When Ethan woke the next morning, Alistair wasn’t in his room. At first, his brother thought he might just be sleeping in. Of all his brothers, Alistair certainly understood Ethan’s fondness for sleeping in. Their sleeping habits were probably the most similar, and had been since they were kids.

But when pounding on Alistair’s door didn’t bring the surly, foul-mouthed Scotsman bursting out, Ethan headed down to reception. The blushing teen there informed him that Alistair had been gone for hours, and Ethan wondered what the hell he could be up to.

He ordered some breakfast in a nearby cafe while he went over some of the paperwork the office had sent him. Ethan hoped that he’d be gone for less than a week but if they didn’t get some kind of breakthrough with Chloe soon, he might be stuck in Texas for quite a while.

For the third or fourth time since he’d arrived, he toyed with the idea of calling Vlad. Was it worth the verbal reaming he’d get in exchange for his brother’s patented business expertise? Perhaps. He could also call their father, but the old man needed all the rest he could get to preserve that brilliant mind.

Which meant that it was down to him, Alistair, and their wits... which was just fucking brilliant.

His brother showed up when he was almost finished with his breakfast - and, to Ethan’s surprise, he was grinning like a fucking loon. He arched a dark brow as the Scotsman slid into the booth across from him.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“What?” Alistair didn’t seem to have heard him. He was gesturing to the waiter to order his own breakfast.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Why are you grinning? You went to bed pissed last night.”

“Oh, well... a lot of things have changed since last night.” Ethan didn’t know if he liked the look Alistair was giving him. It was far too knowing -  and more than a little bit debaucherous.

“Things like what?” Ethan sipped his coffee slowly, his gaze never leaving the Scot’s.

To his annoyance, Alistair only shrugged, accepting his own cup of coffee before changing the subject completely. “So, you going to tell me more about this girl that has you so hung up?”

Ethan glared at him. “You going to tell me where you’ve been all morning?”

Alistair smirked. “No. I’m too interested in your life.”

Had they been ten years younger, Ethan might have punched him. One of the few times in recent memory he lamented being an adult. 

“I’m interested in Vlad not being pissed at us.”

“Oh, come on, Ethan.” Alistair took a long sip of his coffee before sighing in satisfaction. “You’ve come all the way down here and we haven’t seen each other for ages.

“I came down here because you begged me to,” his brother returned wryly. “So, now’s hardly the time to be keeping secrets.”

Alistair just smiled at him. “Likewise, bro.”

Jesus Christ, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to try and have a civilized conversation with the man. He was supposed to be the oldest but Alistair was, by far, the most childish. Ethan exhaled a long sigh before taking a last fork full of eggs. “Since when have you ever been interested in anything that doesn’t involve taking your life in your hands?”

“You’d be surprised. Don’t you want to hear that I’ve missed you?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Right. If it were genuine, sure.”

“Well, I have,” Alistair emphasized, gazing right into Ethan’s eyes. “And if you’re interested in a girl, I want to hear about it.”

For a long time, Ethan merely graced his brother with a hard stare. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe there wasn’t something Alistair was trying to get out of here...but, seeing as he’d been up all night thinking about a certain blonde, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to divulge. After all, Lucas and his mother were always trying to get him to talk more.

Even if they didn’t mean to Alistair, per say.

“Her name is Harper.” His brother didn’t interrupt him, instead only gesturing for him to go on. “She’s stubborn, independent, single-minded and completely infuriating.”

Alistair grinned. “Sounds familiar.”

It wasn’t as if Ethan never had the thought before. He and Harper were very similar people; while he, of course, would never deny that his family name and history had contributed to his good fortune, Ethan was very much self-made - just like Harper. He didn’t tend to believe in the trappings of romance - very much like Harper. And he could barely be bothered with things he didn’t feel garnered his attention - which was Harper all over. Was he really so surprised that they butted heads?

Or that the chemistry between them was absolute fire?

“She’s supposed to be finding me my ideal match and I could give two fucks. All I want is her.”

“Physically?” Alistair arched a brow. “Or metaphorically.”

Ethan groaned. This was why he never liked talking about this type of shit. “I don’t know - both?”

Alistair’s grin only widened. “Don’t tell me our resident womanizer has finally fallen in love. Perish the thought.”

The mere notion was enough to make Ethan cringe. What he and Harper had was barely a sort of grudging tolerance that sometimes erupted into all out lust. It certainly wasn’t what anyone in his family was trying to make it out to be.

“You’ve been talking to Dad too much.”

“And you haven’t been talking to him enough.” Alistair paused for just long enough to accept the large plate of food the waiter brought him. “You’ve been avoiding going back to the manor. He told me.”

Ethan did his best to keep from looking guilty. “Only because he doesn’t want to talk about anything other than finding the love of my life.”

Alistair sighed. “He wants to see you happy. Dad’s idea of happy is just... unique.”

Ethan groaned. “It’s stifling. I don’t want to hurt the old man, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the marrying and settling down type.”

Alistair munched on a piece of bacon. “Even with this Harper girl?”

“Especially not with Harper.” Ethan could hardly imagine Harper somewhere in the burbs, her belly round with kid number three as she stooped down to tend to the back garden… she’d probably beat the shit out of him for mentioning something so ridiculous. The sophisticated blonde would never be the type to settle for anything less than a future of her own making.

She wanted success, her reputation, the glitz and glamour of New York City... she was very much a product of her environment and Ethan adored her single-minded drive. It was probably one of the most attractive things about her.

That, and the way his name sounded when she moaned it.

“So... what’s the deal then? I’d imagine there’s no reason you can’t get with another woman and purge her from your system.”

Ethan made a face. “I just... I want her to admit that there’s something there. That it’s not just the fucking matches. I don’t even want to look at another damn picture.”

“So, ask her to be your woman.” With Alistair’s accent, the suggestion came out sounding like some medieval quest, and Ethan was prepared to shoot him down in an instant…  until he wasn’t.

Ask her to... Jesus Christ, the notion was just crazy enough to work. If Ethan asked Harper something like that, she was bound to realized that the matches weren’t an option any more. If he went about it the right way... if he talked to her (though easier said than done), she might very well agree. Why wouldn’t she? After all, it wasn’t as if he was asking for all the fuss of a traditional relationship. Neither one of them was that kind of person. All he wanted was for her to be his. To be able to kiss her - to have her in his bed and in his arms - to be able to listen to that smart mouth whenever he wanted.

And in return... well, Ethan didn’t think he’d have too big of a problem keeping Harper happy - as long as she gave up on those goddamned matches. Maybe they could go out on a real date... wining and dining, perhaps a comedy club. And this time, when he got her in his bed, he’d make sure she didn’t run out on him.

Ethan meant to take his dear, sweet time the next time he got his hands on the matchmaker. He’d show her how sweet things could be when she took a break from work.

“Was it something I said?” Ethan was jerked back to the present when Alistair spoke to him once more. His brother was gazing at him expectantly, and Ethan realized that he still hadn’t replied.

“No…” Ethan trailed off, shaking his head a moment before his earlier scowl returned. “So now that we’ve talked about Harper, are you going to tell me where you went this morning?”

This time, when he asked, Alistair merely smirked through a mouthful of eggs. “I went to negotiate.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Not to her house?”

Alistair’s expression never wavered. Ethan’s heart leapt into his throat as his voice lowered to a hiss of indignation. “Are you out of your mind? Did you forget about the shotgun?”

“Hardly,” Alistair returned on a chuckle. “I’ve been dealing with that thing for longer than you.”

“Well obviously, she didn’t shoot you! What the hell happened!?”

As if in answer to his question, at that very moment, the diner bell chimed. Ethan looked instinctively, and when he did, he almost fell out of his chair. Chloe fucking Trellis stood in the doorway - minus her shotgun but looking no less surly than she had the first-time Ethan had laid eyes on her.

It was funny - if it weren’t for that scowl on her face, she would actually be pretty cute. She was a bit more diminutive than Ethan liked his women - and tiny in comparison to his taller brother - but she had alluring dark eyes and dark hair that she wore in a single braid down her back.

Chloe glanced around the diner for a beat until her eyes fell on their table. When her scowl deepened, Ethan stiffened. She didn’t look like she needed a shotgun to take them out.

Chloe stalked over to them with surprising grace, and Ethan wondered if it might be a good idea to sweep all the cutlery off the table. However, she didn’t appear to have any designs on their lives. Instead, Chloe fixed her attention on Ethan for the briefest of moments. “Why is he here?”

If words could kill, the younger man might have been on the floor. As much as he respected and adored women, this one scared the bejesus out of him. “I can’t control that he was eating breakfast, Chloe.” Though Alistair’s words were undeniably sarcastic, Ethan couldn’t help but notice that he said them with a certain level of caution.

He glanced from his brother to Chloe and then back again. Something was obviously different. When he’d last seen the two, they had all but been at one another’s throats. Though Alistair didn’t have a shotgun, he might have gone for Chloe with his bare hands if he were just a little bit less-self-preserving.

While a certain amount of tension remained between the two of them, they appeared to be almost... familiar with one another? The lack of animosity in the air was definitely odd, and caught Ethan completely off guard. “Well, I’m not talking about jack shit with him sitting there.”

Under normal circumstances, Ethan might be perturbed that they were dismissing him. He had, after all, been the first one to the table. But when Alistair shot him a pleading look, he rose almost immediately. If this had something to do with the land acquisition, he sure as hell wasn’t going to interfere. They had too few options on that front already. “I just finished anyway. I’ll catch up with you later, Alistair.”

Levelling his brother a look that demanded an explanation later, Ethan took his leave from the diner. He didn’t mind sticking Alistair with the bill as long as progress was made - though he had to wonder: What brilliant idea had his brother come up with? And why couldn’t he have come up with it before he summoned Ethan all the way down to the middle of nowhere? He was considering heading back to his room to do some paperwork when his phone buzzed in his back pocket.

Ethan winced. By now, his father might have told Vlad that Alistair had summoned him to Texas and that couldn’t possibly bode well. Their brother tended to freak out more about his perceived control when he was farther away - and Vlad was currently in Russia. A verbal reaming was the last thing he needed right now -

But it wasn’t Vlad who was calling him.

Instead, Ethan had received a text - or, more accurately, a single image.

A sundrenched beach in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and a lone lounge chair with a glorious figure upon it. Clad in her miniscule navy bikini, Harper stared at him over the rim of her sunglasses, her gray eyes almost mischievous.

The caption made Ethan grin with its savagery. Glad you’re not here.

Quite frankly, Ethan was equally glad. If he had been there, he probably would have taken advantage of her right on that goddamn beach, and both of them would have gotten sand in some very unsavory places. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t take a good, long look at the picture she’d sent before saving it to his phone. Two seconds later, another message appeared. You better not have saved it.

Ethan’s grin only widened. He leaned against the weathered brick wall of a nearby building, pausing to message her back. For my eyes only.

Her reply came back almost immediately. Somehow, that’s worse than internet circulation.

She had no idea.

You make me out to be such a criminal, Harper. I’m really a big softie.

While he waited for her response, Ethan stopped at a nearby convenience store and bought a few essentials. He barely noticed the freckled cashier grinning at him, or the way she undid a few more of her shirt buttons to get his attention. All he wanted was some privacy to take another long look at that picture of Harper.

Blue was definitely her color.

Ethan resolved that he had to get some work done while Alistair was dealing with Chloe, but another glance at his phone rapidly sent that plan down the drain.

I don’t think you’ve ever been soft when we’re together.

**

This began the longest week of Ethan’s life.

Granted, the seven days he was away from New York were markedly better while Harper was talking to him. For some reason he probably didn’t deserve, she had deigned to speak to him, despite the shit he pulled in the city.

It was probably the most normal interaction either of them had ever had with one another - and by normal, Ethan meant that Harper didn’t mention work or matches a single time. Ethan spent most of his time trying to get Alistair to cooperate with him on getting Chloe Trellis to agree to sell at least a portion of her land, but his brother was suspiciously less worried about the scenario than when he’d called Ethan down to Texas in the first place.

Whenever Ethan tried to get him to brainstorm, the Scotsman merely redirected him, citing some new e-mail or zoning policy that he needed the figures for.

Quite frankly, Ethan had never seen Alistair so absorbed in work in his entire life - he might have known something was up if it weren’t for the fact that Vlad finally seemed to have discovered that he was in Texas and not in New York.

To say the least, he didn’t take it well.

After giving Ethan a twenty-minute-long lecture about how he was supposed to be in the city to support their father, he heaped even more work atop him to make up for his absence. Between Vlad and Alistair, Ethan wasn’t really sure who he wanted to pummel into a pulp first.

Considering how much stress he was under, Ethan found himself reconsidering the decision to stay away from Tahiti. Though the messages Harper sent him weren’t always racy, just knowing she had written the words were enough to make his blood run hot. Even if his mind could run on autopilot, it was hard to concentrate on budgeting and ledgers when he was planning what he would do to her when he returned to the city.

I doubt you’re actually getting any work done.

Has the Trellis woman shot you yet?

I’m having a cocktail, and I’m certainly not thinking of you, Ethan.

She was driving him up the fucking wall. Ethan was pretty certain that if he had to spend more than a week in Texas he might internally combust.

On his last, particularly frustrating night, Ethan managed to tear himself away from one of the many pictures Harper had sent him of her in bikini’s or clinging dresses to answer the door when his brother knocked.

Like a guilty teenager, he shoved his phone under his pillow before stalking across the small motel suite and yanking the door open. By this time, he knew better than to ask Alistair what was going on. “You’d better have something for me.”

His brother, amicable as ever, merely waltzed into the room to collapse on the bed, looking far too pleased with himself. “I’ve come to brainstorm.”

For a long moment, Ethan just glared at him. “Just like that?”

“Well, isn’t that what you’ve been trying to get me to do all week?”

Ethan swallowed a groan of exasperation. “Might I remind you that it was you who called me here? And now I barely see you. Now, all of a sudden, you want to address the problem?”

“Oh, lighten up, Ethan. I thought you’d be happy I gave you a little extra time to fit in the rest of Vlad’s workload.”

If he wasn’t his brother, Ethan was pretty sure that he might strangle Alistair. While he had always believed himself to get along with Alistair rather amicably, he was no Lucas. He didn’t know what the man was thinking.

“And what about your workload? Have you come up with a brilliant idea to get Chloe to sell?”

Alistair’s eyes took on a self-satisfied gleam that had Ethan arching a brow. What the hell was that? “I’ll have you know,” The Scotsman returned, “That I think Chloe might be a little more agreeable to negotiations just now.”

That smile.

Ethan didn’t like that smile. It reminded him far too much of his own disposition right after he’d banished his problems in a woman.

Shit. Shit.

“You’re sleeping with her.” It wasn’t a question - Ethan now realized he’d been an idiot not to see it from the first moment the woman entered the diner. “Holy hell, you’re sleeping with her.”

Alistair at least had the good sensed to look abashed. “What makes you think that?”

“Jesus Christ, did she bring the shotgun to bed?”

“Don’t be a fucking child, Ethan. Of course not.”

The younger man threw his hands up. Alistair was telling him not to be a child. “What the hell did you even call me down here for?”

“Well, at the time, I was pretty sure you’d be better at handling the problem than I would.”

“Alistair... the fact that we operate independently is what helps us, in fact, operate. I’m supposed to be in New York.”

“Christ, Ethan. What do you want from me? I saw her and I freaked the fuck out, alright? And it wasn’t just the shotgun.”

For almost a full minute, Ethan just stared at his brother in disbelief. This was Alistair they were talking about here. He had jumped out of planes and explored uncharted cave systems. There was nothing too big, too bad, or too difficult for him to tackle... and while a woman with a shotgun was certainly imposing, if she made Alistair freeze up like that... there was something more at work here.

Ethan blew out a long breath. “Oh boy.”

“Oh, boy is right.” Alistair shoved a hand through ruddy red hair. “Sleeping with her is one thing - personally offending her sensibilities is another. I’m up shite creek, man.”

No fucking kidding.

This was usually the point at which Ethan would turn tail and run. Call Lucas and have him come and deal with the tide of male emotions that he, frankly, was extremely ill-equipped to handle.

But Alistair was his brother, and he had called him. Which meant that leaving him now would be almost as shitty as walking out on Harper.

So, for once in his life, Ethan decided to man up - even if he thought he might regret the consequences.

**

Harper had always been a very resourceful woman.

Though she would never deny that Ethan pissed her off by fleeing her office, her vacation gave her just the distance she needed to realize that she could just as easily get her information elsewhere.

After all, she thrived on gathering information.

It was easy to be cordial, even flirtatious, with the man when Harper had a secret up her sleeve. It just so happened that this secret was a little harder to find than she might have imagined.

Harper gave herself time away from the monumental task of finding Ethan a match that would allow her to collect the biggest paycheck of her life in favor of finding out about the man himself. It was, she told herself, fair payback for all the honeyed words that fairly dripped from his lips.

Or fingers, rather. Once Harper opened the doors, the man was a ravenous texter - and she was embarrassed by how flustered a few words on a screen could make her.

So, when it wasn’t all fun in the sun, the blonde retired to her suite to take advantage of the resorts open Wi-Fi and do a little digging. It wasn’t at all difficult to find information on the Kensleys. They were, after all, one of the most prolific families in the world and you could hardly pick up a daily paper without finding something about them.

Harper clicked through several articles that detailed Vladimir Kensley’s recent trip in Russia - apparently, he was there to handle some family business. There were also rumors flying about the red-headed architect he was traveling with, but that was hardly any of Harper’s concern.

There were a few more big ticket articles - one about Jackson Kensley’s retirement at the end of the coming year and Lucas’ investment in a Soho gallery - and the rest of the information Harper found - reams and reams of it - was pure gossip column fodder.

And the gossip columns were very fond of Ethan Kensley.

Clad in a breezy yellow sundress, Harper sat out on her balcony, ignoring the breathtaking view of the ocean before her in favor of the computer screen in her lap. Over the course of hours - days really - she sifted through the information. Everyone and their sister had a complete compendium of exactly how the Kensley family had come together. Jackson had adopted five boys over the course of three or four years, all of them from different countries and backgrounds.

Ethan, interestingly enough, was the only American.

Harper found plenty about his teenage years - apparently, he had been charming women since he’d been able to form complex sentences. He’d gone to the same private school as the rest of his brothers, played soccer and Lacrosse, and been accepted to Brown, from which he’d graduated in a mere two years with a degree in Advanced Mathematics and a minor in accounting. From there, he’d gone straight to work at his father’s company - no surprises there.

But before he was adopted? Harper couldn’t find a single shred of information.

Over three or four mimosas, she tried her luck with the other brothers - to see if Ethan was special or if the Kensley’s were so secretive with all of their sons. But Harper found information on Lucas, Alistair, Toshiro and Vladimir’s pre-adoption lives so quickly it was a bit disconcerting.

Why hide the information on Ethan?
By the middle of her vacation, Harper was alternating between the small, secretive smiles that Ethan’s ridiculous texts pulled from her and her growing suspicion that Ethan’s childhood was a source of more contention than he let on. When she asked about his past in her office, he had immediately locked up - almost as if it were reflex. The next thing she knew, he was reaching for her, desperation in his eyes.

Exactly what made him so damned desperate?

For a whole forty-eight hours, Harper found herself absolutely stumped.

She channel surfed at three in the morning, unable to sleep for the curiosity burning in her gut. Ethan had admitted he had secrets...but Harper was almost certain that she would never get him to discuss them if she didn’t pre-empt him.

It was, she attested to herself - all in the eventual service of work. If something had happened to him as a child, it was important that she find a woman who could handle that sort of thing... though, as much as the blonde hated to admit it, she loathed the idea of Ethan seeking comfort in another woman’s arms.

When her text tone sounded, she reached for her phone automatically. It would be evening in Texas, so she wasn’t surprised to see a text from the man constantly in her thoughts.

You still sunning on the beach? You must be a nice shade of caramel by now. I love caramel.

It was cheesy, and Harper rolled her eyes, even as her thighs clenched and her stomach fluttered. She texted him back, tugging her lower lip between her teeth hopefully.

It’s almost four in the morning. No sun to sun. Sorry to disappoint you.

His reply popped up while she sipped on the last of a bottle of wine she had been finishing off.

You could never disappoint me, Harper. Just keep those sexy, tropical pictures coming.

She smirked. Just wait. You don’t know me very well.

When Ethan responded, her brow arched in surprise at his rebuttal. Don’t I? You’re stubborn, driven, maddening blonde sexiness all wrapped up into an infuriatingly intellectual and sensually repressed package.

Harper didn’t know whether to be surprised, flattered or insulted by this very candid assessment of her character. Under normal circumstances, she’d pick his breakdown of her apart piece by excruciating piece, but now, she just stared at the text on the screen before her. When she did answer him, it was impulsively.

Sensually repressed?

It was a full minute before she got her answer. If a man had taken care of you - really taken care of you the way you needed, you wouldn’t have that cute, shocked, decadent expression on your face every time I make you come.

And that was the end of texting for that particular night. Harper tossed her phone over the edge of the bed, but it was too late. She could already feel the silky material of the pajama pants she wore slickening between her thighs.

Goddamn him.

After bringing herself to breathless climax thinking of Ethan Kensley’s hands and mouth, Harper was even more determined to discover his secret.

Harper had less than forty-eight hours left in Tahiti by the time she actually stumbled across something useful. She was on the beach, surfing through articles from the year Ethan was adopted when something caught her eye.

Sitting up straight, the blonde took a closer look at the text - a news article from a major Michigan town about a child being taken from a druggie mother out of a home barely fit for human habitation. Apparently, the seven-year-old had only been taken from the environment when a friend’s mother had arrived for a playdate to discover her in the process of beating him over the loss of some of whatever she was addicted to.

The child was immediately delivered into foster care, and the mother incarcerated, where she died, months later, of an overdose.

Harper wasn’t quite sure why this particular article had caught her attention, other than the fact that reading it made her stomach turn and her heart heavy. The article was cited as one of the most disturbing of the year - from a relatively small town where crime almost never occurred.

Harper was about to click away when she found an image of the boy.

And her heart stopped.

Despite the fact that it was more than twenty years younger, she immediately recognized the face. Smudged with dirt, bruised, and host to the brightest pair of green eyes she had ever seen. In real life, Harper had never seen those eyes so confused and full of pain.

But it was unmistakably Ethan.

She had to set her phone aside for a few minutes and take some deep breaths. If Ethan was the little boy... then that meant that he really was the only Kensley whose past had never come to life. Unlike his brothers, who all used their pasts as platforms for present and future work, Ethan had always been absolutely mum.

His family had always been absolutely mum - which could only mean that he believed this was something worth hiding. Something that he was ashamed of... perhaps even still dealt with internally.

It was enough to turn Harper’s entire perception of the man on its head.

The confident, rich and powerful Ethan Kensley - a man whose image alone was enough to make women the world over salivate - was vulnerable. Harper might have imagined that any skeletons Ethan might have kept in his closet would have to do with vices - drugs, alcohol and almost certainly women.

But this... this was disturbing. Ethan’s mother had almost killed him and then the Kensleys had... what? Saved him? Fostered to adopt? Harper couldn’t dream of someone like Olivia Kensley being anything other than nurturing, whether in public or behind closed doors. Which meant that any trauma Ethan was still holding onto could come only from his birth mother.

And he’d been hiding it for almost two decades.

Fuck.

Harper ran a hand through her hair, considering.

She had planned on jumping Ethan with the information she discovered the moment they saw one another again - whenever that might be. Harper was ashamed to admit that she hoped it was sooner rather than later, but this was a delicate matter; more delicate than anything she had ever dealt with.

Truth be told, Harper’s matches relied perhaps seventy percent on surface compatibility. It was a rather shallow way of operating, perhaps, but Harper’s own view of love was rather insubstantial. She had never seen a romantic movie that made her feel anything other than skepticism - real love was screaming, arguing and an eventual, traumatizing split that left deep scars. When she matched people, there was no psychological questionnaire, and the idea that she had all but invented one as a pretense for matching Ethan was, in hindsight, a bit alarming.

She had never delved so deep - why would she? Things like that were none of her business. If people were supposed to be in love, they would accept everything about one another, wouldn’t they?

At the very least, by the time they found out about such things, it would be far beyond her realm of expertise. Harper considered it a testament to her system that such things happened rarely, if ever. People didn’t really want to know one another’s deep dark secrets. Everything was all sunshine and daisies until it... wasn’t.

Jesus, when had her thoughts become so macabre? For the first time since Athena had brought it up, Harper really wondered if she was as bad as her sister believed her to be. Was she really some sort of over-aggressive monster who brushed off the idea of love simply because it was something she couldn’t - or wouldn’t - understand?

The blonde shuddered.

Somewhere, she could sense that Athena was laughing at her. Her younger sister delighted in being right - and as much as Harper abhorred it, she was inclined to let it happen sometimes, just so she could see Athena smile.

The notion was enough to lighten the mood for the barest of moments. Long enough for Harper to remember that when she had (impulsively) aired her dirty laundry to Ethan, he might not have returned the favor... but he hadn’t shunned her. He hadn’t scoffed, hadn’t insisted that she was naive, or made fun of her.

In fact, he was probably the only person who had agreed with her point of view since she started her matchmaking business. And for the briefest of moments, his reaction had gratified Harper. Made her a little less lonely.

She blew out a long breath as her brain worked overtime. What the hell was she supposed to do with this? She certainly wasn’t vindictive or cruel enough to dangle it before Ethan’s nose, or use it as the root of all his problems. If Harper were honest with herself, what she really wanted was simply for the man to talk to her. Really talk.

An odd request, considering she was certain she wanted it more for his sake than for any match she might make him. She wanted to see the root of that vulnerability of his... and, incredibly, Harper wanted to comfort him.

To reassure him that he was just as much a product of the unpredictable world as she was.

She had to be losing her mind.

Despite the fact that she had promised herself that nothing would stress her out during her vacation, Harper found herself unable to enjoy the sand and surf on her last day. It wasn’t because she dreaded speaking to Ethan about what she’d found out - quite the contrary.

She was anxious to get back to the city.

So anxious, in fact, that the little detail of her having been on every entertainment channel in the country before she left the US happened to slip her mind. Going from the peace and quiet of her business class seat to the pandemonium of the airport was, in the best of times, difficult. On this particular day, the moment she left customs, Harper was immediately bombarded by at least ten reporters.

Cameras left her blinking blearily as she struggled to grasp what was going on.

“Miss Jones! Is it true that you and Ethan Kensley are an item?”

“Did you go on vacation together?”

“Are there wedding bells in your future?”

“How does it feel to be dating one of the world’s most eligible bachelors?”

There were so many questions fired at once that Harper couldn’t have chosen which one to answer even if she wanted to. The reporters were absolutely rabid, intent on blocking her way no matter how she tried to escape.

The blonde liked to think she kept her cool even in the most trying of situations, but she felt her temper rising quickly. She’d just been on a flight for twelve hours and the last thing she needed was to be interrogated. She just wanted to go home and get some rest…

“Miss Jones!”

Something that almost certainly would have gotten her in trouble if she’d said it was on the tip of Harper’s tongue when a man clad in a starched black suit who was about as wide as she was tall shoved his way through the crowd. Before Harper could protest, he had an arm around her, his jacket sheltering her as he ushered her from the airport.

Harper couldn’t manage to get a word in before he was ushering her, along with her luggage, into a waiting car. She wondered, vaguely, if her name had become so huge so quickly that someone was actually kidnapping her moments before the intensely muscular man slid into the driver’s seat, firmly closing the door behind him.

“Sorry about that, Miss Jones. I was sent by Mr. Kensley to get you from the airport. He anticipated that something like this might happen.”

Harper’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Ethan sent you?”

The driver chuckled. “His father, actually. Jackson Kensley.”

Harper was momentarily shocked into silence. Why the hell would Jackson Kensley send a driver for her? She’d heard the man was kind, but he didn’t even know her - what possible impetus could he have for coming to her rescue?

“I... Jackson Kensley?” She couldn’t recall the last time she’d acted so dense, but Harper would certainly say that this particular situation called for it. She was exhausted and one of the most influential men in the world... was concerned about her.

Should she be concerned?

“Don’t look so intimidated.” The driver gave her a warm smile she was sure was meant to reassure her, but Harper was too wary to relax. “Mr. Kensley would very much like to meet with you.”

Dear Christ, Harper had almost forgotten about the notoriety she might get for matching Ethan. There had been far more intricate matters on her mind when she left Tahiti - matters she was almost certain the man wouldn’t like to hear she’d been prying into. Ethan Kensley’s past, after all, was none of her business.

Yet here she was, in a car bound to meet with the Kensley patriarch himself. When she took Ethan on as her client, Harper swore she hadn’t signed up for this sort of stress. She hadn’t signed up to look Jackson Kensley in the eye when she’d slept with his son... twice.

And the jet lag on top of all of that just added insult to injury.

For one brief, insane moment, Harper contemplated her chances of survival if she simply jumped out of the car on the highway. The thought was gone as soon as it popped into her mind, but the fact that she had even gone there was proof of how desperately tired she was. Harper didn’t ever lose her cool. For anyone.

Unless that person was Ethan, but he wasn’t back from Texas yet.

Harper watched the streets of Manhattan pass by, sighing longingly when they drove through her neighborhood, headed uptown. She barely had ten minutes to make sure she looked somewhat presentable before they had arrived at the Kensley Corporation's main office.

Harper saw it at least once a week as she ran around the city but she had never imagined she might have any need to go inside. She had never been involved in the kind of business the Kensleys ran. Nonetheless, the driver ushered her from the car as soon as they had parked, promising to keep her luggage safe in the trunk.

The interior of the building was every bit as prim and professional as Harper might have imagined. She was whisked across the marble floor of the lobby and into the nearest available elevator, which was on its way upwards before anyone else could board.

The entire building housed an incredible air of efficiency. No one was idle - the few times the elevator stopped, everyone Harper saw was working - all cogs in a gigantic mechanism that moved ever forward.

In the back of her mind, she wondered where Ethan’s office was. She knew that he was the head of accounting for the entire company, so probably somewhere near the top floor - exactly where they were going.

Where the rest of the building had been bustling with activity, the top floor was almost eerily quiet. The only person present was a silent secretary doing a stack of paperwork outside a single door. Harper stepped forward at the driver’s urging, and he spoke before she could.

“I’ve brought Miss Jones in to see Mr. Kensley.”

Fuck. Well, that just made it sound about ten times more real - and that was saying something. Harper had no choice but to follow the immense man to the door and wait while he knocked briskly and announced her.

And then, all at once, she was on her way in.

It was a big office for a big man - and yet, Harper couldn’t help but think how very human he looked sitting there. His face - a face she’d seen hundreds of times on television or on magazines - seemed a little more tired, a little more weathered... but he was still, without a doubt, Jackson Kensley, in the flesh.

“Miss Jones.” At the sight of her, his smile widened incrementally. “Please, have a seat.”

The driver had already gone, leaving Harper to face her fate alone. Slowly, she straightened, suddenly painfully aware of how haggard she must look, despite any attempts she’d made to freshen up. Twelve hours of travel could do that to a woman.

“I... thank you for the pickup,” she finally managed, sitting in the first armchair before his desk. “It was a little overwhelming.”

“I can only imagine.” Far from seeming angry that she had been caught snogging his son on live TV, Jackson seemed strangely amused. “You’ve been quite the trend in the news lately.”

Harper could feel her face flaming. “Mr. Kensley, I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Has there?” He arched a brow. “I thought you were eager to take on his very special case.”

“I am. I mean, I was…” Jesus, how did all of this get so convoluted. “It’s just been a bit... difficult.”

The man would have been completely within his rights to throw her from his office, but instead, he merely chuckled. “Difficult, is it? Ethan’s always been so agreeable. I’m surprised he’s giving you any trouble.”

He had to be joking - and when the man’s smile stayed firmly in place, Harper realized he was. She relaxed slightly.

“Miss Jones, have you considered yourself a match for Ethan, don’t feel you should exclude yourself -”

“No!” Harper burst almost immediately. “No, that’s not it at all!”

In that moment, she was the textbook definition of desperation, and Harper winced at how shrill her voice was. She forced herself to take a deep breath and regain her composure.

Her a match for Ethan? Regardless of what her system said, of how good they were in bed together or how ridiculously good the man was at making her laugh, Ethan Kensley was, without a doubt, the most confusing thing that had ever happened to her. “Mr. Kensley, I have been actively trying to find a match for your son.” That much was the truth, at least. Even if she wasn’t making much headway. “I think I’m very close.”

Harper had never been a blatant liar, and the words tasted sour in her mouth. Even after the encounter was over, she would never quite know what happened. When faced with the notion that Jackson might prevent her from interacting with Ethan, a part of her panicked.

“Really?” Her response seemed to genuinely please him. Harper halfway expected to be interrogated about how she was finding matches while sleeping with the man, or why she was mixing business with pleasure, but Jackson didn’t bother with any of that. Instead, he kept the conversation strictly business. “That’s wonderful to hear. I actually called you here to present you with another tidbit of information. An additional challenge, if you will.”

Harper didn’t think there was a bigger challenge than dealing with Ethan, but she kept her response neutral. “Any information you have would be greatly appreciated.”

Jackson grinned, showing remarkably even, white teeth. “I’m sad to say I don’t have very much to offer that you don’t already know - only extra impetus. I’m sure, Miss Jones, that you’ve heard I’m retiring at the end of this year.”

It was pretty much all everyone was talking about in any reputable business magazine. That, and the question of whether Vladimir Kensley was ready to take up his father’s mantle or not.

“I have. You’ve earned it.”

Jackson smirked. “I should damn well think so. But, I can’t help heading into retirement with a few hang-ups - the principle of which being that I just want to see all my sons settled down. If you can successfully pair Ethan with someone by the end of this year, I would be truly grateful. And I would add a million dollars to whatever my son is paying you to see it happen. ”

For a moment, the world stopped spinning. Harper realized that, for a man like Jackson Kensley, talking figures like this was completely commonplace; but for her? They were discussing a million dollars. For one match.

For the briefest of moments, the prospect was enough to tempt her sorely. It wasn’t because Harper desperately needed the money, but instead the renewed challenge. If she did somehow match Ethan, it would be the largest commission she had ever landed. She would gain the respect of his father. Hell, maybe she would even gain his respect.

She’d just have to send him off with another woman.

For a long beat, Harper said absolutely nothing at all.

It seemed like ever since she’d met Ethan her mind had been working overtime, and this moment was particularly taxing. She had never failed to rise to a challenge... but, for the first time in her life, Harper found that she might not want all the fruits this one reaped.

Folding her fingers together over her lap, she exhaled a long breath. “Mr. Kensley... all I can tell you for certain is that I will try my utmost to deliver.”

She couldn’t decide whether that enigmatic smile of his warmed or intimidated her.

“That is all I can ask you for, Miss Jones.” When he made to rise from his seat, Harper almost stopped him - as if a force as indomitable as Jackson Kensley could be stopped. “I may be old, but the least I can do is see a pretty guest to the elevator bay.”

Well, at least she knew where Ethan got his charm. Harper couldn’t resist the small smile that curved her lips as she rose and took Jackson’s proffered arm. In the end, it was more her helping him than him escorting her, but she hardly minded. It was the thought that counted.

No sooner had they emerged from the office than the driver (who, admittedly, probably could have bench pressed both her and Jackson) rushed to his assistance. Before he could even touch the older man, however, Jackson waved him off. “For God’s sake, Russell, I’m old, not inept.” He groused, scowling half-heartedly. “Please take Miss Jones home. And have Pamela let the media know that we don’t take kindly to their shadowing her every step.”

“Of course, sir.”

Jackson turned to Harper, pressing her hand firmly. “Thank you for humoring an old man, Miss Jones. I’m sure you’re eager to rest. We’ll speak again soon.”

And just like that, he was gone - back into the silent solitude of his office.

**

It was one of the most singular experiences Harper ever had. So much so that she was still thinking about it hours later, when jetlag should have knocked her out like a light. Instead, she lingered at her desk, tapping idly at the keys without actually doing any work.

Jackson Kensley wanted to give her a million dollars to see his son happy and settled before his retirement. That was a matter of months from now - and Harper had never been more conflicted over the man. Considering the Kensley patriarch’s easygoing nature, she’d love to ease his way into retirement - she’d love to do her job.

But, unfortunately, things weren’t that easy.

The blonde reluctantly pulled out Ethan’s file from where she’d squirrelled it away in her desk. It was, without contest, the thickest client file she had ever accumulated - and it helped her the least. The irony was punishing.

Despite the fact that she knew almost every tidbit of information inside, Harper was about to open it to see if she could salvage something when she got a message on her phone.

Where are you?

A little thrill shot up her spine at the sight of Ethan’s message. Harper bit her lip, hesitating a moment before she replied.

At home. I’m jetlagged out of my mind.

He answered almost immediately. I’m on my way back to the city. Will you be well-rested by dinner?

Well, he certainly didn’t make any pretenses. A pre-Ethan Harper might have rejected him - turned him away without the slightest hesitation. Once upon a time, Harper had been cold and calculating - it was what made her so damned good at what she did. But he was turning that all on its head.

Don’t you have to go to your office and report? I’m sure they’ve missed you.

It was a snarky thing to say - but then, she and Ethan had long mastered the art of snark with one another. She expected his reply to be something equally as witty - but Harper should have known better than to assume Ethan might behave as expected.

I need you. Have dinner with me.

Her breath caught, and she immediately felt guilty for it. It wasn’t as if the man was expressing some great wealth of emotion. He wanted to fuck her - that was all that had ever been between them. But that didn’t mean Harper couldn’t curse him for knowing exactly how to make her knees weak and her panties insubstantial.

She countered the only way she knew how. Does that mean you’re ready to talk?

It was the one calculated move she knew would send him running in the other direction. At that precise moment, Harper felt a little overwhelmed. Jackson Kensley had just called her into his office to convey how important it was to him that Ethan be matched. Then there was the not insignificant discovery she had made about Ethan’s past scant days ago - the discovery she still didn’t quite know what to do with.

Harper didn’t necessarily want to have the upper hand if it meant dragging skeletons like that out of the closet... but she certainly couldn’t deny that she wanted to see Ethan.

And not just to shove him at another fucking woman.

She answered him, knowing she was damning herself. What time?

She could practically see the man gloating in her mind’s eye. Around nine pm. My place. Wear something sexy.

Harper’s toes curled in anticipatory need even as her stomach clenched with nerves.

God help her.