Off Limits (3 page)

"It's not. I'm just asking you for a little understanding. I can pay you in installments. Two thousand dollars a month until we are square." I end on a pleading tone but I can't help it. I have no room for pride here.

I watch fascinated as he runs a hand through the hair on top of his head, pulling the long locks back and holding them there. His hair is long enough he could put it in a short ponytail if he wanted. With his hair pulled back, his face is thrown into stark relief, so that his sculpted cheekbones say, "BAM" to me. The angels were definitely singing on the day this guy was created.

I wait with baited breath.

He finally releases the hold on his hair and it gracefully glides back around his face. I wonder if it's as soft as it looks.

"Fine. But I need your information so you can't welsh on me."

As if. "Fine, whatever."

I pull my wallet out and he copies down my license information. I give him my phone number, and he gives me his.

"What's your name?" I ask, so I can program it in my phone.

"Nix."

"Nix what?"

"Just Nix...that's all you need to know."

This man is infuriating. Hot, but infuriating. "Then how can I make a check out to you if I don't know your last name?"

"You don't," he says in a low, husky voice. "Bring me cash. Just call me when you have the first two thousand. I expect it within thirty days or else I'll come looking for you. And trust me...you don't want that to happen."

A shiver involuntarily runs through me and I can't tell if I'm scared or turned on by the danger in his voice.

And even though I'm pissed as hell that I've just blown $10,000 over my own stupidity, I can't help the fact that I'm looking forward to seeing this man again.

Emily

I knock on Danny and Ryan's door and wait for them to open it. I've finally gotten my heart rate under control after that terrifying but surreal experience with Nix.

And what the hell kind of name is Nix anyway?

The door is thrown open and Ryan is standing there. I throw my arms around his neck and he picks me up, swinging me around.

"There's my baby sister," he says with overt fondness and I love it. I love how much our relationship has changed over the last few years. "How did the interview with Linc go?"

Ryan drops me to the ground and I put my purse and keys on his foyer table. "It was fine. Lincoln's a nice guy. Got exactly what I needed."

"Awesome. Well, come on into the kitchen. Danny is pulling stuff out of the oven right now."

I follow Ryan back into the kitchen. Danny is bent over the oven, pulling out what looks like an amazing pork tenderloin. Ryan notices her position and immediately goes over to her. "Here, let me get that for you."

Danny swats his hand away. "I can do it. I'm not an invalid you know."

My eyes narrow as I watch Danny pull the pan out, her hands dwarfed by two huge oven mitts. Ryan stands nearby, holding his hands out as if she might fall.

What. The. Hell?

"What's going on with you two?" I demand.

Both of them turn to look at me, guilty expressions on their faces. They look at each other then back at me. Neither of them says a word.

"I repeat...what...is...going...on?" I punctuate every word with enough menace that they know I'm expecting a truthful answer.

Ryan seems to have forgotten that Danny is holding a steaming pan of pork loin in her hand. "Um...well...um..."

I turn to Danny and raise my eyebrows. She'll need to answer because Ryan has apparently been struck stupid.

"That pan looks hot, Danny. Put it down."

Danny turns and sets the roast on the counter top. She turns back to me and she has a little smirk on her face. She's hiding a secret but I can tell she wants to spill.

"Okay, if you two don't tell me what's going on right this minute...I'm going to..."

What am I going to do? What threat will work?

Oh, I know.

"I'm going to pick up the phone and call Mother. And I'll tell her that Danny cheated on you, Ryan, with a midget from the circus and you are going to have his midget baby. Then you, Ryan, can deal with the fallout."

Danny busts out laughing and Ryan looks horrified. "You wouldn't," he accuses.

"Would."

Danny takes her oven mitts off and slaps them into Ryan's chest. "Get the rest of the vegetables out of the oven."

I start jumping up and down like a kid at Christmas because she's getting ready to spill her guts I can tell. "Tell me, tell me, tell me," I implore. "I can keep a secret."

Ryan pulls the veggies out and shuts the oven with his foot. After setting them down, he takes the mitts off and pulls Danny into his arms. He nestles her backside into him and wraps his arms around her stomach. Placing his lips on her head, they both look at me.

"Think we should tell her?" he asks.

Danny looks at me appraisingly. "I don't know. I'm not sure she could keep the secret."

I pull my iPhone out of my pocket with flourish. "That's it...I'm calling Mother."

Danny leaps out of Ryan's arms and grabs my phone away. "Fine, you brat. We'll tell you."

Ryan pulls Danny back against his chest and nuzzles her neck. He then looks at me and he has the most joyful smile on his face. Tears are in his eyes. "We're pregnant."

The most delicious, languid and comforting warmth spreads through me. It starts in my chest and seeps outward, touching every nerve in my body with a gentle caress. My breath catches as I watch Danny and Ryan watching me for my reaction.

"HOLY CRAP!” I scream. I dash across the kitchen and throw my arms around both of them, sandwiching Danny in between me and Ryan. "I'm going to be an Aunt!"

All three of us are now crying, and hugging, and laughing. I start hurtling questions, still with my arms wrapped around them.

How? When? Boy? Girl? Names?

Danny finally pushes me back and I release my hold. I stand there—just grinning—and I don't think I've ever felt such happiness in my life. I behold my family...Ryan and Danny...and I hope that one day I can have what they have.

***

Ryan's gone as he had an evening team meeting. Dinner was fantastic, made better by the wonderful news. I learned more about pregnancy than I ever knew was possible to learn in one sitting.

Danny is only two months along and they are not telling anyone other than me at this point. They want to wait until she gets into her first trimester. I apologize—insincerely, of course—for making them tell me, but Danny admits that they were going to tell me tonight anyway. They felt that I was the one person in the world they wanted to know right now.

That thought alone has me practically melting into a puddle of snotty goo.

We talk about morning sickness, and baby clothes, and whether my niece or nephew will play the violin or hockey. Or both.

We start spouting out names, giggling over the more ridiculous ones like Horowitz and Tangerine.

Danny goes silent for a second and then she looks at me with solemn eyes. "We want you to be the baby's godmother, Emily."

Ohhhh
, I think, as I suck in a wisp of air through my teeth.

"I don't know...are you sure...isn't a godmother supposed to be like a good role model or something?"

All of my insecurities come gushing forth. I know I've tried to be a better person...a better woman. But I was rotten for so long. How could they entrust me with something so important?

Danny grabs my hand and holds it to her heart. "Emily...I can't think of a better role model for my baby. You are a spectacularly wonderful person and I hope my child grows up to be just like you."

Okay, here's the water works. I smile at her through tear soaked eyes, and then we are hugging each other. She cradles me to her chest, stroking my hair.

"You are a marvel, Emily Burnham," she says softly.

I pull away from her. "You're my role model, Danny. Always."

The evening ends on a high note. Danny breaks out the wine to celebrate but because she's pregnant, I'm the only one drinking. I get a little bit drunk and Danny insists I stay the night.

We start in on the baby names again, and I throw out, "What do you think about Nix?"

"Nix?" she says, gently letting it roll off her tongue. "For a girl or a boy?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I suppose it could be both, but if your kid is a boy, then Nix will stand for asshole for sure."

"What in the world are you talking about?" she asks.

I shrug my shoulders again and don't answer. I don't want to think about the amazingly perfect looking man I ran over today who turned out to be a world-class jerk. I'd rather keep my fantasies of him on the pleasurable side.

Nix

I pop the top off my beer and lean up against the wall. I'm watching the party in progress, always comfortable to observe and never to be drawn into conversation. I've always been, by nature, a quiet and introspective person. My time in the Marine Corps, doing deep reconnaissance missions for MARSOC had taught me well the virtues of patience and silence. Some of my time in Afghanistan had been sitting in the frigid mountains, watching the Taliban movement below and reporting it to Command. I could sit for hours at a time and stare at a single spot if I had to. And I had no problems being quiet about it. It was, after all, my nature.

It's not that large, noisy crowds bother me. I like a good party as much as the next guy. As long as I can sit back, drink my beer and observe. And not be bothered. I'm just not overly fond of people in general.

Tonight, my brother Linc has gone all out and thrown a whopper of a party. Almost his entire hockey team is here, along with a slew of beautiful women. Linc never has a hard time coming up with a throng of ladies to ogle. They are basically hockey groupies, accepting the invite with the hope of getting laid and possibly landing themselves a hockey husband. But the ratio of single Rangers to the hungry ladies is vastly disproportionate and I will be able to take one of them to bed if I want.

For now, though, I'm just watching.

Finishing off my beer, I head into the kitchen and throw the empty in the recycle bin. I pull a new beer out of the refrigerator and twist the cap off. I feel like getting shit faced tonight for some reason.

Walking back into the living room, I resume my perch against the wall. Harley is mingling with the crowd. That dog will do anything for a scratch or soft word. And he is so fucking cute, he always gets it. I often wonder if there is something wrong with the fact that I like dogs more than I do people. All I know...Harley has never let me down.

"Having a good time, bro?"

I look over my shoulder and see Linc standing there, holding his typical glass of Scotch. I give him a nod and hold my beer up in acknowledgment.

"Well, it's going to get better tonight. See those two women over there..."

I look to where he's pointing. Sitting on the couch are two ladies that are ferociously gorgeous. They're both wearing tight, short dresses and sky-high heels. I can tell at a glance that both have put copious amounts of money into breast enhancement.

Who says my observational skills in the Corps were wasted?

"Nice," I reply. And I mean it.

"They're for us...tonight ...after everyone leaves."

Of course, they are. Linc always looks out for me in that department. He thinks I have no clue how to talk to a woman or get one in bed. He takes my silence and unwillingness to engage people as an inability to get laid. I hate to break it to him, but it's not that hard. There are plenty of women out there who appreciate straight, simple talk without the need to spout poetry at them.

But I don't want to hurt his feelings so I just smile at him and say, "You rock, man."

Linc ambles off and heads straight over to the two women. He plops himself on the couch in between them and I watch as they fawn all over my little brother.

What a player!

I glance around and notice the front door open. More partygoers coming in. I recognize one of Linc's good friends, Ryan Burnham walking in, along with his wife, Danny. Now that is one cool chick. Linc told me she was a graduate of Julliard but she rocks some awesome dyed hair and face metal. So not what I picture a hockey wife and classical musician to look like.

And walking in just behind Danny...

My breath freezes and my bottle of beer stops halfway to my mouth. It's Emily. The girl that ran me over last week.

What the hell is she doing here?

As mad as I was at her last week, I've spent the last several days remembering how beautiful she is. And I see my memory serves me still. Her long hair shimmers like melted dark chocolate and her eyes are the lightest, warmest brown I've ever seen. They look like amber swirled with copper.

The whole incident with Emily was baffling to me. I was fucking pissed that she ran my motorcycle over and part of me wanted to strangle her. And yet, by the end of our meeting, she had convinced me to let her make payments for the damages. I still can’t fathom why I agreed to it. Nix Caldwell doesn’t cut anyone slack.

I watch in disbelief as Harley barrels through the crowd and jumps up on her. I start to move forward to pull him off but she just grabs him in a big hug and buries her face in his neck.

I'm amazed. Stupefied. Bumfuzzled.

I've never seen a woman react to Harley that way. Usually, his hundred pounds of brute force tends to scare most people.

Emily gently lowers his front paws to the ground and continues to rub his ears as people come up to her to say hello. She clearly knows a lot of the hockey players here and I'm wondering if she's one of those women that are looking to get laid tonight or walk off with a potential husband.

The thought does not set well with me.

And then I see Ryan Burnham turn to her and whisper in her ear. She punches him in the shoulder over whatever he said, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. That's Ryan's sister. Duh...Emily Burnham. Watching them stand next to each other, there is no mistaking the family resemblance.

She must have been here at Linc's place when she hit me that day. He never said a word to me and he usually tells me about all of his sexual exploitations. Maybe Emily is special to him and he's keeping her under wraps.

As I watch her though, she looks over at Linc, who is still wrapped up in the double-trouble beauties. She just shakes her head with a fond smirk. She's clearly not upset that he is with other women. No...she had to have been here for something else that day. Not that I care nor is it any of my business.

So I just sit back...and I watch her.

***

I never leave my spot, leaning up against the wall. I finish my beer but I don't make a move to get another one. I'm fascinated watching Emily work the crowd. Ryan brings her a glass of red wine and a bottled water for Danny. Emily then proceeds to mingle around. She clearly knows most of the guys, and even makes small talk with some of the girls. I notice she laughs a lot and it's hard not to notice the way her eyes light up when she finds something amusing.

Probably twenty minutes of her laughing and joking with other people goes by, and then the inevitable happens. She glances my way and locks eyes with me. Instantly, the gregarious smile on her face melts and she actually looks disappointed to see me there.

Can't say as I blame her. I was a real prick to her the last time we met.

Oh, well. It's no skin off my back. That's who I am.

I turn away and walk into the kitchen to get another beer. After opening it up, I take a long swallow and lean back against the counter top. No one is in here and I'm enjoying the blessed quiet. It's my solace. I look down to study the Frye boots I'm wearing. They're getting pretty scuffed, and there's a nice gouge on the heel of the left one, compliments of Miss Emily Burnham running me over.

"Hey, Nix."

My head snaps up and Emily is standing there.

Up close, she's even more beautiful that I remembered. She's wearing a dress but it's not the hooker wear that most of the women in the living room have painted on their bodies. It's butter yellow, fitting nicely across her breasts—which are not surgically enhanced, by the way—and flows softly around her legs. The thin straps showcase creamy, sun kissed skin. The dress comes demurely to her knees and she has on a pair of gold sandals I notice after dragging my gaze down her shapely calves.

Emily is tall for a girl. She must be close to five-foot-six, as the top of her head comes about to my shoulder. It's the perfect height to pull a woman in close and press up against her body.

I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking?

I fuck women and leave them. I don't take stock of the beauty of their clothing, or how soft their skin looks.

I look her in the eyes and I make myself be me. "Well if it isn't the lady that likes to run people over."

She blushes and averts her eyes from my gaze. I watch as she clasps her hands in front of her then grabs her lower lip between her teeth. The move is innocent and wrings of nervousness, but damn if it doesn't make me want to take her lip in between my own teeth and bite down softly.

I wait for her to say something. Finally, she looks back at me and says, "I have to talk to you about the money I owe you."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "What's to talk about? You owe me the money and you have about three more weeks to make the first payment."

"Yeah, about my ability to get the money...my source has sort of dried up."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I really shouldn't care about it but I find I want to talk to her more. So this is the perfect excuse.

"I...well...um..." She's stammering with pink cheeks and I find it adorable. Normally, that would be a major turn off for me.

"Spit it out, Emily."

She takes a deep breath and plunges forward. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm a trust fund baby. No surprise there, right? Well, I'm allowed to take out two thousand dollars a month until I turn twenty-one, which is in ten months. When I turn twenty-one, I get full control of the trust. I had planned to just turn over that two thousand every month to you. Unfortunately, I've managed to piss my parents off completely and they cut me off."

Emily blows out a long, slow breath and I see that it is painful for her to admit this to me. But I'm not moved. "You know this isn't my problem. Why don't you just give me your insurance information?"

"No," she exclaims. "I can't."

"Oh, that's right. Mommy and daddy will take away your Beemer, right?" I can't help the sneer in my voice.

She shakes her head. "It's worse than that. If you file an insurance claim, the police will have to do a report. And if I have another accident, I'll lose my license."

I watch her for a minute and she's chewing on that lip again. It makes me want to suck it into my mouth and see how she tastes. I start to feel movement below and holy hell, I'm getting a fucking hard on just by looking at her lower lip. I realize, all of a sudden, that I want this girl.

And I want her bad.

But there is no way. She is clearly not a fuck 'em and leave 'em kind of girl. She's the kind you bring home to meet your parents. And I've never...ever...had a woman I've wanted to do that with. I need to clear my head of Emily Burnham.

She is completely off limits.

I need to tell her to get the fucking money or else.

Instead, I say, "How would you like to work off the debt?"

I have no clue where that came from but the words are out and I can't take them back. And I'm not sure I want to.

She looks at me, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"It turns out that I'm a decent welder and metal artist, but I suck at bookkeeping. I have a ton of administrative work that I need help with. How about you give me twenty hours a week and I'll let you work off the amount you owe me."

I watch as she contemplates my offer. I have to clench my fists not to reach out and pull her lower lip out from between her teeth.

Finally, her lip pops free and she says, "That will take me months to work that kind of debt off."

"A few things you'll learn about me, Emily. I'm not a nice man but I can be a patient one in the right situation."

Her eyebrows close in together as she considers my offer and she licks her lower lips to wet them. I have to bite my own tongue so I don't groan in response.

"Okay," she says. "But it has to work around my class schedule. I can commit Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons to you, and Saturdays, too if you want. Oh, and I figured out already that you're not a nice man."

Why those words cut me, I have no idea because they are utterly true. I'm a world-class prick, particularly to the female persuasion. And I've never thought I should be anything different.

"Deal," I say.

I hold my hand out to shake on it and she steps forward to accept. Her hand is warm and delicate but her grip is firm. She's close enough I can smell her and it's a light scent...jasmine, I think. It suits her well.

Releasing her hand, I walk past her. "See you on, Monday."

I reach into the fridge to grab one more beer and I head down the hall to my bedroom. I have no more interest in the party, and I certainly have no interest in hooking up with Linc's women.

The comfort of solitude is what I crave right now.