Rogue Devil Read online

My lips tingle. I can still taste him.

  He turns and walks back to the kitchen. “Back to work, party girl.”

  I follow on shaky legs. The attraction is mutual. My mind whirls for a moment before settling on a hard truth—that’s the second time he rejected me. I square my shoulders. I won’t let there be a third. Especially knowing he’s seeing another woman.

  9

  Brendan

  So much for boundaries. I screwed up. I was just messing around with her. Ah, hell. I want her so bad it’s impossible to keep my distance for long. I don’t know why I’m so into her. Maybe it’s because I know she doesn’t want serious, so the pressure’s off. Somehow that lets her slip in closer than I’d normally allow. I know she’s meant for great things, and I’ll just be holding her back, but all that seems to go out the window when I’m close to her. Not even family fallout or her psycho ex can put a damper on this thing between us.

  I watch as she scoops tortellini in cream sauce onto her plate. Her back is to me while she stands at the stove, so I look my fill. She’s petite, her shoulders narrow, her waist narrow, the flare of her hips highlighting a heart-shaped ass in formfitting jeans. I just want to scoop her up and carry her to the bedroom. Something about her size brings out the Neanderthal in me. It’s so damn hard not to cross the line.

  She looks at me over her shoulder. “Do you want me to scoop some on your plate, or do you want to do it yourself?”

  “I got it.” I walk around the half-wall counter, where I normally eat. The stools are back in their usual place for our meal.

  She passes me, carrying her plate, careful to keep her distance around me. I know why too. That kiss was electric. It took all of my willpower to step away.

  “I’ll wait for you so we can try it at the exact same time,” she says from her seat at the counter.

  “Okay.” I scoop a generous helping on my plate and join her. “Ready.”

  We both stab a piece and take a bite. It’s good. Surprisingly good.

  “Wow,” she says, scooping another tortellini off her plate. “This came out better than I thought from us two cooking newbies. It really makes a difference to make the pasta from scratch.”

  “Not bad.” I take a mouthful of tortellini and chew. I thought Beast was a master chef, but look at us making this awesome meal.

  We eat in blissful silence for a few minutes. I can hardly believe I cooked something so tasty. With a little help from Chloe and our pal Massimo. And it only took four hours. Definitely a weekend activity. We should attempt a recipe together every weekend. I stop myself; that’s too much time together. Boundaries. Which is exactly why I let her think I was with someone last night. It was easier than explaining my real reason—I’d only hold her back. Besides, now she’ll do her part in keeping boundaries too. I know she wants me. She kissed me first back in Villroy. And it’s in her eyes, in her breathy voice sometimes, in her flushed cheeks. My gaze catches on the bow in her top lip that I want to trace with my tongue.

  I tear my gaze away and take a sip of water. “How’s your internship going?”

  She rocks her head side to side. “Could be better. I’m doing grunt work basically. I know everyone has to start somewhere, but it’s so soul sucking. I’m going to talk to the research director on Monday and broach the topic. I have some credentials to my name. I could be doing so much more.”

  “Hope it goes well. It can be a touchy thing dealing with bosses.” My oldest brother, Dylan, is my boss, and we tangled a bit over my need to take a bigger role in our company once our uncle retired. I was the first of my brothers to speak up, and I play a pivotal role now scouting out development projects. We’ve got two under our belt with awards for social responsibility and improving neighborhoods. My most recent find didn’t work out though. Sucks big time.

  “How’s your work going?” she asks.

  I exhale sharply. “Not great. The property I had my eye on—a lot with low-level warehouses by the waterfront—we lost to a higher bidder looking to make high-rise apartments. My brothers and I don’t want to be in that business. We want neighborhoods like the kind we grew up in.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah. It sucks because we already had a property there that we developed into cool loft space with a waterfront park. So the plan was to demolish the nearby warehouses and put in upscale co-op apartments with connecting green space and some art installations from our design tenants. It was all gonna be LEED certified environmentally friendly, energy efficient, with reclaimed materials from the area. You know, like wood joists from the old warehouses. Now they’re putting in two seventy-story high-rise buildings.”

  “Seventy stories! That’s going to block the view, block out the sun!”

  “Right? You lose the neighborhood feel when you’re walking between giant skyscrapers. Might as well move to Manhattan for that.”

  We go back to eating. It’s too good to leave it for long.

  I finish my plate and go for a second helping. “Anyway, my brothers and I decided we’ll be the historic restoration and neighborhood-friendly developer. That’ll be our niche.”

  She shakes her head. “I hope Brooklyn doesn’t get overrun by high-rises.”

  “Right?” I take my seat and dig in. Still fantastic.

  “You know, there’s an old department store downtown, Finerman’s, near where I grew up. I used to like to window-shop there. Anyway, it’s been closed for a while now, and I noticed last weekend there’s a sale sign on it. Maybe you could turn it into something cool.”

  “I wonder what they’re asking.”

  “You could look it up online.”

  “Definitely. Right after this.” My pulse thrums through me. This could be something, an old department store. Maybe we could convert it to loft apartments with a rooftop garden. I hadn’t realized it was on the market. It must be newly listed. Maybe another transaction fell through behind the scenes.

  “Thanks, Chloe. I’ve got that excited feeling like I’m onto something.”

  “All atingle? Are you sure it’s not crabs?”

  I bark out a laugh. She’s getting comfortable with me, teasing. “Gross. And no. I’ve got standards and condoms.”

  She waves a hand airily. “I don’t want to hear about your women.”

  “Likewise.”

  She takes a mouthful of tortellini and speaks around it. “I’ve decided celibacy is the way to go.”

  “Right.”

  She chews and swallows. “Seriously.”

  “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  She pins me with a hard look. “You a betting man?”

  I jerk my chin. “One hundred dollars says you hook up with a guy by the Fourth of July weekend. You’ll have off from work, get a little bored, and BAM.” She jumps at my BAM, and I stifle a laugh. “Suddenly wimpy lab guy is looking pretty good.”

  “You’re on,” she says, offering me her pinky finger.

  I wrap my pinky finger around hers, the touch zinging awareness through me. I should stop touching her. Our eyes lock, and her lips part. Everything in me screams to close the distance.

  She stands abruptly. “I’ll help clean up.”

  I keep my focus on my plate. I don’t need to check her out every time she moves. She’s permanently stuck in my brain.

  Man, I am psyched. My brothers and I are having a Monday lunch meeting at a pizzeria near our latest job. We’re doing some work in Queens on a shopping mall. Pays the bills, but it’s not what I like best. I like the projects that are developed from the ground up by us, Rourke Management. Is it weird how much I like our name on the company? My whole life I always worked under the Byrne name. Finally, we have something of our own. All of my brothers are here, except Sean, who’s still in Vancouver with his wife. We’ve got him on speakerphone. Me and Beast are on one side of a booth by the front window, Connor and Jack across from us, and Dylan, our CEO, is on a chair at the side.

  I wait until everyone’s finished their first slice
of pizza, letting them take the edge off their hunger before jumping in with my pitch. “I found our next property, the old Finerman’s department store. It’s historic, from eighteen ninety-three, tons of cool architectural touches you just don’t find in modern construction.” I pass around the spec sheet my dad gave me. He works in real estate and was able to get me in yesterday to check out the place. I turn to the phone at the center of the table. “Did you get your spec sheet okay, Sean?” I emailed it to him last night.

  “Got it.”

  I continue. “It’s seven stories, right downtown, and there’s a café next door for sale too. I’m thinking loft apartments, attract some of the hipsters with bucks and a craving for caffeine. We buy the café too. In fact, I’d like to buy up the whole block and make a more cohesive development plan, but that’s all we’ve got available for now.”

  I’m on the edge of my seat while my brothers look over the specs.

  “Elevator?” Dylan asks, lifting tired blue eyes to mine. He’s a new dad and says the baby is keen on the four a.m. screaming wake-up call.

  “Yes.”

  “Prewar construction,” Connor says with a smile. “Becca would love it. She should be here too.” That’s his fiancée and our chief strategy officer, which is not a partnership position. I have to be firm about this now that my older brothers are mushballs for their women. Seriously, they’ll do anything for them. The four of them—Dylan, Connor, Jack, Sean—have to be reminded of blood ties. It’s us brothers who are co-owners, whether they’re married or engaged.

  “She’ll get in on it when it’s time,” I say. “Purchase decisions rest on the owners. Us.”

  “Josie says it’s pretty,” Sean says through the phone. “She loved the atrium with the huge skylight when I showed her the specs last night.”

  I bite my tongue. Yes, as long as everyone’s woman thinks it’s “pretty,” let’s go full steam ahead.

  Jack lifts his head and pushes a lock of dark brown hair out of his eyes. He grows it long on top, styling it with some product that makes him look more hipster than he is. “Lots of convenient subway lines nearby.”

  “Five-minute commute to downtown Manhattan,” I say. “With this square footage, I’m thinking we can get a minimum of one hundred apartments. If we want, we could keep the first two floors as retail space.”

  “I do like mixed-use development,” Dylan says, rubbing his scruffy jaw. “You think they’re flexible on price?”

  “Only one way to find out,” I say with a smile. Triumph rockets through me. If Dylan’s on board, the others will fall in place. “We can apply for historic landmark status too. It’ll add another credit to that part of our portfolio.” Our last project at an old marine rope factory had landmark status too. “And we can still do some of the environmentally friendly, energy-efficient stuff. I think it’ll attract high-end tenants.”

  Dylan leans back in his seat and taps the table. “We should set aside some low-rent space for a nonprofit to work out of. Like one of those groups that tutors disadvantaged kids. It could be a good fit with working professional residential tenants.”

  We all agree on that point. It’s part of our mission to give back to neighborhoods.

  Dylan rubs the back of his neck. “I say we make an offer contingent on inspection. Any objections?”

  I look around the table. No one seems to object. In fact, Beast is eying his second slice of pizza hungrily.

  “Let’s go for it,” I say.

  “I’m in,” Sean says through the phone.

  My brothers lean toward the phone in a chorus of agreement, letting Sean know where we’re at.

  “Later,” Sean says and disconnects.

  Everyone goes back to eating.

  “Hey, Bren, did ya scrounge up a date for my wedding?” Jack asks. “Riley needs the final head count.” His wedding is three weeks away.

  “Nah. You bring a woman to a wedding and she gets the wrong idea.”

  “Sure?” Jack asks. “We just put Beast here in for a plus one. He invited a girl he met at the music festival this weekend. Major pickup scene.”

  I arch my brows at Beast.

  He shrugs one shoulder. “We hit it off.”

  Jack takes a long drink of water and points the bottle at me. “You’re the only one of us going solo. Maybe I could find someone for you so you don’t stick out like a sore thumb when the rest of us are dancing. Can’t have you being a wallflower.”

  My mind flashes to Chloe and her ridiculous dance. And my dance that made her beet red when she realized I was teasing about her solo orgasmic night.

  Beast speaks around a mouthful of pizza. “Tara has a best friend who might be willing to go with you.”

  “Who’s Tara?” I ask.

  “The girl from this weekend,” Beast says. “My date.”

  “Aren’t you worried she’ll think it’s serious taking her to a wedding?”

  “Nope. It’s just a date with free food and dancing. She loves dancing.” He turns to Jack. “No offense. I’m just talking about her perspective. Of course I know it’s a major event.”

  Jack laughs. “No offense taken.” He turns to me, his blue eyes dancing with undisguised glee. Uh-oh. Jack is king of the pranksters. This can’t be good.

  I gulp. “Whatever you’re thinking, no.”

  Jack holds up a palm. “Hear me out. Mom was telling me—”

  “No.”

  “About a—” he finger quotes “—‘nice young woman from church’—”

  “Hell no.”

  Jack goes on unfazed. “She just moved to town. Mom wanted me to introduce her around. I’ll introduce her to you.” He pulls out his phone. “Lemme text Mom right now.”

  I lunge for his phone, but he leans back out of reach, smiling widely. My brothers chuckle. Okay, chill. Maybe this is just a prank and he’s texting his fiancée only pretending to set me up through our mother. Never underestimate how far Jack will go for a prank. He once spent an entire month carefully trimming the shoelaces of my sneakers on a daily basis until I couldn’t tie them. It was so subtle I didn’t realize it until the very end. Then I stole his sneakers since we’re the same size.

  My phone chimes, and I pick it up gingerly. Like it’s a lethal cobra about to strike. I tense. No-o-o.

  Mom: Brendan, this is wonderful. Her name is Faith. I just know she’ll enjoy the wedding at that beautiful church. She’s a nice Catholic girl. Okay, now how do I instant flash the contact to you?

  No way I’m helping her with that.

  Me: It’s complicated. I’ll have to show you in person later.

  Like never.

  She accidentally texts a picture of my dad sitting at a restaurant. Then I get a GIF of Snoopy dancing and a series of emojis—surprise face, laughing face, and a heart.

  I glare at Jack before typing a quick reply. Jack was just messing with me. I don’t need her number.

  Faith’s number and email finally comes through.

  Mom: Did you get it?

  Me: Yeah, but I’m not calling her.

  Mom: Bren, it’s time you find a nice girl. Faith is wonderful. She’s a kindergarten teacher, which means she can put up with the likes of you. Ha-ha. She adds three sunglasses emojis.

  I grind my teeth.

  Mom: I’ll have her over for dinner next Sunday. No pressure. Just meet her, okay?

  “How’s it going?” Jack asks enthusiastically.

  I shoot him the middle finger. The day I date a woman my mother picks out for me is the day hell freezes over. Never surrender!

  Me: I already have a date for the wedding.

  Mom: You do? Well, what was Jack talking about, then? He said you were the only one without a date.

  Me: Yanking my chain as usual. He thinks I made her up and had to take matters into his own hands.

  Mom: I just don’t understand the way he thinks. Well, I can’t wait to meet her! Love you.

  The tips of my ears burn as I feel my brothers’ eyes on me. L
ove you too, I type quickly and put the phone facedown.

  “So can I put you down for a plus one?” Jack asks with a smirk.

  I press my lips into a flat line. “Yeah. I’m bringing a friend. Not this nice Catholic girl you tried to foist on me. What’s the matter with you, pulling Mom into this?” I reach across the table and smack him upside the head.

  He laughs.

  There’s only one woman I can bring to this wedding who won’t think it means I’m serious about her. My only woman friend. If Chloe turns me down, I’ll never hear the end of the teasing from my brothers. My mother will probably show up with Faith for me. Save me from the matchmaking efforts of moms!

  10

  Brendan

  Be cool. Do not act like you care one way or the other. It’s Saturday night and I invited Chloe over for pizza and a movie. I planned everything very carefully to look casual. No cooking together. We’re watching a comedy, Monty Python’s Holy Grail. I don’t know any woman who would see anything romantic in that movie. Then, at some point, I’ll invite her to Jack’s wedding as friends. I’ll say it’s so we can keep an even head count, which is important to Jack’s fiancée. Yeah, that should work.

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and pace the living room. She’s home. I know she’s home, but I’m not going to check on what’s taking her so long to get here. She’s not late but, hell, I’m right next door. It’s fine if she wants to stop by a little early. Maybe I should just get it out of the way right up front. Chloe, will you go to my brother’s wedding as my plus one? Just as friends, of course.

  No, I’d better start with the friends thing. We’re friends and friends can go to weddings together. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Nope.

  Hey, what’re you doing two weeks from now? If you answered going to a wedding in New Jersey, you’d be right. Lame.

  I pick up one of the throw pillows that came with my sofa, punch it a few times to fluff it up, and put it back. Then I do the same with the other pillow, placing them on opposite ends of the sofa. That’s where we’ll sit with a safe friend-zone distance between us.