The Dare Collection August 2019 - Christy McKellen Mills & Boon Series Collections

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      Reid’s growl of irritation echoes through the wall. ‘Since when have you cared who I sleep with? It’s none of your damned business—either of you.’

      ‘Hey,’ splutters Kit. ‘Don’t get defensive—we’re just surprised that it’s her, of all people.’

      ‘Why? Because she’s so much younger than me?’ says Reid, with only the tiniest pause before he continues. ‘Aside from what she does professionally to our hotel, my relationship with Blair Cameron has nothing to do with either of you.’

      He, like me, must have seen the look of judgement on Kit’s face earlier at lunch. Perhaps he’s embarrassed to be caught out by his brothers. Perhaps he thinks someone younger can’t be professionally as successful. And personally? Does he see my naivety with Josh as a barrier to taking me seriously as potential relationship material? Not that we’re going there, but neither do I want or need a pity fuck.

      Drake’s voice turns sober. ‘We’re not prying into your private life, but since when have you brought someone to lunch? It’s...heartening.’

      ‘Don’t read too much into it.’ Reid’s bored tone grates on my eardrums, and I want to interrupt and tell his brothers not to worry, that the eldest Faulkner is a great lay and I’ll be sure to put him carefully back on the shelf once I’m done with him.

      ‘So what about the renovations?’ Drake’s voice. ‘Is everything on track? Are you finally happy she can deliver on time or will you be watching her like a hawk, controlling every move she makes?’

      Despite their reassurances, I’ve heard enough. The younger two Faulkner brothers may not approve of my sexual relationship with Reid, but maligning my business is another matter. One I won’t tolerate, from anyone.

      I miss not only what Reid says in answer to Drake’s question, but also my opportunity to interrupt and set the Faulkners straight, because at that moment Graham rounds the corner, presumably in search of his chess partner.

      I struggle through a brief game of chess, accepting my defeat at Graham’s hands while I formulate another battle plan. The sex was my idea. Reid and I are not in a relationship. He owes me nothing, least of all loyalty. But we agreed to keep the work separate. If we’re off course before the work on the Faulkner has even begun, this is over.

      I ignore the pinch in my stomach, which feels a lot like a mini version of Josh’s betrayal, take my leave of the Faulkners and head outside into the late-afternoon sunshine. Have I made another mistake? Am I being naive where Reid is concerned? Have I wrongly assumed we’re on the same wavelength, both physically and professionally?

      Well, I know one thing: next time I have Reid alone I’ll know whether our brief, sex-only fling is make or break.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      Reid

      I EXIT THE hotel and jog down the street, guilt and adrenaline charging my muscles with enough energy to run a marathon. What a fucking idiot. How could I have been so stupid, so thoughtless as to discuss Blair with my brothers where she might overhear? One look at her closed expression as she thanked Graham for lunch and bade us all farewell told me she’d not only overheard, but probably wanted to tear a few well-deserved strips off me too. And she’d have every right. Not only did she play along again with my father’s mistake, something I know cost her, if the quickly concealed flash of hurt in her eyes was any indication, but she also showed how close she is to Graham and how invested she is in her relationships with all of us. She chatted to Mia and Kenzie, getting to know the newest two additions to the Faulkner clan, she teased Drake and Kit in the same way she’s taken to teasing me and she even graciously lost a game of chess to Graham, even though I’m sure she has a hundred better uses for her Sunday afternoon.

      She was relaxed and comfortable around us right up until I spoiled it with my thoughtless lack of tact.

      I round the corner in time to see Blair unlocking her car door. A wall of relief slams into me and I slow to a brisk walk, allowing myself time to recover from the fear I missed my chance to make this right, but the fear that I’ve inflicted too much damage lingers, turning my blood to ice. I refuse to probe my motivations too closely—with anyone else I’d put up less of a fight, but for some reason, with her, I’m not ready to walk away. Blair is a breath of fresh air in my life I can’t, and don’t want to, ignore. And, whether I’ve sabotaged this or not, she deserves an apology.

      I take a hard swallow and try to slow my breathing as I come to a halt at her side.

      ‘Don’t leave angry with me—let’s talk it through.’ My voice carries a pleading undercurrent that feels both alien and justified. The idea I’d get down on my knees, if that’s what it takes, comes out of nowhere and takes root.

      She turns, lazily lifting her gaze from the screen of her phone, as if she was fully aware I was pursuing her the whole time. ‘I’m not angry. And I’d welcome the opportunity to discuss it with you in private—I’m not doing this in the road outside your family’s hotel.’

      I allow my lungs the barest recoil of relief that she hasn’t shut me down. Yet.

      ‘Perhaps a walk, then, or my place is just around the corner.’

      She locks her car with a click of the remote. ‘Okay—let’s walk.’ She sets off and, just like every time she’s within arm’s length, I want to reach for the hand closest, which swings by her side. Instead I shove my own hand in my pocket and curse my stupidity anew. She’s smart, caring, funny and kind. I talked about her as if she meant nothing to me, insulting both of us, because that’s not true, despite my divorcee’s caution.

      ‘I overheard you, Drake and Kit talking,’ she says, aiming straight for the heart of the matter in her no-bullshit way.

      I scrub a hand through my hair as my fear is confirmed. ‘I guessed as much and I’m sorry. Sorry for being indiscreet and talking about you at all.’

      She nods, but I’m still wriggling on the hook, the set of her full mouth tells me. ‘I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but when I heard my name I kind of wanted to know what you’d say. I accept overheard conversations can be misconstrued,’ she says, ‘so let me make my position crystal-clear.’

      My respect for her, for her professionalism and maturity, ratchets up to new levels when I thought I’d reached the ceiling.

      ‘I know you don’t owe me anything—that all we’ve shared is a couple of orgasms—’

      To hear the evening we’d spent together reduced to mere biology rather than the astounding night of connection it truly was, at least for me, stings like all-over nettle rash. But Blair isn’t finished.

      ‘I understand you may have trust issues—’ A momentary flash of pain blazes through her expressive eyes, gone as quickly as it arrived.

      I touch her arm, tug her to a standstill. ‘It’s not personal. I do have trust issues. A hangover of my divorce. In fact, I’m a suspicious old git, I’m afraid.’

      She nods, not arguing and refusing to take the bait and tease me again about my age, and she continues as if I haven’t spoken. ‘But I’m a hard-working professional. I take my work very seriously. I’d never do anything to take advantage of you, your father or your hotel. I, perhaps naively, assumed your initial reticence for the renovations was down to it being sprung on you. And I thought we’d struck a deal that we wouldn’t allow the sex to affect the work...’

      She leaves the last dangling like a question, although it’s very much a statement and it’s as if our ages were reversed and I’m a schoolboy again, standing in front of the head for flinging insults at some bully who dared to pick on Kit or Drake. I want to rewind the past few hours, to walk into the lobby of the Faulkner again and show every scrap of the delight I felt at finding her there. To invite her to join us for lunch myself,

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