have money, Linc, and nothing is more important to me than restoring Ellie to Kari,” she replied, her tone firm.
“Okay, deal. But what if you find Kari, and she refuses to take Ellie back?”
Her heart lurched. God, she couldn’t think about that. Not now. “She will. I’ll make her.”
“I hope you’re right,” Linc said. “But, because we are talking about Kari, maybe you should have a plan B.”
Tate heard the insistent horn of a taxi and looked out of the window, seeing the yellow cab outside. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, deal. One week and we’ll reevaluate.”
Linc placed a hand on her shoulder as he stood up, squeezing gently. “Thanks, Tate. I’ll go down and tell the taxi he’s not needed, and I’ll bring your bags back up.”
She pulled her knees up to her chest, thinking that she shouldn’t ask the question burning her brain. But she couldn’t stop the words. She had to know. “Linc...?”
He placed his hand on the doorjamb and turned. “Yeah?”
“When you kissed me last night. Were you thinking about Kari?”
Linc released a sound that sounded like a half snort, a half laugh. “No, that was all you, Tate Harper.” His dark gray eyes dropped from her face to her chest, and back up to her face again. Then his gaze lingered on her mouth, and his eyes heated as his hands curled into fists. Tate thought that he might be trying to stop himself from reaching for her.
Or was that wishful thinking?
“It was all you,” Linc repeated his words, his voice sounding like sandpaper. “Only you.”
Linc disappeared, and Tate heard him heading down the stairs. “Damn, Ellie.”
At the sound of her name, Ellie looked up and gifted her with a gummy grin.
“How the hell am I going to resist him?”
The child, not understanding the question, threw her doll at Tate’s legs.
* * *
He was living with another Harper woman, Linc grumbled to himself a couple of days later, running down the stairs from his home office to open the front door.
God help him. Kari had been, generally, a pain in his ass, but Tate, well, she was trouble on a whole new level. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her off his mind.
And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Linc looked at his watch and thought that he’d known her for less than three days and every minute they were together he fought the urge to take her to bed. Her perfume was in his nose, the memory of her smooth skin was on his hands, and the image of those warm cognac brown eyes, foggy with passion, were burned into his retinas. He was so screwed, metaphorically speaking. Sad as that was.
Stop thinking about sleeping with her, Ballantyne. Think about business and the fact that you are less than useless working from home, mostly because you are so easily distracted by a pair of long, sexy legs and that that tumble of long, wavy hair you want to sink your hands into.
He bit back an oath. Work was piling up, and he couldn’t leave Beck to carry the load for much longer. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. Jo was having a ball with Gary, and Linc knew that he’d lost her as his full-time caregiver; he had to find someone to look after Shaw on a permanent basis.
Tate seemed to be doing okay, he reluctantly admitted. She and Shaw seemed to click, helped by the fact that Tate was able to spend hours with him in the afternoons, building forts and racing cars, Ellie close at hand. After sampling his runny scrambled eggs on day one at Frustration Central, she kicked him out of the kitchen, cheerfully stating that she’d cook. She quickly and with the minimum of fuss, whipped up meals that both Shaw and Ellie could eat and then tossed together a more adult meal the two of them could share while exchanging polite conversation and pretending that they weren’t imagining each other naked. So far he’d eaten a Thai curry and a pork-and-beans dish from the deep South. If she wasn’t a Harper, and he didn’t want her in his bed, he’d probably employ her on the spot as his housekeeper/nanny.
Lusting after the nanny, such a cliché. And if that thought wasn’t enough to dampen his raging libido, then he should remember that she was the last person that he should be interested in. She was a nomad, she’d only be around until she reunited Ellie with Kari, and then she’d shoot off to parts unknown.
She was also his ex’s sister, and he’d been burned by one Harper blonde before. Did he really want to risk repeating that crappy experience?
If it meant getting her naked then...maybe. But probably not.
God, he was arguing with himself, a new low.
Linc opened the ornate wooden door and glared at Reame Jepsen, his oldest, closest friend and owner of the best investigative company in the city. His green eyes sparkling with amusement, Reame lifted his eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.
“What’s up, dude? You look pissed,” Reame drawled, walking into the hallway, taking a moment to look at the stained glass windows on either side of the door. “God, I love this house. Always have.”
Reame was his one friend who knew him from BC—Before Connor. They’d both lived in the same run-down apartment building in Queens, but, somehow, their friendship survived his move to Manhattan when Jo landed the job of Connor’s housekeeper, his subsequent adoption by one of the wealthiest men in the country and his very privileged lifestyle.
Reame had no idea how much Linc admired him; he’d grown up poor, joined the military, served with distinction in the Special Forces and established one of the most respected security and investigative companies in the city.
Reame said that he couldn’t have done it without Connor’s, and then Linc’s, business, but Linc disagreed. His buddy never gave up and never gave in. He would be exactly where he was, with or without Ballantyne business.
“You’re wearing your pissed-off-with-women expression,” Reame stated, after they exchanged a one-armed, super brief hug.
“Thanks for coming over,” Linc told him as they walked deeper into the house, heading for the downstairs family room. Reame shrugged off his thanks, and Linc knew that, like his brothers, Reame would move mountains for him if he needed him to.
“So, who’s the woman?” Reame asked, not allowing Linc to change the subject.
Knowing that his friend wouldn’t let the subject die, Linc pushed frustrated fingers through his hair. “Kari’s sister.”
Reame’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Satan’s bride’s sister is here? Why?”
“Long story, we’ll go into it,” Linc said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s actually going to be your client... I’m just doing the introduction.”
Reame shook his head. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not interested.”
“Hear her out, Reame. She’s not like Kari.” Linc hesitated. “At least I don’t think she is.”
