie nodded grudgingly. Sam was an old-timer, and the admission that Birdie could punch the lights out of any man who tried anything with her was made with grudging respect. It had taken him a while to warm to Birdie, but when he did, he’d done it wholeheartedly. The advice came from a place of caring and concern. Birdie knew that.

  “I won’t agree to meet him in a deserted alley alone, Sam. I’m confident, not a complete nincompoop. Don’t worry about me.”

  Sam shook his head with a laugh as he left.

  Birdie knew what the laugh meant. You couldn’t always choose what you felt.

  So, she acknowledged the nagging voice inside her that kept telling her to check her email, and she did.

  Pursing her lips, she read it through. She read it again.

  She knew the place, of course. Wings was one of the places where she and Marley ended up quite often when they wanted to unwind and perhaps catch a game.

  She knew everybody there. It would be perfectly safe.

  But a part of her was perversely annoyed that he had suggested Wings. Why had he suggested her turf? It felt as if he were encroaching on her territory.

  No, she was just being silly, she chided herself.

  Still, she had promised Marley that she wouldn’t do this on her own, not without talking to him. She looked around and saw that he’d just finished with a client, and was cleaning up the station.

  “Marley!” she called as she walked to him and helped him wipe it down.

  “How did it go with Sam?”

  Birdie chuckled.

  “As usual. The dancing skeleton is going well. How was yours?”

  Marley shrugged.

  “A butterfly, but not an ordinary one. A butterfly with teeth. It’s more of a challenge than usual from an eighteen-year-old.”

  “Well, we might have a bigger challenge soon. ‘A’ replied.”

  Marley’s stance changed, putting him on alert. Birdie sighed. Was he going to go all protective on her? The last time they’d put gloves on, she had left him on his ass, and she knew she could do it again.

  “What did he say?”

  “He wants to meet me tonight. At Wings.”

  Marley still looked wary.

  “I’m coming with you,” he declared.

  Birdie shook her head firmly.

  “Marley, you know that I meet clients who want work done on scars on my own. He obviously values his privacy. The first meeting should be with me. Besides, you know I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. And it’s at Wings. Jonas will be at the bar and he’s got an excellent eye for trouble.”

  That was all true, but Marley still took more convincing. The harder she had to try to get him to agree that it was fine, the more determined Birdie got that she was going to go through with it.

  Finally, after many promises that she had Marley on speed dial, he agreed not to follow her there.

  Birdie found the butterflies in her stomach confusing. She was just meeting a client. It made no sense.

  But something in her knew that it was important. It was vital.

  Chapter 3

  Birdie sat at the bar as she always did.

  “Hey, Jonas,” she said as she turned on the bar stool.

  She was at home there. It called to her. The entire place looked like it might take off at any moment, and the means might be feathers or a jet pack.

  Besides, they served a mean plate of wings, too.

  Jonas greeted her with a long, low, exaggerated whistle.

  Birdie had to fight the embarrassment.

  Jonas, being gay, only did it to call attention to her, and they both knew it.

  “Well, girl, you scrub up good, don’t you!”

  Birdie chuckled.

  “I don’t know who I’m meeting tonight, so I guess I wanted to be prepared.”

  Feeling a bit self-conscious, Birdie smoothed down her pale blue dress and patted her braids.

  No wonder Jonas looked a bit stunned. Birdie never wore dresses. To be honest, she only had three dresses at all. Usually, she was in jeans or shorts. She knew she looked good in shorts. Her legs were long and lovely.

  As for heels – she owned only one pair and she was wearing them. Now, she hadn’t the slightest clue why she’d chosen to wear them at all. Really, it was just a waste, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she was on a date.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worried about eye shadow for a date. She was wearing eye shadow.

  This damn A had gotten her all jittery. This was all completely unlike her, and there was no logical reason for any of it.

  “You’re looking to pick a man up? Well, honey, you can have your pick, but I must say, that’s very unlike you. What does Marley have to say about it?”

  Birdie frowned in annoyance.

  “Why should Marley have anything to say about it? It’s my life, I can choose to do what I like with it. And anyway, I’m here to meet a client, not pick up a man.”

  Jonas knew what was good for him and backed off. He might have been a six and a half foot hulk of a man with muscles to die for, but he knew what was good for him. Birdie might even be able to take him, if it came to that. She looked all feminine as she sat on the bar stool, looking just a bit uncertain and worried, but there was nothing soft about her. At least, not on the outside.

  “Sorry, Birdie. You said you didn’t know who you’re meeting.”

  Birdie took a deep breath to calm down. She was jumping down Jonas’ throat for absolutely no reason.

  “No, I’m sorry, Jonas. I’m nervous. I don’t know who the client is, he wanted an anonymous consult. I’m supposed to meet him here in…”

  Birdie checked her watch, which was all she had left of her grandmother and was meticulously maintained.

  “…ten minutes.”

  Jonas leaned towards her, leaving the rest of his customers to be served by his staff.

  “Well, what do you know about him?”

  Birdie fidgeted restlessly.

  “Nothing, really. I think it’s a man, I don’t think he’s very young or old, and I think he’s definitely used to having his way. A bit too much if you ask me.”

  The last bit was a muttered rejoinder to herself, and she craned her neck, looking for him.

  Adam sat in a corner, watching the door. He knew the moment Birdie walked in. He noticed, with admiration and a touch of amusement, that Birdie seemed fairly unaware of how conversation stopped when she was close by.

  The woman was spectacular.

  Not his type, he assured himself, but spectacular. The braided hair with the controlled elegance, the long-limbed grace that, he recognized, concealed strength and discipline – and boy, that face!

  It was perfect, he thought with mild shock. He could see that she had used any makeup only sparingly, if she had at all, but the cheekbones were sharp and high, the mouth was perfectly sculpted, the nose straight, the chin firm. But her eyes captured him. They were grey. Not the light grey of silver, but the dark grey of a stormy sea. They promised passion as much as the grace of her movements promised control.

  A bit shocked, Adam realized that he was intrigued. He hadn’t been intrigued by a woman in a long time.

  But this was the woman who could help him conquer and trap the demons that still plagued him. So, he firmly shut down the part of him that had responded to Birdie and watched her as she fidgeted.

  She was used to the place and the bartender was fond of her. It wasn’t the kind of fondness that could be bought with tips. He was genuinely fond of her. The flash of jealousy left Adam nearly speechless. He couldn’t recall ever being jealous before, not about a woman. He had been jealous of people who had things, and money enough to feel safe and secure. Adam had never cared for the feeling and didn’t intend to feel it ever again.

  He watched as her face showed clear irritation and she checked her watch. It was strikingly o
ut of place. It looked old.

  So, something with sentimental value or just a habit? By the way she was tugging at her dress over her legs – and man, they were some legs – she didn’t seem all that comfortable in her dress.

  The thought that he could help her out of it shouldn’t have been unexpected.

  Not his type, he told himself again, hoping his hormones would listen. He really needed to get laid. Find a woman, go on a few dates, and get it dealt with. The women he dated would know what he wanted, because that’s what they wanted from him, too.

  Adam knew it the moment Birdie got frustrated enough to just consider leaving, and got up to go to her.

  Birdie was getting more and more annoyed by the second. Had somebody played some damn trick on her, by any chance? Was it all a prank? She was going to make whoever it was pay for it.

  She had just decided to go home and forget about it until whoever it was owned up when she felt his presence.

  She turned around, annoyed, and felt like she’d been punched in the gut.

  His face, thought Birdie, numbly. It was… everything. Her fingers itched to sketch it, to turn him into an angel.

  His hair was dark blonde and wavy, just messy enough to make it fun, long enough to make mamas say he needed a haircut. The face would’ve been perfect on a Calvin Klein model. The eyes, dark blue, were mesmerizing.

  Birdie felt as if she’d been enchanted.

  “Birdie Campbell? I’m ‘A.’”

  Birdie opened her mouth and tried to speak, but no sound came out. He smiled, and she nearly slid to the floor in a puddle of goo.

  He had a dimple in his left cheek. She wanted to lick it.

  What the hell was she thinking? She snapped herself back into reality.

  Looking pointedly at the watch, she made her voice deliberately frosty.

  “What you are is late.”

  Adam grinned at her tone. It had been a long time since anybody except his family had chided him, too. But he had seen the reaction she had quickly masked. Whatever he had felt when he’d seen her, she’d felt it, too. But he’d had time to get himself in hand. She had done it in a fraction of a second.

  That was definitely impressive.