Steele

by Kelly Gendron

  He looks at me like the damn coffee guy on Main and Burbank waiting for me to order my usual caffè mocha topped with whipped cream, but I’m not going to give in. No. Not this time. I refuse to surrender. Like my favorite calorific coffee, Steele Kane is not healthy for me. He might be rich, strong, frothy, and, no doubt, flavorful, but I don’t want my body fueled by his hot bean juice.

  No! Thank! You!

  “In your dreams.” I push his hand out of the way to get out of the car. Hopefully, he doesn’t like curvy, mouthy, smart, black-haired, messed up yet in complete control women. Hopefully, that’s not his type! For that’s what I am—in total and complete control.

  I’m not afraid to enter the bachelor’s tower! Nope. Not this girl. I got this.

  “Yes, ma’am. As of late, you’ve been the leading lady in all my fantasies.” He lightly brushes my shoulder with his arm as he passes by me.

  “You’re an ass.” I laugh, secretly loving the compliment. Despicable me, getting charged by the mere touch of his shoulder. I follow those broad shoulders covered in a black blazer swaying tauntingly over dark, slim-fitting jeans. Damn! I can’t see his ass.

  We enter the lobby.

  “Hey, Simon,” Steele greets the concierge as he heads over to the metal mailboxes against the wall. “This is Miss Rigsby.”

  “Hello, Miss Rigsby,” the elderly gentleman says with a slight dip, the light illuminating the hairless crown upon his head.

  “Hello, Simon, and please call me Jay.” I easily smile.

  Steele slams shut his mailbox and spins around with a couple of envelopes in his hand. “Jay will be in town for a few weeks,” he says, flipping through the letters.

  “I’m hoping only a couple,” I interject with a smirk to Steele.

  “Nonetheless …” He looks over at Simon, slapping the envelopes against his palm. “We’re hoping to see Miss Rigsby here a few more times before she leaves.”

  “That’s likely not going to happen.” I smile at Simon who only has eyes for Steele at the time.

  “Yes, sir. Speaking of company, Mr. Kane.” Simon’s head signals with a hint of understanding. “I buzzed Miss Redbourne into your apartment a little bit ago.”

  “Miss Redbourne?” Steele’s left eyebrow raises as the slapping envelopes stop in midair.

  “Yes,” Simon says with a nervous smile. “You introduced me to her a few months ago. This I am certain, and as you’ve said before, there’s no need for an introduction for anyone who you introduce to me, Mr. Kane. As you’ve said before, I’m to let them right up to your residence, and that’s what I did a couple of weeks ago with Mr. Kane, your brother, and again today with Miss Redbourne.”

  “Yesssss.” Steele’s head slowly circles around the word. “Miss Redbourne, of course.” He nods, but I’m not buying the quick switch of assurance.

  “I can’t say for sure if she’s still in your residence. However, I can tell you that I haven’t seen her leave yet.”

  Back to slapping the envelopes a little harder against his palm, Steele stares at the elevator as if waiting for his last “hit and run” to be standing there when the doors open. When they finally do break apart and an elderly woman walks out with a well-groomed, pom-poms and all, poodle, Steele blows out his breath. “Thanks, Simon.” He glances over at me. “You know what? Maybe you should wait in the car.”

  “Oh-ho, no way. Besides, what would your mother think?” I wink, not about to miss out on this. If his expression holds any relevance to what he’s thinking, Steele doesn’t know or remember who the woman is in his apartment.

  “Okay.” He holds his hand out to the elevator. “Let’s go say hello to Miss Redbourne, then.”

  “Yes!” I smile. “Let’s.” I walk into the small box that takes us to the ninth floor.

  Steele swipes his key card, pushes open the door to his apartment, and leans in to take a quick looksee prior to letting me into the masculine smelling apartment. With its dark-neutral palette, sleek treatment of textures and clean lines, mirrors, and recessed lights, it represents Steele Kane to a T—bold, impressive, and profound. Not to mention, spotless.

  “Steele, is that you?” a female voice calls out.

  “Yeah,” he responds, a trickle of doubt lingering in his tone.

  “I’m sorry. I tried calling.” Her voice gets louder. “I have an important meeting later today at the theatre, our hot water tank went, and Token’s stuck at the gym until Hobbs can get there to relieve him. He said to come over to your place and take a shower. Said last he heard from Stone was that you were out of town. Oh!” The attractive woman stops in the hall when she spots Steele and me, her mouth slightly open with her hand halfway through her long damp hair.

  “Harley,” Steele says with a big smile. “Harley,” he says again, clapping his hands together as though applauding the discovery of the mysterious Miss Redbourne. “This is Jay.” He points with a finger from his clamped together hands.

  “Hi, Jay.” Harley’s cheeks blush red as she finishes pulling her fingers through her messy hair.

  I smile in return.

  “Jay, Miss Harley Redbourne is my brother, Token’s, girlfriend, and it’s no problem.” He turns to Harley. “You’re always welcome here.”

  “Thanks.” She touches Steele’s arm. “I really do appreciate it. Anyway, I need to get back home and get dressed. Can’t go to the meeting in my yoga pants and Token’s jersey.” She tugs on the long t-shirt. “Hey, are you going to Henley’s Saturday night? Stone’s band’s playing there at ten. Token, me, Crash, Jaggs, and Nix are all going. Well, Nix is going if he can get a babysitter.”

  “Didn’t know Stone had another gig in town this week.”

  “Token says he’s got a few lined up for the month. I guess the drummer’s sister has a place in town. He and Stone are staying there while she’s away on a job or something. Anyway, you should come and bring Jay with you, yeah?” She smiles at me with a nod. “The boys always outnumber us girls. It’d be nice to have another female in the circle.”

  “I’d love for Jay to come.” Steele’s head sways my way. “What do you think? Busy this weekend?”

  “I’ll check my schedule.” I smile.

  “Great!” Harley beams as if there’s a real chance of me going. She leans over to give Steele a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the use of your shower, and I hope to see you both Saturday.” She points at us before she heads for the door.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “You couldn’t remember your brother’s girlfriend’s last name.”

  “Nope.” He stares at the closed door. “They’ve only been dating for a couple of months. Let me get Barry’s file for you.” He starts down the hall.

  I’m left standing alone in the sophisticated, silver and black living area. The only bright thing in the place just walked out the door. I liked Harley. She seemed nice, but I wasn’t about to commit to …

  “Here it is.” Steele strides back into the room, holding up a folder.

  “Thanks.” I take it. “And thanks for the ride around the track. It was fun.”

  “Yeah, it was. I haven’t done it in a while, so I almost forgot how good it feels. How about you?” He slides into my personal space, filling it with all his hot male substance. “Did you forget how good it feels?” He reaches around my neck. His fingers press down into my skin, and he guides me against his body. I don’t have it in me to fight him. Not now, I need a rest from it. I let him direct me closer to exactly where I’ve wanted to be all day. “And I’m not talking about this afternoon’s car ride.”

  My body sinks inward, closer to his strong, unbendable form. No. I haven’t forgotten what it feels like to be this close to a man. I haven’t forgotten about the heat or the desire, but I’m not about to unwrap that truth. The plan remains the same—my clothes stay on whenever I’m around Steele Kane. That’s something, no matter how exhausting, I must continue to fight.

  “How long
has it been?” He carefully lifts my hand and runs his thumb over the diamond ring safely wrapped around my finger. “Has it been since him?”

  “Yes,” I say, watching him caress my finger, wondering what his hands would feel like all over the rest of my body.

  “And”—his husky voice breaks my fleeting thoughts—“he’s been gone how long?”

  “Three years,” I answer his slow-moving touch. My eyelids lower as his fingers gently glide up my arm. He touches me with just enough pressure; as though he knows I’m still on the mend, and if he presses too hard, I might break. He cradles the side of my face with his big, warm palm. I drag my lids open, and like his flesh upon my skin, his eyes connect with mine. “Okay.” Mouth open, he leans forward. “It’s time.”

  “Time for what?” I whisper.

  “For me to kiss you.” His lips touch down upon mine like two plane tires hitting the asphalt followed by that welcoming jolt of jet lag, knowing you’re almost home, almost to your warm bed, the one that’s hard to get out of in the morning. The one place you can be completely naked emotionally and physically, knowing that the lock on the door will keep you safe within the walls. Shit! That’s what he feels like! Home!

  Oh, my God! I haven’t felt this since …

  My insides tremble. His touch vibrates through me, awaking the dormant yet desperately lying in wait, sexually destitute woman. His kiss also reminds me of what passion feels like, proving that even if I try to hide from it, it exists. Still, a small part of me that’s never ignored, the part that always feels guilty for indulging in such pleasures, even if it’s only in my thoughts.

  I don’t deserve any of it—happiness and love—nor should I be permitted to enjoy the touch of a man. Honestly, up until this point, it’s more that I haven’t wanted another man’s hands on me. Since Trevor, no man has tempted me until now. My moving lips and gasping breaths are evidence of that.

  Fight fought.

  Determination beaten.

  There’s no denying it.

  I want Steele Kane.

  Ready to peel the clothes from my body, ready to get naked—perhaps not emotionally but physically—if for only an hour or so, I’m willing to let him be the substitute of my out of reach home.

  His lips pull from mine, and all the crazy thoughts hibernate. It’s a good place for them too. A safe place.

  “Don’t worry.” He smiles, his thumb stroking a portion of my neck that hasn’t been touched by anyone in years. “One kiss won’t make you fall in love with me.”

  “I know.” I lick my bottom lip, savoring the sweetness of the kiss and ignoring the doubt in my gut. True, I won’t fall in love with him after one kiss, but something dangerous is definitely running through my body.

  “And I guarantee that no matter what we do, you won’t fall for me. In my experience, women never do. In fact, the first woman I loved, she didn’t love me back, and there’s been no other since. You’re safe with me. I’m unlovable, and that’s exactly why you should use me.” He rubs his thumb over the diamond on my finger. “Use me to help you get past him.”

  With everything he’s said and offered, all I heard was I’m unlovable. It’s sad. Really, really sad. “Maybe you don’t make yourself available for it.”

  “What?” He looks up at me. “For love?”

  “Yes.” I nod.

  “Perhaps.” He lets go of my hand. “But I thought that’d be something you might understand.”

  “I suppose.” I rub my finger, the familiar sharp edges of the stone scraping my skin.

  “You don’t need to decide right now. You’re here for at least a couple of more weeks. Just think about it.”

  “Steele, what exactly are you offering me?” I know what he’s suggesting, but I want to hear him say it. I need confirmation.

  “I’m just sayin’”—he traces his fingers down a few strands of my hair—“I appreciate you talking me into getting behind the wheel today. It’s something I haven’t done in a while.” He pinches the end of the strands and gives them a few tugs. “You helped me get past some personal roadblocks today, and I’d like to do the same for you.” He smiles. “All you need to do is ask.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STEELE

  “No. You can’t use that one!” Crash yanks the wrench from Token’s hand and shoves him away from the motorcycle. The look on Token’s face would send anyone else to their corner of the ring but not Crash.

  I laugh. It’s entertaining to watch my brothers yell at each other. Must be a sibling thing. Especially when it’s the youngest giving the toughest a hard time. Beard, tatts, and built like a bulldog, Token’s a beast. Most people would think twice about looking at him wrong.

  Stone’s a beast too, but where Token’s flexing, front and center, Stone’s silently waiting in the background to pounce on his prey. Nix, now he might have the Kane physique, but that boy’s all brains, computers, and collars. Very rarely do you see the guy in a tee. And Crash, well, no matter how much motor oil or grease that kid gets on himself, he’ll always be pretty. He’s just too damn good-looking for his own good.

  “Hey.” Token nudges his beard my way while wiping his hands off with a rag. “You going to see Stone’s band Saturday night?”

  “Thinkin’ about it.” Honestly, I’d forgotten Harley had mentioned it. I’ve got nothing but the raven beauty on the brain, and it’s not only making it difficult to work out my stunts with Jaylyn on the set but also in my head all the time. Hell, I almost overlooked putting on pads before a simple fall down a flight of stairs.

  “What about you, asshole?” Token looks down at Crash. “You and Jaggs gonna go?”

  “Fuck!” The wrench slips off the bolt and drops to the cement floor with a cling.

  “Don’t fuckin’ strip it,” Token leans down, crowding Crash’s space.

  Crash picks up the wrench and points it at him. “Get the fuck away from me.”

  “So what’s she gonna be?” I intervene, laughing at my little bros.

  “Who?” Token growls and stands. Task completed, he directs his attention on me.

  “Bella,” I respond.

  “Ah, Nix told me, but fuck if I remember.” His glare shifts back to Crash. “It’s fuckin’ stripped, isn’t it?”

  Crash doesn’t say a word as he pulls the bolt free with a tight grin.

  I press my lips together, holding back another chuckle. “Maybe she’s gonna be a princess, a witch, a fairy?” I raise my voice. “Wonder Woman?”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know.” Eyebrows furrowed, Token looks at me, shrugging his hefty shoulders. “The Pink Power Ranger?”

  “Power Ranger?” Stone walks into the shop. “Dude, that’s from when we were kids.”

  Token nudges a what’s-up at Stone. “Didn’t you hear, they just came out with a new movie?”

  “No shit?” Stone stops and stands with the rest of us as we watch Crash work on Token’s bike. The bolt falls to the ground, and Token’s face crumples.

  “Hey, remember that time Token dressed up as Superman?” I laugh, relieved to see Token’s scowl directed at me instead of Crash. The kid could use a break; he might even get Token’s bike fixed while he’s at it. “He came out of Ma’s room dressed in one of her slinky bodysuits, a bright red G-string, and blue thigh highs.”

  “Yeah,” Stone says with a lop-sided grin. “The kind with that lacy shit on top?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Crash nods, waving the wrench across his chest. “He stuffed his shirt with maxi pads for muscles.”

  “Fuck you.” Token snarls. “And I don’t want to hear anything from you.” He points at Crash. “The kid who wouldn’t touch anything made in China, including the silverware. You ate off plastic spoons and forks until you were twelve, for fuck’s sakes. What the hell was up with that shit?”

  Crash shrugs, inspecting the bolt. “Anything Chinese scared me. I think it was from watching The Grudge or something.” He tosses the bolt a
cross the room, easily making it into the large garbage can.

  “The Grudge wasn’t Chinese. In fact, it was a Japanese remake, and it came out like ten years ago. The shit with the spoons started when you were around six,” I say although it could’ve been as early as age five.

  “No.” Stone shakes his head. “I think The Grudge came out a little longer than ten years ago. I remember sneaking Libby Greyborn into the theatre because we were too young to see it.”

  Crash picks up a new bolt from a metal box. “Was just a kid, so don’t really know where it came from, and I don’t care.”

  “Had to have been Uncle Rowdy.” I rub my clean-shaven chin. I wish Kip would grow a beard and give me a break from having to shave every fucking day. “He’s always bitching about people buying shit from China. Hell, when he found out the American flag hanging on the front of his cabin was made in China, he nearly burned the damn thing in the campfire.” We’d go down to Crazy Uncle Rowdy’s a lot for the weekend with Dad when we younger. Uncle Rowdy had an opinion about everything. Dad didn’t always agree with them, but he was his brother, so he put up with Uncle Rowdy’s rants.

  “Yeah.” Stone leans against a dark blue Monte Carlo. “It took a twelve-pack, but Dad talked him out of it.”

  “So Steele …” Crash says, bending over the bike. “You bringing Jay Saturday?”

  I know what the little fucker’s doing. A few years ago, Crash might’ve liked being the center of attention and even relished in it, but not anymore. He’s directing the unwanted attention from him to me, and it’s working. Stone and Token’s eyes missile at me. They both ask, “Jay?”

  “Wait.” Stone’s dark brow rises. “Is Jay a boy or a girl?”

  “Funny, asshole.” I smirk.

  “What?” Stone lifts a hand. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  “Jay, yeah, Jaylyn.” Token snaps his fingers. “That’s the girl Harley met over at your place the other day.”

  “Yeah, tell ’em, Steele, how you’re sleeping with the enemy.” Crash stands up. “She works for the insurance company that’s covering his stunts for his latest movie. I met her. She seems cool.”