Читать книгу Desire Collection: August 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Joss Wood, Rachel Bailey - Страница 14

Six

Dressed in layers, Tate pulled the front door closed and headed outside, wincing as the bitterly cold air burned the back of her throat. She fought the urge to run back into the warm house behind her.

Too much sunshine has made you soft, Harper. Suck it up.

Tate drew level with Linc, concerned that Ellie wasn’t warm enough. She touched her fingers to the baby’s cheek, and Ellie sent her a gummy smile, obviously cozy in the snowsuit that Linc had found in the top of Shaw’s cupboard. Ellie seemed very happy in Linc’s arms, so Tate shoved her bare hands into the pockets of her parka and her chin into the scarf she’d wound around her neck.

Tate felt Linc’s hand on her arm, pulling her left, and she shot him a glance. “Puddle,” he explained and she smiled her thanks. Linc stopped and, with his free hand, pulled his knit hat off his head and thrust it at her. “Your lips are turning blue. Put this on.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re turning into a Popsicle,” Linc muttered as she positioned the hat over her hair, still warm from his head. “Do you want to go back?”

She didn’t. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this cold, but with a little exercise she’d quickly feel warmer. She wanted to walk with Linc, breathe in the snow-tinged air and clear her head.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Tate pulled her hands out of her pockets and wiggled her fingers. “But I do need to buy some gloves.”

He grabbed her hand and, winding her fingers through his, tugged it into the pocket of his leather-and-sheepskin jacket. Warmth from his hand flowed into hers, and she sighed as they walked shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk. “Better?”

“Better,” Tate replied. “How’s she doing?”

“Fast asleep.”

Ellie, her curls covered by the hood of her snowsuit, rested her cheek against Linc’s black cashmere scarf, and her deep eyelashes were smudges against her caramel skin. She looked like a doll, Tate thought, lifting her free hand to gently rub the back of her knuckle across Ellie’s cheek. “She’s so beautiful, Linc.”

He nodded, dropping his head to look into Ellie’s face. “She really is,” he said, his voice tender. Tate wondered if any of his employees or business associates knew that the strong, powerful CEO of Ballantyne International could be brought to his knees by a sleeping baby. “It’s cold, Tate. We need to walk.”

Her hand still in his, Tate felt grateful when he shortened his long stride to accommodate her shorter legs. Feeling a lot warmer and almost content, Tate rested her head against Linc’s shoulder and tasted snow in the air.

What would Kari think if she knew that she was walking hand in hand with her ex-lover, the father of her son? Would she care? Would she think it one big joke? Or would she be jealous as hell? Tate recalled that Kari had never liked to share. When she’d moved in with them after her mother’s death, Tate’s room became hers, Tate’s clothes and toys became hers. Kari, and what she wanted and desired, came first.

No, her sister would definitely not like the idea of Tate cozying up to Linc.

Well, tough. It was her idea for Tate to go to Linc, her decision to abandon her daughter, just like she’d abandoned her son. Kari could shove her jealousy and her what’s-mine-is-mine-and-what’s-yours-is-mine attitude straight up her—

“Whoa, I can practically see steam coming out of your ears,” Linc said. “And you’re squeezing the hell out of my fingers.”

Tate winced and sent him an apologetic look. “Sorry. Thinking about my sister sends my blood pressure skyrocketing.”

“I can relate,” Linc stated bitterly.

She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I really am sorry for what she did to you and Shaw, Linc. I was out of the country, but I was furious with her. Nothing I said could change her mind. I tried to talk some sense into her, I promise.”

Linc nodded his head, a fine mist on his dark hair. “I appreciate that. I can forgive her for leaving me, God knows that I’m not perfect, but leaving Shaw? Bailing on our son is what I can’t forgive. I can’t abide people who don’t, or won’t, shoulder their responsibilities.”

Tate heard a note in his voice that suggested Kari wasn’t the first person in his life who’d disappointed him. “Who else bailed on you?”

Surprise followed by annoyance flashed across Linc’s handsome face. Bingo, Tate thought. “You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I was just being nosy.”

“It was a long time ago, Tate. BC.”

“BC?”

“Before Connor.”

“That was a long time ago,” Tate commented. “It had to have been a hard knock because I can tell it still hurts.”

Tate fell quiet, not wanting to push him where he didn’t want to go. Not that she could push Linc Ballantyne. She didn’t have that much power over him.

Or any at all.“My dad walked out on my mom and me when I was five,” Linc said, staring straight ahead. His voice deepened when he was upset, Tate realized. Or when he was feeling emotional. “We’d been Christmas shopping. We bought him a pair of golfing gloves.” He choked out a small laugh. “Funny the things you remember.”

“You came home from Christmas shopping...” Tate prompted, wanting him to finish the story.

“And he was gone. He cleared out their joint bank account and his clothes and vanished. Never to be heard from again.”

Tate grimaced. “Your mom couldn’t track him down?”

“Tracking someone down takes money and, pre-Connor, there wasn’t that much floating around.”

He had so much, yet he still remembered how it felt to be poor, Tate thought, amazed. Needing to thank him for opening up, she decided to repay him by doing a little of the same. “I can, sort of, relate. My parents divorced, and my dad faded from my life, and he seemed to forget about me when his new wife got pregnant. After my half brother’s birth, I ceased to exist.”

Linc pulled his hand from hers to run it through his hair. “One hundred and one ways to screw up your kids.”

“You seem to be doing a great job with Shaw,” Tate murmured, blowing air into her hands. Linc noticed and pulled her hand back into his pocket.

“Thanks to Connor and Jo.”

His tone suggested that he was done with this conversation, so Tate decided to switch gears. “Getting back to Kari, she’s always been...” Tate hesitated.

“Selfish? Narcissistic? Self-involved?”

“All of the above,” Tate admitted. “I was eight when she came to live with us—”

“Because her mom died?” Linc interjected. He shrugged, and Ellie moved up and down his chest. “Kari didn’t talk about her past and would never discuss the future. It was one of the many things that drove me nuts.”

She and Kari were alike in that way. Tate rarely opened up about her childhood and torturous teenage years, and as for the future? She didn’t make plans beyond the next year or two. That was a Harper trait.

But Linc deserved an explanation. He needed to know who Kari really was, what drove her and why she acted like she did. One day he would have to explain to Shaw why his mom left him, and she never wanted Shaw or Linc to think that they were at fault.

Tate explained how Kari ended up with them and about her aunt’s death. “My mom and her twin were exceptionally close, and when she passed away my mom turned all her energy onto Kari, nursing her through her mom’s death.”

“And where were you in all this?” Linc asked gruffly. Tate jerked her head back, surprised that he’d asked. She’d told this story a few times and most people immediately and, rightfully so, empathized with Kari losing her parent at such a young age.

But Tate also lost her mother at the same time; she’d moved from being Tate’s mom to Kari’s.

“Lost,” Tate quietly admitted. “Kari lost Lauren and I lost Lane. Everything changed that autumn.”

Linc’s fingers tightened against hers, and in that small gesture she felt comfort and sympathy. It gave her the courage and strength she needed to continue. “My mom created a monster in Kari, something she would never admit. I had to toe the line, but Kari, because she’d lost her mom, was given a free pass. At eleven she was a brat, by thirteen she was uncontrollable and at sixteen, she dropped out of school and moved in with her twenty-four-year-old boyfriend.”

“I never knew any of that. I thought she went to college, studied art.” He shrugged, his eyes bleak. “I met her at an art gallery.”

Tate stopped to look up at Linc, and she felt the frown between her eyes. “Do me a favor? Whatever Kari told you, take it with a very small pinch of salt.”

“Did she travel to Europe? Spend some time modeling in Paris? Did she work in Hong Kong in the marketing department of an upmarket clothing company?”

Tate didn’t answer. Of course she hadn’t, and Linc knew it. Instead of answering, Tate shoved her hands back into the pockets of her parka and shrugged. “In her defense, she probably believed in every lie she told you. For a while, until her attention was caught by something or someone more interesting than you—and by interesting I mean edgier, dangerous, illegal—she bought into her own lies.”

“Yeah, what do they call people like that?” Linc muttered as he snapped his fingers, pretending to think. “Oh, yeah...sociopaths.”

“I just want you to know that it wasn’t anything you did or said. Or what you didn’t do or say,” Tate explained. “Kari isn’t the type to stick around.”

Linc’s steel-gray gaze pinned her to the spot. “Are you the type that sticks?”

Tate bit her lip and looked down the wet street. Was she the type to stick? No, thanks to her tumultuous past, she’d shut down and retreated into her own world. She was intensely wary of commitment, of risking her heart. And, like her mom and sister, she wasn’t good with routine, with traditions, with rules and regulations. That was why she’d chosen a career that gave her plenty of flexibility and a lot of different experiences.

“I don’t stick.” Tate lifted her chin and looked into Linc’s eyes. “That’s why I can’t take care of Ellie, why I can’t take full responsibility for her. It’s not who I am, not what I want to do. I need to be free.”

A sad smile touched the corners of Linc’s mouth. After a minute of tense silence, he lifted his hand to rub his thumb over her bottom lip.

“At least you’re honest, Tate.” Linc looked across the road to a brightly painted purple door, and Tate followed his eyes. To the side of the door she saw the discreet sign stating that this building was home to ChildTime.

Even Tate, who had little to no knowledge of kids and schools, had heard of the most expensive and exclusive pre-K in the city. Of course Shaw would attend this pre-K; she kept forgetting that his father was a Ballantyne, one of the most influential and respected businessmen in the city.

She was also finding it difficult to remember that he probably would, in a week or so, be her boss. She would be, officially, his nanny. They had a deal.

And, really, sleeping with her boss—in any capacity—would be so very tacky. Of course, her long neglected libido and her common sense didn’t give even half a hoot.

* * *

Tate, one hand on Ellie’s stroller and the other holding Shaw’s hand, heard her phone ringing in her pocket and knew that the call would be from Linc. Again.

It would be his fourth call in ninety minutes, and Tate debated answering. But, genetically unable to ignore a ringing phone, she sighed with resignation and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

She rolled her eyes at the name on display. Yep, Mr. Paranoid was checking up on her. Over the last week or so, they’d found some sort of routine. Linc took Shaw to school, and then he went to the office, leaving midafternoon to collect Shaw from pre-K. At The Den, they shared a cup of coffee, and then Linc went into his home office to work while Tate took charge of the kids.

They both spent a lot of time thinking about what making love would feel like. Well, Tate knew she did. Far more than was healthy.

But today was different as Linc had called around lunchtime to ask whether she could collect Shaw from school, stating that he couldn’t get away from his desk. He then called her forty-five minutes later to remind her to collect Shaw, and then Amy, his assistant, called her to check that she was on her way. The man had serious trust issues, Tate thought. Then again, he had lived with Kari, so she couldn’t blame him.

Tate looked at her still-ringing phone. There was no doubt that Linc wanted to know that she had Shaw.

Knowing that the call was about to drop, Tate finally answered. Linc’s voice, deep and sexy, but holding a trace of anxiety, flowed into her ear. “I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

Tate rolled her eyes. “Hi, Linc.”

“I’m just checking to see if the school released Shaw to you without any problems. They are sticky about who picks up the kids and when.”

Tate decided to have some fun with him. “Oh, God... Is that the time? Was I supposed to collect him? Is it really half past three?”

There was a long beat of silence. Linc was probably deciding whether she was messing with him or not, or he was making plans to put a hit out on her so Tate handed her phone to Shaw. “Say hi to your dad.”

“Hi, Dad!” Shaw said into the phone, always happy to talk to Linc.

Linc spoke, and Tate’s eyes hit the back of her skull when she heard Shaw’s answer. “Yes, Tate was waiting for me when I came out. No, I didn’t have to wait for her. Oh, and Dad? I need a lot of cupcakes for tomorrow. Like, hundreds.”

Tate heard Linc’s loud groan and bent her fingers at Shaw, gesturing him to hand the phone over. Lifting the phone to her ear, she pushed the stroller with one hand and headed for home. “You sound like you are about to have a coronary, Ballantyne. I have your kid and we’re heading home.”

“Did you hear what he said about cupcakes?” Linc demanded, and Tate could imagine him running his hands through his hair.

Okay, this wasn’t a big deal. “There are about a million bakeries in Manhattan. Send one of your minions to buy however many you need. Easy peasy.”

“Nothing about ChildTime is that easy.” Linc growled. “Hold on a sec. I’ll see if they sent an email about this.”

Tate pushed the stroller and idly listened to Shaw talking animatedly to Ellie as she waited for Linc to come back on the line. When he did, there was tension in his voice. “Yep, I found it. It was something I thought Jo would handle, so I ignored it. And, as per usual, they’ve complicated the process. They would prefer the twenty-four cupcakes to be homemade, preferably with the child being involved in the process.”

“So buying the cupcakes is out.”

“Yep, the school actively promotes families spending time together. Crap, I need this like I need a hole in the head. I have this damned photo shoot tonight, and the family is coming over for supper, and I now have to make cupcakes! Shoot me already.”

“Twenty-four?” Tate demanded. “How many kids are they feeding?”

“They are asking for extra so that they can donate them to shelters for abused women and kids.”

That’s a nice gesture, Tate thought, slightly mollified. “What photo shoot?” she asked, recalling his previous comment.

“Our PR expert has the four of us in a series of print advertisements, all of us dressed the same and holding a piece of jewelry or a gemstone we have an emotional connection to,” Linc explained. “The idea is to get people to the website to read up on our stones and the story behind them, hoping that they will see something they like on the site and part with their cash to have it.”

Tate remembered seeing the ads featuring Jaeger. She’d done exactly what he’d mentioned—she’d read up on how he’d proposed to Piper with the Kashmir sapphire featured in his ad. “It’s such a great idea. Is the campaign working?”

“Yeah, we’ve had good responses to Jaeger’s and Beck’s ads,” Linc replied.

Shaw tugged on her sleeve, and she looked down to see his worried expression. He was four, and he wanted to take cupcakes to school. Tate sent him a reassuring smile.

“Hold on a sec, Linc, while I talk to Shaw.” She turned to Shaw and asked, “What if I make the cupcakes and you and Dad decorate them? Would that work?”

Shaw nodded enthusiastically. “Can we make animal cupcakes? Or space monsters?”

Oh, dear Lord. What had she got herself into? Animals? Space monsters...? Well, with the aid of the internet, hopefully she’d figure something out.

“Is that okay with you, Linc?” Tate spoke into the phone again.

“I know you can cook, but can you bake?” Linc asked in her ear, his tone doubtful.

Tate pulled a face. She was a travel and food journalist and a fairly good chef, so whipping up a batch of cupcakes wouldn’t strain her culinary repertoire.

“Can you? And more important, do you want to try and fit making twenty-plus cupcakes into your very busy afternoon and evening?” Tate pertly replied.

Linc’s sigh was heavy. “No, I can’t and, no, I don’t.”

Tate smiled. “Then your part-time, fill-in nanny will make them.”

“My part-time, fill-in nanny is about to get a huge raise.”

“I’m sure we can work out a repayment plan that would be a lot of fun,” Tate replied, lowering her voice seductively. God, what was she doing? She heard Linc’s swift intake of breath and knew that she was playing with fire. Tate slapped her hand against her forehead and groaned. She had to resist him, and she should not be making flirty comments!

“What, exactly, did you have in mind?” Linc asked, his voice low and husky and vibrating over her skin.

Tate closed her eyes, mortified. “Ignore me, I should not have said that.”

“Why is your face red?” Shaw demanded. “Are you sick?”

Tate heard Linc’s wicked laugh in her ear. “Are you blushing, Tate? What, exactly, are you thinking about?”

“I am not about to tell you that!” Tate admitted, lifting her hand to her burning cheeks.

“Spoilsport. But it’s okay because my imagination is vivid enough for both of us. I’m just glad I’m alone and sitting behind a desk.” Linc admitted.

Tate blushed again at the visual that popped into her head and wished that she were with him, touching him, running her hands over the hard-ridged muscles of his stomach and into the back of his pants to push her finger tips into the hard muscle of his butt.

“We can’t do this, Linc. We really can’t complicate our lives by having—” Tate glanced at Shaw “—doing that!”

“I know that. I’ve tried everything to talk myself out of taking you to bed, but I want you, Tate. I’m wrong for you, and you’re wrong for me, but hell... I keep thinking of the patterns I want to draw on your skin, how I want to go about discovering every perfect inch of you. Then I want to make love to you until you forget your own name.”

Oh, God, her panties just caught fire. Tate felt the throb of desire start in her womb and spread through her body, causing sparks to ignite under her skin.

“You’re diabolical,” she wailed. “This isn’t a good idea, Linc. You know it’s not!”

“Screw good ideas,” Linc muttered.

Thinking that she’d plow the stroller into a light pole if they continued with this conversation, Tate tucked her phone between her neck and jaw, gripped the handle of the stroller with one hand and tightened her grip on Shaw’s hand. She had children to get home, cupcakes to make; she wouldn’t manage either if she kept fantasizing about the naughty things she wanted Linc Ballantyne to do to her.

They couldn’t. They shouldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

“Do you have the ingredients for the cupcakes?” she asked him, thinking that they really needed to get to safer ground.

“Changing the subject, Tate?”

“Absolutely. Let’s be smart and keep things simple, Linc.”

Tate clearly heard his frustrated sigh, and when he didn’t respond she chose to believe that he agreed with her. “So, about those ingredients?”

“I have no damn idea what is in the pantry,” Linc eventually replied. “I’ll get Amy to send an intern shopping for whatever you might need.”

“Flour, eggs, icing sugar, food coloring,” Tate rattled off. “Don’t go overboard. And do your interns do any real work or are they just there to make your life easier?”

“Both,” Linc said. “I’ll try and be home as soon as I can. If I’m not home by five, can you let Cady and the photographer into the house?”

“Yep. And I’ll even send you a text message to tell you that we are home safe, just so that you have one less thing to worry about,” Tate told him.

“Thanks, Tate,” Linc said. “I know that you think I’m overreacting and being paranoid but he’s—”

“Your life. The reason the sun rises every morning,” Tate said softly. God, she’d never been that to anyone, not even to her mom. For Lane, her first, most important connection was to her twin, then to Kari, who was all she had left of Lauren. And then, miles behind, was Tate.

What would that feel like, to be the object of Linc’s fierce devotion? His love? Pretty damn awesome, Tate decided. Fully fantastic.

“Tate?”

“Hmm...?”

“You and me? We can try to keep resisting each other, but I suspect it’s going to happen and when it does, we’re going to blow the damned roof off.”