by Jaci Burton
He might want her until the day he died, but he’d never, ever have her.
“Don’t you have a life to go home to?”
She jumped at the voice, so immersed in her work she didn’t even know anyone had come in.
“You scared the hell out of me.” Kaitlyn glared at her sister, Shannon. She’d have to start shutting the door to her office. Working at the Rising Storm with her sister, two brothers, a sister-in-law and soon-to-be brother-in-law wasn’t always a good thing. Being in the same office just gave them carte blanche to bust in on her whenever they felt like it.
“Not my fault you tune out the world when you’re working,” Shannon teased. She looked the epitome of springtime in her pale green suit tailored to fit her slender body and her shoulder-length blonde hair spilling loose over her shoulders. And of course the pink glow on her cheeks had been present ever since she set up housekeeping with Max Devlin last year.
“I don’t have a hot man to go home to like you do,” Kaitlyn replied with a smirk. “So I’ll just finish up some work instead.”
She meant it as a subtle suggestion for Shannon to leave. A suggestion her sister blatantly ignored as she slipped into a chair across from Kaitlyn’s desk.
“You’d have a hot man to go home to if you ever stopped working long enough. You’re the last one of us, sis.”
The last one. Shannon meant the last unattached Storm sibling. Her brother Aidan had married his coworker Lissa only a few months earlier. Shannon was well on her way to making plans for her wedding to Max, and her other brother, Logan, was house-hunting with Sophie.
Kaitlyn was the lone unmatched Storm now. The only one without someone to love. But there was a good reason for that.
“It’s not my time yet, Shan. When it is, I’ll let you know.” The one man she wanted had never wanted her. Instead, he gave her those looks that made her crazy, but always kept his distance. What she wouldn’t give for just one night of hot sex with Brett McGregor.
“You’re blushing!” Shannon said.
Kaitlyn’s eyes widened and she forced thoughts of tangling naked with Brett out of her mind. “It’s…hot in here.”
“I think ‘hot’ is in your mind, all right.” Shannon arched a brow. “Did you meet with Brett today?”
Damn her sister for being so intuitive. “As a matter of fact, I did. So what?”
Crossing her arms and offering a smug smile, Shannon said, “That’s why you’re blushing.”
“It is not! I told you. It’s hot in here.”
“Uh-huh. When are you going to see him again?”
“For dinner tonight. But only to go over the list for the fundraiser. I had to agree to have dinner with him just to grab a little of his time. He’s been avoiding me.”
“And I’m sure you find having dinner with him completely distasteful.”
“Let it rest, Shannon. There’s nothing between Brett and me.”
“But you wish there was.”
Damn her, was she a mind reader? Yes, she wished there was something between them, more than she’d ever wished for anything. But the last thing she’d do is give her sister ammunition to tease her with. “Not anymore. I’m not seventeen any longer. I got over my crush on Brett a long time ago.”
“You have not. I know you, Kait. I know how you feel about him. How you’ve always felt about him.”
“And you always accused me of playing matchmaker? You’re worse than I am. There’s nothing between us, so let it go.”
At her forceful glare, Shannon nodded. “If you insist. So how go the fundraising plans?”
“Pretty good. And with a little input from Brett we should have all the details tied up in a few days. Did you know he’s not painting any longer?”
She winced. Damn. She’d just gotten Shannon off the topic of Brett and what did she do? Jumped right back on it. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? Her family knowing about her desires would only mean trouble.
Shannon frowned and nodded. “I know he quit painting after Amanda died, but I would have thought by now he’d have started up again.”
Well, she’d opened the can of worms. Might as well pour them out on the table. “I don’t think he’s done any work since she died. Six years, Shan! That’s too long to waste talent like his.”
“I agree. But since I don’t know anything about artistic inspiration, I can’t offer any opinion. I guess he’ll paint when he’s good and ready to.”
“I think he needs a woman in his life.” As soon as the words spilled from her mouth, she knew her sister would jump right back on topic.
“You think he needs you in his life.”
“No, it’s obvious he doesn’t want me. But I think it’s well past time he met someone and started living again.”
“Uh-oh. That means you’ve got matchmaking up your sleeve.”
“And that’s never a good thing, as we all know,” piped in a male voice. Mentally cringing at being caught discussing Brett, she smiled at their brother, Aidan.
Aidan leaned casually against the door frame, his suit coat slung over his shoulder, looking relaxed and happy despite the long day he put in. Kaitlyn surmised that marriage had mellowed him. He’d lost that driven look since he married Lissa. Now he radiated calm, his amber eyes filled with warmth and love for his new wife.
He walked in and settled his long, lean frame in the chair next to Shannon.
Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. She’d never get any work done now.
“Don’t you have a wife to go home to?” Shannon asked Aidan.
“Lissa had a client conference on the other side of town this afternoon, so we’re meeting here for dinner. Don’t you have a fiancé to go home to?” he shot back.
“It just so happens Max is meeting me here for dinner, too. And Kait is having dinner with Brett at Storm Rise.”
Aidan looked over at her. “Dinner meeting about the fundraiser?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a little more than that,” Shannon added, a twinkle sparkling in her turquoise eyes.
Aidan kept his focus on Kaitlyn. “Something going on between you two?”
She wanted to drop her head into her hands and scream. “Nothing’s going on between us. Shannon’s just being annoying.”
“I am not. You’re the one who started talking about finding him a woman.”
Damn.
Aidan frowned. “Not a good idea, Kait. He’s not ready.”
“It’s been six years, Aidan,” she argued. “He needs to move on with his life. Do you know he doesn’t paint anymore?” God, she was all over the place, from finding him a woman to the fact he wasn’t painting. Why she tried to hide her feelings from her siblings was a mystery. They could always read her.
“Yeah, I know. Amanda’s death hit him pretty hard, especially since he was driving at the time. I really think his love for painting died with her.”
She wasn’t buying it. She knew the spark still lived within him, the passion to create magic. She’d seen it. She’d felt it. Her own magic was so in tune to everything about Brett that she could even discern his emotions, no matter how hard he tried to appear indifferent. “I’m aware of the circumstances. I just think a new woman in his life would breathe some freshness into his muse. Maybe he’d start painting again.”
“Butt out, Kaitlyn. Brett doesn’t need your interference.”
Aidan had always been protective of Brett. Almost as if Brett had some deep, dark secret that Aidan didn’t want anyone to know about. After Amanda died, Aidan had closed ranks around his best friend Brett, refusing to let anyone see him.
Not even Kaitlyn. And she’d desperately wanted to go to him, to spend time with him and comfort him after his tragic loss. But he’d gone into seclusion after Amanda’s funeral, leaving the gallery in the hands of the assistant manager for almost six months while he recovered from surgery and grief.
He’d been hurting, but he hadn’t wanted her comfort. He hadn’t wanted anything from her, in fa
ct became even more distant the years after Amanda’s death. But only with her, not with anyone else. If she couldn’t read him so well she’d have been hurt by him singling her out. Deep down inside there was a good reason he kept his distance from her, and she knew it had to do with how he felt about her. He needed her more than he realized. He wanted her more than he was willing to admit. And all her talk about fixing him up with someone else was merely a way to cast off suspicion about her intent toward Brett. Her family didn’t know that she already had the perfect woman for him in mind.
Her.
“I’m not going to do anything Brett doesn’t want me to do, Aidan. I’m not a child any longer and I wish you’d stop treating me like one. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I need to finish up some work before my meeting—emphasis on meeting not date—with Brett.”
After a few more moments of conversation, Shannon and Aidan both left. Kaitlyn turned her chair and stared out the window at the French Quarter below. No matter what time of year, it was always busy. The sidewalks were filled with lovers linked arm in arm, sharing a secret kiss or ducking into a secluded doorway for something a little more passionate. An ache settled itself in the pit of her stomach, refusing to go away.
She’d been feeling that ache a lot more lately.
Loneliness wrapped itself around her, despite her best efforts to remain upbeat about her life.
She didn’t need anyone. Her career as events coordinator kept her plenty busy. Occasionally she dated, but mostly kept those to one or two casual evenings out to a movie or dinner. Relationships just weren’t her thing. She’d tried it a couple times, both ending in disaster. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for sex and romance.
Her mother strongly believed in destiny, in fate leading you to the one you loved. Though Logan, Aidan and Shannon had fought against it, all three of them had found their soulmates. Kaitlyn knew her destiny, was as sure of it as she knew her magic would never fail her. But lately she’d begun to wonder if maybe she wasn’t barking up the wrong tree.
She’d been a virginal but oh-so curious seventeen the first time—the only time—he’d kissed her. At four years older, he was her brother’s best friend and her very first crush. He’d told her she was too young for him, but she’d seen the raw need in his eyes when he looked at her; had felt his thick, hard erection straining against his jeans when he molded her body to his and kissed her in a way that left her breathless and wet with desire.
God, she remembered that night like it was yesterday, not ten years ago. No fog of passing years clouded her visions of her first kiss. It was still clear as a full moon night. The way he smelled, the way his muscles strained under her roaming hands, the way his breathing grew harsh and heavy when he tore his mouth away to look at her. His gaze had flamed hot with arousal, speaking to her of needs he couldn’t form into words. She hadn’t needed words, even then. He couldn’t hide that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Then he’d pushed her away and told her to find a nice high-school boy to love. That he was too old for her. That he wasn’t the right guy for her.
She hadn’t wanted anyone else. She’d wanted Brett. But then he’d met Amanda. Within a year they’d married and began to build lives together. The hurt had been unbearable. She’d felt betrayed, as if she’d expected him to wait a few more years until she’d grown up. Convinced her feelings had been one-sided, she’d decided to just be his friend. Though her feelings had never abated, had never lessened, even though she’d tried to move on.
Even after Amanda died she hadn’t approached him, adhering to Aidan’s wishes that he be left alone. Other than the occasional social function she hadn’t seen much of him. And he never brought another woman to any of those functions.
Now, six years later, not much had changed. He still pushed her away and she was still crazy about him.
But she wouldn’t give up. They were meant to be together and she could be as relentless as him if she wanted to be. In fact, she’d start tonight. Somehow she’d figure out a way to break through his shell. He needed to paint. He needed to start living again. And he needed to open his eyes and realize she’d been waiting too damn long for him to take what she offered.
Chapter Two
Brett paced the outside of Storm Rise, realizing he had arrived too damn early. How pathetic was that? Not only was his concentration blown all to hell after Kaitlyn’s visit, but his mind targeted their next meeting like it was the only thing on his agenda. He scrubbed his hand over his face, muttering to himself about what a fool he was.
You want her. You don’t want her. Make up your fucking mind, asshole!
“You look like you could use a drink.”
His head shot up at the sound of her voice, his pulse racing and his heart hammering. Shit. So much for self-control. “Hey.”
She arched a brow. “Hey yourself. I’m surprised to see you here. Thought for sure you’d blow me off again.”
He nearly groaned at the word “blow” spilling from her lips. For God’s sake, was he twelve years old?
His cock apparently thought so.
“Funny. Let’s go in.”
Now if he could just convince his determined dick to ignore the female in front of him, he might just make it through dinner. Trying to find a neutral topic, he looked to her and asked, “Hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
Resisting the urge to groan at her choice of words, he motioned her through the doorway of the restaurant, signaling the hostess that they were ready to be seated.
Storm Rise sat on the top floor of the Rising Storm hotel. Three hundred sixty degree views of New Orleans from the floor to ceiling windows meant there wasn’t a bad seat in the house. The restaurant was dark and romantic, with soft gray carpet and a dark blue ceiling painted with silver lightning bolts. It was like walking outside in a storm. Water trickled throughout the restaurant through a carefully constructed rock stream that wound around sets of tables.
The hostess sat them at an intimate little corner, a table for two lit only by a small candle centered on the white tablecloth. The rock stream separated them from the rest of the patrons. Total privacy, chairs side by side instead of across from each other.
Great. Just great.
“How about some wine?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Just iced tea for me, thanks. You order what you like.”
“I’ll have that, too,” she said, then opened her menu. “I’m starving.”
So was he, but not for food. Did she have to smell so damn good? Like some sweet wildflower scent he couldn’t quite put his finger on. No wonder he always kept his distance. It was self-preservation. Being around her was torture and made his balls ache.
He really needed to find a woman who didn’t want a relationship and then get laid forty or fifty times. Maybe that would shake his constant fantasies about spreading Kaitlyn out on the table and feasting on her pussy for dinner.
“I brought the banquet list with me,” she said as she closed her menu and slipped it to the side.
Finally. Something work-related to take his mind off licking the cream from Kaitlyn’s cunt. His cock lurched against his pants despite his desperate attempts to tame his burgeoning hard-on. “Let’s go over it.”
After ordering their meals, they spent a half hour talking about the fundraiser. Kaitlyn had a great eye for detail, like an artist constructing a painting. From flowers to food placement to strategies for the auction, she had every single event mapped out, assuring the fundraiser would be a success.
Good thing, too, because his mind wasn’t on the fundraiser. It was on the little bracelet she wore on her slender wrist. A chain of tiny golden bells that made a soft tinkling sound whenever she moved. He studied her long fingers, imagining them wrapped around his cock and stroking it from base to tip. When she shifted and crossed her legs, he leaned back and caught a quick glimpse of shapely calves. Her skirt rode up and offered him a tempting look at her thighs.
He wanted to b
ury his head between those thighs, tickle the insides with his hair while he licked her pussy until she screamed his name. By the time dinner came, his shaft was throbbing and fully erect. Thankfully the restaurant had decent-sized napkins to cover his hard-on.
“Brett, are you listening to me?”
Hell no, he wasn’t listening. He was too busy concentrating on the twenty different ways he could fuck her and still not have enough of her. He knew this had been a mistake. He should have never agreed to chair the fundraiser once it was determined the Rising Storm would host it. His mood went south in a hurry. “I heard every word you said. Sorry I didn’t comment with high praise. Didn’t know you needed to hear that.”
Her half-smile just made her look sexier, bringing out the flecks of emerald green in her golden eyes. “Am I boring you?”
Fuck. She was supposed to get pissed off at him for his callous comments, not cast him a half-lidded look that made his balls tighten.
“No. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Okay, so if you heard everything I said, what’s the answer to the last question I asked?”
Hell if he knew. “Run it by me again.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Artwork.”
Here it comes.
“You need to offer something of yours at the auction.”
He knew it, he could see it in the calculating gleam in her eyes. “I said no once already, Kait. I don’t paint anymore.”
Undaunted, she continued. “Do you know what kind of draw we’d get if you added just one piece of your work? When was the last time you sold a painting of something that you created?”
Too many years to remember. He had a few stored away at the gallery, but he wasn’t about to drag those out. The reminders of the mistakes he’d made were too harsh. He didn’t deserve to paint again. It filled him with life, with excitement and a sense of purpose. He didn’t want to feel that good about himself anymore. Not that he let anyone know that. He knew the routine. Positive mental attitude. And that’s what he showed on the outside, at least to most people. He used the gallery and its hectic pace as an excuse for not painting. “Kait, I’m warning you. Drop the subject now.”
