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 there’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.