“No, it’s not that. I think it’s pretty fantastic that you’re excited about this. I don’t know what I feel about my part; I have to think about that. I haven’t even decently launched my own place yet, so-”

“So, don’t worry, or even think about it. It’s months away.”

“Months,” she echoed, trying to imagine having months with him. It was everything she wanted. And his excitement about having her be part of it was flattering and not a little thrilling. Except-

“Tell me what’s going through your mind, right now. Uncensored.”

“Okay. I was thinking that I’ve already had a relationship with someone I worked side by side with, and to be honest, it makes me a little nervous to think about-”

“Listen, just scrap what I said, okay? We don’t have to mix business with pleasure. I’m not going to risk what we’re starting for that-”

“I didn’t say no. Just that…it’s all part of the stuff going through my head. You’re not Patrick. And this situation is far, far from that. Just…give me some time. To get used to it.” To get used to the idea of him being around. Of letting herself want the impossible. Again.

Because it seemed so…so very possible, right now. It was scary. In a very good way. Also in a completely terrifying, “run for the hills and protect your heart” kind of way.

“You can have all the time you need.” He caressed her cheek, urged her face to tilt up to his. “You sure you’re okay with the me staying part, though? Be honest with me, Kirby. I didn’t come here to cause you trouble. You deserve the life you’ve carved out for yourself. I just want to be part of that, and build my own while I’m at it.”

“The problem is I want it too much,” she said, baldly honest. That was the one thing with Brett that made this entirely different. He made bald honesty not only easy, but pretty much mandatory. “It scares me. How much I want what you’re offering. How much I want you.”

All in, indeed.

His pupils flared at that, and he might have made a little growling sound in the back of his throat. “That…” He stopped, ducked his head, and cleared his throat. “Wow,” he managed. “I had no idea how badly I needed to hear you say that. Until you just did.”

She smiled a little then, no less terrified, but realizing that she wasn’t the only one dancing on a dangerous ledge made facing the terror that much easier. “Kind of scary, right?”

“You forget. I like high stakes.”

Her smile spread, and the very beginnings of allowing herself to accept what might be possible started to bloom inside her heart. And her head. And…every-damn-where. “You’ll have to teach me to play. Poker, I mean. I want to understand more what it is you do. Did. Whatever.”

“Deal.” Then he laughed and swung her around again. “You feel like taking the inaugural peek inside? We can come back another time-”

She shut him up by placing her hands on either side of his face and pulling his mouth to hers. For once, she was taking the lead. And as soon as she kissed him, and felt him immediately relax, and soften, and take her so easily and perfectly and naturally…she understood as she never had before what true power there was to be had in a complete partnership. And it didn’t consist of one leader and one follower.

This was nothing like before. This was…new. And it was hers to decide what to do with, and how she wanted it to be. At least to work for her. She wasn’t surrendering control. She was taking on a new challenge. And damn, but maybe she was up for it after all. Because, the reward, if she pulled if off, was priceless.

When she broke the kiss, she lifted up on her tippy toes to hug him, and he swept her up so they could hug good and proper, everything aligning so perfectly. She kissed the side of his neck and felt his pulse thrumming, which set hers to thrumming, too. “Okay,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m all in.”

Then she snatched the keys from his unsuspecting grip and wriggled out of his arms. “Come on. Let’s go see what you’ve gotten us into. Last one to the front door is a rotten poker player.” And she took off toward the house.

Chapter 19

Brett throttled down as they rolled through town, then punched it a little as they neared the turn up to the inn. He wanted to get home. Where he was going to make love to Kirby and end the perfect day with the perfect night.

He couldn’t believe it was all going to work out. She’d loved the farmhouse and his design concept for it as much as she had with the log cabin. He’d called and put an offer on the place on their way back into town. What a lucky, lucky bastard he truly was. Hell, Kirby had even admitted she’d gotten used to the bike. Total package. He had the most ridiculous urge to beat his chest and howl at the moon.

They rolled to a stop in front of the house; the sun had sunk enough to cast the front of the house in deep shadows. The air had a distinct bite to it, and Kirby shivered as she let go of him and climbed off the bike.

“Maybe some wine, have the leftovers from last night?” she asked.

He wanted to scoop her up and head to the nearest bed, but pacing, given the rush he was feeling, was probably not a bad thing.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, and meant it. He took her helmet and then slipped his hand in hers as they walked toward the porch. He was thinking about how easily he pictured himself doing just this for a very long time, when she suddenly paused.

“Oh, crap. The quilts and bedspreads, they’re still out back. I need to bring them in.”

“You want some help?”

She lifted up on her toes and kissed him. “Why don’t you go pour the wine and start reheating the food. It won’t take me long.”

Yeah, he thought as he kissed her back. Definitely lifetime material. Better than he’d ever thought possible. “Okay,” he said, his body stirring again as he watched her walk around the outside of the house toward the back of the property. He spent about two seconds contemplating following her around back and getting at least one of those blankets dirty all over again, but it was getting colder by the second. “Dinner. Then play.” He took the steps two at a time, put the helmets on the registration desk, slung his jacket over the newel post at the base of the stairs, and then headed straight for the kitchen.

He was smiling as he entered the room and was thinking that maybe he’d snag one of the blankets and start a fire in the front parlor fireplace, turn dinner into a little fireside picnic, but stopped in his tracks when he spied Kirby through the kitchen window.

She was standing in the backyard, hand over her mouth, looking at what was left of her freshly aired antique quilts and spreads. All of which were in shredded ribbons.

Something went hard and cold inside his chest. He was simultaneously furious at whoever had invaded her property, whoever had destroyed a single thing she’d worked so hard to get…and sick almost to the point of puking over the unavoidable suspicion that crawled right back into his gut.

No. This wasn’t happening. Not again. He thought he was done with that, that he’d left it back in Vegas. That whoever thought this was the right way to get his attention had figured out they were wrong when, instead of caving in, he’d packed up and left town for good.

One face floated through his mind. Maksimov’s smug expression as Brett had turned him down flat, like he’d known something that Brett hadn’t known. Like…he was going to stir up the shit all over again until Brett agreed to another deal. The thing was, he couldn’t understand why they thought this was the way to get what they wanted? Whatever it was they thought he could bring to their table, or any promoter or casino owner’s table for that matter, regardless of his celebrity when it came right down to it…he was just one guy. It wasn’t worth this kind of aggravation. For him or for them. That was the one part he couldn’t figure out.