The scent of her hair tantalized him. The heat of her body against his started the mercury rising in his thermometer. She was just the right height, and he was in just the right position, to snake an arm around her stomach and pull her tight against him.
She tipped her head back to whisper, "What are you doing?"
"Taking advantage of a perfect opportunity to hold you close."
Meanwhile, Jeremy had his tongue stuck between his teeth and was busy centering the camera, moving a step one way, then the other, angling, holding his arms straight out, then pulling them in slowly. Will didn't think he'd even pushed the button yet.
His heart was beating hard. Could she sense the faster rhythm between her shoulder blades? Did she know the effect she had on him? Holding her in his arms was so damn good that he closed his eyes, breathed her in, and let his fantasies spin out...until a voice blew his fantasies to hell.
"If I'd known you were doing a photo shoot, I'd have brought Whitney." Evan Collins stood in the open barn door.
Harper immediately jumped away from Will, and Jeremy started, fumbling the camera. Will saw it tumble to the floor, with no way to reach out before it landed with a crack.
For one long moment, everyone stared. Then Jeremy began to splutter. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't be mad, Will. Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to." The boy's face had crumpled, and his eyes were tearing up.
Harper leaped to him, bending to retrieve the camera. "It wasn't your fault, Jeremy. I should have put the strap over your head." She looked at the crack in the view screen and grimaced at Will. "We'll replace it."
"It's just a cheap model," Will said as he crossed to her side. An image of his shoes filled the viewfinder, and the crack was a short diagonal line across the upper right corner.
"Don't make me go home, Will. I'm sorry. I won't touch anything else. Promise." Jeremy crossed his heart.
Will put a hand on the boy's shoulder and made sure he was looking straight into his eyes as he said, "It's okay, Jeremy. It was an accident."
A tear slid down Jeremy's cheek, and Will felt a rip in his heart. How many times had the kid been punished for accidents that weren't his fault? Never by Harper, he knew, but it was a cruel world out there, with little tolerance for people who didn't measure up. And Will should know, since he hadn't always been tolerant, hadn't always been kind. And others had paid the price.
Will took the camera, switched it to display mode, then clicked on the last photo to show it to Jeremy and Harper. Her brother had captured a shot with Will's arm locked across Harper's waist, her hand over his as if she were holding him there. It hinted at an intimacy he craved to make real.
But this moment was about Jeremy, so Will told him, "See, it still works."
Beside him, Harper sighed with relief. He gave her the camera as Jeremy whispered, "You're not mad?"
"Of course I'm not mad. We're buddies. Buddies don't get mad at stupid stuff." Which brought him back to Evan, who was still standing in the open barn door. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."
His friend raised his palms in surrender, a manila envelope in his right hand. "I didn't mean to surprise everyone."
They'd been friends since the sixth grade, when they'd first become the Mavericks. Evan had been a fifth grader, along with Matt, while Sebastian, Daniel, and Will were a year older. Evan's brains were huge, and as a kid, people had called him a nerd. Though with his broad, muscular frame, he now looked more like a professional athlete rather than the financial wizard behind the Mavericks.
Evan gave Jeremy a lopsided grin. "Sorry I scared you. I'm Evan Collins."
"Hi." Jeremy's voice was overly loud in the barn. "I'm Jeremy."
Evan switched the envelope to his left hand and shook Jeremy's. Then he swiveled his gaze to Harper, clear male appreciation lighting his eyes. "And you are?"
"Harper Newman." She put her hand out, too, and shook his. "Jeremy's my brother."
Will didn't like seeing Evan's hand curve around Harper's. Not because he thought Evan was going to try to swoop in and claim her, given that his friend had a wife to whom he was one hundred percent faithful. No, it was simply that Will wasn't ready to share Harper yet, not even with his friends, who would be full of raised eyebrows and silent questions, just like Evan was right now.
What's more, he didn't want any of them to remind him that he had no business romancing a nice girl like her. Not when he was already well aware of that fact. And not when he'd already spent sleepless nights torn between wanting to do the right thing...and just plain wanting her.
"Nice meeting both of you," Evan said, his voice low and powerful, a Maverick through and through.
"What do you need?" Will knew he was being abrupt, but his friend had just caused Harper to jump out of his arms, and he hadn't yet forgiven Evan for it.
"I brought the Link contract for your signature."
While each of the Mavericks had their own enterprises, they often entered joint ventures. This new agreement would fund Link Labs, a startup for a state-of-the-art, and affordable, personal robot. Matt, being the robotics guy in their group, saw huge potential in the field, and they'd all bought into it.
"Thanks, but you didn't need to bring it by personally."
Evan shrugged. "I felt like a drive."
Figuring there was trouble in paradise, but that his friend wouldn't want to talk about it around Harper and Jeremy, Will headed to the workbench and pulled out the document to scan it quickly before initialing the changes. He knew Evan was meticulous and didn't make mistakes. Not with business matters, anyway.
"So what's going on here?" Evan gestured toward the frame.
"Will and I are building a Birdcage Maserati." Jeremy skittered across the floor to the front end, his enthusiasm back, the incident with the camera thankfully forgotten. "It was my idea, and Will agreed."
"And you're supervising?" Evan asked Harper.
Obviously catching the way his friend's eyes moved between her and Will, her mouth tightened slightly. She put her arm around Jeremy, who quickly squirmed away as if it was too childish. "Jeremy recently wrote Mr. Franconi asking if he could see the car collection."
Mr. Franconi? What was up with that?
"And Mr. Franconi was gracious enough to invite us to participate in his car project."
If she said Mr. a third time, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. She was obviously trying to act like the only thing between them was a business arrangement. Anything but a relationship. But as much as he didn't want Evan's questions right now--and as much as he was trying to be careful not to push her too fast--Will sure as hell wasn't going back to being Mr. Franconi.
He scrawled his signature and shoved the agreement back into the envelope, then stalked the few paces to Harper's side, where he draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her into him.
"Here you go." He handed the envelope to Evan with one hand and played with the ends of Harper's hair with the other. "We're going to start punching holes in the sheet metal. Want to help?"
He was sure Evan would rather watch the endless loop of a ticker tape. Cars didn't interest his friend. Evan drove a luxury vehicle for the roominess and the comfort--and because Whitney liked to travel in style--but otherwise, he couldn't care less.
True to form, he said, "Thanks for the offer, but I've got to drop in on Sebastian for the last signature. Nice to meet both of you. I hope I'll see you again."
"'Bye, Evan." Jeremy waved big, his whole body getting into the action.
Just as Evan was engulfed by the bright sunshine, Harper elbowed Will in the ribs. Oh yeah, there'd be hell to pay for his little stunt.
But as long as it was Harper dishing it out, he'd look forward to every second.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What was that about?
Harper glared at Will. He'd deliberately made it appear as though they were a lot more than acquaintances in front of his friend and fellow Maverick. Evan was a very good-looking man
, but even so, Harper thought he didn't hold a candle to Will.
"I think you'd better start punching your holes," she said flatly. Or she might punch him.
He was barely stifling a grin and she knew for sure that he'd been showing off to his friend. Or staking a claim. And she'd felt...
"All right, Jeremy, time to get started." Will reached into a large wooden crate set against the wall. "We'll work on the firewall first. That's the panel protecting the cockpit."
"I remember, Will." Jeremy followed him back to the workbench, where the long piece of metal was laid out, its top curved.
What had she felt?
Harper thought of Will's teasing and the feel of his body against her back. Every hard inch of it. His nearness had turned her insides to liquid. The final photo Jeremy snapped had exposed a woman flushed with desire. She'd looked--and felt--wanton. Sexual. Wild. And very willing. Way too willing, especially since she hadn't even decided yet whether to let him make good on any of his wicked intentions.
The possessive arm Will had put around her after he'd signed the contract had clearly stated that he knew how tempted she was. And he'd had no qualms about letting his friend know it, too--as if she were some sort of conquest.
God. She must seem so easy to him. To both of them. Take her to dinner, flash around a little money, throw out a few sexy caresses--and she was about to cave.
"This is a fan spacer." Will laid the accordion-style metal tool against the edge of a ruler he'd placed along the sheet's edge. "We use it to make sure the rivet holes are equally spaced." He fanned the spacer, a series of crisscrossed metal strips that could be adjusted, with a small hole at the end of each piece. As Will pulled, the spacers widened. "That measures one inch. Now we use a spring-loaded punch to mark where we're going to drill. Like this." Jeremy craned to watch as Will punched a small, sharp tool through each of the equidistant spacers.
Still fuming, Harper clicked off a shot of the work in progress as Jeremy happily wrote it down in his journal. Even though her brother was with them, she pulled a stool away from the wall near the workbench, and asked, "Did your friend Evan get whatever message you were trying to send him?" Fortunately, Jeremy was too interested in what he was doing to pay attention.
Will looked up at her, his eyes far more guileless than they deserved to be. She and Will had seen each other only a handful of times, yet she already knew that look. His lips curved up slightly, and he had a knowing spark in his eye.
"What message was that?" Before she could answer, he handed Jeremy the sharp tool, which resembled a skinny screwdriver. "You try now."
Jeremy bit his lip, concentrating hard as he took over the task. "Yeah, just like that, you've got it," Will praised him. "All we're doing right now is marking with a little hole. Then we'll drill."
She took another picture, determined not to let Will off the hook just because he was so sweet with her brother. "When you put your arm around me and started playing with my hair."
Will didn't look at all apologetic as he said, "He wasn't the one I was trying to send a message to."
His bold words--words that all but screamed how much he wanted her--shouldn't have sent heat rushing through her. But they did. Crazy heat. Just the way all of his bold intentions had in her kitchen.
She could feel herself flushing as Will focused on the car again and said to her brother, "We're going to move the spacer along now and make our marks all the way to the end."
A short while later, Jeremy held the press tool high in the air like an athlete who'd just run a marathon, and said, "I'm done."
Will inspected the work. "A perfect job. I couldn't have done better myself."
Jeremy did a happy dance and emotion blossomed in her heart. No matter how conflicted Will might make her feel, he was good for Jeremy.
Her brother suddenly said, "I gotta pee."
"Down there." Will hooked a thumb past a long row of shelves and cupboards, and Jeremy raced to the bathroom as if he'd suddenly realized he might not make it in time.
Literally the second the door closed behind him, Will was standing right in front of her, pulling her up, pushing the stool she sat on back against the wall, and framing her head with his hands. His he-man act shot a forbidden thrill right through her--the same forbidden thrill she felt with him every single time, whether it was smart of her or not.
Her mouth was suddenly dry as she looked up at him, her breath coming fast.
"You don't like it when I touch you in front of anyone else?" He dipped his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. "You don't like them thinking you're mine?"
Oh God. She could barely process what he was saying when he was this close to her, not quite kissing her, but heating her up all over just the same. "I'm--" She worked to gather enough oxygen, and brain cells, to be able to tell him, "I'm not yours."
He pulled back slowly, his hair brushing along her cheek. It was incredibly soft. And he smelled so good as he said, "Not yet," his low voice humming along her nerve endings. "Soon."
She knew what she should be doing. She should be pushing him away and making it clear to him--yet again--that their kiss by the aqueduct had been nothing more than a crazy whim. But when he slipped to the other side of her face and sensually nipped at her earlobe, she forgot where they were, she forgot Jeremy, she forgot about his friend seeing them together, she even forgot her name. As if they didn't even belong to her, her hands reached up, nearly taking hold of his shirt.
The toilet flushed at the other end of the barn and she felt the rumble of Will's low--and clearly frustrated--laugh against her throat. "Very soon we'll both have what we want," he promised her as he slowly pushed away from the wall, then turned around to focus once again on her brother and the car.
*
By the end of the afternoon, Will was so keyed up from wanting Harper, he was ready to blast past every last wall that she was still trying to hold up. But rushing her wasn't part of his game plan. She had to be ready. More than ready--he wanted her desperate and wild, the way she'd been that night at the deserted fountain.
They'd left an hour ago, without his securing another date with Harper. In fact, for the rest of the afternoon, though she'd been involved in taking pictures of their progress--and she'd been perfectly polite--he could easily guess that she was stewing on everything that had happened between them. And everything he'd said.
Soon we'll both have what we want.
Will wasn't a man who waited for what he wanted. And he wanted her badly enough that he'd been sorely tempted to ask them to come back tomorrow. But he'd corralled every ounce of his self-control and had, instead, let her go with the promise that she and Jeremy would return the following Saturday. When they'd do the dance all over again.
Until Harper wanted him as badly as he wanted her--and no longer thought she needed to keep fighting the inevitable. Because if there was one thing Will knew for sure, it was that the sparks between him and Harper wouldn't be nearly so hot if they weren't supposed to come together.
His cell rang beside him on the arm of his chair, signaling that his favorite person in Chicago was calling. "So," Susan said after his warm greeting, "I hear you have some new friends."
He choked out a laugh. "Evan gossips like an old woman. It's only been six hours since he met Harper and Jeremy."
"You know he always checks in with us on Saturday."
Evan tended to be driven by routine. Will, on the other hand, called Susan and Bob a couple of times a week without any set schedule.
"He's still a gossip," he said without rancor.
Susan was the closest thing Will had to a mother. He barely remembered his real mom. And it was Susan, along with Bob, who had helped Will become the man he was, instead of the man his father would have turned him into. Susan had been a waitress and Bob a baggage handler at the airport, even after he'd injured his back. They hadn't had much money, but they'd taken in each and every one of the Mavericks. Loved them. And treated them
like their own.
Will would do anything for them. And the other Mavericks felt exactly the same. Their bond was stronger than any blood tie could have been.
"How's Bob doing?" Will asked before Susan could start peppering him with questions.
"You know him." He could hear the smile in her voice. "He's got to be out there helping the contractor put the new deck in. Can't just sit and watch."
The first thing the Mavericks had done when the money started rolling in was to get Bob the back surgery he'd badly needed. He'd still stubbornly continued to work long after Daniel or any one of the Mavericks could have supported both him and Susan. It had taken years to convince him that a less physically demanding desk job might not be as bad as he thought. Then finally, last year, he'd agreed to retire and start enjoying life. But he wasn't yet sixty and no one was putting him out to pasture, as he loved to say. He worked on the house and the yard, and volunteered with Habitat for Humanity.
"So are you going to tell me about her, honey?" Susan wasn't going to let Will avoid the reason for her call.
"I met Harper through her brother. He was hit by a car when he was seven. He worked through the physical issues, but he acts younger than he is."
"I'm so sorry." She hated it when kids got hurt. So did Will.
"He's a great kid. Enthusiastic. Positive. He loves cars so I bought another kit car, and he's going to help me build it."
"You sound happy. Helping him is going to be good for you, I can tell."
Happy was as good a word as any to describe what he'd felt as he helped Jeremy mark the sheet metal. For the last few months, even longer than that, he'd been running on empty. But Harper and Jeremy seemed to be filling him up again.
"And his sister, Harper? Is she someone special?"
He didn't even have to think about it. "Very." He'd known from that first day in the hangar that Harper was special. And good. Too good for him.
"You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that, Will. I want my boys happy. And you deserve a good woman."
Susan didn't see him shake his head. She really did love all of her boys, so much that Will knew she let herself forget where--and who--he came from. Forget who he was.