in Linc’s smoky gray eyes. “I’ll be down in...” He looked down at his erection and he groaned. “Give me five minutes. Then again, it’s been a while... I might need ten.”
* * *
It took all Linc’s fortitude and willpower to sit through that interminable photo shoot, to take directions from Jose, the anal photographer. But a millennium later—okay, maybe ninety minutes later—Jose declared himself satisfied and Linc, wearing Connor’s massive alexandrite ring on his middle finger, was finally released from hell, previously known as Connor’s magnificent and lushly decorated library.
Needing a minute, Linc ducked into the bathroom, turned around and leaned his back against the door. He turned Connor’s ring on his middle finger, fascinated, as always, by its colors. When he’d stood by the windows of the library, the stone, in the natural light pouring in from the windows, had looked like a fine emerald, but now, under artificial light, it was the raspberry red of a fine Burmese ruby.
Connor had still been alive when he’d asked Kari to marry him, and thank God that he had been. Had he not, Linc might’ve been stupid enough to give Connor’s ring to Kari on their engagement. She would’ve pawned it as she had her very expensive, stunning five-carat yellow diamond solitaire he’d handed over with his proposal. He could live with losing the diamond, but if he’d lost Connor’s ring, he’d never forgive himself.
He still wanted to give it to his wife one day, if he ever found the one woman on whom he could take a chance. Linc pulled the ring off his finger and stared down at it as he imagined sliding the ring onto a feminine finger, looking tenderly into the eyes of the woman of his dreams. But instead of the blue or green eyes he normally conjured up, honey-brown eyes flashed on his mental big screen. Sparkling, warm, expressive eyes, a mobile mouth, tumbling, crazy blondish-brown hair.
Tate.
Linc shoved his ring back onto his finger and stood up to grip the edge of the tiny basin. He glared at his reflection in the mirror above the wall and told himself to get a clue.
Tate would never wear his ring because Tate was not marriage material. Tate was a free spirit, someone who associated marriage and commitment with all the freedoms of jail.
Yes, they were wildly attracted to each other, and as soon as he could get rid of his family, as soon as the kids were asleep, he intended to discover every nook and cranny of that glorious body. He’d taste her, feed on her, but what he wouldn’t do was get attached to her.
That way madness lay. Harper women didn’t like restrictions or commitment. He’d learned his lesson with Kari and he’d learned it well. This time he’d be better prepared. This was about sex, pure and simple. Later tonight, he and Tate would light the match, set their attraction on fire and, like other chemical reactions, they would burn hard and fast, rocketing their way to a quick end.
Because they were on the same page and reading the same damn book, they’d be able to walk away from each other with only a couple of scorch marks and the wish that their spark could’ve burned longer and harder but understanding that intense reactions never lasted.
This was chemistry, nothing else. They hardly knew each other, were complete opposites and lived totally different lives. Chemistry was all they had...
Chemistry was all they could have, Linc reminded himself when a pang of longing coursed through his system. She was bold and mouthy and intense and complicated, for God’s sake. She wasn’t the quiet, stable, calm person he wanted.
She wasn’t bland or boring, either, his inner devil told him, and Linc closed his eyes, frustrated at his turmoil. He hadn’t felt this overwrought in years, not since...
Not since the other Harper woman dropped into his life and flipped it upside down.
Linc opened his eyes and ground his back teeth together. He would not allow Tate to upend his calm, controlled, orderly world. They’d have sex—there was no way he could deny himself that—but that was where their relationship started and ended.
In bed.
God, he couldn’t wait to get that party started. Did the kids really need a bath? Shaw could, this once, miss out on his nightly story. There were a million places to eat in the city, his siblings could find food somewhere else...
He wanted, this one time, to put his needs and wishes first.
Linc jogged down the steps and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and great room, taking in the chaos. A lasagna bubbled in the oven. Cady and Piper sat on the big leather couch closest to the kitchen, and Sage was in the chair opposite them, Ellie on her lap, holding her bottle and fighting sleep. Ty, Jaeger and Piper’s son, sat in the high chair next to the granite-topped counter, and Shaw was perched on the counter itself, a piping bag of shocking green icing in his hand, biting his lip as he squeezed the contents onto a cupcake.
His burly brothers were standing on either side of Tate. Beck was using a small roller on what might or might not be bright yellow dough, and Jaeger was pressing a cookie cutter into garish purple icing.
These were going to be the brightest and messiest cupcakes in the history of pre-K bake days, Linc decided as he walked into the room.
Tate was the first to notice his arrival, and their eyes clashed and held as he walked across the great room. Judging by her glazed eyes and half-open mouth, she was reliving their X-rated, happened-in-the-closet kiss. He dragged his eyes off her before he embarrassed himself, and greeted Cady and Piper, bending down to drop a kiss on Sage’s head. Because he could and she was cute, he kissed Ellie’s head, as well. He walked over to the kitchen area and ran his hand over Shaw’s bright head, taking a moment to connect with his son.
Shaw’s eyes, that intense blue he shared with Kari, met his. “This is the best fun ever, Dad. We’re making spacemen cupcakes.”
Beck lifted his head and mock frowned at Shaw. “Spacemen? I thought we were making dinosaurs!”
“And I thought we were making monsters,” Jaeger chimed in, joining the teasing.
“Spacemen,” Shaw told them, his tone suggesting that they were both village idiots. He gestured to the badly decorated, messy batch of finished cupcakes, beaming with pride. Linc had never seen anything that looked less like spacemen in his life.
“They are so cool,” Shaw said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“They really are, buddy,” Linc lied, straight-faced. “How many do you still have to do?”
Shaw held up a half-decorated cupcake in his hand and looked a little disgusted. “Just this one. Tate says that she has to make some that girls will eat, so she’s going to do the rest later.” Shaw sent Tate a hard look. “No pink and no fairies.”
“But I can do flowers, right?” Tate asked, her mouth twitching.
“Just a few,” Shaw reluctantly agreed.
Linc walked over to the huge fridge and pulled out three beers, opened two and placed them in front of his brothers. Unable to resist touching Tate, Linc allowed his fingers to slide up and under her shirt to find the band of soft skin just above the waistband of her leggings. “Wine, Tate?”
Linc
