CHAPTER 42
Darius took her hand again, her skin smooth and warm as he brought her over to the frame. Had she figured out that while he was teasing her, he was working himself up, too? He enjoyed her wide blue eyes, the puffs of breath that signaled her arousal—or anger—and the way she bit her lip without even being aware of it. “We need you in the picture to show proportion,” he explained. “And you, too, Zion.” Zion needed no further prodding to jump into the photo. Darius didn’t always require human subjects, but he wanted them. This was a joint project. Plus, he had a major desire to see Nathalie on camera.
“Act like a model showing off the car,” he directed, watching her on the digital screen. He thought she might be shy, but she surprised him by throwing her hands out, cocking her hip, and pointing one toe on the concrete in a ballet pose. Her hair swirled around her shoulders, and her pink lipstick glistened. An ache grew low in his gut, and he swallowed hard. Watching her was addictive. Beside her, Zion was a surprising ham, striking one ridiculous pose after another, and Darius wondered when the last time had been that he’d had fun like this. Finally, Nathalie stepped out of the camera frame and held out her palm.
“Okay, give it to me. We need some of you and Zion, since you two are building this thing.” He relinquished the camera, but not before making sure his hand lingered on hers. She met his gaze, pursed her lips, and shook her head. “Stop being bad.” “You have no idea how bad I can be,” he said in a soft voice. And he couldn’t wait to show her. He caught the way her eyes flared with heat right before she rolled them, and then she gestured for him to move toward Zion and the metal frame. He’d raised it off the floor with four jack stands, to which he’d added small pieces of cloth so they didn’t scratch the frame’s paint. He’d enjoyed their reaction. When the crate arrived yesterday, he’d considered the best presentation.
In the end, he’d uncrated it, used the suspension crane to place it on the jack stands, and covered it with the tarp so he could whisk it aside to reveal the masterpiece. The effect was perfect. Even Nathalie had been impressed. He put his arm around the boy, and felt damn near fatherly, something he’d never even thought of before. After Nathalie took a dozen or so shots, Zion said, “Now we need you and Nathalie.” He obviously didn’t want to be left out of the picture-taking. “You two don’t need me in more pictures,” Nathalie objected again. “Come on, Nathalie,” Zion begged. Of course she gave in to her brother, pointing to the button he should push to take the photo. And of course Darius wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to pull her in front of him and set his hands on her hips until she was nestled back against him.
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, Zion 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. Darius 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 Keira.”
Ares Lowells stood in the open barn door. Nathalie immediately jumped away from Darius, and Zion started, fumbling the camera. Darius 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 Zion began to splutter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, Darius. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to.” The boy’s face had crumpled, and his eyes were tearing up. Nathalie leaped to him, bending to retrieve the camera. “It wasn’t your fault, Zion. I should have put the strap over your head.” She looked at the crack in the view screen and grimaced at Darius. “We’ll replace it.” “It’s just a cheap model,” Darius 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, Darius. I’m sorry.
I won’t touch anything else. Promise.” Zion crossed his heart. Darius put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and made sure he was looking straight into his eyes as he said, “It’s okay, Zion. It was an accident.” A tear slid down Zion’s cheek, and Darius felt a rip in his heart. How many times had the kid been punished for accidents that weren’t his fault? Never by Nathalie, he knew, but it was a cruel world out there, with little tolerance for people who didn’t measure up. And Darius should know, since he hadn’t always been tolerant, hadn’t always been kind. And others had paid the price. Nathalie took the camera, switched it to display mode, then clicked on the last photo to show it to Zion and Nathalie. Her brother had captured a shot with Darius arm locked across Nathalie 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 Zion, so Darius told him, “See, it still works.” Beside him, Nathalie sighed with relief. He gave her the camera as Zion 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 Ares, 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 Baddricks. Ares had been a fifth grader, along with Hector, while Perseus, Argus, and Darius were a year older. Ares' 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 Baddricks. Ares gave Zion a lopsided grin. “Sorry I scared you. I’m Ares Lowells.” “Hi.” Zion’s voice was overly loud in the barn. “I’m Zion.” Ares switched the envelope to his left hand and shook Zion’s. Then he swiveled his gaze to Nathalie, clear male appreciation lighting his eyes. “And you are?” “Nathalie Adler.” She put her hand out, too, and shook his. “Zion's my brother.” Darius didn’t like seeing Ares’ hand curve around Nathalie’s. Not because he thought Ares 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 Darius wasn’t ready to share Nathalie yet, not even with his friends, who would be full of raised eyebrows and silent questions, just like Ares 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,” Ares said, his voice low and powerful, a Baddrick through and through. “What do you need?” Darius knew he was being abrupt, but his friend had just caused Nathalie to jump out of his arms, and he hadn’t yet forgiven Ares for it. “I brought the Link contract for your signature.”
While each of the Baddricks 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. Hector, 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.” Ares shrugged. “I felt like a drive.” Figuring there was trouble in paradise, but that his friend wouldn’t want to talk about it around Nathalie and Zion, Darius headed to the workbench and pulled out the document to scan it quickly before initialing the changes.
He knew Ares was meticulous and didn’t make mistakes. Not with business matters, anyway. “So what’s going on here?” Ares gestured toward the frame. “Darius and I are building a Maserati Alfieri 1960.” Zion skittered across the floor to the front end, his enthusiasm back, the incident with the camera thankfully forgotten. “It was my idea, and Darius agreed.” “And you’re supervising?” Ares asked Nathalie. Obviously catching the way his friend’s eyes moved between her and Darius, her mouth tightened slightly. She put her arm around Zion, who quickly squirmed away as if it was too childish. “Zion recently wrote Mr. Spencer asking if he could see the car collection.” Mr. Spencer? What was up with that? “
And Mr. Spencer 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 Ares' questions right now—and as much as he was trying to be careful not to push her too fast—Darius sure as hell wasn’t going back to being Mr. Spencer. He scrawled his signature and shoved the agreement back into the envelope, then stalked the few paces to Nathalie’s side, where he draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her into him. “Here you go.” He handed the envelope to Ares with one hand and played with the ends of Nathalie’s hair with the other. “We’re going to start punching holes in the sheet metal.
Want to help?” He was sure Ares would rather watch the endless loop of a ticker tape. Cars didn’t interest his friend. Ares drove a luxury vehicle for the roominess and the comfort—and because Keira 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 Perseus for the last signature. Nice to meet both of you. I hope I’ll see you again.” “’Bye, Ares.” Zion waved big, his whole body getting into the action. Just as Ares was engulfed by the bright sunshine, Nathalie elbowed Darius in the ribs. Oh yeah, there’d be hell to pay for his little stunt.
But as long as it was Nathalie dishing it out, he’d look forward to every second. What was that about? Nathalie glared at Darius. He’d deliberately made it appear as though they were a lot more than acquaintances in front of his friend and fellow Baddrick. Ares was a very good-looking man, but even so, Nathalie thought he didn’t hold a candle to Darius. “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, Zion, time to get started.” Darius 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, Darius.” Zion followed him back to the workbench, where the long piece of metal was laid out, its top curved. What had she felt? Nathalie thought of Darius' 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 Zion 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 Darius 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.” Darius 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 Darius 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.” Zion craned to watch as Darius punched a small, sharp tool through each of the equidistant spacers. Still fuming, Nathalie clicked off a shot of the work in progress as Zion 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 Ares get whatever message you were trying to send him?” Fortunately, Zion was too interested in what he was doing to pay attention. Darius looked up at her, his eyes far more guileless than they deserved to be. She and Darius 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 Zion the sharp tool, which resembled a skinny screwdriver. “You try now.” Zion bit his lip, concentrating hard as he took over the task. “Yeah, just like that, you’ve got it,” Darius 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 Darius 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.”
Darius 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 Darius 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, Zion held the press tool high in the air like an athlete who’d just run a marathon, and said, “I’m done.” Darius inspected the work. “A perfect job. I couldn’t have done better myself.” Zion did a happy dance and emotion blossomed in her heart. No matter how conflicted Darius might make her feel, he was good for Zion. Her brother suddenly said, “I gotta pee.”
