Shirley Jump - The Mckennas - Finn, Riley and Brody

“So this is your grand plan? Talking to Ellie Winston? Here? Now?” Riley asked. “With you dressed like that?”

Finn glanced down at his dark gray pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt and navy blue tie. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”

“Hey, nothing, if you’re heading to a funeral.” Riley patted his own shirt, as usual unbuttoned at the neck and devoid of a tie. “Make a statement, Finn. Get your sexy on.”

Finn shook off that advice. Riley was the more colorful McKenna brother, the one who always stood out in a crowd. Finn preferred his appearance neat, trim and professional—the same way he conducted business. Nothing too flashy, nothing too exciting.

“This is the perfect environment,” Finn said, nodding toward the woman. “She’s relaxed, maybe had a couple glasses of wine, and best of all—” he turned to his brother “—not expecting the offer I’m about to make.”

Riley chuckled. “Oh, I think that’s guaranteed.”

Finn’s gaze centered on Ellie Winston again. She laughed at something the guy beside her said. A full-throated laugh, her head thrown back, her deep green eyes dancing with merriment. Every time he’d seen her, she’d been like that—so open, so exuberant. Something dark and deep stirred in Finn’s gut, and for a split second he envied the man at her side. Wondered what it would be like to be caught in that spell. To be the one making her laugh and smile like that.

Damn, she was beautiful. Intriguing.

And a distraction, he told himself. One he couldn’t afford. Hadn’t he already learned that lesson from one painful mistake after another?

“A woman like that …” Riley shook his head. “I don’t think hardball is the right way to play it, Hawk.”

“I hate when you call me that.”

“Hey, if the nickname fits.” Riley grinned. “You, big brother, spy the weak, pluck them up and use them to feather your nest.” He put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “But in the nicest way possible. Of course.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” A magazine had dubbed Finn “the Hawk” a few years ago when he’d done a surprise buyout of his closest competitor. Then six months later, his next closest competitor. He’d absorbed the other businesses into his own, becoming one of the largest architectural firms in New England. At least for a while. Until his ex-girlfriend’s betrayal had reduced his company to half its size, taking his reputation down at the same time.

Now he’d slipped in the rankings, not even powerful enough to make any lists anymore. Or to merit any other nickname other than “Failure.”

But not for long.

A waitress came by with a tray of crudités and offered some to Finn and Riley. Finn waved off the food, but Riley picked up a smoked salmon–topped cucumber slice and shot the waitress a grin. “Are these as delicious as you are beautiful?”

A flush filled her face and she smiled. “You’ll have to try one to see.”

He popped it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Then shot her an even bigger grin. “The appetizer is definitely a winner.”

The waitress cocked her hip and gave him another, sassier smile. “Perhaps you should try the other, too.” Then she turned on her heel and headed for the next group.

“Perhaps I will,” Riley said, watching her sashay through the crowd.

Finn rolled his eyes. Keeping Riley focused on the subject at hand sometimes required superhuman abilities. “Do you ever think about anything other than women?”

“Do you ever think about anything other than business?” Riley countered.

“I’m the owner, Riley. I don’t have a choice but to keep my eye on the ball and my focus on the company.” He’d had a time where he’d focused on a relationship—and that had cost him dearly. Never again.

“There’s always a choice, Finn.” Riley grinned. “I prefer the ones that end with a woman like that in my bed, and a smile on my face.” He arched a brow in the direction of the waitress, who shot him a flirtatious smile back. “A woman like that one.”

“You’re a dog.”

Riley shrugged off the teasing. His playboy tendencies had been well documented by the Boston media. As the youngest McKenna, getting away with murder had been his middle name almost since birth. Funny how stereotypical the three boys had turned out. Finn, the eldest, the responsible one, working since he was thirteen. Brody, the middle brother, the peacemaker, who worked a respectable, steady job as a family physician. And then Riley, the youngest, and thus overindulged by their mother, and later, by their grandmother, who still doted on the “baby” of the family. Riley had turned being a wild child into a sport … and managed to live a life almost entirely devoid of responsibility.

Finn sometimes felt like he’d been responsible from the day he took his first steps. He’d started out as a one-man shop right out of college, and built McKenna Designs into a multioffice corporation designing projects all over the world. His rapid growth, coupled with a recession that fell like an axe on the building industry, and one mistake he wished he could go back in time and undo, had damaged his bottom line. Nearly taken him to bankruptcy.

“Carpe diem, Finn,” Riley said. “You should try it sometime. Get out of the office and live a little.”

“I do.”

Riley laughed. Out loud. “Right.”

“Running a company is a demanding job,” Finn said. Across the room, the woman he wanted to talk to was still making small talk with the other partygoers. To Finn, the room seemed like an endless sea of blue and black, neckties and polished loafers. Only two people stood out in the dark ocean before him—

Riley, who had bucked the trend by wearing a collar less white shirt under a sportscoat trimmed to fit his physique.

And Eleanor Winston, who’d opted for a deep cranberry dress that wrapped around her slender frame, emphasizing her small waist, and hourglass shape. She was the only woman in a colorful dress, the only one who looked like she was truly at a cocktail party, not a funeral, as Riley would say. She had on high heels in a light neutral color, making her legs seem impossibly long. They curved in tight calf muscles, leading up to creamy thighs and—

Concentrate.

He had a job to do and getting distracted would only cost him in the end.

“You seem to make it harder than most, though. For Pete’s sake, you have a sofa bed in your office.” Riley chuckled and shook his head. “If that doesn’t scream lonely bachelor with no life, I don’t know what does. Unless Miss Marstein is keeping you warm at night.”

Finn choked on the sip of beer in his mouth. His assistant was an efficient, persnickety woman in her early sixties who ran his office and schedule with an iron fist. “Miss Marstein is old enough to be my grandmother.”

“And you’re celibate enough to be a monk. Get away from the blueprints, Hawk, and live a little.”

Finn let out a sigh. Riley didn’t get it. He’d always been the younger, irresponsible one, content to live off the inheritance from their parents’ death, rather than carry the worries of a job. Riley didn’t understand the precarious position McKenna Designs was in right now. How one mistake could cost him all the ground he’d regained, one painful step at a time. People were depending on Finn to succeed. His employees had families, mortgages, car payments. He couldn’t let them down. It was about far greater things than Finn’s reputation or bottom line.

Finn bristled. “I work long days and yes, sometimes nights. It’s more efficient to have a sofa bed—”

“Efficient? Try depressing.” Riley tipped his beer toward the woman across from them. “If you were smart, you’d think about getting wild with her on that sofa bed. Sleep’s overrated. While sex, on the other hand …” He grinned. “Can’t rate it highly enough.”