She quickly and with the minimum of fuss, whipped up meals that both Shaw and Ellie could eat and then tossed together a more adult meal the two of them could share while exchanging polite conversation and pretending that they weren’t imagining each other naked. So far he’d eaten a Thai curry and a pork-and-beans dish from the deep South. If she wasn’t a Harper, and he didn’t want her in his bed, he’d probably employ her on the spot as his housekeeper/nanny.
Lusting after the nanny, such a cliché. And if that thought wasn’t enough to dampen his raging libido, then he should remember that she was the last person that he should be interested in. She was a nomad, she’d only be around until she reunited Ellie with Kari, and then she’d shoot off to parts unknown.
She was also his ex’s sister, and he’d been burned by one Harper blonde before. Did he really want to risk repeating that crappy experience?
If it meant getting her naked then...maybe. But probably not.
God, he was arguing with himself, a new low.
Linc opened the ornate wooden door and glared at Reame Jepsen, his oldest, closest friend and owner of the best investigative company in the city. His green eyes sparkling with amusement, Reame lifted his eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.
“What’s up, dude? You look pissed,” Reame drawled, walking into the hallway, taking a moment to look at the stained glass windows on either side of the door. “God, I love this house. Always have.”
Reame was his one friend who knew him from BC—Before Connor. They’d both lived in the same run-down apartment building in Queens, but, somehow, their friendship survived his move to Manhattan when Jo landed the job of Connor’s housekeeper, his subsequent adoption by one of the wealthiest men in the country and his very privileged lifestyle.
Reame had no idea how much Linc admired him; he’d grown up poor, joined the military, served with distinction in the Special Forces and established one of the most respected security and investigative companies in the city.
Reame said that he couldn’t have done it without Connor’s, and then Linc’s, business, but Linc disagreed. His buddy never gave up and never gave in. He would be exactly where he was, with or without Ballantyne business.
“You’re wearing your pissed-off-with-women expression,” Reame stated, after they exchanged a one-armed, super brief hug.
“Thanks for coming over,” Linc told him as they walked deeper into the house, heading for the downstairs family room. Reame shrugged off his thanks, and Linc knew that, like his brothers, Reame would move mountains for him if he needed him to.
“So, who’s the woman?” Reame asked, not allowing Linc to change the subject.
Knowing that his friend wouldn’t let the subject die, Linc pushed frustrated fingers through his hair. “Kari’s sister.”
Reame’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Satan’s bride’s sister is here? Why?”
“Long story, we’ll go into it,” Linc said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s actually going to be your client... I’m just doing the introduction.”
Reame shook his head. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not interested.”
“Hear her out, Reame. She’s not like Kari.” Linc hesitated. “At least I don’t think she is.”
Reame groaned, looking appalled. His fist rocketed into Linc’s shoulder. “Are you freaking nuts? What is it with you and these Harper girls?”
“God knows,” Linc replied, rubbing his shoulder. “Just listen to her, please?”
“Okay.” Reame folded his arms over his chest. “But if I don’t like her or what she has to say, or think she’s trying to scam you, I’m not taking her case.”
“Fair enough,” Linc said as they moved farther into the house. They half jogged down the stairs leading to the kitchen and great room. Linc’s eyes scanned the room and saw Tate standing by the doors to the garden, looking at the barren winter garden. Her head resting on Ellie’s, her hand was patting the little girl’s back in a rhythmic, soothing motion. She kept saying that she wasn’t mommy material, but for someone who had been thrust into the role a few days earlier, she was doing fine.
And she looked stunning. Unlike the women he dated who looked effortlessly chic and glamorous, Tate looked relaxed. She wore tall laced-up combat boots and gray over-the-thigh socks, and there was a gap of a few inches between her socks and flowy skirt. Her rust-colored sweater showed off one creamy shoulder, and her long wavy hair tumbled down her back.
Linc looked at Reame, saw his hell-yeah, appreciative look and jammed him in the side with his elbow. His pal nodded slowly before tossing Linc an amused look. “So...wow,” he said, sotto voce.
“Tell me about it,” Linc muttered. He called Tate’s name and watched as she turned around and gave him a quick, hesitant smile. Her gaze moved on to Reame, and her eyes widened, a common reaction. Reame had a Turkish mother and a Danish father, and the combination of olive skin and light green eyes and big, muscular body, resulted in appreciative looks and flirty smiles. Reame’s power over women had never bothered Linc before, but seeing Tate’s reaction to his friend pissed him off.
Big-time.
“Tate, Reame Jepsen, the PI I told you about. Reame, Tate Harper. Potential client.”
He made a big deal of emphasizing the word client. Reame had a cast-iron rule about not sleeping with, dating or having a friendship with his clients. Not that he’d allow Reame to make a move on Tate; he’d rip his old friend’s face off first.
God, jealous much, Ballantyne?
Tate moved toward them and held out her hand for Reame to shake. As Tate got closer, Linc saw the tears in the baby’s blue eyes, the track marks on her chubby cheeks. Ellie, noticing him, leaned forward, waving her arms at him, silently asking him to take her. Linc obliged and cuddled her close, holding her head to his chest. “What’s the matter, honey?” he crooned.
Linc raised his eyebrow at Tate who shrugged. “I have no idea,” she replied, frustrated. “She’s clean, has had a bottle and she ate her lunch.”
“This is a new house, new people, and she’s probably feeling a little scared,” Linc said.
To his surprise, Tate’s eyes filled with tears. “I think so, too.” She hauled in a deep breath. “That’s why I was rocking her.”
“It’s all you can do.” Linc nodded. “As much as she wants, when she wants it.”
Tate sucked in a breath, nodded once and sent him a grateful look. She was holding up well, Linc thought, impressed. Most of the women he knew, with the exception of Jo and Sage—and Jaeger’s fiancée, Piper—would be whining about how having to look after a baby interfered with yoga or Pilates or a pedicure.
But Tate just sucked it up and did what she needed to do. He admired her for that.
“Let’s have coffee,” Linc suggested, suddenly uncomfortable. It was one thing to lust after Tate, but he was playing with fire if he started liking her, too.
“I’ll get on that,” Tate offered, “since you have your hands full.”
“Let’s talk while you do that,” Reame suggested, walking to the counter and pulling out a stool. “I don’t have that much time, and it sounds like you have a story to tell.”
Tate nodded. “I understand that you located Kari four years ago after she disappeared?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you to find her again,” Tate insisted, and Linc heard the bitterness in her voice. She sent Reame a determined look. “Find her so that I can take Ellie back to her, so that I can talk some damn sense into her. Find her so that I can tell her that she cannot dump her children whenever she feels like it!”
Tate