BIG: (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (4 page)

She knew now what it must have looked like to him—that suddenly she had all these feelings for him in the moment when she
needed
something.

Only
when she needed something.

But Ric had always been there for her. Always.

He’d even punched an asshole boyfriend in the face to protect her once.

And that had been her own fault for not listening to him in the first place. Ric had tried to tell her once that her friends weren’t the girls she thought they were—that those giggling, beautiful, bright-eyed school chums of hers were vicious and abusive to him every chance they got. She hadn’t believed it, hadn’t wanted to believe it, not until she’d seen and heard it for herself.

Once her “friends” showed their true colors, Annalesa had finally been done with them. But she’d never been one for big confrontations—and she had to see them in class every day for the rest of the damned year, after all. At least Ric got to escape seven months out of twelve to University in Norway. So she’d let the girls believe what they wanted to believe—that Annalesa wasn’t “cool” anymore, that they’d outgrown their friendship with her.

She’d been a coward, and had ended those friendships with a whimper—but looking at her stepbrother now, she realized that he never saw it. And clearly, that still hurt. He’d wanted to see the “bang.” And she couldn’t blame him for that. For his hurt and his anger. He had every right to all of those feelings, and more. It broke her heart just thinking about it.

“Hey.” Ric’s voice, much softer, nudged her back into the present. “You asked, I answered. Let’s drop the heavy stuff for now, huh?”

She smiled back in gratitude, relieved at the mutual agreement to totally ignore the subject hanging between them. Weight rolled off her shoulders, leaving her light-hearted with the extra buzz of the drink. He gave her a full smile, a gorgeous one that lit up his face and made her mouth go a little dry. He always had nice teeth, but the contrast against his tan made his grin almost solar.

“Congratulations on your degree, by the way,” he said, changing the subject. “My dad said you earned the hell out of it. I’m chuffed—isn’t that what you Brits say? Seriously.”

“Thanks.” She glowed at the sincerity in his eyes. Making him proud made her feel proud. Her degree in art history was her passion, but it was kind of considered Mickey Mouse in her family—at least on her Mum’s side—of engineers and actuaries. “And you! Mum was so proud when she sent me that email. I thought I would burst, I was so happy for you.”

“Yeah.” Ric’s smile faded just a little. “Too bad we couldn’t tell each other...”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together firmly, pretending to lock them and throw away the key. “No. Nix that.”

“Nix what?” He blinked.

“No heavy stuff, remember?” Annalesa slice one finger across her neck. “Let’s not talk about us not-talking. So, what are you going to do with yourself now? It must feel strange not studying for anything anymore.”

“Actually, most of the last year was done off-site, so it won’t be that strange. I’m gonna do what I always wanted to do, but never thought I could.” His eyes shone, and that made Annalesa’s chest swell. “I’m gonna head up Ryker Arms in a few years.”

“You’ll be great.” She couldn’t help blinking at his announcement in surprise. Not because
she
doubted his ability—but because
he
always had. He’d been convinced, all along, that running Ryker would be too much for him. “You’ve got the metallurgy, the mechanical engineering—”

“And the dissertation on diffusing recoil mechanics,” he reminded her with a wide grin. “Even Dad was impressed. He figures it’ll help us get the edge on Beretta in Europe.”

“Wow.” She hoped the guys at Ryker treated him with the respect he deserved. Sometimes being the CEO’s son could work against a man, not for him. “Will you have anyone to buddy you while you start figuring out company strategy?”

“Actually, yes.” He gave a little nod. “Dad’s hooked me up with Anders Arensen. He’s going to be my mentor.”

“Oh, wow.” She tried not to let her skepticism show on her face. She couldn’t see Brad’s right-hand man having much to gain by helping Ric to the top. “That’s great.”

“What’s that face for?” He raised one eyebrow at her, looking much more like the brother she’d grown up with in that moment.

“What face?” She blinked, acting innocent. “I don’t have a ‘face’!”

“Yeah, you do. I know you, remember?” He snorted a little laugh and she liked the way he said that. He did know her. He always had. “But I have to tell you something—he’s a large part of the reason I’m in the shape I am right now. He helped me train with their security team, and he’s taught me a lot about the business already. He’s a good man.”

“Well, all right. That’s good, then.” She was reassured that he was so convinced. She liked the look of confidence on his face. “So what are your plans after the graduation party? We’ve got the trust meetings, I know, with all the lawyers and accountants. But then what? Back to Norway?”

“You worried about me being overworked?” He wiped a hand across his forehead—he was sweating a little, she noticed.

“You’re American,” she reminded him with a sly look. “Of course I’m worried about you being overworked.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, as he put his glass down and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Hang on. Payne always turns the heat up too damned high.”

She snuck in a moment of discreet ogling as he crossed the den to the thermostat in the hallway, sliding his shirt off as he crouched down to read the display.

She couldn’t help smiling as she watched him fiercely poking at the buttons, trying to figure out how to turn the heat down. The temperature was fine for her, but if his warmth-hating Norse ways compelled him to strip, who was she to argue?

The smile died on her lips as he leaned forward to look closer, bracing his hands on the wall and squinting at the panel. The pose turned his lats into smooth bands of steel running from his upper back down to the beginning of his nicely-defined six-pack. His triceps stood out like rocks, even with the mild-blurring effect of the tattoos.

The track-lighting in the hallway showed his hair was nearly blonde at the temples. Annalesa released a slow, steady breath and threw a second glass of liquor down her throat. She liked the fuzzy feeling. She liked re-living this forbidden crush on him—even if he was, or had once been, her stepbrother. She reminded herself of this often, but it didn’t seem to make a difference in how she felt about him.

With one final jab at the panel, he made his way back over to the bar, scratching an itch just on the inside of his hip.

God, his waist was tight.

Annalesa cleared her throat. “So, gossip. Is there a girl in Norway waiting for you to come home?”

“I’ve had... dates.”

“Just dates?” She grinned at the way he reddened a little.

“I didn’t want to start seeing anyone seriously, you know, ‘til I was... I don’t know, happier with myself?” He shrugged. “But I’m not celibate or anything. It’s not like I haven’t been, uh...”

“Physical with anyone?” she offered, her belly tightening at the thought.

“Yeah. But that’s about as far as I’ve let things go.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s kinda weird for me. I spent years being avoided by girls who wouldn’t date me because of my body, and now...”

“Let me guess...” Her gaze stayed focused on his face, on the way his eyes shifted from hers. “Women now
only
want you for your body?”

“Sometimes it feels like it.”

“Well, if you’re going to pick a problem to have?” She smiled when he raised his eyes to meet hers. “I mean, that’s not a bad one, is it?”

“Maybe.” He tossed his shirt on the bar.

“You know, I dated this guy once, this fucking
gorgeous
guy.” She made a face, remembering. “I spent the whole time thinking I was punching above my weight class, you know? Always worried I couldn’t measure up.”

“You?” He snorted at that, shaking his head, his gaze moving over her, head to toe. That made her cheeks redden just slightly.

“No, listen, seriously.” She met his eyes, trying to appeal to the man she knew was still in there. “You don’t have to be heavy or have bad teeth or bad acne or whatever to feel bad about yourself. I’ve been there, too. But Ric... you’ve always been attractive. Even at your heaviest. And now? Bloody hell, man, you’re gorgeous—inside
and
out. I think your head just has to catch up and realize it.”

“Gorgeous inside and out?” he repeated, looking incredulous, like he didn’t believe her for a minute.

“I’m blaming the alcohol for anything I saw tonight, just so you know.” Annalesa felt his amused gaze on her as she sipped. She hadn’t planned to say any of that out loud. But, since she had, she decided to go all the way. “You’re brilliant. You’re funny. You’re talented—you should’ve been on the Olympic shooting team, you know—and you’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

“I can’t believe you’ve ever been self-conscious.” He gave her dark chestnut-colored ponytail a light tug. “You do know you’re one of the beautiful people, right?”

“You make it sound like a club.”

“I think it is.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “A club I sure as hell never thought I’d belong to.”

“We’re all just people, Ric.” She wrinkled her nose. “Even that insufferable Cyril. He was model, you know. But he picked his scabs like a five-year-old. Gross.”

“You were obviously too good for Cyril the scab-picker.” He laughed, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “What did you say? You felt like you were punching above your weight class? You, my dear, could never be punching above your weight class. You’re in a class all by yourself.”

His compliment made her flush and the way his fingers brushed her cheek made her shiver. “I met Cyril in a gallery in Paris. He was so handsome, I thought he wouldn’t look twice at me. Turned out he didn’t know much about art—turned out his hot little body was the subject of a lot of the photographs at the show. Also turned out he was a complete bastard.”

“Have you ever dated anyone who
wasn’t
an asshole?”

“I went out with a nice guy named Hans for a while. He was very sweet. But... I have to confess, I got a little bored. We just... didn’t click. No chemistry. There hasn’t been anyone else.” She had no idea why she felt the need to make it clear that she’d spent most of her time single over the last four years.

“Are you going back to England?”

“I thought I might move to Paris.” Annalesa shrugged. “See if I can get a place on a curator’s team in one of the big galleries.”

“Why don’t you start your own gallery?” He looked at her like she was crazy for not thinking of it herself.

“My own gallery?” She laughed at the thought. “Do you have any idea how much money you need to set up your own gallery?”

“Uhhh...” He cocked his head at her, frowning. “You know what this trust meeting’s for, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.” She grinned back and rubbed her hands gleefully. “I’m really hoping for enough to buy a new car… why are you face-palming?”

“The
trust
meeting is to release the funds that have been held in
trust
for you, Leesa.”

“Yes, I’ve got that bit.”

“I don’t think you do.” He leaned on the bar, close, eyes dancing as he looked down at her. “This isn’t small change. We’re talking millions of dollars.”

“M-mill—” She couldn’t finish the word and nearly dropped her glass before setting it on the bar.