She forced herself to stay calm. Angering Phil when he got like this never did any good. She needed to try to defuse the situation. It had been the same with Dad. It was always better to stay quiet—take her punishment and pray for it to be over. The altercation always ended quicker that way. But her brain-to-mouth function seemed to have other ideas.
“Not every guy is like you.” She spat the words at him. “Jax is a gentleman, not a bully and a freak.”
His eyes widened so much that she could see the whites all around the irises. His hand tightened around her wrist until it was so painful she was sure he’d broken it.
“Let me go,” she said, trying—and failing—to free herself. “Phil, you’re going to break my wrist.”
He released her, but only so he could use his right hand to slap her around the face. Indie gasped. Her hand flew to her cheek as she stared at this man who was a stranger.
“You’ve already fucked him, haven’t you?” he said, his nostrils flaring and ugly veins sticking out in his neck. “You fucking whore.”
She took several steps backward, fear making her limbs shake. She didn’t know who this person was. Had he finally tipped over the edge into madness?
Then his face crumpled. He sank to his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face. “I’m sorry, Indie,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke through his fingers. “I’m so sorry.” He crawled to her and wrapped his arms around her legs, his cheek resting against her stomach, his tears of remorse dampening her sweater.
She crouched down and hugged him, even though comfort was the last thing she wanted to offer. But she’d been well trained on the best approach to defuse anger after suffering ten years of abuse at the hands of her father. When he’d gotten like this, the only way to save herself from more pain and torment had been to soothe, to appease his fury and to never, ever blame.
“It’s okay, Phil.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “It’ll never happen again.”
She nodded, even though she knew it would. It always did. Like father, like son. The irony wasn’t lost on her. That was exactly what Phil thought about Jax and his father. Yet she couldn’t cut him off, couldn’t cast him adrift. Like a puppy getting kicked by its master, she kept coming back for more.
“I know. It’s me who’s sorry. I’m only trying to do what you want me to, Phil. And it’s working. I really think Jax is falling for me. And just for the record, I haven’t slept with him.” Even though the thought of having him inside me is all I can think about.
Phil sniffed. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed again. His usual sneering expression was back now he’d regained control over himself as well as her. He got to his feet and went into the kitchen. He was back a few moments later with a handmade icepack.
“Here.” He tilted his head forward. “For your wrist.”
He made absolutely no mention of the fact that it was his fault she needed the ice in the first place. Still, it was what she’d come to expect. She took it from him and pressed it against her wrist, wincing as the cold bit into her skin. She didn’t want to bring up the fact that her face was also stinging from where he’d slapped her.
He flopped onto her couch and put his feet up on her coffee table again. This time, she left them where they were. He picked up the TV remote and began channel surfing. It looked like he was staying then.
Indie stiffly got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. You know where the blankets are.”
He nodded but didn’t look at her. As she opened the door to her bedroom, he shouted, “Keep that icepack on for at least thirty minutes.”
She repressed an urge to slam the door, but she did flip her middle finger at him once it was closed. He’d never know, but it made her feel better. And for good measure, she tossed the ice in the bathroom sink. He could shove his icepack where the sun didn’t shine.
After changing for bed, she slipped beneath the covers. Pulling the comforter over her head, she allowed quiet tears to slip down her cheeks. She wanted out of this situation but didn’t know how to make it happen. Phil would never allow her to bail. She’d rejected Jax earlier because she felt the emotional pull dragging her under as they’d kissed. If she was going to survive with her mind intact, she needed to remain aloof. She could not allow herself to fall in love with Jax. This was a one-way ticket, and at the end of it, she had to come out the winner. It was the only way to save herself… and her brother.
She turned onto her side, praying sleep would bring relief but knowing it only ever brought nightmares.
Chapter Nine
When Indie got up the following morning, Phil had already left. Relieved, she checked out her wrist. As suspected, a dark bruise had begun to form, and it was sore as hell. She turned her face toward the mirror. Fortunately, the redness from Phil’s slap had gone, so she only needed to hide the damage to her wrist.
After showering, she picked out a long-sleeved silk shirt in a deep red and paired it with a black pencil skirt, sheer pantyhose, and black pumps. She couldn’t wait to get to work. It was her solace, her distraction from how out of control her life had become. She never should have agreed to this plan of Phil’s, but all those years of brainwashing were hard to fight against. No, she had to see this through and then move on with her life. It was the only way her brother would get any peace, and she owed him that at least, even if Jax was the one who’d have to pay the price. She’d leave New York after it was done, go to California, maybe, or somewhere the sun would be able to heal her soul—providing she still had one.
She painted on a bright smile as she walked into her office. Her assistant, Pam, wasn’t at her desk. There was, however, a hot pot of coffee waiting for her. Thank goodness. A stiff drink would probably do more to calm her nerves than caffeine, but she hadn’t quite reached those levels of desperation yet.
As she was pouring herself a cup, the door opened. She glanced over her shoulder as Pam walked in, her face concealed by a large bouquet of flowers.
“I just picked these up at reception for you,” she said, plunking them on Indie’s desk. “If you hang on a second, I’ll find a vase from somewhere.”
Indie picked up the flowers and buried her nose in the petals. They smelled amazing, a mixture of lilies, jasmine, and violets. They’d clearly been selected with care. She frowned as she reached for the little blue envelope. Perhaps this was Phil’s way of apologizing, although she doubted it. Her brother didn’t have two cents to rub together most of the time. If it weren’t for Indie subsidizing him, he wouldn’t make rent most months. Not to mention that this wasn’t his style.
She opened the seal on the envelope and took out the card inside.
Sorry our evening ended so abruptly. How about dinner later? I’ll even settle for coffee. Jax.
A smile stole across her face. She wasn’t sure whether he’d get in touch after Phil’s untimely appearance the previous evening. She was glad Jax had made the first move, because she was nothing if not a coward. The thought of waiting until tonight to see him didn’t appeal. She wanted to see him earlier but without looking too desperate. Then an idea came to her. She booted up her computer and checked her calendar. Excellent—she had a couple of hours to spare right after lunch. Perfect timing.
She expected the morning to drag by, but in no time, the calendar reminder popped up. She forwarded her office phone to her cell in case any clients needed her urgently and almost danced down the stairs and out onto the street.
Fall had made a brief return. The cold snap of the previous few days had gone, leaving mild, if breezy, weather in its place. It was more than warm enough to walk the few blocks from her office to Jax’s hotel on the Upper East Side.
She skirted past Central Park, stopping off at her favorite coffee chain on the way. She grabbed a couple of caramel macchiatos and a bag of mixed pastries from the bakery. She had no idea what Jax would like, so she went for a whole range. If he didn’t eat them, he could give them to the builde
rs. No doubt, they’d appreciate the sugary treats.
The front door was ajar when she arrived at the hotel. She balanced the bag on top of the cups and pushed it open. “Jax,” she called out as she stepped over a pile of half-unwound cable that had been left strewn across the hallway.
A short, round guy wearing a hard hat and a fluorescent vest appeared from the living area where Jax had entertained her the previous evening. As she peeked inside, there was no sign of the romantic setting Jax had arranged. He must have cleared everything away after walking her home.
“What can I do for you?” the man said as he rebalanced a large plank of wood that was resting over his shoulder.
“I’m looking for Jaxon.”
He cocked his head. “Third floor. Turn left when you get to the top of the stairs.”
“Thanks.”
“Wait,” he called out as she set off up the stairs. He took off his hard hat. “You’re not going anywhere without one of these. Not on my site. And not a word about ruining your hair.”
She grinned as he set it on top of her head. “What about you?”
“I’ll grab another. Not that a bang on the head would do much damage. The missus would probably say it’d knock some sense into me. Oh, and watch your step, especially in them heels.”
She picked her way carefully upstairs. As she reached the third floor, loud banging came from her left. It sounded as though the building was being knocked down. She crept closer and peered around the door.
Her breath caught in her throat. Inside was Jax, naked from the waist up. He was wielding a sledgehammer, his body slick with sweat, the floor surrounding him full of rubble. He took another swing at the half-demolished wall, the muscles in his back flexing as he exerted himself. Indie quietly set the drinks and food on the floor. She leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and nibbled on her thumbnail as he continued to work, completely oblivious to her gawking.
As he slammed the tool into the wall once more, the majority fell away. When the dust cleared, Jax dropped the hammer and tugged off his mask, peering into the space behind the wall. Indie’s eyes fell to his dust-covered ass, his jeans hanging low on his hips, stout boots on his feet.
He turned around and started as he realized he had company. Oh my… the view from the front was just as appealing. Maybe more so. She trailed her gaze over his hairless chest, pausing at a tattoo on his left pectoral—an intricate swirl of thin lines with a red heart at the center. And those delicious abs. She wanted to put her mouth on them before exploring the perfect V that disappeared beneath his jeans. My God. The man was perfect.
“You need a shower,” she said.
* * *
Jax’s eyes widened. “Hey,” he said, scuffing a hand over the top of his head to shake out the dirt. “What are you doing here?”
“I brought muffins.” She bent down and picked up the paper bag containing the bakery items. She shook it.
He picked up the sledgehammer and leaned it against the wall before walking toward her. “Thanks.”
“And coffee. Caramel macchiato. To make up for last night.”
Jax snatched up a rag from the floor. He wiped his hands then leaned down, removing a paper cup from the grey cardboard cup holder on the floor. “My favorite.” He took a sip. “Delicious.” He swept his tongue over his top lip, elated at the way her pale skin flushed. The attraction most definitely went both ways. He set his coffee back down on the floor. “Let me grab a shirt.”
She gave him a slow smile. “Don’t bother on my account.”
He grinned, lowered his head, and gently touched his mouth to hers. Intense pleasure at the feel of her cool lips against his sent a delightful shiver up his spine.
“Won’t be a sec.” He stepped out into the hallway and went next door, where he grabbed his scruffy paint-splattered T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Having spotted a chair, he gave it a quick wipe and picked it up then headed back to the bathroom.
“Here you go.” He set the chair down.
He half expected her to give a disdainful look at the chair—it wasn’t exactly Pottery Barn—but she simply took a seat. He snatched up his coffee and rested his butt on the edge of the bathtub. She passed him the paper bag, and he lifted out a blueberry muffin.
When he passed the bag back to her, she shook her head. “Not for me. Give them to the builders maybe. I’m sure they’ll appreciate them.”
Jax placed the bag on the floor.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
He peeled the crimped paper baking cup, tore off a piece of muffin, and slipped it into his mouth. “I’m glad you came. I was worried about leaving you last night.”
Her fingers tugged down the cuff of her shirt. “There was no need.”
He broke off another chunk of muffin. “I thought you and your brother were estranged.”
She sipped her coffee then set it next to her. “We are. Well, sort of. It’s complicated.”
“That’s families for you.”
“Yeah.” She stared at a spot in the distance over his left shoulder.
Jax left her to her thoughts. Her shoulders drooped, and her gaze fell to her hands. Something didn’t sit right. His instincts were firing like crazy. It wouldn’t do any good to ask her, though. They weren’t close enough—yet—to share details of what went on within a family unit.
“So what’s your answer?”
Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”
“The note on the flowers. Dinner tonight? I’ll take you to my favorite Italian place.”
“Oh.” She grazed her top teeth over her lip as she considered his offer. The pause made his breath hitch. She was going to say no.
“I’d love to, Jax.”
His insides warmed. Thank God. “Great. I’ll swing by your apartment about seven thirty.”
“Actually, do you mind if I meet you there? I’ve got a few meetings this afternoon, so it’ll be easier if I head there straight from work.”
He sensed a theme but didn’t question her. If it made her more comfortable to meet him for their dates than have him pick her up, so be it. “That works for me. I’ll text you the address.”
“Perfect.”
Heavy footfall sounded in the hallway, and Bill, the foreman, poked his head around the door. “Have you taken the bathtub out yet?” he asked, referring to the bathroom across the hall.
“Shit,” Jax said. “No. I’ll do it next. Give me five?”
Bill nodded. He glanced at Indie. “Sorry to interrupt, miss.”
“I’ll get out of your way,” Indie said.
“Actually,” Jax said, “I could do with a hand. Do you need to get back?”
She glanced at her watch. “I have a half hour or so, although I’m not exactly dressed for manual labor.”
“I can fix that.” He eased himself to a standing position and indicated for her to get up. She rose from the chair, her eyes holding a hint of challenge.
He took a step toward her and slid the single-breasted jacket from her shoulders before unfastening the two top buttons on her shirt. “That’s better,” he murmured. “You can breathe now, Indie.”
A tinge of color darkened her cheeks, and her tongue swept over her lips. He walked around her and hung her jacket on the back of the chair. Turning around, he beckoned her toward him with his forefinger. She did as he asked. Overcome with an urge he couldn’t restrain, Jax trailed a finger down her cheek before gently cupping her chin. Her lips parted, and she leaned toward him. He slid his thumb over her bottom lip, and when she pulled the tip into her mouth, he sucked in a sharp breath. She withdrew, a hint of a smile playing around her delicious rosy mouth.
“Follow me,” he said before he did something she most definitely wasn’t ready for.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“Grab you something more suitable to wear.”
She frowned. “Why?”
Flashing her a quick grin, he grabbed his tool bag, took hold of h
er hand, and went into the room next door, where he was storing a few clothes. He picked up an oversized sweater. It would work for what he had in mind, even if Indie was potentially thinking something totally the opposite.
“Put this on. It’ll keep your clothes clean.”
She pressed her lips together. “What exactly is it you want me to help with, Jaxon Brook? Because I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.”
Jax stood with his arms folded. “The sweater, Indie. That outfit looks expensive.”
She gave him a curious look and dragged the sweater over her head. He didn’t need her help at all, but he was loath to let her go.
Jax wandered across the hallway and into the bathroom opposite. He crossed over to a door on the far side and pushed it open.
“This is a good size,” Indie said.
“Yeah.” Jax dropped his tool bag on the floor. “That’s why I knocked down the wall in the other room. The bathroom there would be too small for my plans. Fortunately, I don’t have to knock down any more on this floor.”
He bent over and examined the faucet. Detaching it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, and then he could remove the tub.
“Pass me that wrench.” He nodded at his tool bag. “It’s the one with—”
“I know what a wrench looks like.” Indie picked up the correct tool and handed it to him.
“Of course you do,” Jax said, amused. He lay on his back, wriggled underneath the bathtub, and set to work. After a few seconds, he’d loosened the faucet enough. He got to his feet. “Grab that rag for me, would you?”
She passed a dirty cloth to him, holding it by the edges to avoid getting dirt and grease on her hands.
“Thanks. You might want to stand back a little. It should be fine, but sometimes the pressure in the pipes can still cause the water to leak.”
She backed up a couple of steps. “Where did you learn how to do all this?”
Jax gave her a wry grin. “Believe me, I’m still learning. But the more I do, the more money I save, which means there will be enough left over for the special touches I want this place to become known for.”
The Blame Game_A Brook Brothers Novel Page 7
