When We Kiss (7 page)

He pushed down the rising lump in his throat. He hadn't videotaped a jump—or anything else—since then. His GoPro sat unused at his high-rise condo in Denver. What was the point of recording anything? He'd only done it for Alex. He never watched the videos back, preferring to live in the moment, which Alex could never do.

It was odd to think that he owed his love of extreme sports to Alex. It had all started with a skydive during college. Alex had asked Liam if he'd jump out of an airplane and videotape it so that Alex could experience it “with” him. Liam had immediately agreed. He and Alex had always shared a bond—they were identical twins. Except they could never be completely the same. Liam had been born whole and healthy, while Alex had suffered the brunt of being the smallest and sickliest of six. Someone had to get the short end of the stick. And that had been Alex. The brother who looked exactly like Liam but who was a constant reminder of how Fate had chosen one of them over the other.

Liam closed his eyes briefly and floated for a moment. Up here he could forget that pain. Up here he could drift and just be. Down there he'd have to step back into reality.

He opened his eyes and saw the drop zone. He'd be there in just a moment. In years past, he'd feel a rush of excitement to download the video and send it to Alex. But not anymore.

The landing was easy, like stepping off a subway onto the platform. He longed for that rush of excitement he used to feel afterward, that inexplicable high that lasted for days.

But over the last fourteen months, the euphoria that came from his extreme hobbies had dwindled and become almost nonexistent. It was time to push the limits again. Time to find something new.

After repacking his chute, stowing his gear, and changing his clothes, Liam went in search of his friend Rylan Forbes. Rylan owned the skydiving outfit as well as a flight school, and one of his instructors had flown Liam up today. Three years Liam's senior, Rylan had taken Liam on his first jump seven years ago.

Liam walked into the hangar and found Rylan in his office.

Tall and broad-shouldered with dark wavy hair that he typically wore a bit on the long side, Rylan stood and greeted him with a wide smile. “Well, if it isn't my favorite asshole.”

Liam grinned in return. “And my favorite prick.” They embraced briefly.

“Dude, it's been a while.” His brow gathered. “A long while. Where've you been?”

“Around. I dislocated my shoulder a few months ago. Heli-skiing.”

Rylan's eyes widened briefly. “I hadn't heard. Be careful, man.” He gestured for Liam to sit on a beat-up leather couch against the wall. Rylan folded his large frame back into his squeaky desk chair and turned it away from the desk to face the couch.

Liam dropped onto the couch and leaned back, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “You know me.”

“Why do you think I said to be careful?” Rylan asked wryly. “And keep in better touch. You suck at that. We used to hang when you were in town, at least a handful of times a year. Or have you been staying away?” He didn't say
since Alex died
, but the unspoken implication hung between them, as Rylan knew all about their extreme-sports situation.

Liam shrugged. Though Rylan was maybe his closest friend, there was still a wall Liam preferred to keep erected between himself and pretty much everyone else. “Somewhat. I've been here a bit, just busy.”

He thought back to his visits over the past year—Derek's wedding, his annual trip at the end of summer to run Hood to Coast with the Archer team and to see the Dave Matthews Band, Thanksgiving, the holidays, and a quick weekend visit in February after the heli-skiing accident. Hooking up with Aubrey had been the highlight of each trip until New Year's, when she'd told him she didn't want to see him anymore. If she'd been any other woman, he would've moved on, but seeing her at Evan's wedding had reminded him that she wasn't like any other woman. And he wasn't sure why.

Maybe because she hadn't asked him to make a commitment, which is what practically every other woman had done. Instead, she'd been the one to drop him.

“Still hanging with Whitney Parker? She just finished a flying lesson with Dirk.” Dirk was another of Rylan's instructors. Liam thought he had six or seven guys—both flight and skydiving instructors—working for him now.

Instinctively, Liam sat up and prepared to flee, in case she was stalking him. “God no. Too clingy.” And now a bona fide enemy of the family. “In fact, I should probably get out of here before she finds me. Real quick, you still BASE jumping?”

Rylan nodded slowly. “Why, you finally ready to give it a go?”

“Definitely. I have enough experience.”

“More than,” Rylan agreed. “As it happens, I'm taking some guys to an FJC in Idaho in May. You want in?”

First jump course, or FJC, was BASE jump training. Liam had looked into several FJCs, including the one at Perrine Bridge in Idaho. “I do.” The spike of adrenaline Liam had missed following his jump jolted through him. “E-mail me the details.”

“You got it.” Rylan leaned forward and clapped him on the knee. “Now we have a party!” His smile faded into a grimace as his gaze trailed to his office door. “You're screwed. Parker's coming this way. Sorry, dude.”

Bracing himself, Liam stood and left the office. He had to pass her to get to his bike. Maybe he could just wave in passing. Who was he kidding? She was barreling toward him like he was bait on a hook.

“Liam!” she called. “How fun to see you here. Jumping today?”

“Earlier, yeah. Rylan says you're taking flying lessons.” He inwardly winced. In trying to be pleasant, he'd inadvertently invited conversation. Sometimes the lasting effect of his mother's lessons on how to be polite and gentlemanly was a pain in the ass.

She smiled warmly and moved closer. “I am. I thought you'd find that impressive. I was always disappointed that you never took me flying.” She didn't visibly pout, but he heard it in her voice.

Was she doing this to try to woo him back? “Please tell me you aren't learning to fly planes to impress me, because that would be stupid, Whitney.”

She laughed that high-pitched giggle that had maybe once been cute but now grated his nerves. “Of course not, silly. I'm a thrill seeker, you know that. It's one of the things we had in common, remember?”

He remembered. He also knew that he kept his sports life and his love life completely separate. Extreme sports were a constant he relied upon, whereas his love life was more of an extracurricular activity. Wow, put like that, he sounded
really
fucked up.

He ignored her question. “I need to get back to Ribbon Ridge.”

“I'll walk with you.”

Great.

She turned and fell into step beside him as he strode from the hangar. “So what's on tap next? I heard you dislocated your shoulder heli-skiing. Bummer. I wondered if you'd maybe try BASE jumping.”

He flashed her a glance but said nothing.

“Maybe you're not ready, especially since you just recovered.”

“I just jumped out of an airplane.” He didn't bother suppressing his sarcasm.

She laughed, and his nerves frayed. “True. But then you're Iron Man, aren't you? Right down to the playboy mentality and the rich-boy arrogance.” Her gaze flicked to his chest. “And I'm pretty sure you've got a battery-operated heart, if you have one at all.”

Ouch. She had his number.

Except he hadn't been much of a playboy since Alex died. Or since he'd started hooking up with Aubrey, depending on how you looked at it. And for the first time, Liam was looking at it. Why hadn't he gone back to his revolving arm candy? Every six months or so he moved on to someone new. Someone who wasn't looking for forever, just a great, mutually satisfying time. Once in a while he wound up with someone like Whitney, but he'd been pretty careful to date women who understood his rules up front.

“Listen, Whitney, I know you're still interested in me, but I told you in the beginning that I wasn't a long-term guy. Then, when we parted ways, I made it clear that our fling was done. End of story.”

She frowned. “That means we can't even be friends?” Something dawned in her eyes, something that turned her frown into a half-smile, something that gave him another uneasy feeling. “You have
no
women friends.”

Sure he did. He thought of Tori and Sara, but they were his sisters. He could argue they were friends, but it wasn't the same, was it? Damn, he really
didn't
have any women friends. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to invite Whitney Parker to be the first. In fact, he was through trying to be polite. “Your dad is gunning for my family. He's trying to destroy my brother's legacy. You and I are not going to be friends.” He quickened his pace toward his bike.

She caught up to him as he picked his helmet up. “Hey, that's not fair. That's my dad, not me.”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at her. “You can't be serious. Anyway, even if it wasn't for that clusterfuck, I'm not interested in you romantically
or
as a friend.”

She pursed her plump, probably collagen-enhanced lips. “Too bad. If you were, I'd talk to my dad and get him to stop his attack.”

Her use of the word
attack
told him all he needed to know. The Parkers were on an offensive, and Liam didn't believe for one minute that she was blameless. “You know, my family thinks this is some jilted boyfriend revenge plot hatched by your dad, but I'm beginning to think you and he are both going after the people who dumped you. Pathetic.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I wonder what your family would think if they knew you used to date me.”

Date? “I wouldn't characterize it that way. Whenever I came to town, we got drunk and screwed. Try to at least be honest about that.”

Her jaw hardened. “Whatever. I still think your family's reaction would be interesting.”

Interesting
was not the word he would use. They'd be pissed, not that Liam could've known that Whitney and her dad were crazies when he'd taken up with her. “What makes you think they don't know?”

“Because you're secretive, and you keep your women separate from your family. I'm not stupid, Liam.” She took a deep breath. “I don't want to fight with you. If you don't want to date, fine. I'd be game for the drinking and sex, too. Anytime. And remember, I'd be happy to talk to my dad.” She raked him with a lustful stare. “Think about it on your ride home.” She turned and walked across the parking lot.

Gritting his teeth, Liam fastened his helmet and climbed onto his bike. All he had to do was sleep with Whitney Parker, and this entire zoning mess could potentially go away. He started up his bike and rode out of the lot onto the highway.

Maybe he should consider it. One night wouldn't do any harm, and it wasn't like he was seeing someone. Hell, he hadn't even had sex since . . . shit
November
? With Aubrey.

No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bone Whitney. Furthermore, he didn't have to. Aubrey was going to kick that high-powered attorney's ass. Even as he thought that, a voice in the back of his head said that Aubrey was relatively green compared to the Parkers' bulldog.

Shit, they'd better win. He couldn't imagine Alex's dream not coming to fruition. No, he wouldn't
let
that happen.

A
UBREY TRUDGED BACK
to her house from the next door neighbors' and scowled at her car parked in the driveway. Her brand-new TV was trapped in the back because she couldn't lift it into the house by herself. Uncle Dave was out of town, Stuart was busy for the weekend, and her neighbors, whose door she'd just knocked on, weren't home.

The next name that popped into her head was bad news: Liam.

He was probably busy feeding his extreme-sports habit. Which she'd told Emily she'd talk to him about. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and pulled up his contact information. Before she could change her mind, she texted him and was surprised when his response came immediately.

Sure, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.

He was coming here. To her house. Where they'd had sex on more than one occasion.
Smart move, Tallinger.

Why hadn't she texted any of the other Archer men? Dylan would've come over in a heartbeat. As would've Derek. Or Sean. Or Kyle. But no, she'd texted Liam. So she could talk to him about his extreme sports.

Yeah, right.

Aubrey went inside to wait and further deride her foolish choice. A short while later, the sound of a motorcycle drew her to the front bay window. Liam parked his bike in the driveway and whipped off his helmet. His dark hair was tousled in an impossibly sexy way. No one's hair had a right to look that good without effort.

Aubrey crossed through the entryway and did a quick check of her own hair in the mirror in the dining room. A basic high ponytail was hard to screw up, but it was good to see she didn't look as anxious as she felt. What had she been thinking inviting Liam Archer to her house? Alone.

She heard his boots on the porch. Too late to do anything about her panic now, except swallow it. She pasted a smile on her face and opened the door. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

He pulled his lightweight leather jacket off. “It's no problem. Glad I could help.” He flashed her his trademark smile that never failed to melt her knees—as well as points north of them. “Where's this new TV?” he asked.

“It's, uh, in the back of my car.”

He dropped his coat on the teak loveseat her aunt and uncle had bought her as a housewarming present two years ago. Aunt Cyndi had said the porch
needed
a loveseat and hadn't wanted Aubrey to have to wait until she could afford one.

Liam walked to the end of the porch. The sound of his footfalls prompted her to look down at his black motorcycle boots. Hot. She let her gaze slowly travel up his worn jeans. Sexy. And briefly linger on his ass. Sexier.

“Why didn't you have it delivered?” he asked as he went down the stairs to the driveway, jarring her from her embarrassing thoughts. She was supposed to be over this guy. Or at least trying to be.

He just made it so damn hard when he looked like that and when she knew how he could make her feel.

“I needed it right away—my TV died last night.” Her voice trailed off as she realized she sounded like an addict.

He turned to look at her. “Important television event tonight?”

“Tomorrow, actually.
Game of Thrones
is on, and I'm not watching it on my laptop screen.”

His answering laugh heated all of her darkest places. She followed him toward her car, then passed him to open the hatch.

“I didn't know you watched
Game of Thrones
,” he said.

She looked at him over her shoulder. “There's a lot you don't know about me.”

He stared at her a moment before dragging out the word
true
to twice its normal length. He stepped forward and tugged at the box. “This is going to be heavy. You sure you can manage it with me?”

He sounded legitimately concerned, so she didn't take offense. “I helped the guy at Costco get it in here. I figure I can help you into the house with it.”

“I'm sure you can. One thing I do know about you is that you're a kickboxing machine, and you could probably thrash my ass in a sparring match.”

“Damn straight.”

He cracked a smile. “I'll pull the box out, and you grab the other end. I'll go backward into the house.”

“Thanks.”

He slid the box out of the car, and she picked up her side. They moved quickly, tilting the TV as they walked up the three steps to her porch. She'd left the front door open, and they brought the box fully vertical to cross over the threshold.

He paused in the entry. “I forgot to ask where we're going.”

“To the right. Rather, your left.”

He nodded. “Now I vaguely remember where your TV was installed. Did we even watch TV last time I was here?”

His recollection of the night he'd brought takeout during Thanksgiving weekend brought a flush to her cheeks and a rush of lava-hot desire to her core. She was better off not thinking about that.

He went to his left and backed through the small front sitting room into what she called the TV room.

“Go ahead and lean it here against the wall.” Using her elbow, she indicated to the right of the television stand, where her old flat-screen still sat.

Together, they lowered the box to the floor.

“Should I not have mentioned the last time I was here?” he asked, reminding her again of that November night when he'd stripped her clothes off with agonizing slowness. Or the bath they'd taken after eating their dinner. Or the midnight snack that had resulted in ice cream being used in ways it most certainly wasn't intended.
Yeah, definitely stop thinking about that.

“Maybe not.” She wanted to ask how the memory affected him or if it even did. She couldn't tell. He was cool, collected, self-assured Liam. The total alpha who never let you see him sweat. Maybe he was a cyborg. She almost laughed. He was physically perfect enough to be a model for one, but he wasn't
quite
a machine. She recalled wearing him out pretty good, particularly with the ice-cream episode.

Really, Aubrey, knock it off. Think about something benign, something tame.
Stuart popped into her head.

Stuart?

Their date earlier in the week had been fun. In the hang-out-with-your-buddy sort of way. The good-night kiss had been nice, but what was
nice
when you'd had earth-shattering? She forced herself to look away from Liam's lips.

Yep, Stuart was definitely tame, whereas Liam was wild and exciting and . . .
Stop it
.

“Do you have a box cutter or something I can use?” Again he pulled her away from her lurid thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.” She went into the kitchen and found a sharp pair of scissors. “Will these do?” She handed them to him, careful not to actually touch him. She did not need physical contact along with the eye candy, thank you very much.

“Yep.” He turned and opened the box. “It's so funny you ran out and bought a TV so you wouldn't miss
Game of Thrones
. We watch it at the house after our Sunday dinner—on the big screen in the theater. You should come over tomorrow night and watch it with us. Come for dinner first.”

If this were any other guy, she might think he was asking her on a date, but it was Liam. No way was this a date. Still, it was . . . weird. “I'm not sure what to make of that invitation.”

He looked up from pulling the inner packaging off the television. “What do you mean?”

“Liam, you've never invited me to anything.”

His brow wrinkled, and his eyes narrowed. “The hell I haven't. You keep forgetting about the Gorge last Labor Day. And New Year's. I texted you.”

Neither of those counted. “It's not the same. Your text said, ‘I'd like to see you for New Year's'—that's not exactly inviting me to do something. And I was already going to the Gorge. Like you, I go to the concerts every year. We just decided to—” She'd been about to say “hook up,” but she didn't want to say that. “Never mind.”

He went back to his task. “This is just dinner and
Game of Thrones
. With my entire family.”

Meaning it was as far from anything they'd ever done before as it could possibly be. That also meant it was safe. She wouldn't have to worry about being alone with him. Oh, who was she kidding? They hadn't been alone at the winery that day, and they'd flirted themselves into a sexually agitated state.

“I'll think about it. I sort of have my own thing here. I usually watch with my neighbors.” If
usually
meant a couple times since she'd lived here, then sure.

“Kyle's cooking dinner, if that helps to sway you. I think he's doing gourmet pizzas.”

Kyle was an amazing chef. She'd only sampled his food a handful of times, but it was enough to make her mouth water when she considered what sort of pizzas he'd craft. “You're making it really hard for me to say no, but then that's your specialty.”

He looked up at her over his shoulder as he pulled the instructions from the box. He arched one dark, far too sexy eyebrow. “You've demonstrated your ability to give me a hard pass, so I'd argue with your assessment that it's my specialty.”

If he only knew how difficult it was to stick to her guns.

“If Kyle's food doesn't persuade you, do it for The Alex. Everyone will want the latest on the zoning, and since you're working on the response brief, there are things to share, right?”

Damn it, he had a point. And he'd brought Alex into it, which only tugged at her guilt. Okay, he'd said
The
Alex, but in her mind they were the same thing, a man and the legacy that was all they had left of him.

“I'll think about it.” More like try to think of a solid reason not to go.

“What are we doing with your old TV?” he asked.

“It's dead, according to my uncle.” She'd called him last night and described the situation. “So I guess it has to go to the dump?”

Liam tried to turn it on, but it did nothing. “Ned Stark dead or Jon Snow dead? Maybe it can be resurrected.”

She laughed at his joke. There were two kinds of dead on
Game of Thrones
—the Ned Stark kind, where there was no question as to whether the character could come back, and the Jon Snow sort, where there was every possibility and perhaps likelihood that death wasn't permanent. “I'm pretty sure it's Ned Stark dead.”

“Too bad.” He unplugged all of the cables and lifted it. “I can manage this on my own—where do you want me to put it for now?”

“The garage is fine. Here, bring it back through the kitchen to the mudroom, where there's a back door.” She led him toward the back of the house, then opened the exterior door for him. “Watch the steps.”

He went down first, and she followed to open the door to the side of the garage, which was a separate building at the end of her driveway.

“Just put it here.” She indicated the floor.

He set it down, and they went back inside. “Give me a minute to read through these directions.” He scanned the booklet that he'd pulled from the box. “You're setting this on the console table, right? No wall mount?”

She shook her head. “It came with something to sit on, didn't it?” She'd specifically looked at TVs that didn't have to be wall mounted.

“Yeah.” He set the stand up on the top of the black console she'd bought with the old TV. “You ready to heft this up with me?”

“Sure.”

They worked together to position the TV on its base.

“Now for the hard part,” he said. “Hooking it up.”

She heard “hooking up” at first and told herself to get her mind out of the gutter. “You sure you know what you're doing?”

He sent her a brief glance as he plugged in the TV. “Yep.”

She didn't really doubt it. Liam Archer was the sort of person who was good at anything he set his mind to. He was incredibly driven and ambitious. As a result, he made success look easy. Alex had told her lots of things about their sibling dynamics. She knew that Liam and Kyle were competitive and that Liam and Tori were the phenoms, both of them taking their respective careers by storm, and much more. What Alex hadn't told her—what she'd figured out for herself—was that Liam's drive came directly from his need to live a life that was big enough for two people: him and his identical twin.

Just like his extreme sports. He did them for Alex, who'd spent most of his life dependent on oxygen. He'd never be able to jump out of a plane or go windsurfing. But Liam could. And by videotaping every excursion, he took Alex along for the ride. She'd wondered if he would stop when Alex had died, but if anything, he seemed to have stepped up his game, like he had with the heli-skiing.

As she watched him separate the cables, she wondered how the accident had affected him. “What happened when you got hurt a couple months ago?”

“I ended up on a dense trail, and I hit a tree well.” He glanced at her. “That's where the snow around the tree is loose and usually covers a void. This was a pretty big void. I went ass over elbow and landed on my shoulder.”

She winced. “That had to hurt like hell.”

“It did.”

“How'd you get off the mountain?”

“There was a guy behind me. He radioed for ski patrol. Took them a while to get to us, but I got down eventually.” He didn't pause in his work as he told her the story. His retelling was rather emotionless.

She couldn't believe it hadn't affected him—pissed him off, at least. “That didn't scare the crap out of you?”

He looked up at her then. “You mean enough to not do it again?” His lips curved into a half-smile. “It was a new experience, that's for sure. And generally speaking, I like new experiences.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him. “That's absurd. What is there to possibly like about dislocating your shoulder?”

He laughed. “Nothing. But sometimes it's good to remember that I'm fallible.”