by Tessa Bailey
If she could go back in time and take back the offer of money, she would. Hayden didn’t make a habit of wielding her privilege unnecessarily. Especially since it had never felt like hers to begin with. Then again, he hadn’t exactly turned down the cash, had he? Hayden was pondering that confusing realization when she felt a warm hand curl around her elbow. She gasped and spun around to identify the hand’s owner, dropping the phone in the process.
And landed hard against Brent.
“Whoa. Easy.” He steadied her on her feet, then bent down to pick up her phone. “I know I’m tough to resist but save the fun stuff for later. We’re in public, woman.”
She glared up at him, still thrown off by his sudden appearance. “How about announcing yourself? You can’t just go around grabbing women’s arms on dark streets.”
“I’m pretty damn easy to see coming if your face isn’t buried in your phone.”
“I was calling you.”
“What for? I’m right on time.”
“I see that.” She bit her bottom lip, noticing for the first time how well he wore the suit. Never having seen him dressed in anything besides street clothes or his uniform, she had to admit he cleaned up well. Really well. His powerful chest and shoulders filled out the black jacket perfectly, the snug white shirt beneath tapering down into his matching dress pants. He looked every inch the gentleman. Too bad she knew better.
“See something you like?” His voice dropped low. “I’d be happy to skip this little shindig and let this suit spend the night on your bedroom floor.”
“That’s not happening.” Her body’s reaction didn’t match her words, however. Toes curled inside her high heels, belly heated, skin prickled. “This thing between us ends now. In fact, I was calling you to cancel. I think avoiding each other for a while might be a good idea.”
He came closer, backing her toward the building. “If you think you can get me into Manhattan on my day off in this fancy getup, then send me home before I’ve had a chance to make an impression, you’re crazier than I thought. This is happening, duchess. I didn’t shave twice in one day for nothing.” The doormen held open the glass double doors as he walked her backward into the lobby and straight into an elevator. She looked at the doorman indignantly, but he merely cast an eye at Brent and shrugged as though to say, “As if I could stop him?”
When the elevator doors rolled shut, she reached over to punch the button for the twenty-third floor, but he caught her hand. “Let go of me.”
Ignoring her command, he tugged her closer. Against her will, she breathed in his fresh-from-the-shower scent. He braced his hands above her, trapping her against him and the wall. “Are you wearing that garter belt? Show me before we go in. I need a little motivation.”
Hayden laughed in disbelief. “Motivation for what, exactly? I just told you that this”—she gestured back and forth between them—“isn’t going to happen. Even you can agree it’s a bad idea. If for no other reason, we need to knock it off for Daniel and Story’s sake. It’s bad enough we can’t stand each other. If we add sex to the equation, it’ll make things twice as messy.”
“Our friends have nothing to do with this and you know it.” He leaned in and sniffed—sniffed!—her neck. “Why don’t you admit the real problem? You don’t think you can make it through the night without jumping my bones.”
When his tongue flicked out to taste the sensitive skin of her neck, she involuntarily tipped her head to the side to grant him access, which he immediately took advantage of, kissing and rubbing his lips over her damp flesh. “N-no. You can rest easy. I want no part of your bones. I’m just not so sure any more about embarrassing my parents.”
Brent stilled his mouth’s movements. “That embarrassment being me, right?”
“That’s not—” Hayden cut herself off, reminding herself she didn’t owe him apologies or explanations. “That’s right. Color me shocked that you managed to show up looking halfway decent. I thought you might ditch the suit and show up in a bolo tie.”
“I’d thought about wearing my Spider-Man costume, but it’s at the cleaners.”
With a snort, Hayden pulled away to search her phone for the private security code Stuart had texted her earlier, then punched it into the elevator’s keypad. Brent stayed silent until the doors opened to reveal the foyer of Stuart’s palatial penthouse, soft music and candlelight drifting toward them. Farther inside, she heard laughter and the clinking of glasses. The appetizing scent of a surely delicious dinner greeted them.
She would have rather been anywhere else at that moment.
Hayden started a little when Brent took her hand. He smiled tightly and led her out of the elevator. “Let the fireworks begin.”
“Brent—”
“Hayden, is that you?” Her mother’s voice rang out from the living room. “Dear, you’re right on time to hear Stuart talk about his new investor for the com—” Her mother broke off as she and Brent rounded the corner, her eyes going wide as silver dollars. Hayden tried not to fidget as six other pairs of eyes, including her father’s and Stuart’s, landed on them. As always, her mother recovered quickly. “Well, well. Who is this?”
Drawing on years of practicing social niceties, Hayden smiled and drew Brent forward. She might feel like hurling, but no one else had to know. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Brent. My date for this evening.”
She watched her mother’s nails dig into the white leather couch. Beside her, Brent let out a low whistle and she squeezed his hand to shut him up. “Date? You didn’t mention you were bringing a date.”
Hayden started to respond, but her father, who had been eyeing Brent speculatively, spoke up first. “Oh, uh, darling. This is all my fault. Hayden phoned me earlier at the office and told me.” He turned to Stuart with a contrite look that deserved an award. “She asked me to call and let you know, but I got tied up on a conference call. My apologies. I trust there’s room for one more?”
Stuart, who until now had been watching the proceedings with poorly veiled disappointment, rose and started toward them. “Sure, why not? Hayden, you look beautiful as always,” he said, kissing her cheek. When he lingered, Brent cleared his throat, drawing Stuart’s attention. He held out his hand. “Stuart Nevin, nice to meet you.”
Eyeing each other, they shook hands. “Brent Mason. Likewise.”
If her stomach wasn’t tied up in knots, Hayden might have laughed at the physical differences between the two men. Brent towered over Stuart, his giant hand all but swallowing the other man’s smooth, elegant one as they shook longer than the introduction warranted. Stuart pulled back first, running his hand through his jet-black hair, looking less than thrilled.
Hayden’s father stood to shake Brent’s hand. “My daughter failed to mention she was bringing one of the Jets linebackers to dinner,” he joked, with a wink in Hayden’s direction. All at once, she felt horrible. She’d brought Brent with the intention of thwarting her mother’s incessant matchmaking efforts, but any minute now Brent would say something intentionally offensive in front of her father. Whom she loved with all her heart. Who’d just covered for her, no questions asked.
Brent laughed. “With all their preseason injuries, the Jets need all the help they can get this year. Maybe I should take a chance and try out.”
Her father brightened. “I take it you’re into fantasy football?”
Brent confirmed with a nod. “Had my draft last week.”
“Come sit,” her father insisted, leading Brent away from her and toward the couch. “I need some advice on a trade. My office pool is so competitive…”
Hayden stood on the landing, watching in stupefied wonder as her father and Brent’s discussion continued, growing more animated by the second. What the hell just happened here? The two other gentlemen, apart from Stuart, gathered around her father and Brent to join in their discussion. When they all laughed uproariously over something Brent said, Hayden turned to Stuart and asked him for a whiskey, neat.
&nb
sp; By the time dinner was served, Brent had offered to dismiss everyone’s parking tickets, told several riveting police stories to his now-captivated audience, and even performed the Heimlich maneuver on one of her father’s associates, dislodging a green olive and earning the man’s undying gratitude.
Hayden speared a perfectly cooked scallop with her fork when something Brent said made one of the older champagne-drunk socialites break out in high-pitched laughter.
As he launched into another story, he looked over and winked at her.
She’d been had.
…
“So I loaded him into the back of the squad car and told him, ‘Next time, bring ski boots.’”
Around him, the men dissolved into laughter and Brent tossed back the remains of the girly drink he’d been handed after dinner. Storytelling could be thirsty work. Especially when you could practically feel daggers being stared into the back of your head by a certain someone in sexy stockings.
“So how does one become an explosives expert?” Hayden’s father asked, leaning back in an antique chair that cost more than Brent’s mortgage. “It seems like a dangerous choice, running toward the bomb when everyone else is running the opposite direction.”
“It definitely requires a certain level of insanity. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s listed in the job description.” Brent shrugged. “At least there aren’t people lined up to replace me.”
“I’d imagine not,” Stuart commented absently as he sipped a glass of wine.
Amused, Brent let a beat pass before filling the silence. “I was lucky. My father was a cop, too. He recognized that I had a knack for it. Most parents get upset when you blow up your sister’s Barbie Dreamhouse. My father took me to an explosives demonstration instead.”
The older woman he’d been mentally referring to as Socialite Number Two laughed. “Is your father…tall like you?”
Grr-owl. One ticket to Cougartown, please. Brent glanced in Hayden’s direction, swallowing a laugh when she tossed back most of her drink. “Nope. Got the height from my mother. My parents met for the first time at a bar.” He leaned forward as if imparting a secret. “When the bartender asked my father for his drink of choice, he infamously responded, ‘Nothing for me. I’ve already got a tall drink of water right here.’”
Hayden burst out laughing, but quickly reined it in when she seemed to realize all eyes were trained on her. “Um. Where is your father now?”
“Retired in Florida. Last time I went for a visit, he was rebuilding the engine on a sixty-eight Pontiac Firebird in the driveway. Mom calls it his playtime.”
Stuart raised a lazy eyebrow. “You know cars?”
Brent watched as Hayden’s drink paused halfway to her mouth. She was obviously petrified of him revealing his second profession, embarrassing her in the process. Reminding himself he didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought, Brent cleared his throat, keeping his eyes squarely on Hayden. “Yes. Actually, I moonlight as a mechanic.”
Two seats away, her mother’s fork scraped along the expensive china. Stuart, however, couldn’t have looked more pleased. “One of my Aston Martins needs a new alternator.” He propped his ankle on his knee, smiling smugly at Brent. “Can I trust you with it?”
Brent saluted him with his drink, ignoring the pang in his chest when Hayden rose quickly and left the room. “You can trust me to overcharge you.”
Stuart smiled on cue, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Brent forced himself to remain seated when the man got up a moment later and followed Hayden from the room. Just as he made the decision to go after them, Hayden’s father threw another question his way, but he could barely focus on it.
Last night, when he’d been handcuffed and blue-balled within an inch of his life in Hayden’s foyer, he’d let her think he was going to show up and act like the big clown she perceived him to be. Instead, he’d prove to her that she didn’t have the first clue about him or what he was capable of. That using the right fork and shooting the shit with millionaires was a breeze when compared with dismantling a pipe bomb or rescuing injured civilians from a structural collapse.
And maybe, just a small part of him had wanted to prove it to himself. He didn’t lack familial affection in his life. His parents, his sister and brother, his nieces…they were all grateful for the work he put in to keep their lives running smoothly and they never hesitated to tell him. They depended on him and he loved that. It drove him. But sometimes he wondered if he spent so much time making ends meet, he was forgetting himself. Defining himself by how much money he made per week. How many problems he could solve with each paycheck. It may have been unconscious, this need to prove he could accomplish something that didn’t involve a wrench or C4, but he couldn’t deny an odd satisfaction at having fit in tonight, without sacrificing his identity in the process.
He hadn’t forgotten his other reason for being there tonight, though. After Stuart spent the entire dinner with his eyes glued to Hayden’s breasts, Brent’s teeth were still on edge, even as he strove for casual. Not that he could fault the guy. The girl might be spoiled and thoroughly exasperating, but she had an amazing rack. He’d sneaked in more than a few peeks himself. Stuart, however, had all but danced on the table pointing at them, shouting “Gimme, gimme, gimme!”
Stuart. Damn, even the guy’s name annoyed the shit out of him. He shouldn’t care if the two snobs ended up together. Hell, they deserved each other. But he couldn’t deny feeling a whole heap of aggravation over the idea. It had to be the lust talking. She’d left him unsatisfied last night and until he had her, apparently this territorial feeling would eat him alive. If he had his way, it wouldn’t be much longer. Whether or not they could stand to share the same air, he wanted her like hell.
Brent scratched the back of his neck, feeling anxious. He didn’t like Hayden and Stuart being outside his line of vision. She didn’t want to be alone with him. It had been one of the reasons she’d brought him along.
Trying to tamp down the twitch of alarm, Brent set down his glass on a crystal coaster and rose from the couch, murmuring an excuse as he went. She hadn’t mentioned why she wanted Stuart kept away, had she? Brent’s stride increased in pace. He’d just turned down the hallway leading to the kitchen when he heard voices.
“Come on, Hayden. You know you just brought him here to make me jealous. It worked. Is that what you want to hear?”
She sighed. “Actually, I couldn’t care less.” Her heels clicked then stopped short. “Stuart, I need to get back to my mother. Move out of the way. You’ve clearly had a lot to drink.”
“A cop, though? Honestly, sweetheart.”
Hayden said something Brent couldn’t hear.
“Fine, then. Why don’t we try to make him a little jealous instead?”
“No.”
Brent had heard more than enough. His vision swam a little as he entered the kitchen and saw Hayden wedged between Stuart and the marble island, clearly trying to ward him off. He dug his fingers into his palms and breathed deeply through his nose. Hayden’s eyes shot wide when she saw him, alerting him to the fact that his temper was showing on his face. Stuart followed her line of vision, backing off immediately when he saw Brent. It took every ounce of willpower he had inside him not to grab Stuart by the neck and toss him like a rag doll across the room. But a small voice of reason told him he’d come this far in proving to her he wasn’t some hotheaded idiot. He couldn’t blow it now.
Brent nodded once at Stuart. “You’re wanted in the living room.”
“Very well.” He looked at Hayden. “Are you coming?”
“No, she’s staying,” Brent responded before he could stop himself. Her posture stiffened slightly at his high-handedness, but he couldn’t summon the will to care. Currently, his will was all tied up. After a moment of tense silence, Stuart shrugged and proceeded to leave the kitchen, cocktail in hand. Brent stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could pass, then leaned in and spoke quietly so Hayden wouldn’t overhear.
“If you have trouble understanding the word ‘no,’ I’ll be more than happy to explain what it means. Especially when she says it.”
Stuart stiffened, but continued walking after a moment without looking back.
“Well? You’ve ordered me to sit and stay, master. Now what?”
Brent didn’t answer, just rounded the island in her direction with long strides.
“Don’t you need to get back to your pack of admirers? They’re bound to miss their new dude crush.” When he didn’t answer again, she frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not as though I encouraged him. I came in here for ice and he followed me. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Brent stopped in front of Hayden, forcing her to tilt her head back. “Yes, it is. You told me you wanted him kept away. It’s part of the reason you brought me here.”
She shook off his words. “I can handle Stuart without your help. Besides, you were a little busy playing teach the rich girl a lesson to notice anything else.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Listen—” She did a double take. “You’re what?”
He smiled. “I’m sorry. If you’d told me in advance how bad he was, I wouldn’t have let him within ten feet of you. We have our differences, Hayden, but I’d never let some asshole put his hands on you if I could prevent it. I have a sister. A mother. I take that kind of thing seriously.”
“Oh.” She stared up at him like he’d sprouted antennae. “Oh.”
His lips twitched. “Oh?”
Then in a move he didn’t see coming, Hayden dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a hot, hard, whiskey-flavored kiss. What little willpower Brent still possessed flew out the window when her tempting curves molded to his and she sucked on his tongue with a throaty moan. He sucked her tongue right back, letting his hands drop to her ass and knead the taut flesh beneath her skirt. It felt natural, inevitable, to lift her against him so she could wrap her legs around his waist, fitting their lower bodies together with a perfection that made him groan roughly into her mouth. Once he had her resting on top of his erection, he gripped her ass and slid her up and down, so she could experience every inch of it against her core.