Jane’s hands were still shaking long after she’d left the room and gone back to his. She was insane.
She’d just lost her virginity to a man who already had part of her heart, and he’d just yelled at her and had had what seemed to be an emotional breakdown over a dresser drawer.
The pain obviously had to do with his parents. She wasn’t sure if she should push him and get him to open up again or if she should just leave him. One of her major personality flaws was a need to make everything better, everyone happy, even if it was at her own expense.
She’d already showered and was limping around trying to find her cleaning bucket, to no avail, when she felt warm hands brace her shoulders.
Jumping a foot, she nearly fell against the wall before turning around and facing Brock.
The lines on his face seemed more pronounced. He’d never appeared old to her, but in that moment he seemed…haunted.
“Jane, I’m so sorry,” he said again, hanging his head.
She shrugged. “We all have our things, right?”
His expression didn’t change. Instead he just stared at her, as if she was a complicated math problem, or a Rubik’s Cube. His frown deepened. “Jane, it’s more than that, it’s—”
“Death,” she whispered hoarsely, looking down at her shoes.
Brock nodded silently, his chin dipping toward his chest before he exhaled and reached for her hand. “Come on.”
She let him pull her away from her work because being with him, being there for him, this complicated man, was the most important thing she could think of doing.
He wrapped an arm around her and helped her walk toward the end of the hall until they came to the master suite.
“My parents’ room.”
She gasped. “I’m staying in your parents’ old room?”
His nod was jerky as his eyes roamed from left to right, as if it was too painful for him to look at any one thing for too long.
He’d cleaned up the glass on the floor but the plaid shirts remained, along with the stuffed dog.
She hobbled over to the dog and picked it up, holding it close to her chest.
“One of my dad’s last gifts.”
“I wouldn’t take you as a stuffed animal kind of guy,” she said with a bit of humor, squeezing the dog against her chest.
“I was twelve.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “My parents were often away on business, so my dad always gave me a stuffed animal before he left, a different guard animal each time. I was always so stressed about the responsibility of taking care of my brothers that my dad said it was only fair I have someone to look after me, too, for me to lean on.”
Pain sliced through Jane’s chest. “What about your grandfather?”
“He’s so strong. Always has been.” Brock shrugged. “I felt weak telling my grandfather it scared me every time my parents were gone, that every time I waved good-bye I was afraid it would be the last.” His smile was sad. “My greatest fear eventually happened. I gave power to it, and it destroyed us all.”
“Bullshit.” The word escaped Jane’s mouth before she could stop it.
“Jane, you don’t understand. My dad gave me my dog before he broke the news that we were moving. I said some ugly things, horrible things. I told him no. I told him I wouldn’t do it. I threw the dog at him. Said I hated him.” Just repeating the words seemed difficult for him, like he was re-living the moments over again.
“I still call bullshit,” she said in a strong voice.
Brock’s eyes widened a bit.
To be honest she surprised herself a bit, too.
Hugging the dog closer, she shook her head. “That’s stupidity at its finest and you know that.” Her heart broke for the boy who had held this dog close then thrown it out of anger. Of course he was angry. The ranch had been one of his favorite places. She knew that now.
“Do I?”
“Yes.” She turned on her good leg and poked him in the chest. “Believe what you want, but accidents are just that: accidents. And I highly doubt your parents would want you sitting here mourning their loss rather than living your life.”
He blinked. “And what would your parents say?”
She gulped, her nostrils flaring. “I took over the family business. I’m pretty sure my dad would be proud.”
“And what about the sister situation?”
She broke eye contact. “We all have our weaknesses.”
“Is it bad, do you think,” he asked, pulling her into his arms, tilting her chin up, “that both our weaknesses just happen to be family?”
Jane slumped against him. “I had really good intentions. Good intentions that turned into this habitual need to make sure everyone around me was happy.”
“Everyone except you,” Brock pointed out. “Because I highly doubt you’re happy making toast for two bitchy sisters.”
She smirked. “They are bitches. But they’re my bitches.”
He chuckled softly. “Don’t be angry, but hearing you say that kind of turned me on.”
She swatted him with the dog and pulled away. “And you? Do you think your parents would be proud of the way you’ve allowed your grandfather to rule your life?”
“I think…” He paused. “They would be proud of the way I’ve kept the family together, and kept the twins out of federal prison, yes.”
“And your happiness?” She glanced over her shoulder. “What about that?”
“The thing about happiness is this.” He slid his arms around her and pulled her close. “Sometimes it’s in the place you least expect it, like in a house full of ghosts and with a girl who carries bleach in her purse.”
“How do you know I carry bleach in my purse?”
“You like things clean,” he said and smiled. A real smile. “Lucky guess.”
She tensed in his arms as she realized how well he already knew her, how he was inching himself into her life and making it nearly impossible for her to stop what was happening between them—not that she wanted to. But the very fact that he had so much power over her already was terrifying.
“Jane, I’m so damn sorry. I hope you know that. You’re…you’re perfect and I yelled, ruining the entire evening. Holding you in my arms feels so right that I don’t ever want to let go.” His lips found her ear. “I’m sorry I yelled. I was just taken back, but now that the scent of my father’s shirts has worn off, and the dog doesn’t look as threatening, I get it. They’re just things. Sometimes things catch you off guard, though. I was prepared for the pictures in the house—or at least I thought I was, even the blinds—but the dog? It just reminded me of that moment, a moment that I’ve always wished I could take back. A moment I’ve always blamed myself for.”
She burrowed her head into his neck and sighed. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry, I wish I could make the pain go away.”
“You already have.” He smiled, “Besides, I think I’d rather spend my energy making love to you than fighting ghosts that you seem to be able to push away with one kiss.”
“You can’t fight a ghost, you know.” She tried to ignore the way her body was already responding and yearning for more of his touch. “You make peace with them.”
“I may need help doing that. I’m not really sure what peace looks like.”
Jane hung her head, fully aware that what she was going to say applied to her—and her situation with her family—as much as it applied to him.
“Peace looks like letting go, Brock.”
* * *
Jane was behind on cleaning, which meant that she needed Brock’s help more than she wanted to admit, because it also meant she had to spend more time with him.
And she wanted to, she really did.
But the more she got to know him the harder she fell, even though she tried not to. Not because she didn’t want to fall for him, but because a part of her was afraid that he would leave—or that the end wouldn’t be happy. Even though his kisses promised a future, she was still afraid to hope for one.
He was funny—really funny, but in a way that wasn’t flashy. He didn’t need to be the center of attention, even though he often was. He was happy standing in the background.
Just like she was.
It wasn’t fair.
It felt like every time he kissed her, he took pieces of her heart away. And she knew that when he returned to his normal life he would either have to explain her to his grandfather and hope for the best, or realize that maybe a maid wasn’t the best type of match for someone like the great Brock Wellington.
She wasn’t sure if she could take that loss on top of the death of her father, the realization that her sisters weren’t ever going to care for her the way she cared for them, and the start of a life where she might have to go against her father’s dying wish. What if she lost Brock, too? It would break her.
She wasn’t just falling for him romantically, but he’d become a friend, someone she could talk to. A face she looked forward to seeing every morning and kissing every night.
It had been two days since they’d initially slept together, followed by two more glorious nights in bed.
And now they only had one week left together.
The days were already going too fast, folding into one another. Before she knew it—before she was ready—they would both pack their bags, shake hands and drive their separate cars back to the city.
“You’ve been scrubbing that same spot on the floor for the past few minutes,” Brock said, casting a shadow over her. “I think you’ve done the best you can do. Maybe move on? Either that or keep going and you’ll end up in China.”
She tossed the sponge back into the bucket and turned, hands on hips. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “After all, I’m a professional cleaner now.”
“One room, Brock. You cleaned one room.”
“And it shines. You can eat off those damn floors.”
Jane shook her head. “You didn’t even finish!”
“Priorities, Jane.” He dipped his head, brushing a kiss across her mouth. “I was distracted.”
“And now?” she asked, breathless. “You want to distract me?”
“Is it working?” He kissed her again.
“Brock!” She pushed against his chest. “I have to work.”
“You’re fired.”
She gasped.
“Was it something I said?”
Angry, she turned away and kept cleaning. The room filled with tense silence but she kept scrubbing; this time she moved to a different spot.
“Jane?”
Scrub, scrub, scrub. Hot tears ran down her cheeks.
“Jane?” Brock knelt down. “Shit, Jane, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I was teasing.”
“Well, it’s not funny.” She refused to look at him. “Did you ever wonder why I took the job in the first place? Yes, it was an escape from my crazy family, but I need the money. Don’t fire me because you want more time for sex. I know you were joking, but it just…it just reminded me that we’re from two very different worlds. You may think nothing of it, but it’s my life, Brock. This is my life.”
“Damn it, Jane. I would never… You know I care about you. I really was teasing.”
She nodded.
He reached for her. “Hey, look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Jane…”
“Brock…”
He finally grabbed hold of her and turned her to look at him. His face was apologetic, and so handsome it hurt to stare at him. “You aren’t fired.” He sighed. “But…” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I think you missed a spot.”
With a gasp she threw the sponge at his face.
It splashed against his chest, leaving a wet mark across his nice white shirt. “Oops, it slipped.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows shot up. “It seems to me like you took at least two seconds to aim, but sure, it slipped.”
“Completely.”
“Liar.”
She splashed some of the soapy water into his face. “See? All clean.”
“One.” His voice was calm, too calm. “Two.”
“Brock!” She held her hands out in front of her. “Calm down.”
“Three.” He stood.
She tried to scurry backward, but he was too fast. Suddenly he was on her and the bucket was in midair.
“You wouldn’t.” She lifted her chin in defiance, just as he dumped the entire bucket’s contents over her head.
She couldn’t even see, but she could hear his laughter. “Oops.”
“You bastard!” she roared, wiping at her eyes. She locked her gaze onto his amused face for a few seconds before running over to the kitchen faucet and grabbing the sprayer.
“Now, Jane!” Brock held up his hands. “Don’t overreact—”
She sprayed him directly in the face.
He cursed, blindly reaching for her, and then slipped on the already wet floor.
She burst out laughing and continued spraying him, then yelped when he grabbed her body and brought her down on top of him.
They laughed as he kissed her—softly at first, then more fiercely, his frantic hands gripping her shirt and tugging it off. His mouth fused to hers, his tongue fighting for dominance against hers as his hands slid beneath her shorts and cupped her.
She hissed out a breath as he slowly removed his hands and slid her wet shorts, then her underwear down her legs, pausing at her ankles before he pulled them off completely.
Apparently all it had taken was a few marathon sessions with Brock and she was a hussy now, completely naked on the floor after he’d stripped her bare.
He ran a hand up her thigh, but she stopped him with both hands. A look of confusion washed over his features before she laughed and held up a finger as if to say not so fast.
“My turn,” she whispered brazenly, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping her hand inside. He groaned out a curse as he moved against her fingers. He was so warm and hard that she felt her own self-control snapping as he gritted his teeth and locked eyes with her.
It was terrifying.
The way Brock looked at her as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life—the way he opened up to her both physically and emotionally, and the way he made her feel with just one look.
One look that held promises.
One look that held a future.
“Wait,” he gently pulled away from her and struggled out of his wet jeans. When she laughed at his awkward positioning on the floor, he glanced back. “Are you going to just sit there and mock me or help a man out?”
“I think…” She leaned up on her elbows. “I choose mocking.”
“I’m killing the moment.”
“Actually, I was thinking you were making it more entertaining.”
His lips twitched into a smile before he got to his feet, kicked off his jeans and boxers in one swift movement. Reaching for her hands he brought her to her feet, then lifted her onto the kitchen counter.
The cold granite was a shock to her skin as he hooked her ankles around his naked body. She forgot the sensation when he suddenly froze.
“What?” She asked, cupping his face with her hands then running them down his muscular shoulders.
He swallowed. “I think you’re incredible.” He leaned in closer, his mouth grazing hers. “I think you’re absolutely stunning.” His lips teased hers in a draining kiss that had her heart erratically slamming against her chest. “I think that I’ll never get enough of this.” He kissed her harder. “It’s not just your taste…” His lips lingered on the slender column of her neck. “It’s you. Jane, it’s you.”
“It’s me what?” Her voice was wobbly with emotion.
“You’re everything. I could see you naked every second of every day, feel your body beneath my hands, watch you explode with ecstasy every waking moment and it would never be enough.” He gripped her hips, pulling her to the end of the counter and filling her completely.
She kissed him hard as he moved inside her. Anticipation built until she thought she was going to lose her mind. It was almost more than she could handle.
Because even as they made love she could tell things were shifting yet again, and they were on uneven ground. Both desperately trying to hold onto something they weren’t sure they could have. A future that wasn’t certain.
Desperation filled her. She longed to be owned by him. To belong to him and only him.
Her head fell back as he stretched her, thrusting inside, filling her over and over again.
“I’ll always want you,” he vowed, kissing her neck as his hands moved to her hips, thumbs digging into her skin.
“Me,” she sighed, “too.”
“Damn it, stop before I lose control.”
She kissed him again.
“Me,” she sighed, “too.”
With a primitive moan he buried into her as she drove her hips toward his body in a desperate attempt to feel more of him.
Her release surged across her body and she went limp in his arms.
His body jerked and then spasmed as he brushed another kiss across her mouth.
Sagging against him, she was too lost in bliss to do anything but revel in the feel of him still inside her, his heartbeat as it slammed against his chest, then slowed.
“Hey Jane.” Brock pulled back and looked into her eyes. “The floor’s dirty again.”
She slapped him weakly against the chest. “Well then, better clean it, Brock.”
“I vote to leave it this way, with your ass cheeks imprinted on it. Hell, let’s build a monument and—”
She shut him up with her mouth. As they lost themselves in one another she ignored the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.
Just like she ignored the wild yearning she had to keep him here at the ranch forever.
* * *
Brock ignored his grandfather’s calls for the next three days. They were almost worse than the loud clanging of the clock in the living room or the damn cock every morning.
Reminders were everywhere.
Reminders that he only had three more days with Jane.
Reminders that he had to confront his grandfather. The thought of it made him break out into a cold sweat, but the thought of no Jane was like a physical pain.
The hot shower pelted his back, giving him the wakeup call he needed after spending the night in Jane’s arms.
It felt right.
Sleeping next to her.
Being inside her.
How the hell could he even date another woman, let alone marry another woman? How could another woman ever measure up to the way Jane made him feel—like he wasn’t some lost boy pretending to be a man? She listened to him, understood him, challenged him. God, she was perfect.
“Brock.” Jane’s smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.
Suddenly she was in the bathroom, completely naked. “Damn.”
A blush lit up her cheeks. “Need some company?”
“Need.” He exhaled slowly. “Want.” Brock held out his hands. “Come here, beautiful.”
Her hips swayed as she slowly approached the glass shower door then slowly opened it and stepped in. Her brown hair was splayed across her shoulders, her lips full, ready for him.
“This is a nice surprise,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms.
She shivered and then kissed him before saying, “I had a run-in with the clock downstairs and panicked.”
He sighed as a heaviness rested on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Her face brightened. “We have now.”
It felt like his chest was cracking in half. “That we do.”
They didn’t say any more; words were pointless anyway. Words couldn’t and wouldn’t solve their problem, and honestly, he just wanted to touch her, feel her.
Brock pressed his mouth to hers and slowly entwined their hands as hot water ran down their naked bodies. Steam billowed around them as he licked a droplet of water from her chin and moved his mouth slowly down her neck until he was facing her gorgeous, lush breasts.
God, would he ever get enough of her?
Her hands hit the glass and slid down to brace herself as his mouth found her nipple—teasing, sucking—he’d never forget the way she tasted or how she responded to his mouth no matter where he kissed her, sucked her.
“Brock.” Her chest rose and fell as she gave him a half-lidded stare. “That feels…amazing.”
“You’re amazing.” He pulled back and stood to stare at the woman who’d completely thrown his world upside-down.
The woman he wanted more than anything.
Even if that meant facing his worst fear.
“Come here.” He molded his mouth over hers as she reached for him, her greedy hands grasping at him in a way that was enough to make him lose his damn mind.
“Turn around,” he said gruffly, gripping her hips without waiting for her response.
Jane gasped as he used his feet to slide her legs wider apart and then bent her forward and thrust into her.
She gasped and then pushed back, meeting his thrusts. “Yes!” Her wet hair slapped against her back. The view from his angle was enough to make any man black out from ecstasy.
“I’m going to—”
“Jane.” He clenched his teeth. “Come on, baby.”
She cried out, slamming her hands against the glass wall.
And he realized—he couldn’t spend a day, a week, a year without this woman falling apart in his arms.
* * *
Later that day they fell into their usual routine: she cleaned around the house and he made sure the cock wasn’t bullying the other animals.
The hens were more than happy.
The cock glared at him but otherwise left him alone.
Buttercup ate her oats and neighed while the ass roamed free—it was impossible to keep the damn thing locked up. One day Brock was going to put a camera out in the barn just to see if the ass really was as smart as he wanted everyone to believe. On more than one occasion he’d found the damn thing standing in the middle of the living room.
With the TV on, no less.
Always The Today Show.
Always.
His days had fallen into a routine, one he liked, one that didn’t include going to his grandfather’s meetings, making sure he shook hands with men he didn’t give two shits about.
Between board meetings, golf, charity dinners—his life had become something he didn’t recognize anymore.
Until now.
That Brock—the one who lived in the city, who was boring, and a complete copy of his grandfather—he didn’t exist out at the ranch. And yet he was terrified that once he returned to the city, he’d lose what he’d found here, what he’d found with Jane.
With a heavy sigh he made his way back into the house to find Jane staring in horror at the TV.
“The guest list is in for the first annual Bachelor Auction.” The newscaster looked like she was going to burst with excitement. “And the names on the list just may surprise you. Here are our picks for the women who will bid the most, though all we can do is speculate. It’s still fun to see who might win out and who gets the charity date, along with a chance to steal Brock Wellington’s heart! Rumors about the bachelor’s disappearance have been rampant and the one that refuses to die is the suggestion that he’s taking time away from the speculation to decide who he’s truly interested in. Is Brock Wellington planning on settling down? And is he using the auction as a way to find someone who matches him in looks, wealth, and power? We agree that these women are sure to make any man wish he was getting auctioned off!”
Brock gulped as the screen flashed pictures of the women.
“Supermodel Tamara Sanderson, actress Julie Zellman, and co-founder of the country’s fastest growing fashion app Di Fashion, to name a few! We want to know, who would you pick? Take the poll and you could win a ticket to the charity ball this Saturday night! Tickets are ten thousand a head; don’t miss this once in a lifetime chance to attend Cinderella’s Ball!”
Brock quickly found the remote and changed the channel, only to discover the story was there as well. Apparently he was breaking news—again.
He hit the power button, and the room fell into an awkward silence.
“Sorry.” He locked eyes on Jane. She was hunched over, chewing her bottom lip, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s okay,” she croaked.
“Come here.” He held out his hands.
She shook her head and took a step back.
“Jane?”
“I c-can’t.” She crossed her arms. “I um, missed one of the bathrooms upstairs. I should go clean it and—”
“Jane!”
She turned and ran—well, tried to run considering her ankle was still hurt. She’d made it halfway up the stairs before he caught up to her.
“Stop.” He pulled her into his arms. “Just stop.”
“You have to go back.” She stared at his chest.
“Yes.” It killed him to say so. “But you do, too. As much as I want to stay here forever…we have to face our ghosts. Weren’t you the one who said that?”
Jane nodded. “I’m going back to my life, Brock, but…will you be a part of it?”
He closed his eyes and breathed out a curse. “Jane, just give me a few days to talk to my grandfather. It’s been a long time coming, but I can’t just drop this news on him. I mean, think of his heart and—”
“His heart?” Jane repeated loudly. “Has he ever had a weak heart?”
“Well, he may have had an anxiety attack over me not doing the auction, but we thought it was a heart attack at first,” Brock said defensively. “And he’s always talking about his impending death.”
“Brock, are you listening to yourself? Are you seriously going to do whatever he says for the rest of your life just because you’re worried he’s going to die the minute you say no?”
Anger swelled in his chest. “You don’t get it! He’s all I have!”
“What about me?”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re different.”
“I thought I was, but…” She shrugged. “Brock, if you deny him, he’s not going to die.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. Accidents happen. Remember?” He shook his head. He knew his argument made no sense, not even to him anymore. “Look, all I’m asking for is time.”
“We don’t have time. The ball is on Saturday. Today is Thursday.”
He gulped and looked away, clenching his teeth together. “Can’t you at least give me time? I mean, you of all people should know how hard it is to stand up to family. You’ve been a doormat to your own sisters your entire life!”
Jane’s lower lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears. “You’re right. But I’m willing to make that change and it’s because of you! I’m willing to fight for me, to fight for us. Are you?”
“Jane.” Brock felt like his heart was breaking. “I’m just asking for time.”
“Time.” She sighed. “Then I guess that’s it.”
What had just happened? Why did this feel like good-bye? He blinked hard at her. “So, you’re okay?”
“No, Brock. I’m not okay. I’m leaving.”
“What the hell?” he roared.
“You said you needed time,” she fired back. “So I’m going to give it to you. Spend the next few days thinking about what you want, or”—she seemed to shrink inside herself—“if you already know, you can just go back, and tell your grandfather how you feel before it’s too late.”
“It’s not just about my feelings anymore.” He sat down and ran his hands through his hair. “If all I had to do was say no to my grandfather, I could manage it.” His eyes burned when he took in her sad expression. “Jane, it terrifies me. But for you, for you I would risk it.”
She gulped and sat down next to him, sliding her hand up his thigh. “Then what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
“The shareholders want to push Grandfather out. I don’t know the exact details but I do know that for him to say something to me, it must be bad. He’s using the auction as a way to show a united front—me, him, the twins. The face of Wellington. The publicity alone has made them change their tune, enough that they seem at least partially satisfied. The other snag we have is Titus Enterprises. We’ve had several…” He tried to think of the correct words. “We’ve had several sour dealings with them and the board has been itching for a better business relationship with them.” He locked eyes with her. “Guess who’s co-sponsoring the auction?”
Jane’s eyes fell. “Titus Enterprises.”
“Right.” His laugh was bitter. “And they’re absolutely thrilled that the future leader of Wellington is going to take one for the team.”
“You,” she whispered.
“Me.” He nodded. “Wellington, Inc. is everything to my grandfather. Saying no may not kill him; you’re right. But losing this company to a bunch of greedy shareholders who would run our name into the ground would.”
“I understand.” Jane stood.
“Just…” Brock didn’t release her hand. “Give me time to think of a solution that keeps everyone happy…and living.” His try at a joke missed its mark; if anything her face fell more.
“Brock.” Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve known me three weeks. You’ve been with your grandfather, and this company, your whole life.” She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I can’t expect you to sacrifice everything for a maid.”
He sucked in a breath. “You’re not just a maid.”
“Okay, the hired help.” She offered a sad smile and cupped his face with her free hand. “I’ll wait for you.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “And I hope you can come up with a solution.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Maybe we both should. I’ll go back home and face my own ghosts.” Her brave smile wasn’t making him feel any better. “And you can go try to find a way to keep the company and your grandfather.”
“And what about us?”
“We’ll be fine.” It was a lie. Even as she said it, he knew she didn’t really believe her own words. His chest clenched. Did she really have that little faith in him?
Then again, even as he sat there hating life, hating their circumstances, he literally had no clue how to fix them—and still keep her.
She left two hours later.
Brock suddenly understood what it was like to feel truly empty. His parents’ death had altered the course of his life—but a few weeks with Jane had changed it as well.