“I’m not sleeping with her.”
Token’s face scrawls. “Why not?”
“Could be the ring on her finger.” Crash closes the metal box and heads for the work bench.
“She’s not married,” I inform them all. If there’s one thing my brothers and I agree on, it’s no married women.
“Why the ring then?” Crash waves his hand.
“She’s a widow.”
“Oh, fuck.” Stone crosses his arms over his chest. “You better be careful if you’re thinking about hitting that.”
“Why?” I can’t believe it, but I need to know Stone’s reasonings. Obviously, mine are not working. I can’t get her out of my head.
“When did he die?”
“Three years ago.” I step closer to Stone.
“Okay, well, before you decide to get involved, there are a few things you’re gonna wanna know. Like does she still live in their home? Are there children involved? And heads-up, holidays can get weird. And dude, know you can never replace him, so marriage might never be an option. Oh, and widows, they tend to cry at the drop of a hat. Like you could be high off your ass at two in the morning, standing in the snack aisle of a grocery store, and all of a sudden, she starts crying uncontrollably. I mean, nice sales clerk, me, and some eighty-year-old lady can’t-get-her-to-stop-crying crying.”
“Someone you dated?”
“No. Army buddy of mine. I promised if anything happened to him that I’d check up on his wife, Jenny. Real cool gal, we hang out from time to time, and well, anyway, tread lightly, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
A little stunned, I stare at him. Stone hasn’t really said anything about the Army. He just returned home on an honorable discharge with some shrapnel in his back and started using drugs. First painkillers, then coke, and luckily, with four brothers standing in front of it, he never graduated to meth. Once we found out about his drug problem, we shut that shit down. He’s been doing good since our little intervention at Uncle Rowdy’s. “Sorry about your buddy.”
“Hey, who wants to see Bella in her Halloween costume?” Nick calls out with his head sticking through the front door, reminding us why we were all summoned to Crash’s auto shop in the first place.
We all stop what we’re doing to respond with loud enthusiasm. Every single one of us would do anything for our niece and with my little sis, Lurlene, living out of town, that includes painting nails and putting on lipstick. Luckily, though, the kid also likes to toss a ball around.
All forty-five inches of Bella waltzes into the shop, dress ripped, blood trickling from her neck, face pale and eyes blackened, arms and legs stiff. My six-year-old niece looks dead, and as soon as it hits me, I blurt out, “You’re a zombie!”
“Yes,” she squeals, clamping her hands together with little girl excitement.
I scratch my head. What sweet, innocent girl wants to be corpse for Halloween?
Well, my brother’s, of course. She fits right into the Kane clan, all right.
CHAPTER NINE
Chin resting in my palm, I tap my manicured fingernails on the desk and wait for Steele’s stunts from this week to upload onto my laptop. For the past five days, Steele’s challenged me, impressed me, and he’s diligently worked with me, but he hasn’t hit on me. Not a single inappropriate or suggestive word. He’s been purely professional. Did my sexual harassment statement scare him off? When he questioned me, I thought my answer and silence spoke for itself. His flirtation was welcomed and, clandestinely, wanted.
I’m embarrassed to admit it, Trevor, but I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the first man to kick-start my body since you.
Oh well, maybe Steele’s given up. But that’s what I wanted, right?
I hear a ding, signaling the upload is complete. I close my laptop and shove it into my bag. One more day down in this dreadful state. I can’t wait to get back to the hotel, take off my clothes, and celebrate another week of celibacy with a bottle of red wine—the drier the better, less of a hangover that way.
I grab next week’s scripts from the desk.
“All done for the night?’
The deep husky voice startles me, sending the script in the air. “Shit!” I glance up. Steele’s standing in the doorway, a crisp white dress shirt clinging to his well-built, capable upper body. He must’ve just showered. No one smells this good from that far away.
He laughs, tickling my ears with the provocative sound. “Let me get ’em.” He walks into the room, bends down, and scoops the pile of papers from the floor. He comes up, and his delicious scent swirls in my nose as his body lightly skims mine. It’s like I’m infused with a huge blast of sexiness whenever he’s around. He affects all my senses, even the locked down ones between my legs. I need to get out of California. I need to get away from this man. I can’t do it again. I can’t fall for him.
I yank the papers from his hand. “Thanks.” I stumble back, and my ass bumps into the corner of the desk.
“You’re welcome.” He smiles. His body too close to mine. I should do something like step farther away from that which has the capability of ruining my three-year celibacy streak, but the desk is in my way. Yes. That’s the obstacle here. I’m unable to move because a desk is poking me in the ass cheek. As Lucy would always say, excuses, excuses.
Skimming my body with his eyes, he takes a rest at my mouth. “What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” Dark lashes lift and those intense, beguiling near black eyes fill every crevasse of my hungry body.
Think! Where are we going, or where does he think we’re going? Dammit! Think!
Right!
His brother’s band. Stone, yeah, that’s it. Steele, Stone, Crash, what unusual names.
I forgot all about it! “I’m not sure that I …”
“Oh-ho, no.” He shakes his head, stirring more of his awesome scent around the room, cramming more of it into the depth of my defenseless nostrils. Just over the sound of my racing heartbeat, I hear the script hit the desk. “No excuses. You are going, Miss Rigsby. I’ve been on my absolute best behavior all week.”
“You have,” escapes my lips, and I’m not sure if it’s a question or a confirmation.
“As have you.” He reaches up and pulls the clip from my hair. My long strands tumble loose, landing softly against my neck. His fingers sink into my hair. He massages my stressed follicles in a way that says he’s done this before. My head lolls back. “And now we shall reward ourselves by going out Saturday night and having a good time.”
I clench my hands, neutralizing my adverse response as he continues to rub my scalp. God! My eyes roll back because it feels so good. Like he, I have been on my best behavior. I watched him inspect every one of his own stunts and the car, not once but twice, before he let his little brother get into it. I observed his hands in action, pulling on straps and pushing on parts. His careful examinations, his patient and calm approach, the way he took his time to ensure safety and exactness. I viewed it all at a safe distance from across the room, wondering if that’s how he’d be with me. If his hands would be agile but firm, if he’d be cautious and reassuring. I imagined if I took him up on his offer, those hands and that patience could help me get over my fear of being with a man again, being with someone other than Trevor. I had conversations with myself in the mirror at my hotel room about how important it was not to act on that wonder, not to give in to those keen dark eyes or that smile filled with naughty intentions.
And, somehow, I made it through the week without letting that wonder get the best of me. I survived. Now, maybe, I do deserve a reward. Perhaps, a few drinks and a night out would be good for me. I liked Harley. She was nice. I could hang out with her and do as I’ve been doing all along; continue to resist Steele Kane.
He pulls my head back further with his sturdy fingertips and leans in close to my face. His lips nearly touch mine. He’s teasing me, offering me a sample of that patience he exercises so easily, and ther
e’s not an argument in front of any mirror that’ll refute it. I want this. I want him, and with no mirror around to stop me, I capitulate. “Seven. I’ll be ready at seven.”
Twenty-eight hours later, dressed in a white sleeveless chiffon camisole, frayed hem skinny jeans, and three-inch heel sandals, I laugh at Nix Kane. He’s funny, cute, and a bit nerdy in a sexy but hilarious way. He tells the stories about his daughter so good, with love-filled comedy. I guess being a single dad would have its moments. That is, with no mention of Mom, I assume he’s doing it on his own. He’s a tad different from his brothers. Token’s more of the serious type, Crash the silent, and Stone, well, I haven’t officially met him, but up on stage, he looks hot with his dark eyes and hair just like Steele.
“So”—Harley half laughs, eyes shifting from Nix to me—“are you originally from Chicago?”
“No. I’m from New York.” I take a sip of my wine. I spot Steele over the rim of the glass. Allowing me some much-needed space, he’s kept his distance while still managing to keep me in his line of sight.
“Oh, we got ourselves a true New Yorker here,” Nix says in a horribly botched Brooklyn accent.
“Actually, I’m not from the city. I grew up in a little town called Yorkshire. Ever heard of it?” I glance around at them all. “It’s kind of near Buffalo but more rural.”
“Ah,” some of them reply as most do. Mention Buffalo or Niagara Falls, the eighth wonder of the world, and people get a better idea of where I live.
“It’s like a little hick town,” Jaggs says, her violet eyes difficult to read.
“You know it?” I look at her. Not offended. Hick, hillbilly, redneck, I’ve heard it all. But to me, it’s where I grew up. It’s where I fell in love with Trevor. It’s home.
She nods, the short spikes on her head immobile. “I’m from the Rochester area. My friend has a cabin in Franklinville, New York.” She smiles, and it softens the dark tank top, jeans, and ink that covers most of her pale skin. I smile back, finally feeling a connection with her.
“Really! I didn’t know that!” Harley leans in, lowering her voice. “It’s you. You’re the one who wants the ice-skates?”
“Shhh …” Jaggs wrinkles her nose.
“Ice-skates?” I raise a brow.
“Oh, it’s a Kane thing. Birthday wish bowl thing.” Harley waves her hand at me. “I’ll explain later. Let’s do a shot.” She grabs my hand, Jaggs’s arm, and drags us to the bar.
Feeling a bit relaxed after two Alabama Slammers and one Redheaded Slut, I turn to Harley. “So, Steele? Any idea who broke his heart?”
“No.” She picks up her glass of wine, gazing thoughtfully over at him. “When I met him, he told me he didn’t believe in love, said the first woman he ever loved didn’t love him back. Sad, really. What about you?” Harley turns to Jaggs. “You hear anything?”
“Nope.” She points her beer at me. “You’re the first chick I’ve ever seen him with, but when it comes to any guy, I’d ask myself this”—she sets her bottle on the bar—“who’s the first woman any boy loves?” She grins. “I gotta pee.” She spins around and heads for the bathroom, leaving Harley and me to ponder the question.
We both turn to each other, and I blurt out, “Mom!”
“Have you met Mrs. Kane?”
“Yes.” Harley laughs. “She’s a five-foot-five fierce little Irish woman who loves her children to pieces. She’d do anything for all her children, including Steele and Stone, even though they’re not biologically hers. Oh, my!” Her eyes shoot to mine. “Do you think that’s it? I never thought about it until Jaggs said it. Token doesn’t really talk about it either, ya know, about them having different mothers. He treats Steele and Stone the same as the rest of his siblings. Could that be it, though? Oh, my God!” Attention back on Steele. “What could she have done to make him not believe in love?”
“She must have done something horrible,” I barely whisper.
“Jay?” I hear a low voice wash into my ear as a gentle yet strong hand touches my bare shoulder. I turn to my left and look up into dark eyes; Steele’s eyes minus that strong wireless sexual connection that zaps through my body whenever I stare into them.
I blink. “Yeah.” I smile, twisting around. “Hi. You must be Stone.”
His dark flatline eyes droll over my face. My heartbeat quickens. The music quiets. The only thing I see is him. No Steele, no Jaggs, no Harley, just Stone. Silently, he stands in front of me inspecting me. “You must be something special ’cause from what I see, you might have what it takes to break the Man of Steele,” he finally says as a small smile touches the tips of his lips.
I laugh instantly, getting the joke. He’s witty, didn’t see that coming. “Now who told you that?” I glance over at Steele, currently caught under the arm of Nix as he holds him captive, chattering into his ear.
“No one. See”—Stone leans in closer to me—“I’m a superhero too.”
“You are?” I smile, liking him already.
“Yes.” he nods. “And the way my brother looks at you, I know. Yes, I know.” He stands up straight, locking his near black eyes with mine. “You definitely have what it takes to break the Man of Steele.”
“Well, I’m not interested in breaking anything tonight. I’m just here to have a few drinks.” I lift my glass of wine. “And listen to some great music.”
“Here, here.” He chuckles, lifting his beer while checking his cell phone. “I wouldn’t want to have to put my brother back together after finishing my set tonight.” He glances at Steele, who’s making his way over to us, before taking another look at his cell. “It was nice to meet you, Jay. Please, don’t tell my big bro about my superhero powers. He feels weak enough around you already.” He looks up from his cell. “Hey, bro.” He flicks his brows with a wolfish grin.
“Stone. I see you met Jaylyn.” Steele smiles at me.
“Yeah.” Stone squeezes his shoulder. “But time’s up.” He waves his cell phone. “I gotta get back on stage.” And without another look or word, Stone disappears into the crowd just as quickly as he had appeared.
“I guess he had to go.” I laugh, more so over the quirky conversation I just had with Steele’s brother.
“Yes. When the time’s up, it’s up. He was in the Army, deactivated bombs, still does sometimes for the government. He’s got issues with timers, alarm clocks, shit like that. You don’t ever want to be late to meet him, or he’ll blow up your phone.” He chuckles, toggling between my eyes and mouth. “With calls, not⸺”
“I got it.” I laugh, again. Feels good. I don’t think that I’ve laughed this much in a long time. I like Steele’s family, and as hard as I’ve tried not to, I like Steele Kane too.
CHAPTER TEN
Somehow, Steele got through the door of my hotel room. Could’ve been the three shots and two glasses of wine at the bar, or maybe that smile. Damn, he’d titillate any disciplined, broken-hearted celibate. At least, he’s on the sofa and not on the bed that’s, oh, I don’t know, about five feet away. My eyes flash to it. No! Do not look at the bed. Look at him. Keep your eyes on the prize. No! Not the prize! The enemy! The sexy, rockin’ hard bod and low, stop and listen to my voice …
Our eyes connect. Mistake.
“Do you want something to drink?” I pad over to the small refrigerator, glad to be free of my three-inch heels and Steele Kane’s eyes. I open the door. Dammit. “Or some wine?” I glance over at my preferred drink of the month, desperately needing a glass … or two.
Better not. I’m still a bit tipsy from earlier. Any more alcohol and I might close the door on my good judgment.
“No. Maybe just some water?”
“I got that.” I pull a bottle from the fridge, close the door, and hand it to him, keeping my gaze level on his chest—the third button undone on his shirt, to be exact. His skin doesn’t appear overly hairy. It’s tan and smooth … no doubt, soft and …
“Thanks.” The sound o
f his voice snaps my eyes back to his.
“You’re welcome.” I smile, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Your brother’s good.”
“Yeah,” he says, after taking a healthy gulp of water.
“I like Nix too. You didn’t tell me you had a niece,” I say, wringing my hands as he sets the water bottle on the table and stands up. “And Jaggs, she’s, ah …”
“Different,” he finishes for me with a grin.
“Yes, that’s about right.” Breaths quickening and heart palpitating, I slide my feet back on the carpet as he moves toward me. “It’s too bad Crash couldn’t make it tonight. I⸺”
“Relax.” He touches my arm, causing the opposite effect.
“I’m relaxed,” I say, body rigid, eyes back to counting the shiny black buttons on his shirt.
“Really?” His low chuckle illuminates my lie. “You’re acting like you’re on the subway for the first time, watching for signs of danger. You know, I can get off this train whenever you want, Jay. Say the word and I’ll leave. Hey.” He taps me under the chin. I look up and am met by his calm demeanor. Why can’t I make his breaths quicken, make his heart palpitate, make him worry about what he’s going to wear to work, or make him think about me all the time, analyzing every interaction we have … “Is that what you want?”
“What?” I blink away the ridiculous thoughts. He’s not the type of guy to pine over any woman. “No. Not yet.” I rub the spot on my arm he just touched, not ready to be left alone in my hotel room. “I had fun tonight, thank you.”
A light flickers in his near black eyes. “It was good to see you laugh. You’re so serious at work.”
“I’m there to do a job.” How does he expect me to act while I’m trying to save idiots’ lives? Like really, don’t worry if the helicopter blade cuts off an arm, you got another one!
“Yes, but it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy what you’re doing.”
Steele Page 6
