Here Comes Trouble (17 page)

Brett’s gaze stayed quite focused on Kirby, and she realized she was holding her breath, waiting for whatever question he lobbed her way. She could hardly duck it, given the open stance he’d now taken with her where anything having to do with him was fair game. He already knew about Patrick, but all he understood was the basic context, that she’d been betrayed by someone who was supposed to have her best interests at heart. And she was good with that.

He saw a lot, too much, at times, so she was braced. Which was why what he did say came as a complete surprise. “Other than the screen, do you have any other stuff that needs to get done?”

“You—have got to be kidding. I couldn’t possibly ask anything else of you.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. I am generally happiest when I have projects to work on.”

“I’d say you have a pretty big one at the moment.”

“Initially it’s going to be a bunch of phone calls.” He smiled. “I like to work with my hands.”

She couldn’t help it, she smiled, too. And flushed, maybe a little. “Yes, well, that’s great, but I can’t just—”

“Kirby.” He sat down his empty coffee mug and walked over to where she stood, still by the sink.

She liked how much bigger he was; it gave her this private little thrill every time he got into her personal space. She wondered if he could read that on her face, too. “What?” she replied gamely.

“You
can
just. You like to stay busy because it keeps you from having to think. I like to stay busy because it helps me think. I can’t sit and stare at the walls.” He stepped even closer. Then he lifted the hair from her neck and ears with the backs of his hands as he slid his fingers around to her nape.

It was all she could do not to moan a little as he brushed his fingertips over such sensitive skin.

“So, you can either go clean rooms while I bang nails into something…or we can go mess up a few rooms first. And I can work off this pent-up energy in an entirely different way.”

By banging me, she thought, and her entire body stood up and shouted yes. Emphatically so. She had every intention of smiling and saying no. She had an inn to save. Now was not the time to be frolicking naked with carefree abandon. So, it came as a surprise to them both, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, when she put her hands up on his shoulders and slid them around to the back of his neck and said, “I’ve found that dusting and scrubbing is a highly overrated method of distraction.”

“I find I couldn’t agree more.” He leaned in and kissed her, quite soundly, then made her squeal by lifting her up into his arms.

“Brett—”

He managed to nudge open the door to the narrow back stairway. “This feels rather indecent somehow, doesn’t it?” He looked down into her face, and his eyes were fully sparkling, his smile wide, and he’d never looked more handsome to her.

“Wicked, yes,” she said. “Having your way with the backstairs help.”

“Hold on.” He slid her legs around, but when they both wouldn’t fit on the skinny risers, he made her squeal again and grab at his belt loops as he slipped her over his shoulder.

“I can walk,” she said breathlessly.

“Where’s the wicked fun in that?”

They passed the door to the first floor. He wasn’t even out of breath. She still hadn’t found hers. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d start at the top. My room.” He pushed through the narrow door at the top of the stairs, then bumped open his own door, which he hadn’t closed all the way, and kicked it shut behind him. He laid her out on his bed and followed her down. “Then we can work our way down,” he added. “What do you say?”

He was already pushing up her shirt and sliding down her body.

“I think…working our way down…could be a very good idea,” she said on a breathless laugh.

He unzipped her pants and slipped them down her hips, taking her panties with them.

“Inspired, even,” she managed to gasp as he kissed his way back up her inner thigh.

It was impossible to believe that a mere hour ago all hope had seemed lost…and now, not only was there a plan to save her inn, but the gorgeous, sexy man responsible for saving it was about to make love to her. Again.

He slid his tongue over her as his hands moved up under her shirt and over her rock-hard nipples. She arched her back and lost all track of any thought she might have ever had as he took her body on that sweet, sweet climb. So effortlessly, so perfectly.

Distractions, indeed.

D
efinitely beat the hell out of banging nails. Maybe Dan had been onto something about that.

Brett moved up and kissed Kirby just beneath her belly button while her body was still twitching in the aftermath of her climax. He loved how responsive she was to him. Loved. He rolled to his back and tugged her over on top of him.

She slid down effortlessly over him, taking him deep and making them both groan as he hit all of her still-twitchy spots.

“Sit up,” he urged.

She lifted her head from where she’d been most delightfully kissing the side of his neck. A little wrinkle furrowed her very lovely brow.

“What?” he asked.

“Gravity,” she answered rather succinctly.

It took him a moment to figure that one out, then he laughed. “Right. I want to see you. I want to see you while we do this.” He moved more deeply inside of her.

“You can see me right now.”

“I have seen you. All of you, I might remind you. From most angles. But right now, I’d really love to see you—” He groaned in deep gratification as she pushed on his chest and sat up, taking him even deeper as she did so.

Her hair was wild, her face, usually so perfectly aquiline and so proper looking, was all flushed and damp, hair clung to her temples. Her nipples stood out boldly from her small but perfect breasts, and she truly looked, “Beautiful.”

Her gaze was on his, and she smiled a little at that, then her eyes closed as he moved underneath her. She picked up his rhythm as perfectly as she’d suited him in every other way. His own eyes threatened to roll right back in his head, but he wanted to watch her. Watch her take him, come apart for him.

He tried to think about what he was doing here, about his insane idea to launch the charity event, and why he was doing all of that, even this, with a woman he hardly knew.

Then she opened her eyes and caught him staring at her so intently, while they were moving so intimately, so in sync, with one another. And she smiled, then she laughed, and leaned down to brace herself on his chest as she moved on him, her smile bolder, more confident, than he’d ever seen it. He gave himself completely over to her, to the moment, as she took him, directed the action, rode him…and damn, but a confident, bold, sassy Kirby was a thing to witness indeed.

She tightened on him and her movements turned from commanding to sultry as she tipped her head back, arched into the movement with him, and allowed herself to simply be taken over by the moment. It was all he could do to hold on, to hold back, long enough for her to climb that peak again.

She’d barely gone over the edge when he was yanked right to the brink of it himself. He tugged her down and rolled her beneath him, her moans and gasps as he kissed the hot skin on the side of her neck as he drove himself even more deeply inside of her only served to yank things up a notch, to the point he thought he might pass out from the sheer force of it when he finally came. He drove hard and deep and she met each and every thrust with equal fervor. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips, her nails digging into his back as she nudged him from her neck to her mouth. Their kiss, in that moment as release pounded through him, was intensely primal and so very perfect.

He’d never once considered himself a possessive man, but right then, inside that very instant, that kiss, that final thrust, with her…he’d never wanted so badly to lay claim to another soul, to another heart, as he did with her. In fact, it was the only time he’d ever felt that way about anyone. He wanted her. In every way a man could want a woman. He wanted to have her, hold her, thrust so deeply inside of her to where he might lose his mind and all of his control, knowing without a shred of doubt that she’d take it, take him, and keep him right where he wanted most to be. He wanted to laugh with her, tease her, be teased by her.

He wanted to love her.

Their bodies slowed, but his mind kept racing.

When he slid from her and rolled to his side, she followed, her body curving perfectly into his. He wrapped his arm around her, keeping them pressed closely, their slick skin gradually cooling as their heartbeats slowed.

There were no words for that kind of communication, that effortless, natural union of mind, body, and soul. It had nothing to do with the incredible sex, and everything to do with finding that person, that one person, you could commune with on any level, by any means, verbal, nonverbal, physical, all of it, or none of it. It was just there. And he had to believe it was just like that for her, too.

For that, for the continuation of that, for as long as was humanly possible, he discovered, he was willing to do almost anything.

He kept her close as her breathing steadied. He stroked her hair, watched her face, knew her thoughts were winding around, and wondered where she was inside her head. “Knock knock,” he said, gently tapping on her temple. “What’s going on in there?”

She pushed him to his back, shifting against him so she could prop her chin on her hand, which was laying on his chest. He thought perhaps all conversations between them should take place just like this.

She smiled at him, looking so content, so relaxed. But her thoughts were already on to other things. Not that he could blame her. She was facing rather critical circumstances. He was just happy she was more willing now to talk to him, with him, about it.

“You’re really wonderful, you know. Stepping in like you are, to help me save my place.”

He didn’t stop stroking her hair as it soothed them both. He wished she wasn’t so hard on herself, about accepting help, especially his help, but he didn’t know much more about her past than how her last relationship ended. And that it had also been tangled up in her business career at the time. He was getting that it had to have been complicated and that there was probably even more, deeper below the surface. But those were all layers he wanted to know, too. She was imperfect. So was he. So he’d give her whatever time it took for her to work it out. But he’d also let her know that he wasn’t her past. He was, at the very least, her present. And he wasn’t going anywhere while they saw this through. “But?” he queried when she didn’t continue right away.

“I know it’s your call, your business…but, be honest with me, would you have returned to playing poker if not for this generous offer of yours?”

“I don’t mind playing poker.” Which, he realized, saying it, was the truth. “I don’t plan on playing professionally any longer, but for charity, and helping out a town in need, I don’t mind playing. I like the game itself.” Also true. “It’s endlessly fascinating to me, in fact.”

“Why? What about it appeals to you?”

He knew she wasn’t asking the obvious question, or expecting the obvious answer, which was usually some variety of “because I’m good at it” or “because it made me rich.”

“It makes me think. I like the randomness of it, and the specificity. There are only so many of each kind in each deck, only so many hands you can draw, and yet add in the mental element and the emotional element, and it’s not just about doing the math or playing the percentages. You’re also playing the people sitting around the table, who don’t have to be winners to rob you of the pot. I like the mathematical challenge; I like the mental challenge. But mostly I like the people challenge. And how the outcome is never obvious.”

“Interesting.” She smiled, like she’d figured something out about him she hadn’t already known.

He smiled back. “Interesting how?”

“You never mentioned the risk. Or the high you could get from pushing all that money around, the thrill of winning.”

“That’s never been why I played.”

She nudged him with her chin. “Easy to say for the guy with all the chips.”

“You don’t just get those handed to you, you know.”

“True. So, you’re not a risk junkie. Thrill seeker?”

“No. Risk is simply a factor of playing the game. One element, like all the rest, to be looked at, analyzed, and played accordingly. You can either seek to minimize the risk or exploit it. Everyone at the table is facing the same odds you are. You can play that angle, too.”

“So, it’s all angles, math, people, perception.”

“Yes.”

“And winning,” she said, her grin daring him to disagree.

“It was a handy by-product of my fascination, yes.”

“You sound so…clinical about it. Assuming you’ve had above-average success, I guess I’d have assumed you’d be more passionate.”

“About the game itself, I have been. Maybe not so much of late. But keeping a clear head—clinical if you will—is key. At least for me. Lose your head; lose your wallet. And your heart. I never wanted to be in a position where a game had the power to break my heart.”

“So…what happened to change that? Did you burn out or decide to get out before it did break your heart?”

“I love the game of poker, just not the rest of what comes with it. However, it’s given me pretty much everything I have, outside of family and friends that is. And it’s provided for them as well. So I have to respect it, respect that.”

“But?”

“But, it’s not what I pictured myself doing, or being. Not long term. It just sort of happened, and at a time when the income was needed and the help for others was needed. Then, it sort of took on a life of its own. And, I guess, to some degree, I felt kind of responsible for keeping it going, even when I was well past needing it for myself any longer.”

“So, why not walk away? At some point, you’re not obligated to help anyone else, right? It can’t always be about putting everyone’s needs above your own. What you want and need has value, too. The people you care about would respect that, want that even. And if they don’t, well that’s something to think about, isn’t it? But even worse would be if
you
don’t—” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, something struck her. Her expression shuttered almost immediately, as if long used to the protective measure, but not before a stark look of pain had flashed through her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

She blinked and looked at him. “Nothing,” she said too quickly.

He brushed a soft thumb across her cheekbone. “Not nothing,” he said quietly.

She held his gaze then. “I’m not used to anyone being so in tune with me. It’s…flattering. But also a little disconcerting.”

“I’d offer to look less deeply, but you compel me, Kirby. And I can’t help what I see.”

“What do you think you see?”

“Tell me what just ran through your mind, when you said at some point I shouldn’t feel obligated any longer. It wasn’t about my helping you out now.” He didn’t make it a question.

She shook her head. “Though maybe it should. I—it just, thinking about the position you were in made me think about my own past.”

“Patrick?”

“More me, actually. Who I was with him, who I was before him. I just realized something about myself. Maybe you and I are both a little alike. At the time, I certainly wouldn’t have said that I was doing everything because of some misplaced sense of obligation to Patrick. But…” She blew out a short breath. “Now, looking back, I have to wonder.” She lifted her gaze to his again. “I was with him for over eleven years, Brett. The last eight, almost nine of those we lived together.”

“A rather substantial chunk of your adult life.”

“Almost all of it, certainly up to that point.”

“The same with me, only my significant other was my job.”

“I was very career oriented, too, and all that time I saw the two of us, Patrick and I, as a team, united toward the same career goals. Albeit his were far more expansive than mine, but when it came to the resort, we were a united front.”

“And?”

“You know, you finally came to your own realization that your relationship with your career was not a fulfilling one, that this wasn’t enough, or possibly all there could be for you.”

“Is that what just struck you, that maybe you’d have never figured that out for yourself if you hadn’t discovered that Patrick wasn’t as united with you and your joint goals as you thought?”

“Partly, yes. I don’t know that I would have,” she said. “If I ever did, it certainly would have taken me much, much longer, before the dissatisfaction set in. If it ever did.”

“You can’t beat yourself up if your goals were clearly stated and you were doing everything in good faith, believing—rightly—that your partner was being truthful with you about sharing those goals. It’s not about being blind or stupid, or even self-unaware, when someone you absolutely believe you can trust takes advantage of that.”

“Thank you for saying that,” she said, “but I’m not even really talking about Patrick’s duplicity in this. Yes, it was both a devastating blow and a huge big beacon of illumination into what was really going on with my life. But it’s really my part in all of it that still throws me, still keeps me wondering about myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…here I was, with a man for over a decade, enjoying what I thought was a fully realized, healthy relationship. I absolutely assumed that we’d get married, have a family, but that we were both focused on achieving other goals, career-oriented ones, first. I had moved in, we were all but joined in holy matrimony in my mind…so I just sublimated the rest.”

“The rest of what?”

“The rest of what I wanted from us as a partnership, but wasn’t getting. I was constantly compromising my wants and needs for his, but he always made it seem like it was our idea, not just his idea. And I’m far, far from being an idiot or the kind of person who just blindly trusts and adores without any return of the same.”

“But?”

“But that’s exactly what I did. For a long time. A very long time. Why did I do that? It’s so not who I am, and yet I was totally that girl, that woman. And just now, what I said about not being obligated forever, and that making yourself happy should be a valid goal, too. It’s all about balance. You give; you get. I had no balance, yet I still felt obligated.”

“Why? What did he do that made you feel that way? Give you the job?”

“The job, his heart. Or so I thought. He was like this bright shining beacon of everything I wanted, everything I was working toward, and there he was, willing to shower me with all of my dreams come true, both personally and professionally. It was really pretty heady stuff for me. I couldn’t believe I was going to be that lucky.”