Rogue Gentleman (The Rourkes, Book 8) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Rogue Gentleman

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Rogue Gentleman

  © 2020 Kylie Gilmore

  Josie

  I’m an actress between gigs, crashing on the couch at my cousin’s old place. I won’t be here forever. I just filmed a pilot and, if the show gets picked up, I’m off to LA for my dream job. Only I never expected my new roommate would be the grouchiest man on earth. It almost cancels out his sexy rugged good looks. Almost.

  Sean

  The last thing I need is a woman moving into the house I’m renovating on the side. First of all, I live here. Second, I’m running on fumes trying to juggle my day job too. I don’t have time for her irritating cheer or her distractingly cute little body. I’ve got work to do.

  And then Josie decides to “help” me renovate, which has the aggravating effect of making more work for me. I’m losing my damn mind. Yet, somehow, I can’t stop looking at her.

  NEXT FROM KYLIE GILMORE

  Don’t miss Rogue Rascal! There’s an excerpt at the back of this book.

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  Chapter One

  Sean

  I’m a proud man, ambitious too, which is how I got myself into this predicament. On top of my day job, I’m on a tight deadline to finish renovating the old brownstone in Brooklyn where I used to live with my ex. Now it’s just me, living and working here. I climb the steps and pull my key out. God, I’m tired. It’s midnight and I’m jet-lagged from the long flight back from Villroy, where my older brother, Dylan, had his wedding. I just need to finish the renovation and things will ease up.

  I step inside the empty living room, leaving my suitcase by the door, and turn on the flashlight on my phone. Overhead lighting isn’t hooked up on this level. Cre-e-eak. I freeze, suddenly alert. A door just opened inside the house.

  I listen intently. Someone is moving around downstairs. I turn off the flashlight and tuck my phone in my pocket, stealthily making my way downstairs just as someone flops down on the couch in the den. An intruder is making themselves comfortable on my couch? What the hell?

  I flip the lights on.

  “Ah!” a feminine voice squeaks. She jackknifes upright.

  I stride over to her. “Who’re you?”

  She’s young, twentysomething, her red hair in a messy knot on top of her head, wearing a white top with a big Smokey the Bear face. She scrambles off the couch, grabs her phone, and stands a distance away. Her red pajama shorts sport tiny bear faces. Definitely not thief material in those pajamas. She’s cute, but who cares? She’s an intruder.

  “Who’re you?” she demands, holding up her phone with a finger hovering over it. “I have nine-one-one on speed dial!”

  I stifle a groan. There’s a shortcut for an emergency dial, but I’m not going to share that. “I live here. Who’re you, and what’re ya doing here?”

  She lowers her phone. “You’re the contractor? No, forget I said that.” She raises her phone again, her finger hovering threateningly over it. “Now you’re just going to agree that’s who you are when you’re probably here to rob the place.”

  I shove a hand in my hair. I’m too tired for this shit. “There’s nothing here to steal unless you want to haul off some construction supplies and sell them on the black market. I’m Sean Rourke, the contractor for Winnie Abbott’s place. Now, who the hell are you?”

  She lowers her phone to her side, muttering to herself. I only catch “big old grump.”

  I step closer, and her blue eyes widen. I halt. I’m not trying to scare her. I just need to know who she is and what she’s doing here. Then I realize I only need one thing. “You need to leave.”

  “I’m Winnie’s cousin, Josie Abbott.” At my silence, she adds, “Your new roomie. She said I could crash here.”

  I blink. “Roomie?”

  She gives me a small smile. “Yeah. Winnie told me you were living here during the renovation. I was just surprised because you don’t look like I thought based on her, um, description.”

  My brain stalls and then cycles through everything wrong with this situation—

  I have six weeks to finish this renovation.

  This week is critical. I took time off my day job to make progress here.

  An unwanted guest is going to be a huge inconvenience.

  “Goodnight, roomie,” she says and slips under a pale pink fleece blanket on my couch. It’s the only piece of furniture in the place and it’s mine. I made it myself.

  Why didn’t Winnie tell me her cousin was moving in?

  I pivot on my heel, pissed but too tired to deal with this right now. I slap the light off on my way upstairs, make my way to my air mattress, strip down to my boxer briefs, and collapse in bed.

  I wake to the sun streaming in through the large drop cloth I put up as a makeshift curtain. Bleary-eyed, I head downstairs to the only functioning bathroom in the house and halt in my tracks. Crap. I forgot about her. Josie, my unwanted guest. Of course she’s hogging the bathroom, brushing her teeth with the door wide open.

  She’s bending over the sink in her snug red pajama shorts with tiny bear faces all over her fine ass. Hell. Now I have to pee and I’m getting turned on. Bad combo. I shift my gaze, taking in toned legs and bare feet. Still turned on.

  I stare at the ceiling, thinking cooling thoughts. Any woman in snug pajama shorts would be appealing. I haven’t had time to date lately, working two jobs. The real problem is there’s a small amount of livable space here—the place is a construction zone—and now I have to share it with her. I can’t even kick her out because it’s Winnie’s place.

  I take in her red hair up in a ponytail, the delicate line of her neck, her white long-sleeved pajama top with red trim—Stop looking!

  “Can ya hurry up?” I grumble.

  She glances back at me, her gaze dropping to take in my bare chest and boxer briefs before returning to my eyes. Seeming unconcerned by my grumbling, morning wood, or my lack of clothes, she holds up a finger to wait and points to her toothbrush.

  I grit my teeth. I consider going upstairs to throw on a T-shirt and jeans, but who’s the intruder here? Besides, I have more urgent concerns, like peeing and getting back to work. Ya know, it’s just like Winnie to forget to tell me her cousin would be crashing here. She was never one for practical details, always dreamy, her head in the clouds. I used to think it was ideal how we balanced each other out. I’m the steady, responsible one; she’s the dreamy, domestic one. Then she dreamed her way to a different life with a Wall Street guy. He’s the one pressuring her to sell this place in a hurry, which is why I’m dealing with a too-tight deadline on the renovation. When she walked out on me to go live with him, she swore she hadn’t cheated. It was an affair of the heart, not the body. I’m over it.

  Josie finishes brushing her teeth and straightens. Our eyes meet in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. Her blue eyes sparkle like she has something fun she wants to share with me. I just know she spells trouble.

  She turns to me with a big smile that’s like a thousand sunbeams suddenly shining on a cloudy day. “Hi!” She lifts a hand in a little wave. “Last night was a little weird.
Let’s start over.” She offers her hand. “I’m Josie Abbott. Nice to meet you.” At my silence, she adds, “Winnie’s cousin.” Like I could forget. They have the same last name.

  “Why didn’t ya crash at Winnie’s place in the city?”

  She crinkles her nose. “It’s a one-bedroom apartment, and I didn’t want to intrude on their love nest.”

  Love nest? Barf. I keep that to myself because all I care about is this major wrench in the works.

  She looks up at me expectantly like I might have more questions. It occurs to me she looks nothing like Winnie, which could mean Josie really is an intruder. Like a con woman. I’d be within my rights to kick her out, then.

  “You don’t look like Winnie.” My ex is blond with rounder cheeks and a nose that turns up at the end. Josie’s nose is straight and her cheekbones are high and prominent. My hopes rise on the eviction angle. “I’ll need to see ID.”

  She rolls her eyes and pulls the ponytail band loose. Her red hair cascades over her shoulders in a tousled look that makes my mouth go dry. “I’m blond like Winnie, but I dye my hair red to stand out from the herd. Very important in my profession.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m an actress.”

  She’s one of those too-good-looking people on TV, or maybe the movies. I don’t recognize her from anything though.

  She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Still there?” She glances at my crotch, her cheeks flushing pink. “Do you want a towel or something?”

  “I’m fine.” Let her look. And look she does, her gaze making a slow trail up my torso, lingering on my chest before finally landing on my shoulder and bicep. I keep fit, and I’m not modest about it.

  I snap my fingers in her face. “Still there?”

  Her gaze meets mine calmly, her voice smooth and even. “Maybe we should work out a bathroom schedule.”

  “Maybe you should show me your ID.”

  “I’m not done getting ready. I’ll show you after. Geez.” She holds up a finger. “Okay, here’s something only Winnie’s cousin would know: when she has a nightmare, her eyes open and she speaks gibberish, even though she’s still asleep. Freaky cousin sleepover fun!”

  Damn. Winnie does do that, and it’s like something out of a horror movie.

  I slam my hands on my hips. “I don’t know why Winnie sent ya here. It’s not livable. There’s only one functioning bathroom—” I gesture behind her “—and it’s a powder room with no shower. The kitchen will be demolished soon, and there aren’t any beds.”

  She lifts one shoulder up and down. “I can shower at the gym, and I’m fine with the couch. I’ve been crashing on friends’ couches for months while I auditioned for pilot season in LA.” She cups her mouth with one hand like she’s about to share a secret, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “I have to use what money I have for traveling to auditions and classes to keep me sharp and marketable.” She bounces on the balls of her feet, a smile tugging at her lips. “Got one too.”

  “One what?”

  “A pilot! You’re looking at the future lead of a soon-to-be-announced sitcom.” She puts her hands on her hips, one leg bending in a red-carpet pose. “My big break! I can’t tell you the name of it or what it’s about, but it’s going to be epic.” She throws her arms up in a V of victory. I suspect she was once a cheerleader. I am not imagining high kicks in a short skirt.

  I tear my gaze away from her. Focus. My ex’s cousin is an out-of-work actress crashing on my couch. Not that it matters that she’s claiming the only thing that’s mine besides my stupid air mattress. The real issue is that I have to share close quarters with her, and I can already tell she’s going to be a huge distraction with all her good cheer. Maybe Winnie didn’t forget to tell me about this unwanted visitor. Maybe she sent her here purposely to distract me, hoping I’d fail at my deadline, which would make it easier for her to feel justified in hiring someone to replace me. A devious plan I refuse to fall for. We have a deal. This is my project.

  Priorities. Nature calls. “I need the bathroom. Alone.”

  “Gotcha.”

  She brushes past me, and I catch the sweet scent of something fruity and floral. How can she smell so good first thing in the morning?

  Finally, I get the bathroom to myself. I lock the door and take care of business, letting out a long breath of relief. Her voice carries through the door like she’s standing right next to me. Boundaries, woman!

  “I hope it didn’t sound like I was bragging,” she says. “It’s not actually a done deal for the pilot. I’m waiting to hear if it’s picked up by the network. I have a good feeling about this one though, so that’s something. I’m moving out to LA the moment I hear it’s picked up. Have to think positive!”

  She’s one of those annoying morning people. It’s easier to be irritated when I’m not looking at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another woman so effortlessly beautiful, with messy hair, no makeup, and ridiculous Smokey the Bear pajamas. She has that “it” factor that makes someone light up the screen. I’m sure she’ll be out to LA very soon.

  I wash my hands and give myself a stern lecture in the mirror. You can do this. Keep it civil and get the work done.

  I was raised with excellent manners due to my royal father. If my dad hadn’t abdicated the throne, he would’ve been king of Villroy, which makes me a prince. Not that I had any kind of wealth or privilege growing up in a working-class neighborhood in Brooklyn. He abdicated the throne to marry my mom, a commoner, and was exiled with nothing but the shirt on his back. In any case, the manners come in handy with women. Winnie used to love calling me a gentleman. She even upped my classy gentleman status by adding pricey clothes to my wardrobe, which was fine by me. I aspire above my paygrade. There’s that ambition.

  “Can I come in?” she asks. “I heard you flush and wash hands.”

  I blow out an exasperated breath. I can handle any woman, even an unwanted roommate.

  I open the door, and Josie smiles up at me, looking way too cheerful.

  “This is not gonna work,” I growl. “I don’t know what the hell Winnie’s thinking having a guest here in the middle of a renovation. I’ve got work to do!”

  Josie doesn’t take my warning growl to heart, apparently, because she joins me in the small space of the bathroom and pulls her brush out of the medicine cabinet, brushing out her long hair. I carefully step around her.

  She stills, brush in hand. “Winnie says she’s tired of your grumbling. I kinda see what she means.”

  I halt my retreat. “If I’m grumbling, it’s only because she suddenly made an outrageous deadline before she puts this place on the market.”

  She gives me a pointed look. “From what I understand, you’re staying here for free.”

  “It’s not free!” I rarely lose my temper, but this is an extreme circumstance. She’s getting all up in my business!

  I work for an even tone. “It’s an exchange. I live here while I renovate it. She gets free labor from an experienced contractor. You can’t find a better deal anywhere.” And I really want to live in this upscale neighborhood, Park Slope, instead of a studio apartment somewhere I can afford. Park Slope is right by the park, only forty minutes to the city, and has a laid-back vibe with a lot of families and creative people living here. I keep hoping something will come on the market in my price range. Maybe another fixer-upper, though there’s few left in this neighborhood.

  Her brows pull down, her blue eyes sympathetic. “Are you still mad about Winnie getting engaged so fast?”

  “No. I was never mad. We broke up ten months ago. It’s ancient history.”

  She goes back to brushing her hair. “That’s good. I have to say she’s really happy. She never said a word about you to me while you two were together, so it must be the right match with Colin. She can’t shut up about him. Obviously, there’s no hard feelings between you two, right? I mean, since you’re still working here at her place. You must be one of those enlightene
d men. That’s nice.”

  I’m irritated again. Beyond irritated, and I don’t know if it’s because of her or Winnie. Maybe both. “We lived together for six months and she never said a word about me?”

  Her eyes widen. “Did I say the wrong thing? I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “Forget it.”

  She sets her brush in the medicine cabinet and turns to me. “Maybe she didn’t mention you because she and I were both so busy at the time.” She nods once. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was. I was probably hustling to auditions and classes, and she was commuting to the art gallery, so…forget I said all that. Can we start over?” She steps closer and smiles her big sunshine smile. “Hi!” She offers her hand. “I’m Jo—”

  “I’m gonna call Winnie.”

  But first I need to get clean after the long day of travel yesterday. I turn and head out the back door for the outdoor shower. I didn’t mention it to Josie because I was trying to make this place sound as unappealing as possible. Normally, I shower at the end of the workday when I’m covered in sweat, and it’s cooler on this mid-April morning than I’d like for a shower, but I need the space to myself and the refresher. I head through the garden, straight to the wooden shower stall tucked behind some climbing rose trellises. I set my briefs on the bench just outside it and step into the privacy of the shower, standing to the side while I turn the water on, giving it a chance to warm up.

  “You keep your phone outside?” she calls from the back deck. Her voice must carry to the last row of a theater and definitely carries to the entire neighborhood.

  If I ignore her, she’ll go away.

  The water warms, and I step under the spray.

  “Do you hear water flowing like rain?” she calls. “Is that a fountain?”

  I stick my face in the spray, closing my eyes. Please go away.

  It’s quiet for a few moments, so I relax.

  “Oh!”

  I whirl, and she’s standing right there, staring. Everywhere.

  “Go away!” I bark.

  “Sorry!” She turns on her heel and walks swiftly back toward the house. “I didn’t know there was an outdoor shower!”