The Mavericks backed each other up to the ends of the earth, always there when anything bad went down, but they all turned to Susan when they needed to keep their emotional crap from festering inside. She was their sounding board on matters of the heart.
"Trust me, honey," she added, "unfulfilled need can change a woman's entire personality."
He could see that, but the truth was that Whitney had always been more difficult than most. And he knew without a doubt that Harper, in the same situation, wouldn't bust a guy's manhood the way Whitney did.
The thought of Harper with a child, his child, growing inside her sent a wave of emotion flowing through him--delight, need, fear, desire. And something that felt giddily like happiness.
"I think that's also why she doesn't pay more attention to Noah," Susan said thoughtfully, as if she'd just considered the point. "It breaks her heart. Hopefully when a baby finally comes, she'll settle down again. Right now, Evan's giving her the supportive environment she needs to try again, and I'll be there for your brother. I know you will, too, all of you. But I also want you to realize that while I understand Whitney's feelings, I'm not making excuses for all her bad behavior. And that incident with your friend..." She didn't finish, and he could almost see the shake of her head.
Her words brought back the ache of guilt. "I shouldn't have let Jeremy get hurt."
"I wish he hadn't been hurt, too. But the truth is that you can't protect everyone all the time. No matter how much you wish you could. Trust me, I should know, with the five of you."
Susan was right. The Mavericks had certainly given Susan and Bob a crazy ride those first few years. But Jeremy was different.
"I wish I could do more than provide a new job for him and work on the car. Harper works so hard to look out for her brother. But every time I offer to help, she insists on doing it all on her own."
"Maybe that's because she thinks she still is on her own."
Frustration rose up in Will. "How can I get her to understand that I'm not going anywhere? And that I mean it when I say I won't hurt her or her brother? What else can I do to get through to her?"
"You know how."
No. The reaction was instinctive. Even before Susan continued with exactly what he knew she was going to say.
"Have you told her about your past yet?"
"I rewrote that story already," he said in far too sharp a tone, considering that Susan was only trying to help him. Plus, as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he wasn't actually sure they were true. Sure, he'd rewritten the part where he was poor, but what about the rest? Because he sure as hell had never been able to forget that he came from a worthless thief and bully who hadn't deserved to be called a father. Still, he had to ask Susan, "What's so important about my past that she needs to know?"
"Will." There was a slight note of exasperation in Susan's voice. "She needs to know because you love her. And love means being completely open, even if you're scared."
Will had given Susan and Bob a merry ride, pushed their limits, tested their boundaries. After his dad, he hadn't trusted anyone without proof that they were worth it. Susan and Bob had passed with flying colors in the end, and he'd do anything for them.
But Susan saw right to Will's core--so deep that there was no point in even trying to deny what he was feeling. Not any of it.
"I think I've been in love with her from the first moment I saw her standing outside my hangar with her brother, so protective, so beautiful, so strong." And then so free and passionate during their first fast ride. His heart brimmed over with all that he felt for Harper. "I admire everything about her. But if she knew about me--"
"You were a child, Will. Your father made you do those things for him." Susan, God love her, made excuses for everyone, even him.
"I kept doing them even when I got older. After he went to prison."
"It was all you knew. All you had to go on. But then you learned what was wrong, you learned what was right, and you never mixed up the two again."
"I learned those things from you," he said softly, remembering her never-ending patience. And loving her for it.
"Does it matter where or how or from whom you learned it? You made yourself into the man you are. That's why I've always said you don't need to wear that tattoo as some sort of reminder about your father and the life he forced you to be a part of. You're your own man, not the least bit tainted by him in any way. And I'm so proud of you, honey."
He could hear the tears in her voice. Susan rarely cried when she was upset. She cried when she was happy. "If you reveal who you are, I know she'll love you as much as I do. How could she not?"
But unlike Susan and Bob and the rest of the Mavericks, Harper hadn't lived not knowing where her next meal would come from and had no idea of the depths to which people could sink. She hadn't known men like Will's father. She'd never stolen or lied simply because someone ordered her to.
What if she didn't understand that sometimes you became exactly like the very person you hated because that reflection in the mirror was the only thing you knew how to see?
"I can't tell her, Susan."
"Listen to me--I'm proud of you because I know what you went through. Because you rose above it. I've never known better men than any of my boys. And that most definitely includes you."
Her words humbled him.
"Tell me something, Will. Do you think Harper is worthy of love? And happiness?"
"Of course she is. The biggest love. The most happiness."
"Is she worthy of your trust?"
"Without a doubt. She'd never lie or cheat or steal." Not like me.
"Neither would you. Not now. Not ever."
Again, it was as though Susan was right there inside his head, hearing all the voices that had never gone away. The ones that said he didn't deserve any of this. Not the success. Not the money. Definitely not love. And certainly not Harper.
But three days ago he hadn't told Harper the whole story about the day he'd met the Mavericks. Despite the sun and the pool, he'd kept his T-shirt on to hide the Road Warrior tattoo. And he hadn't told her the full truth about those bullies who had gone after Matt. Nor had he told her anything about that terrible day when he was sixteen...and he'd made the worst mistake of his life.
"If you truly trust her, then let her decide whether you're worthy. Don't choose for her." Susan paused. "Trust her to realize that you're a man of your word, not a product of your father."
That was the question, the one he couldn't see a straight answer for, not anymore. Was he his father's son?
Or was he a man worthy of Harper's love?
"She needs to know how you feel. Trust her with your secrets, Will."
"And if she walks away?"
"Believe me, honey, if you refuse to let her in, she'll leave anyway."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"You got tickets to Wicked?" Harper looked up with surprise into the face of the most beautiful man on the planet. A man who was giving her one of those slow, sexy smiles that always made her dizzy with desire.
"Friday night. Dinner in San Francisco. Then a private box for the show."
It was a lovely Wednesday evening, the air cooling down after the heat of the day. Once Memorial Day was over, summer hit with temperatures that baked concrete. She and Will were taking a leisurely stroll through her modest Palo Alto neighborhood while Jeremy stayed home building a Lego kit. It wasn't just putting blocks together anymore. There were complicated instructions, and Miss Richards felt the toy would stretch his capabilities.
When Will had brought Jeremy home after work that evening, he'd removed his suit jacket and thrown his tie over the back of the sofa, but he was still tempting in a striped dress shirt. His hand over hers felt divine. And yet, even though it felt as though they were a couple--a real one--Harper kept reminding herself to stay in the moment. It was enough just to appreciate being here with him now. Which meant she needed to stop thinking about more. Especially since he'd already given he
r more happiness--and pleasure--than she'd ever thought to have.
He slipped the tickets back into the breast pocket of his shirt. "After the show," he said, "we'll check to make sure that Jeremy is doing fine staying the night at my house with Mrs. Taylor. And then I'm going to take you to my flat in the city and have my way with you." He dragged his gaze down her body until she was hot all over. "All night long." He drew out the words.
All night long.
They'd never spent the whole night together. In fact, they'd never even been completely naked together. Everything was always fast and hot, ripping clothes off and devouring each other. Or getting her naked.
But now he wanted all night.
It suddenly felt hard to breathe, in both a bad and a good way. Because God, yes, she wanted a night with Will. In his bed. All night long. But at the same time, she was terrified that it would change everything for her--that it would make it even harder to stop wishing for more.
She'd vowed that night in his '57 Chevy that she wouldn't be scared anymore, that she'd just go with the flow and keep having fun. But the truth was that even though she was having the time of her life with Will, she didn't know how to shelve her worries. How could she, when she was falling so hard and so fast for him? Falling deeper and deeper with every kiss, every caress, with every sweet word he said to her, every smile he gave to her brother. Falling even harder and deeper after the barbecue. After watching him with Noah and seeing what a great father he would be. Someone she would have been proud to introduce to her own parents.
But when, outside of a fairytale, did the gorgeous billionaire actually fall for the normal girl?
"Does that sound good to you?"
She looked into his deep blue eyes, and despite all the worries and questions circling inside of her, she melted. Just like always. "It sounds amazing. I've been dying to see Wicked." She was pleased by how calmly and steadily the words came out, as if she actually had any self-control at all where he was concerned.
*
Oh God, she thought on Friday night, I am so not in control.
How could she be when the evening was this fabulous? Will was utterly gorgeous in a black tux and white shirt. Dinner had been at an exclusive private club on Nob Hill that didn't even have a menu, where the waiter had recited delectable descriptions that left her mouth watering.
And so did Will. He was his usual can't-keep-his-hands-to-himself, first at the restaurant, and then at the theater in their private box. Almost as if he wanted to keep spinning her out on the delicious edge of pleasure every moment so that she couldn't spare one single brain cell to dwell on worries and questions. He'd made her feel special, desirable, irresistible, beautiful--as though she was the center of his world.
After she'd visited the ladies' room during the intermission, she found Will in the crush of elegantly dressed theater patrons, amid photographers snapping pictures of the beautiful, rich, and famous. He was waiting for her just down the hall, a champagne glass in each hand.
"You looked thirsty." He kissed the tip of her nose.
It was so sweet, something a man did to a woman who belonged to him. As though they were a real couple rather than just friends with benefits. As though he felt for her exactly what she was feeling for him. Despite all the reminders she kept giving herself, she couldn't help but be totally swept up in the romance of it all.
Until a male voice came between them. "Will, it's good to see you outside of the office."
The man was older, mid-forties maybe, and well-bred handsome. His short dark hair had very little silver in it, and his eyes were a steel gray that seemed to pierce through everything. Harper's hair wasn't exclusive-salon prepped, her nails weren't manicured, and her dress was off-the-rack among all the designer gowns floating around the mezzanine. She'd never cared about any of that before...but compared to the drop-dead-gorgeous woman hanging on the man's arm, Harper felt horribly out of her depth. Just the way she had several times before, when Will had swept her into his amazing world of fast cars and caviar.
"Cal, great to see you, too." Will's voice was warm as he held out his hand and the two men shook. "Monette." His voice became slightly less warm. "Please meet Harper." He slid his fingers around Harper's, then told her, "Cal is business manager for the Maverick Group."
The beautiful Monette was staring at Harper's hand clasped in Will's. She smiled, but despite her lush lips, perfect cheekbones, and expert makeup, the smile didn't move beyond that slight twitch of her mouth. Her manicured grip tightened on Cal's arm.
Will made polite conversation. "I'm so glad Harper agreed to come with me tonight."
"It's been such a treat," she said, hoping her smile looked genuine despite her discomfort beneath the other woman's laser-focused gaze.
When Cal smiled back, it filled his face and deepened the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. "A Wicked treat."
"Oh Cal, you're so funny and smart." Monette spoke for the first time, her tone sultry, as if she'd whispered something naughty. Her gold dress sparkled with tiny jewels that Harper thought might actually be real.
She would not feel bad in her classic black cocktail dress, one she'd been so pleased to find on sale last year.
Will squeezed Harper's fingers as though he could hear her thoughts. Not wanting him to think she wasn't making an effort with his friends, she told them, "I haven't been to the theater since The Phantom of the Opera."
"That show was here ages ago, wasn't it?" Monette drawled, as though she'd scored a point in a game Harper hadn't realized they were playing. "I'm so glad Cal has been taking me to see everything lately." She stroked the arm she held and blinked bedroom eyes at him.
Cal looked at Monette, a line between his brows, then at Will as if a light bulb was going on.
Oh. Well then. The light bulb had just gone on for Harper, too. Clearly, Will had a history with this woman. A sexy history, if Harper had to guess.
"This is only our second show," Cal corrected politely, still smiling, still friendly.
But Monette's eyes narrowed like those of a Siamese cat. Harper couldn't say for sure, but she had the distinct impression this would be their last show. She was good at reading people, and the business manager looked like a man who, out of respect, wouldn't date a woman who'd already infiltrated the Maverick Group once before.
Will beamed at Harper as though he was oblivious to the byplay. "Monette's right. I've been remiss." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "I should have been taking you out on the town instead of keeping you all to myself." His eyes darkened as if he'd forgotten there were other people in the conversation as he added, "But I haven't been able to help myself."
All right, Will definitely wasn't oblivious. But Harper stopped caring as her pulse raced and she couldn't look away from him, couldn't do anything but wish they were somewhere private so that he could strip her clothes off and make love to her. And she could make love to him, too.
"Cal, isn't that the mayor I see over there?" Monette's voice grated Harper right out of the spell Will had cast over her. "Didn't you say you wanted to speak with him?"
Over Monette's head, Cal raised a brow at Will, before saying, "Of course. It was lovely to meet you, Harper." He let himself be led away.
"Franconi, it's good to see you."
Another tall, well-dressed man, with an older woman wearing fuchsia taffeta, slid so quickly into the vacated spot that Harper didn't have a chance to ask Will about Monette. Which was a good thing. Because she shouldn't ask about Monette. It wasn't her business whom he'd been with before they started spending time together, and the very mention could come across as jealousy.
Except that when one conversation ended and another began as yet a different society couple poured into the empty space, she couldn't help but consider what Monette had been to him. Had he called the other woman sweetheart? Had he looked smitten as he'd introduced Monette to all of these people at similar events? Had he invited her to meet the other Maveri
cks?
Or was there any possibility that Harper was the only one he was always touching--her back, the nape of her neck, her cheek, her hair?
And was there any chance at all that Harper was the only one he'd taken for those fast and wild rides?
When the bell rang signaling the end of the intermission, Will finally led her back to their box, pulling her close as soon as the door sealed them in. "If I'd known it was going to be like that, I'd have brought the champagne in here and kept the door locked." He nuzzled her hair. "Sorry about Monette. She can be catty."
Harper couldn't think while he was touching her. Which meant she also couldn't remember to hold back the words, "You used to date her?"
"A couple of times." He shrugged. "She likes men with money."
Harper had enough experience with fortune hunters after Jeremy's trust to understand. But even though she still couldn't quite shake the jealous vision of Will sleeping with a woman like Monette, she needed him to know something. "She was a fool."
He turned to her with a surprised look that she was able to catch just as the lights went down. But when he kissed her--a kiss that was not only full of passion, but something more, something that seemed even bigger than desire--she didn't need to see his face to know how much he'd liked hearing those words.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Their limousine could have seated ten. Champagne chilled in a silver bucket on the center console, and a pot of Will's special caviar teased her senses as the limo maneuvered through the San Francisco streets, heading to Will's penthouse flat. The flutes were filled with raspberries, already half drenched in champagne.
This was the opulence she'd expected from him that first night--an exclusive restaurant, a private box at the show, a stretch limo. And yet, while it was still more than a little overwhelming, it didn't scare her away the way it would have back then. Because she knew Will. Knew the man behind the money and the power. Knew how kind he could be, how sweet. Sexy, too, but that had been obvious from the outset with nothing more than one look.
He filled the glass and handed it to her before doing the same with his, then tapped his glass to hers in a ting! of crystal. Flush against him on the seat, his exquisitely male scent went to her head like the champagne bubbles.