by Evelyn Adams
CLAIRE TOOK THE cup of coffee Beth, Pete’s daughter-in-law, offered her with a nod of thanks. Maria, Pete’s wife – God, widow now – sat on the sofa opposite her with her sons flanking her. They each kept a hand on their mother’s shoulder and Claire’s heart ached at the protective gesture.
Maria and Pete had all boys and the sweet Italian woman had always taken a special interest in Claire and whatever she had going on. She’d gushed over Claire’s prom pictures and when her mother passed away she’d stepped in as a sort of surrogate mother. The normally vivacious, outgoing woman sat like a shadow between her sons and Claire’s heart broke all over again for Pete’s loss.
It was such a complete and total waste and she still didn’t understand how it could have happened.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, feeling impotent in the face of such love and loss.
Maria nodded and reached for Claire’s hand, giving it a surprisingly strong squeeze.
“The police aren’t telling us anything,” said Nico, Maria’s oldest son. “Do you have any idea what happened? My father worked construction his whole life. I can’t understand how this could happen.”
“I don’t understand either,” Claire said, shaking her head. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but your dad and I were up on the sixth floor earlier in the day reviewing the plans. He was going to get things ready for the rough-in. I can’t figure out why he would have been anywhere near the window.”
On the last word, Maria flinched and Claire despised whatever cruel twist of fate had brought so much pain to this family.
“I don’t know what caused the accident, but I don’t want you to worry,” she said, meeting the older woman’s stunned gaze. “We’ll take care of you. Pete has been part of English Electric since the beginning. Dad and I want to make sure you have what you need. We’ll keep paying Pete’s salary at least until his life insurance and workers comp and Social Security benefits kick in. Longer if you need us to. Whatever you need.” She kept her gaze on Maria’s, willing her to take some strength from what felt like a feeble offering.
Maria nodded. “Thank you, honey. That’s what Mr. Masters said, too. I appreciate it.”
“It’s the least he could do,” said Mark, the other son. “Our father died working on his jobsite. He’s probably scared we’ll sue.”
“That’s enough,” snapped Maria, showing the first hint of her normal fire. “That is not how your father would want you to act.”
He looked sheepish at his mother’s chastisement, but he was absolutely right. They could sue or at least try. They might not win, but they could make things difficult for Luke, and if he paid them anything, it increased their chances exponentially. Any money he gave them could be used against him in court as an admission of guilt. Claire knew the family, and she and her father owed them. She couldn’t let Maria struggle regardless of the consequence and she knew Maria wouldn’t take advantage of her.
Luke didn’t know the Lesters as anything more than a name on her payroll, and his exposure was so much greater than hers. He had no reason to trust them beyond the fact that she did. Knowing he hadn’t shied away from offering the family his help and support floored her. She didn’t understand where his need to protect the people she cared about came from but God help her, she loved him for it.
“Please let me know when the service will be.” She stood and then bent to brush a kiss over Maria’s cool cheek. The older woman nodded and Claire said her good-byes. She had to swing by the house she was flipping before heading home to Luke, determined, at least for now, not to fight that for her home meant him.
LUKE PULLED HIS Veyron into the gravel drive behind Claire’s truck and braced himself for the ass chewing he was sure was in his future. They had never resolved the conflict they’d had over what he’d done with the repairs to the house. With as mad as she’d been about drywall and floor sanding, he could only imagine how she’d react to the added security.
Didn’t matter, he thought, chirping the lock on his car. It wasn’t a horrible neighborhood, definitely on its way up, but parked in front of Claire’s house, his car looked like it belonged to a drug dealer. A freakishly successful drug dealer.
He grabbed the knob on the front door, growling to himself when it turned easily in his hand. Days ago she’d had the house broken into, but did she think it was important enough to lock the door when she was working there alone? Fuck no. And she was blaring Adele. Two steps into the house and he could hear her upstairs singing along with “Feel My Love.” Which meant if he were an ax murdering rapist, he’d probably make it to the top of the flight of steps effectively blocking her only escape before she even realized he was there.
Being deliberately quiet, he climbed the stairs. By the time he reached the top, his anger had hit full boil, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Claire on the other hand hadn’t missed a beat. She was singing her heart out, slightly off-key and oblivious to the fact he was there. I could hold you for a million years, she sang. His heart clenched, torn between wanting to kiss her senseless and turn her over his knee for being careless with her safety.
“Get in here, Masters, before you give yourself an aneurysm.”
Over his knee it was. He rounded the corner and found her straddling the top of a ladder finishing wiring for a reproduction fixture for the ceiling. Her worn jeans hugged the curves of her heart shaped ass and he could see the top of her thong peeking out above her waistband where her tool belt was weighing down her jeans. Her soft T-shirt accentuated the generous swell of her gorgeous tits, and she was biting the tip of her tongue as she fitted the light in place. As soon as he got her off that ladder, he had plans for her tongue.
“What the fuck are you doing? What are you thinking leaving the door unlocked? I could have been anyone come to do God knows what. Fuck, Claire.” Just thinking about what could happen to her if she wasn’t careful spiked his blood pressure to stroke levels.
“I knew you’d show up here. You can’t resist me.”
He couldn’t, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to spank some sense into her and shake her before he fucked her.
“Not the point, sweetheart,” he said through teeth gritted so tight he was going to end up needing dental work.
“I left the door unlocked so I wouldn’t have to stop what I was doing to let you in.” She spoke the words slowly as if talking to a child and when he exhaled it came out as a growl. “Relax,” she said, holding the fixture with one hand while she dug in her back pocket with the other hand.
He hurried to help her in spite of his anger, climbing the first couple of rungs of the ladder so he could hold the light fixture against the ceiling. She bent to brush a kiss over the tight line of his lips before thumbing open her phone and holding it out so he could see an image of the front door on the tiny screen.
“Jackson’s tech guy hooked up a temporary alarm so I can hear when someone opens the door and hooked the camera feed to my phone so I can see what’s going on. I knew you were here before you made it in the door,” she said, grinning.
Not only wasn’t she mad, she was working with Jackson’s guys. He could live to be a hundred and ten and he would never understand what was going on inside that head of hers.
“Does this mean you’re okay with the extra security?”
“Do I have a choice?” she countered, screwing the fixture to the ceiling bracket.
He waited until she had the last screw tight before he took his arm down. “No, you don’t,” he said, climbing off the ladder. “That hasn’t stopped you from causing trouble before.” She rolled her eyes, and he fisted his hands to keep from dragging her off the ladder. “Get down, Claire. Now.”
“As you command,” she said, the smart ass thick in her voice.
She swung her leg over the top of the ladder, and he reached up to grip her hips, her tool belt bumping against him as he pulled her off the ladder and into his arms. Her arms went around his neck and he slid one hand up her ba
ck. Wrapping her ponytail around his fist, he tugged, angling her mouth for his kiss. He swallowed her cry, not waiting to tease her lips apart, taking what he wanted from her instead. She met him, her tongue licking and tangling with his as she kissed him like he was the air she needed to breathe. Heat and need arced between them. He was never going to get enough of her. Never. He bit her bottom lip, scraping his teeth over the plump flesh and catching her sigh with his mouth.
“Please tell me you are not planning on staying here all night,” he said, palming her ass so he could fit her against his aching cock.
“I just have one more fixture I want to hang.” She let her hands run over his chest and the heat of her touch made him more determined to get her home as soon as possible.
Wriggling to escape his grasp, she shimmied out from between him and the ladder, bending to pick up a box containing a light fixture on the way out the door. He’d have bet money she did it on purpose simply to show him her ass.
“I’ll finish faster if you help me,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at him.
He had every intention of helping her, now and when he got her home and naked in his bed. He tucked the ladder under his arm and gave her ass a smack before following her out the door and into the other bedroom.
Setting the ladder up in the center of the room under the rough-in for the fixture, he held it steady while Claire climbed to the top. She threw her leg over the top of the ladder and he watched her uncoil the wire from the box she’d mounted in the ceiling. Using her pliers, she stripped the ends of the wire and waited for him to give her the fixture. As soon as he was sure she was safe at the top, he handed her the aged bronze and glass light and watched as she made the connections.
While she was twisting small wire nuts over the exposed wires, he glanced around at the drywall the crew he’d hired to fix the vandalism had hung. It was obvious from the discolored patches on the floor that the floor refinisher hadn’t had a chance to finished sanding before Claire kicked him out.
He watched her smiling to herself as she tightened the screws holding the fixture to the ceiling and wondered what the fuck had changed. Yesterday she’d been willing to end things between them because he hired some guys to fix the damage the vandals caused. Today she was working with Jackson without a problem.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, pretty sure he was going to regret asking but needing to know anyway. “But yesterday you couldn’t get over having my crews here to fix things.” He motioned to the floor and saw her stiffen. “Today you’re not only cooperating with my security team, you’re doing it with a smile. Why is today different?”
She tightened the last screw before swinging her leg over the top of the ladder, pausing halfway down to look at him. Any hint of playfulness had vanished from her face and he regretted his question. She’d been worn so thin since Pete’s death and the police. The last thing he wanted to do was make things more difficult for her. He opened his mouth to tell her to forget it, but she beat him to it.
“I’m still frustrated with the way you took over and don’t think we’re done talking about it.” She warned. “I guess I just decided to accept that you did what you did to try to help. And when I went to see Maria this afternoon and found out what you’d offered to do for her...well, you didn’t have to do that. You have a good heart, Masters.”
He should have known she’d find out about the money he’d set aside for Pete’s widow. His lawyers were going to be fucking pissed about that one. It didn’t matter; it had to be done. It had more to do with his sense of justice and wanting to please Claire than his heart. Most people who knew him didn’t think he even had a heart.
LUKE PULLED HIS CAR INTO the church parking lot and parked near the back. He’d taken the Jag instead of the Veyron. The last thing he wanted to do was call attention to himself at the funeral and as much as he loved the car, it was flashy as fuck. He wanted to be there for Claire and then get her back to his place. Hell, if it hadn’t been for her, he probably wouldn’t have gone to the funeral. It made him feel callous, but the reality was he didn’t know Pete, and until the police investigation was over and there was no way Masters Enterprises could be held liable for the accident, his lawyers would rather he stayed as far away as possible from the family.
He glanced at his watch. Half past. She should be here by now. He didn’t want to go in without her. She’d gone to pick up her father to bring him to the funeral. Luke offered to go with her, but he could tell she was nervous about how her father would react to being out and around all the people. She seemed almost grateful when he agreed to meet her at the church, but he couldn’t tell if she was just trying to eliminate variables or if she wasn’t comfortable with him meeting her father. He had managed to convince her to take his car and driver and to let him hire her dad’s normal nurse for the day.
Glancing at his watch again, he climbed out of the car. He hated being late for anything and if he waited at the front of the church he wouldn’t have to worry about finding them inside. The lot was already full with more people arriving. Apparently there were a lot of people who wanted to pay their respects to the Lester family. Since he doubted the lead electrician was a big philanthropist or something, the people showing up must have loved him or at least liked him enough to take off most of the day to spend it in church.
He wondered for a moment what his funeral would be like. He gave money all over the place and was an honorary member of countless boards. When he died, they’d probably all come crawling out of the woodwork, but would any of them care he was dead? Eric would. They’d been friends forever, and he knew the chef would genuinely mourn for him. So would Claire. They’d been seeing each other for a ridiculously short time, but she’d already gotten closer to him than he ever intended.
It was supposed to be sex. Mind blowing, screaming, fucking multi-orgasmic sex but just sex. Somehow things had gotten out of hand, and he knew without a doubt that if something happened to him, Claire would mourn for him. His phone vibrated, and he reached into his suit coat, grateful for the interruption. He had to get off the train of thought his mind was on and quick.
Claire’s text said they were almost there. He sent a quick one back telling her he’d meet her at the front of the church and picked up his pace to make sure he was at the steps before they arrived. There was a group of men, milling around in front of the church, and Luke recognized the young man Claire hugged the night of Pete’s accident. He was pretty sure most of the others were members of her crew as well. The group fell silent when they saw him, but before they’d had a chance to do more than nod in greeting and things got awkward, Claire’s car pulled to the front of the church.
He didn’t wait for the driver, hurrying to help Claire from the passenger’s side himself. He knew she was nervous about taking their relationship public in front of her crew, but since they’d shown up together the night of the accident everyone had pretty much figured out on their own that there was something going on between them. He didn’t see any reason to hide today.
Twining his fingers with hers, he let his other hand rest on the small of her back. Through the thin silk of her black blouse, he felt the hollow at the base of her spine. He’d had his lips there when he woke her up that morning. It had rapidly turned into one of his favorite places on her delicious body, right next to the dimples at the top of her ass. He flexed and relaxed his hand giving himself mental shit. How fucked up must he be to be thinking of sex with Claire at another man’s funeral. He really was a heartless monster.
When she saw her crew, she started to tug her hand free but he tightened his grip.
“They already know, sweetheart.” She drew in a deep breath but stopped struggling against him.
She offered the gathered men a sad smile before turning her attention back to the car and the middle aged black woman helping Claire’s father from the car. He looked much older than Luke expected, and it had been some time since the suit he was wearing fit him. The dark
gray jacket hung off his bent shoulders, but his face lit, taking away some of the years when he saw Claire waiting for him.
“Mr. English,” said one of the men Luke didn’t recognize.
Claire’s father turned to the men and was met with a chorus of Franks and Mr. English depending on the age of the man calling out to him. He looked momentarily confused, and Luke felt Claire freeze beside him. The nurse bent to say something to Claire’s father, and his face smoothed out.
“It’s a lot for him,” she said to the men gathered behind her. “He loved Pete and wanted to pay his respects, but I can’t guarantee that he’ll recognize anyone, including me sometimes.” Her voice caught, and Luke pulled her in closer, sheltering her under his arm.
If her men thought it was strange that the client developer was holding their boss, they hid it well. Mostly they looked like they were waiting for her to tell them what to do, and Luke was struck by the fact that the petite woman tucked against him was the undisputed leader of the gathered men. It was an extraordinary accomplishment at any age, but especially so young and one she’d had to earn. Even taking over the business from her father wouldn’t grant her that kind of power. If anything it could have made things harder for her if she hadn’t worked balls to the wall beside them.
“Maybe one at a time if you want to say hello,” she said to her guys.
A few of the men fell in line beside her while the rest made their way into the church. Claire’s father’s nurse, Becky he thought her name was, led her charge past the men who greeted him with a mixture of respect and sadness. The men who had worked with him obviously cared for her father as much as they did Claire. Mr. English nodded and murmured greetings, but Luke couldn’t tell if he recognized the men or not.
He gave Claire an extra squeeze before she followed her father up the stairs. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must be on her to watch the man she so obviously loved and admired slip away from her. He’d lost plenty of people, but he’d never loved anyone enough for it to matter.
