by Joss Wood
Judging by his passionate response, not even a little bit.
For her part, from the moment she’d touched down in the States, she’d been unable to think of much else except seeing Mason, touching him, re-exploring that powerful body, inhaling his scent, having his words and voice and hands and mouth touching her skin.
Callie couldn’t even blame her impatience on sexual frustration since she’d seen a little action while she was away. She smiled. Callie Brogan, society doyenne, Ray Brogan’s wealthy, once-proper widow using seeing and action in the same sentence.
Callie picked up her phone and scrolled through her pictures of Thailand, stopping on the photo of a blond man holding a beer in his big hand. That hand had cradled her face, caressed her body and, for one night, she’d enjoyed his touch. She’d met him on the beach in Ko Tao and had slept with him two nights later.
It had been nice sex, fun sex...
Callie scrolled on and stopped at the image of a black-haired man, younger than her but not by much. She’d been in Candidasa and she and Greg had spent the week together before she’d allowed him to kiss her, to indulge in some heavy petting under a full moon.
She was fifty-five years old and she’d now slept with three and a half men. Two and half in the last two months. Callie was both proud and flabbergasted but not ashamed.
Maybe she should be, but she sure as hell wasn’t.
Her heart had been in hibernation for so long, her libido for even longer, and Mason had yanked her out of her cave. She hadn’t realized it when she impulsively booked a flight to Southeast Asia but she needed to go away to meet herself, to find out who she was and what she wanted.
She missed her husband, she probably always would, but in Thailand, she’d finally accepted that Ray was gone, that her actions didn’t—couldn’t—affect him. Her life was her own.
As was her body. She could sleep with whomever she pleased.
It took a little time, a lot of honesty and facing the best and worst of herself before she came to the profound acceptance of the fact that she was allowed to question her life and her beliefs. That she could not only explore herself, her sexuality and her future but she owed it to herself to do exactly that. She was the only one she had to consult, the only person to please.
She also owed it to herself to find out who she was and what she wanted.
She had money, lots of it, and she wanted to use her wealth in ways that mattered, ways that would honor Ray and the businessman he’d been. She had thoughts about providing seed money to fund micro-businesses in developing countries; her business degree and being Ray’s right-hand person reassured her that she could spot a good idea when she saw one. There were lots of options, many places and people who needed her help. She’d never be bored again.
But how did she really feel about that big demanding rebellious tattooed math geek who—what was the expression Darby used?—set Callie’s panties on fire?
Was Mason just a fling, a bridge from her old life to her new one, or was he simply someone or something different? Was he her rebellion? Was he just good sex? Or maybe just a total contrast to Ray, who’d been so safe, so stable?
Yesterday had been anything but safe and stable; her actions had been outright madness. Okay, the coat and the sexy lingerie hadn’t been necessary, or even clever, in a snowstorm, but seeing the shock on Mason’s face had been worth the risk of hypothermia.
After slapping her bare butt against the glass door of his coffee shop and kissing her brainless, he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and jogged back to his cramped office, where he’d taken her on top of his keyboard, papers, pens and receipts.
It had been wild and sexy and the very opposite of nice.
After her two Thailand encounters, she now suspected Mason was the only man who could turn her core molten, who could whip her up to a point where she begged, who could turn her into a wild, crazy, on-fire-for-him woman.
Callie sighed. She no longer wanted the sex she’d had in Thailand: gentle, considerate...nice sex. She wanted the heart-pumping, soul-destroying, clothes-tearing sex she’d had with Mason yesterday.
She’d always love Ray, would always hold on to the memories of him, but now the only person she could imagine in her bed, in her life, was that surly annoying man down the road.
But how could she have Mason and the new life she needed? She wanted her freedom, but dammit, she wanted Mason, too.
Something was going to have to give. She’d have to compromise. But what would she have to lose?
Her freedom and her future or Mason?
Six
“Interesting friends.”
Darby turned back to Judah and nodded. They were interesting—and very damn annoying. “Don’t feel obligated to take DJ up on her offer of the apartment.”
Judah leaned back and laced his fingers over his hard belly. “I never feel obligated to do anything. But I think it’s a practical solution to my tabloid press problem.” He tipped his head to the side. “But you don’t think so and I’m curious as to why not.”
He hadn’t asked a question, so Darby didn’t respond, choosing to look at her laptop screen instead.
“Could it be because you are worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
Heat rocketed into Darby’s cheeks, across her forehead, down her neck. But embarrassment—and him putting his finger on that solid-gold truth—wasn’t a good enough reason to let his statement remain unchallenged. “I could kill myself jumping off your ego.”
Darby liked the way his face remained inscrutable while laughter sparked in those ink-blue eyes. Her eyes dropped to his lips and she remembered the taste of him, his assured way of holding her, his confidence in what he was doing and how to do it. He would take control in bed and the thought excited her. A lot.
Of course, she was worried about being able to keep her hands off him. He was spectacular.
She was not going to get hot and bothered. Not, not, not. She could not afford to bring that much drama into her life.
Jac snuffled and Darby sent her a fond, if exasperated, look. The baby had kept Darby awake for most of the night and now, when it was time to wake up, she was dead to the world.
Judah, in contrast, looked refreshed, smelled like an orchard of something citrusy and was firing on all cylinders. She was...
Not.
Darby pushed her shoulders back and straightened her spine. There was nothing she could do about her appearance right now. It was more important to get her life—their lives—on track. Throughout the night, whenever Jac settled down enough to allow Darby a couple of minutes to work, she started listing the steps they’d need to take to make the next couple of weeks a success.
Or at the very least, avoid neglecting Jac, failing the art museum project or killing each other.
Darby turned her attention back to her laptop screen and the spreadsheet she’d compiled during the night. She immediately felt calmer. With her lists, she could achieve world domination if she wanted.
Right now, her main aim was to bring a certain famous architect over to her way of thinking.
Darby turned the laptop and moved her chair so they both had a good view of the screen. His wonderful scent and the warmth from his body flipped her switch. Shaking her head, she forced herself to ignore the lust river coursing through her body. This was about work, not play.
Judah gestured to her monitor with his coffee cup. “What’s this?”
“A plan of action.”
Judah leaned forward, frowning. “It’s all color coded.”
“It’s pretty but functional. Pink is Jac related, green is the color I allocated to the art museum project, aqua is your personal business, purple is mine—”
Judah looked at the screen again. “Why have you booked a day off next week?”
Darby flushed, heat coursing thro
ugh her. Whether she decided to try IVF now or later, she’d need eggs, and thinking that her dividend check would be bigger, she’d made an appointment and paid the deposit to have her eggs harvested.
The urge to tell Judah that she was infertile, that there was a strong possibility she’d never be able to hold her own child, was both strong and strange. She rarely shared her gynecological history with anyone. It wasn’t anyone’s business but her own.
Darby looked at his profile and for the first time in a long time—years and years and years—she wanted to tell someone—him—that she felt inadequate. Crazy. Why him and why now? All she knew about Judah Huntley was that he was a supremely talented architect, that he wasn’t a pushover and that he kissed like a dream.
She was simply tired and not thinking straight. Once she got a few hours’ sleep, she would feel normal again.
She hoped.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
And she had no intention of doing so. Darby tapped the touch screen and another list came up. “This is everything I could think of that needs to be accomplished. If you think of anything, you can add it here. I’ve set up an account so we can share these and I’ve emailed you the authorization codes.”
Judah looked from the screen to her and back to the screen. “When did you do this?” he demanded.
“Last night. In between Jac’s bouts of misery.” Darby saw his puzzled look and lifted her hands. “What?”
“You are a spreadsheet freak. I have never seen anything like it in my life.”
Darby wasn’t sure if his statement was a mockery or a compliment. “I like lists. They keep me organized.”
Judah leaned back in his chair and cocked his head. “Oh, I think you like them because they make you feel like you are in control.”
She was in control. There was no “feeling” involved. Darby dismissed his observation with a wave of her hand. She’d always known what she wanted and how to get it. One just needed to be prepared and to persevere. Most situations could be solved by making lists and breaking a big project down into manageable tasks.
Unfortunately, no matter how many lists she made, she couldn’t get her body to cooperate with creating a child. And it was just as impossible to convince potential life partners to stick around after explaining that effort and money would be needed for her to start a family and that failure was a very real possibility.
Enough now, Darby. You’re on a solo journey. Get used to it.
Darby forced her attention back to her list. “We need to make a couple of decisions about Jac. The first is that I would like to get her checked out by a doctor. I think she might have an ear infection and that’s why she’s not sleeping.”
“She could also be feeling unsettled because she’s in a strange place with strange people and she has no clue what’s going on,” Judah suggested, and Darby heard the annoyance in his voice.
“Sure, that’s a possibility, but she also thumped her fist against her ear and I remember one of the babies I looked after doing that and it turned out she had an ear infection.” Darby, unable to sit this close to him and not touch him, shifted to put some distance between them.
“You looked after babies when you were a kid?”
Darby nodded. After she’d been given the news that she might never have her own children, she’d sought out babies, needing to be around what she thought she couldn’t have. Being told no, that she couldn’t do something, was like waving a red rag at a bull. Her stubborn, determined nature immediately kicked into higher gear.
Thank God she hadn’t had a boyfriend in her teens; she might have had unprotected sex with him just to prove to herself that she could get pregnant.
Was that why she was strongly considering IVF? Because someone had told her no?
Uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts, she moved back to the list. “I’ve made an appointment for ten thirty with a pediatrician working out of the same practice as my doctor and I gave him your billing information,” Darby told him. “I’d like to go home first to shower and change. While I’m doing that, you can look over DJ’s apartment and see if it will suit you.”
Judah placed his coffee cup on the table in front of him and scanned her list again. “Are you always this obsessively detailed?”
She wanted to lie, to play it down, but he’d find out the truth sooner rather than later. “Yes.”
Judah grinned. “God help me.” Turning to face her, he lifted his hand to brush her hair back from her forehead. His eyes slammed into hers and Darby saw amusement mixed with concern in all that blue. “Take a breath, Brogan, don’t worry so much.”
She wasn’t worried, she was organized. Being organized stopped her from being worried. It kept her on track to reach her goals, made sure she achieved what she set out to do. Why couldn’t people understand that?
“I’m not worried. I just want to do my job.” Darby’s body stiffened with tension.
The corners of Judah’s mouth lifted. “And that job would be world domination?”
Oh, now he was just mocking her.
Darby felt her spine snap straight and she cursed the blush she could feel in her cheeks. “Are you prepared to consider what I said or not?”
Judah played with a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “Yeah, we’ll take Jac to the doctor, and fair warning, I’ve pretty much already decided to take DJ up on her offer to loan me her apartment. I’m just hoping that you cook.”
Nice try, mister. “I’ll cook every second night. And you’ll share the responsibilities of looking after Jac, I’m not doing it by myself. I’ll draw up a schedule.”
“Of course, you will,” Judah said, his thumb gliding over her full bottom lip. “Tell me, do you schedule sex?”
Darby jerked back, shocked. “What?”
Judah flashed her what she was coming to recognize as his pirate grin. It was cheeky and cocky and so damn in-your-face confident. He lifted one broad shoulder in an insouciant shrug. “I just thought that a woman intent on taking over the world should have a measure of stress relief.”
“Not with you!” Darby said, annoyed beyond belief.
The pirate morphed back into the professional and his eyes cooled. “Obviously, not with me. We can’t possibly confuse this situation with something sexual.”
Her brain knew that was the sensible course of action. But her long-neglected libido vehemently disagreed.
And when she looked in Judah’s blue eyes and saw the deep regret in all that blue, she suspected his libido disagreed, too.
* * *
After another shower—the quick one she had in Judah’s hotel room didn’t really count—Darby walked into the massive family kitchen in her house and headed straight for the coffee machine.
Needing a break, she reached for her favorite cup and shoved it under the spout of Levi’s fancy coffee machine. She hit the correct button, then gripped the counter and straightened her arms, looking down at the black-and-white tiled floor beneath her flat-soled leather boots.
She needed five minutes, ten, enough time for caffeine to jolt her awake.
After returning from the doctor—her suspicions about Jac having an ear infection turned out to be correct—she and Judah hit the mall. When she suggested they stop to pick up a couple of items for Jac—more diapers and formula, clothes better suited for Boston in a blizzard—instead of hitting a discount supermarket, Judah steered his luxury SUV into the parking lot of an exclusive mall housing one of the city’s most famous boutique baby stores.
By the time they left, they had not only a car seat, but also a six-foot-tall brown bear and everything in between, including baby monitors and a cot that turned into a bed suitable for a toddler. The total at the checkout had been staggering, but Judah just handed over a black credit card and didn’t blink.
Judah would probably have
all this stuff shipped to his apartment in New York when he was done in Boston... Did that mean he planned on seeing more of Jac?
Darby really hoped she wasn’t in lust with a guy who’d only pay attention to his daughter if and when it suited him.
Darby heard the kitchen door open and close and then the familiar sound of Levi kicking off his boots. Turning around, she watched her big brawny brother walk into the kitchen, a scowl on his face. Darby had given up trying to work out whether he was pissed at her or not; it could go either way with Levi.
They’d never been close, even though they still shared the same house, and she knew she would never have the same kind of relationship Levi shared with Jules or with DJ. He adored them. Her? Not so much.
“Hi,” Darby said, her tone wary. “You’re home early.”
Levi pushed a hand through his dark brown hair, tinged with red. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead—none of the Brogan siblings looked alike.
“I’m heading out of town,” Levi curtly replied. “I got a message from DJ saying she’s loaned her apartment to Judah Huntley?”
“Yeah. He’s there now.” Darby pulled her cup from under the spout and automatically handed it over to her brother. She placed another cup under the spout for herself. “He’s got his daughter with him, she’s nine months old. I’m working with him, helping him with a project here in Boston. I’ve also agreed to help him look after Jac.”
As she expected, disapproval settled on Levi’s masculine features. He rubbed his hand over his face. “God, you and babies.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Levi sipped his coffee and raised one powerful shoulder. “Why do I have to hear about your latest IVF news from Mom?”
Dammit. Darby wrinkled her nose, silently admitting that she should’ve told him. But she’d been trying to avoid an argument, trying to avoid being told what to do. Levi loved telling all of them what to do. Darby hadn’t listened since she was seven years old.
