Nightfire (5 page)

Sam bent to gently embrace her. Sam was tall—six-three. He had to bend down low to her. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m your brother, too, Chloe. It’s just like Harry said. Nicole and Merry and me—we’re your family now, too.”

Chloe smiled up at him and swallowed, the muscles in her long, graceful neck moving. She swiped at her face. “Thank you, Sam,” she whispered.

Sam stepped away for Mike.

Mike put his arms around her. Somewhere along the way, she’d shed her coat. She had on some silky thing, a ruffled blouse in a delicate pink—the color of her flushed face.

She eased into his arms. She fit so perfectly, just slotted right into him.

The hug with Sam had been clumsy. He was so much taller than she was, and she’d moved stiffly. The embrace had been genuine but awkward.

But with Mike, she just moved naturally into his embrace and just as naturally his arms closed around her.

Time stopped, telescoped.

The room disappeared. Harry and Sam, Nicole and Ellen—gone. No more.

There was no noise, nothing. Just Mike and Chloe, in his arms.

Mike was shorter than his brothers and Chloe’s head fit naturally, perfectly, right against his shoulder, at exactly the point where all he had to do was tilt his head to rub his cheek against her soft golden hair. Bend down just a little more to kiss her.

Mike felt heat all along his front, like being covered with a soft, warm blanket that was silky, too. And smelled like heaven. Something fresh and warm.

He was supersensitized. He could feel the short gasps of her excited breath against his neck. His hand was so big it covered a good portion of her narrow back and he could feel her rapid heartbeat against the palm of his hand. The quick heartbeat of joy.

Mike had fucked hundreds of women, but he’d never felt anything even remotely like this. A mild electric shock as he held her raced through him. Everywhere he touched, it felt as if he’d never touched a woman before. Never felt such silkiness, such warmth. Never felt as if she’d moved her body into his like magnets of opposite poles meeting. A force that was unstoppable, natural, utterly right.

She rested against him and he wanted to keep her there forever, but when he felt himself harden, he moved away subtly, mentally rolling his eyes.

Goddamn. His dick had never known how to behave itself.

Oh man, way to turn this moment into something that belonged in the dives he frequented when he got his black moments.

He couldn’t really blame his dick, though. His dick was right to move. He felt it wasn’t getting erect so much as trying to get closer to her, close to all that silk and gold.

His dick would get closer to her eventually. Close to her,
in
her. Oh yeah. Only not right now.

Her hand was still in his and it took real willpower not to bring her fingers to his mouth. She had beautiful hands, fingers long and slender. A pianist’s hands though he had no idea if she played or not.

He could almost feel her fingers against his lips, so strongly he had to drop her hand and step back, muster a smile.

When he pulled back, Chloe did, too, and smiled back up at him. “A brother,” she whispered.

Mike didn’t answer, didn’t reassure her that she’d just found another brother.

Because what he was feeling right then wasn’t brotherly at all.

Chapter 5

C
hloe received more hugs that morning than in her entire lifetime. It was magical, beyond words. Beyond even her imagining—and she’d done a lot of imagining on sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, wondering what it would be like to have a family.

Wonderful, that’s what it was like.

It took her a second to sort the women out. The small, pretty redhead with the slight southern accent was Ellen, Harry’s wife. And . . . and her
sister-in-law.
And she had a
niece
.

Chloe had never, ever thought she’d have a sister-in-law or a niece. Blood relations. The thought made her shiver.

And then Nicole, Sam’s wife. Beautiful and warm and welcoming. And since Harry said Sam was like a brother to him, well then, apparently Nicole was a relative, too.

Then there was Sam, very tall, as tall as her brother Harry, only not as good-looking. He actually looked rough, exactly the kind of man she’d shy away from, instinctively. Tall, strong, rough-looking men automatically spelled danger. This was a message that came to her from some place so deeply embedded in her heart and mind and sinews that she had never even questioned it, until now.

Notwithstanding his appearance, Sam seemed like a good guy. Though he looked like he could pick you up and smash you against a wall without breaking a sweat, the truth was, he made a real point of being gentle with her. He’d hugged her with almost exaggerated care, the way you’d hug a frail grandmother. There wasn’t anything he could do about his rough voice, but he did seem to try to modulate it for her.

And he loved his wife, as much as Harry visibly loved his.

It was there every time he looked at Nicole. It didn’t seem like a sick love, either, the kind Chloe now recognized had existed between her adoptive parents and had undoubtedly existed between her biological mother and her drug-addict husband and boyfriends.

No, this was the real deal, and she could see why because Nicole was absolutely gorgeous and nice. Tall, slender except for the small bump of pregnancy. Long jet black hair, riveting cobalt blue eyes. And completely natural, without a trace of that complex, instinctive sense of competition beautiful women often had around other women. She’d hugged Chloe with genuine warmth, looked Chloe straight in the eyes without even a thought to her clothes or bag or shoes, and then kept a friendly arm around her friend Ellen’s shoulders as she smiled at Chloe.

The body language could not have been more clear. For both women.
Welcome. We are eager to be your friends.

Mike Keillor—he was another story. Not as tall as the men he called his brothers, but seemingly twice as broad. He had the strongest shoulders and arms she’d ever seen on a man. A bodybuilder but without that bodybuilder stiffness and clumsiness. He simply looked . . . strong. Firmly planted on the ground, unstoppable, invincible.

It was a little harder to think of Mike Keillor as a brother.

The hugs of the two men, Sam and Harry—officially now her
brothers
!—and their wives, had been warm and brief. In the rush of excitement, she could hardly tell who was hugging her. Like plunging into a warm ocean, with lots of waves lapping at her.

But when Mike hugged her, time stopped, somehow. She was instantly aware of everything, all sensations separate and discrete. Each one unusual. Each one exciting.

The feel of him. That was what affected her so much. Harry and Sam were so tall she had to stretch up awkwardly to place her hands on their shoulders, up on tiptoe, brief hug, falling back onto her heels. The hug over almost before it began because hugging someone so tall was awkward.

Mike, now—Mike was the perfect height, taller than she was but not too tall. And the strength of him. Wow. She had never in her life touched someone as strong as he was. Like embracing a man of steel. Superman, only without the leotard. Superman, only shorter, broader, but with—yes—piercing blue eyes and yes, that lick of dark hair over the forehead that just made you want to reach out and brush it back. She’d had to clench her fists not to do just that.

He smelled wonderful, too. Clean, utterly male.

For just a moment, instead of a hug, it had been an embrace. He’d simply rolled her into himself, put his arms around her and held her close.

She’d loved it. That was a huge surprise. She didn’t have to reason it all out, like she did with most of her interactions with people.
Should I do this, say this, and if I do this, what then? Is this normal, should I be feeling this, will they look at me oddly when I do that?

Her usual exhausting head games when dealing with people. She had no natural sense for it, had always been bad at it.

Maybe it was all those lonely years in the hospital, or having parents who never interacted with her. Whatever it was, sometimes Chloe thought that everyone in the world except her had been handed an instruction manual at the beginning of their lives and knew what the script was, whereas she was perennially in the dark.

It was better once she was at Sacred Heart and afterwards, at university and out in the work world. But still, it seemed to her that she had no social instincts, only painful lessons learned in harsh schools.

But that moment with Mike—that moment out of time—it had been sheer instinct. They fit together so perfectly. There hadn’t been even a split second of awkwardness. In a second, she was held against him, his arms around her back, his head close to hers.

In that instant, something stilled inside her. Her constant inner monologue stopped dead. She had no thoughts, only feelings, rushing in, overwhelming her.

Strength, heat, safety. Arousal.

Wow.

Mike moved away, and a lucky thing, too, because she was entirely incapable of it. She actually felt bereft when he stepped back. The whole front of her body felt cold, missing something vital. She stood still and looked in his eyes, those bright blue eyes, wondering if he had a clue that something momentous had happened inside her.

He was looking serious. She had no idea what his normal expression was but right then he had looked deeply into her eyes, as if he could walk around inside her head. His face had been tight, a slight tic fluttered in his right eyelid. Chloe simply couldn’t look away.

Time stretched . . .

“All right!” Harry clapped his hands and Chloe jumped, the entire room zooming back into focus. Harry and Sam were closing up shop, shutting down computers, putting paper files away. Her brother smiled at her. “Chloe, we’ll swing by the Del, get your stuff, and get on home. Your room will be ready by the time we get there, but we’ll be eating up at Sam and Nicole’s.” He stopped, looked at her with a frown. “You’re looking shell-shocked,” he said gently, picking up her hands. “Is all this too much for you?”

His hands were so warm. Chloe smiled up at him. “It is a little overwhelming. But in a good way.” She tried to still the trembling in her throat. “I’m still finding it hard to believe that I found you. That I have a brother.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “I know what you mean. At least you had some time to get used to the idea before you came here. I was blindsided.” He pulled back to look down at her. “But now, you know what? I feel like you’ve been there all along, it’s just that I didn’t know.” He swallowed heavily. “And now I do. It changes everything.”

“Yes, it does.” Tears prickled. She gave a hollow laugh and swiped at her eyes. “At some point I’m going to stop crying, I promise.”

“I’m not, not for a while, anyway.” Ellen came up and kissed her cheek again. “I don’t have a family, either, outside Harry and Grace. So for me it’s like finding a sister. We’re all so happy.” She spun around in the room, hands up in the air. “And now we’re going to
party
! Let’s get out of here and get home!”

“Here.” Behind her, Mike’s bass voice. Chloe turned, startled. He was holding her coat up. She slipped into it. His heavy hands rested, briefly, on her shoulders. It felt good, really good. Events were swirling around her, almost too fast to follow, making her dizzy. His big hands grounded her, slowed everything down, made everything real.

“We’ll be there in about half an hour, forty minutes.” Nicole was talking into her cell, and snapped it shut. “Manuela’s still crying, but she’s also cooking up a storm and she is going to be very angry if everything gets cold. You do not want to make Manuela angry.”

“No, ma’am,” Sam said fervently, and winked at Chloe. “Without Manuela I’d never eat. Ouch,” he said mildly when Nicole elbowed him in the ribs.

She smiled sweetly at her husband, narrowing her eyes until only a cobalt blue slit gleamed. “Another crack like that and I know what else you’ll never do again.”

Sam mimed horror and zipped his lips.

Chloe laughed and then barely refrained from clasping her hand over her mouth. Old habits. Her mother—her adoptive mother—had frowned on laughing in public. But she wasn’t here, would never be here again. Everyone smiled when she laughed and Sam winked at her again.

“Okay!” Harry twirled his finger in the air. “Heading on out. Chloe, you’re coming with us.”

“I’ll come with you, too, Harry,” Mike said. “Barney is picking up my SUV. I left it in Logan Heights last night.”

For some reason, Harry and Sam shared sharp glances. Before she could puzzle out what it meant, a strong hand closed over her elbow. Mike, at her side.

They moved out en masse, crossing that enormous lobby. The clients had all departed. Several of the secretaries were standing, putting on their coats. They filed out, calling out cheerful good-byes.

There was a happy atmosphere in this company, Chloe saw. Her brother had created something good, together with Sam Reston and the man still holding her elbow, Mike Keillor. They had created an atmosphere of harmony, as unmistakable as that created by her nuns at the Sacred Heart.

Chloe had felt her heart lift, even that first day. A new girl, a
damaged
new girl, from another country. Shy and unused to much contact with people. The transition to London had been so fast she’d barely had time to dread it by the time she’d arrived and discovered she didn’t have anything to dread.

Just watching the way the nuns treated the girls, the way the girls interacted with one another, it had been such a joy. No coldness, no withdrawal, no hidden cruelty. Just happiness and serenity.

That’s what she was seeing here. The body language of people who worked in a successful environment and who worked well together, in an atmosphere of respect.

Next to her, Mike looked so serious. Harry was beaming, Sam had his arm around his wife’s waist, bending down to her and smiling. Only Mike wasn’t smiling. Harry and Sam seemed somehow uncomplicated next to Mike. Reading their body language easily, in Sam and Harry Chloe saw two contented men, happily married, loose and relaxed.

Mike was harder to read. He didn’t look particularly happy but he didn’t look unhappy, either. He was just serious. And close by her. Like her shadow, always in proximity. Anyone who didn’t know them walking out of the company offices and heading down the big corridor would have assumed that there were three couples.

Harry and Ellen. Sam and Nicole. And Mike and her. She was a slow walker, but he kept pace with her exactly, as if that were his normal speed, when actually she’d seen his normal speed when he came in, zipping across the huge lobby area in a couple of seconds.

She had never been so conscious of another human being’s presence. He was so large it felt like he had his own gravity field around him. She had to work, and work hard, to keep from looking at him and—surprisingly—from trying to get even closer. He still held her by the elbow, not a hard grip but one she imagined she’d have to make an effort to break.

Not for anything in the world would she want to break his grip. She couldn’t even begin to imagine wanting to. His grip felt wonderful.

So here she was, walking down the corridor, having somehow acquired four new family members, and the fifth—well, he didn’t feel like family so much as a man interested in a woman, utterly focused on her.

God, who would have thought such a reversal of fortune could happen in only a couple of hours?

Two hours ago, she’d walked this same hallway, sick with anxiety, trembling with piercing fear and tenuous hope. Completely alone in the world, without a compass or even a heading.

On her way over in the taxi, she’d game-played how the encounter would work out. When she allowed the tiniest chink to open inside her to let just the smallest ray of hope beam inside, she’d thought that maybe, just maybe, she and Harry could . . . what? Maybe have lunch together? Talk, certainly. She’d imagined it would be awkward, but she didn’t care. She’d been doing awkward for a long time now. All her life, in fact.

And she’d try to dance around the big 800-pound gorilla—why didn’t their mom’s sister adopt both of them?

Chloe discovered the answer to that in a diary kept in the safe, tucked away among bank statements as if even in a safe, it wasn’t supposed to be read. In it, Lauren, her adoptive mother, described what she found after the authorities had tracked Lauren down as the sister of Carol Bolt née Tyler, deceased. Lauren had reluctantly flown, alone, to San Diego, the new bride of a man she was slowly beginning to realize had sick desires and a tendency toward violence. But he was rich and powerful and Lauren wanted that. Craved it.