SAILOR GRIPPED THE EDGE OF the counter and tried to count to a hundred to get his erection under control while, across from him, his wicked little playmate made her call. Her voice, he was pleased to note, was breathy, the pulse in her throat moving too fast.

“Mom,” she was saying, “Oliver cooked you an anniversary dinner, even timed it for your usual late finish. You know this is a big deal for him. Go home.” A long pause before she said, “Shall I order the divorce cake now? Chocolate or red velvet?”

When she hung up a few seconds later without further words, Sailor figured Jacqueline had decided to go have dinner with her husband. “Does that kind of thing happen often?” he asked as he walked out to the grill to put on the fish.

“That’s a new one.” Ísa leaned in the doorway of the balcony, and it felt intimately comfortable—as if they’d been doing this forever.

As if he knew her bone deep.

Yeah, Sailor wasn’t stupid. This, what they had, it was something special. He’d do whatever it took to convince his redhead to stick with him. Even if meant using his manly wiles and body to confuse her every time she thought of a good reason why they weren’t suited.

“Poor Oliver,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s like a marriage between a befuddled puppy and a barracuda.”

Her phone rang for the third time before Sailor could reply.

Worry swept over Ísa’s features like a tidal wave. “My sister’s a texter except when there’s a problem.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Catiebug?” Her body straightened. “Catie, honey what’s the matter? Is it—” A pause. “Yes, I’ll do it now.”

Shoving a hand through her hair after hanging up, she paced back to the counter as she made another call. Then it was back to Catie. “Your father’s fine, sweetheart. He must have his phone on silent. The hotel concierge confirmed for me that Clive is on the gaming floor.”

A minute later, she walked out to take a seat on the single chair he had on the other side of his postage-stamp-sized space. “Sorry about that,” she said, her arm hooked over the back of the chair. “Catie heard about a Kiwi man of her dad’s age getting mugged at the hotel where he’s staying and panicked.”

Yet instead of calling Jacqueline, the other girl had called Ísa. And Ísa had just handled it, was now sitting chatting with him as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t been extraordinary, as if she hadn’t just put out three emotional fires without blinking.

Sailor was both proud of his redhead and irritated by the other adults in her life who clearly weren’t pulling their weight. From what he’d witnessed so far, it was starting to look like she was the main support for her siblings. “He’s your dad too?”

“No, Jacqueline and Stefán were long divorced by then,” Ísa clarified. “Catie’s father is a smooth-talking idiot named Clive. He deliberately turns off his phone when he just can’t be bothered. I swear to God, if I could microchip him, I would.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Sailor braced his hands on the arms of her outdoor chair. “You’re cute but ferocious.”

“Grr.”

Shoulders shaking as her eyes danced on that mock growl, he snuck in a kiss before going into the apartment. When he returned, it was with a girly cocktail in hand, the color a lush pink. He’d even managed to find a tiny toothpick umbrella to stick in it.

“Here,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Just a frozen cocktail mix that I keep for when my mom visits.”

---

HE KEPT ON DOING THAT. Kept on doing things that made her happy.

Accepting the drink with a feeling of falling deeper into a dangerous hole, Ísa took a cautious sip. Cold and sweet and tart, the flavors exploded on her tongue. She’d have told him it was delicious regardless, she was so undone by the way he kept giving her the TLC he’d promised, but now she didn’t have to.

“I love raspberry daiquiris,” she said and was rewarded with a pleased grin from where he stood by the grill, carefully flipping the fish fillets.

He looked so good standing there against the backdrop of the night, dressed in comfortable clothes. And she felt so good sitting there, the two of them just relaxing after a long day at work. It was a flash-fire moment, her dreams colliding with her reality.

Be in this moment, she whispered to herself. Don’t fear the heartbreak to come.

“I can tell it’s not very alcoholic,” she said when her throat threatened to close up. “That’s good, because I’m a bit of a cheap drunk.”

A deep chuckle. “Now I want to see you being all drunk and adorable.”

“The night is young.” Feeling silly and young, Ísa pretended to open up the cocktail umbrella and use it as a parasol.

Sailor grinned, and they talked about this and that as the food finished cooking.

She discovered that his elder brother was Gabriel Bishop, a gray-eyed force of nature who was the most worshipped rugby player in the country. Both his younger brothers were also aiming for a professional rugby career.

“I’m the black sheep,” Sailor said with an unrepentant grin. “I just play for fun. There has been talk of disowning me.”

Compelled by this new glimpse into what was clearly a very close-knit family, Ísa asked more questions as they sat down to dinner. He asked some in turn. She couldn’t remember time ever moving so fast, but they’d finished dinner before she knew it.

“I’ll get dessert,” Sailor said.

But rather than the cheesecake she’d picked up, he put a perfectly decorated miniature cake in front of her, the frosting dusted with sparkles. “There’s a café/cake shop real close to my parents’ house. I saw this in the window and thought of you.”

Ísa couldn’t take it anymore.

Fisting her hand in his T-shirt, she hauled him down to her mouth.

He tasted like red-hot sin and temptation designed to lure a woman into the worst mistake of her life. Ísa didn’t care. Sliding her hand around to the back of his neck, she gloried in the strength of him as he angled his head, and, thrusting one hand into her hair, licked his tongue against hers.

Her nipples furled into tight points, each brush against the lace of her bra making her want to rip off her clothes to free the excruciatingly sensitive flesh. So he could touch them with those big, capable hands. So she could press them to the hard wall of his chest.

When he broke the kiss to crouch in front of her chair, she bit down on her swollen lower lip. His eyes zeroed in on the act, his chest heaving as badly as hers. “We need some ground rules.”

Ísa blinked. “What?”

“I’m not your employee, but I am working for your company.” He pressed his finger to her lips when she would’ve parted them to speak. “The first rule is, when it comes to the physical stuff between the two of us, it’s only Sailor and Ísa. Not a contractor and the VP.”

Ísa was too far in to back away now. “Done.” That was when Devil Ísa took over her mouth. “Where are the handcuffs?”

A sucked-in breath, a dangerous smile.

Rising to his feet, Sailor held out his hand. “Come into my lair, my innocent redheaded spitfire. I promise to only bite a little.”

Breasts aching and skin electric, Ísa was about to go all in when her fantasies of being at Sailor’s mercy died a sudden death under the burst of a ringtone she’d already heard once earlier that night.

“This isn’t good.” She scrambled to grab her phone from her satchel. “Catie is scarily competent for all that she has to deal with. If she’s calling me again…” Phone in hand, she lifted it to her ear. “Catie?”

The voice on the other end made her blood run cold. “Martha? Why are you on Catie’s phone?” The former nurse’s answer had her trembling. “Where was she taken?” Mentally noting the location, she said, “I’m on my way.”

Hanging up, she looked at Sailor, her heart a huge piece of concrete in her chest. “I have to go. My sister’s had an accident.”

Eyes grim, Sailor put his hands on her upper arms. “How bad?”

“Martha—her live-in helper—says she’s fine, but I need to see for myself.” Breaking away, she grabbed her satchel. “Catie hates being in the hospital.” She wasn’t the only one; the mere smell of antiseptic was enough to send Ísa right back into a nightmare.

Looking up at Sailor, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I know this wasn’t how you probably wanted the evening to go. I’m really sorry.” All the reasons she’d listed for why they were so wrong for each other and she’d forgotten one thing: the ties of family.

What twenty-three-year-old male would want to be with a woman who was basically the parent-on-call for two teenagers? Ísa would never regret giving Catie and Harlow the solid foundation she’d searched for her entire life, but she was horrified to find herself on the verge of tears at the idea that this was it with Sailor. That she’d never see him again, never kiss him, never make that horrible mistake.

He scowled at her. “Don’t think you’re getting out of the handcuffs, spitfire. That’s just been delayed.”

God, he was wonderful. “I’ll call you. I promise. Not like with the cookie date.”

But Sailor shook his head. “No need, because I’m going to be with you. Let me grab my keys. I’ll drive you to the hospital—I know my truck looks a little beat up, but it’s a smoothly oiled working machine.”

Ísa could think of nothing better than to do this with him, but it wasn’t possible. “No, you don’t understand. Catie lives in Hamilton.”

Sailor tapped his finger on the table. “It’s doable,” he said. “With the new roads and the lack of traffic at this time of day, we should be able to get there in an hour and forty-five minutes.”

“I might have to stay overnight. You have work here.”

“You’re my boss,” he pointed out with another one of those affectionate nose kisses that kept on sweeping her feet out from under her. “It’s not like you’re going to put me on notice.”

When she went to speak again, he just shook his head. “I’ll never forgive myself if you have an accident, Ísa. You’re too anxious to drive.”

Since her hands were trembling, Ísa couldn’t do anything but nod. “Thank you.”

“No need. I’m just adding it to your time-in-fur-lined-handcuffs tab.”

Grabbing his wallet and keys on that wicked statement, Sailor shoved his feet into an old pair of sneakers. They were on their way to Hamilton five minutes later.

---

“SO,” SAILOR SAID ONCE THEY were away, “what kind of an accident was it?” He didn’t immediately assume vehicular. With three brothers, he’d seen all kinds of accidents from falling off ladders, to falling off skateboards, to being smashed in a rugby tackle. “I once lost a tooth after Gabriel threw a small pumpkin at my face.”

A startled movement from Ísa, his words apparently slicing through her tense concern. “Were you two fighting?” It was a highly disapproving question.

“Nah, we were playing ‘dodge the pumpkin.’ All fun and games until Sailor loses a tooth and we both end up grounded.”

“How old were you?”

“Old enough to know better.” The two of them had laughed so hard while playing that most of their throws had gone wild. “Gabe caught the pumpkin in his gut at one point. We didn’t realize he had a cracked rib until after the tooth.”

“Good grief. And your poor parents had to deal with four of you?”

“Two at a time, really,” Sailor said in defense of his brothers. “Gabe and I had grown out of the idiocy by the time Danny and Jake grew into it. Mostly.”

He caught the twitch of Ísa’s lips in his quick glance. But it wasn’t until ten minutes later as they were streaming along the motorway, rock playing softly on the radio, that she spoke.

“Catie fell,” she said at last. “And yes, I know I’m overreacting. I can see myself doing it, but I can’t stop it.” A shuddering exhale. “When Catie was born,” she continued, “I was so happy. I thought she was the most wonderful little being ever created. I loved her at once, wanted to protect her from any pain—but I couldn’t. Catie was born with a heart problem. Not a big thing. Fixable.”

“But?”

Ísa pressed a hand over her chest, Sailor seeing the movement with his peripheral vision. “She got an infection after the surgery, has this scar on her chest from where her suture site threatened to go septic. But she pulled through, came out healthy on the other side.”

“Tough kid,” Sailor said.

“Yes, she is.” Fierce pride. “Despite all the pain, all the needles, she was such a happy baby. She used to smile and giggle every time she saw me.”

Ísa was smiling herself, Sailor could hear it.

“We’d cuddle for hours,” she added, “and when she had too many wires coming out of her to be moved, I’d sit there and play with her little fingers and toes, and she’d giggle at me in this contagious way that would set me off.”

As Sailor heard the ease with which Ísa spoke about Catie’s hospital stay during infancy, he realized that period in their lives wasn’t the cause of her panic. “What aren’t you telling me, spitfire?”

He heard Ísa swallow. “You’d think after all her problems as an infant, she’d have had more than her quota of bad luck. But two years ago, just after she turned eleven, Catie got bacterial meningitis.”

“Hell.” Sailor had seen television reports on the infection, was aware of the catastrophic damage it could cause. “How bad?”

“Bad, but not the worst,” Ísa said. “My baby sister fought through with no brain damage, and the doctors managed to save most of her limbs.”

Most.

Sailor clenched his jaw, furious at fate on behalf of a thirteen-year-old girl he’d never met. “Which couldn’t they save?”

“Both her lower legs. She was a runner before, had dreams of going to the Olympics. Fastest girl in her school, already being considered for training squads. You’d never in a million years guess she’d had a heart issue as a baby.”

For an athletic child to become a double amputee… Fuck, for any child to wake up without limbs. “How did she handle it?”

“Better than I did.” Ísa’s laugh was shaky. “After the first shock wore off, she said, ‘Can you do my homework while I grow some new legs, Issie? I don’t want to be that kid who says she didn’t hand in her homework because her legs got chopped off.’” A shake of Ísa’s head. “That’s her father’s sense of humor.”

“And her sister’s grit.” Catie must have learned not to give up from someone, and from what Sailor had seen so far, he didn’t think it had been Jacqueline who’d taught her that resilience. Because to teach a child something, you had to be present and part of her life.

“She’s still set on heading to the Olympics,” Ísa said with a smile.

“No growth issues?” Sailor asked. “Meningitis can effect bones in children, right?”

Ísa nodded. “I was terrified about it, but Catie dodged that bullet.” She blew out a breath. “My sister was determined to get out of bed and learn to use prosthetics as fast as possible. And I’ll say one thing for Clive—he’s an unreliable flake most of the time, but he didn’t budge from her side at the hospital.”

“Your mother?”

“Jacqueline doesn’t deal well with sickness,” Ísa said softly. “But by the time Catie left the hospital, Jacqueline had renovated Clive’s house so that it had everything Catie needed, including a gym where she could work on her rehabilitation—with the aid of a private physiotherapist. My mother can be a complicated woman.”

One who clearly relied on Ísa to pick up her emotional slack, Sailor thought with a frown. And if Ísa was the one who took care of giving Catie and Harlow the affection and love they needed to thrive, who the fuck had taken care of Ísa when she’d been their age?