Shirley Jump - The Mckennas - Finn, Riley and Brody

But he didn’t.

“We went and lived with my grandparents,” he continued. “I think us three boys drove my grandmother nuts with all our noise and fighting.”

“I bet you three were a handful.”

He chuckled. “She called us a basketful of trouble, but she loved us. My grandmother was a stern, strict parent, but one who would surprise us at the oddest times with a new toy or a bunch of cookies.”

Ellie smiled. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She is. I think every kid needs a grandmother like that. One time, Brody and I were arguing over a toy. I can’t remember what toy it was or why. So my grandmother made us rake two ends of the yard, working toward each other. By the time we met in the middle, we had this massive pile of leaves. So we jumped in them. And the fight was forgotten.”

Ellie laughed. “Sounds like you learned some of your art of compromise from her.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. She taught me a lot.” He hadn’t shared that much of his personal life with anyone in a long, long time. Even Lucy hadn’t known much about him. They’d mainly talked about work when they were together.

Was that because she didn’t care, or because it was easier? Or was it because Finn had always reserved a corner of himself from Lucy, with some instinctual self-preservation because he knew there was something amiss in their relationship?

Was Ellie’s interest real, or was she just gathering facts for the interview? And why did he care? On his way here from the gym, he had vowed to keep this impersonal, business only. Why did he keep treading into personal waters? He knew better, damn it.

“I think every person needs someone like your grandmother in their lives,” Ellie said softly.

“Yeah,” he said. “They do.”

Damn, it was getting warm out here. He glanced over at Ellie to find her watching him. She opened her mouth, as if she was going to ask another question, to get him to open up more, but he cut her off by reaching into his pocket for a sheet of paper. He handed it to her. “I, uh, thought you’d want to know some things about me for the interview. So I wrote them down.”

She read over the sheet. “Shoe size. Suit jacket size. Car model.” Then she looked up at him. “This doesn’t tell me anything about you, except maybe what to get you for Christmas.”

“That’s all the particulars you would need right there.”

She dropped the sheet of paper onto a nearby table, then drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She’d changed into sweatpants and a soft pink T-shirt after work, and she looked as comfortable as a pile of pillows. “What a wife should know about a husband isn’t on that list, Finn.”

“Well, of course it is. A wife would know my shoe size and my car—”

“No, no. A wife would know your heart. She’d know what made you who you are. What your dreams are, your fears, your pet peeves. She’d be able to answer any question about you because she knows you as well as she knows herself.”

He shifted in his chair. The cracker felt heavy in his stomach. “No one knows me like that.”

“Why?”

It was such a simple question, just one word, but that didn’t mean Finn had an answer. “I don’t know.”

“Well, surely the woman you were engaged to got to know you like that. Like the story about your grandmother. That’s what I want to hear more of. Or tell me about your fiancée. Why did you two not work out?”

“I don’t want to talk about Lucy.”

Ellie let out a gust. “Finn, you have to talk about something. We’re supposed to know each other inside and out.”

“That’s why I gave you the list—”

“The list doesn’t tell me anything more about you than I already knew from reading the magazine article.” She let out a gust and got to her feet. For a while she stood at the railing, looking out over the darkened homes. Then she turned back to face him. “Why won’t you get close to me?” Her voice was soft and hesitant. It was the kind of sound that Finn wished he could curl into. “You take two steps forward, then three back. Why?”

“I don’t do that.” He rose and turned to the other end of the balcony, watching a neighbor taking his trash to the curb. It was all so mundane, so much of what a home should be like. Between the crackers and the cheese and the sweatpants—

Damn, it was like a real marriage.

“What are we doing here, Finn?” Ellie asked, coming around to stand beside him.

When she did, he caught the scent of her perfume. The same dark jasmine, with vanilla tones dancing just beneath the floral fragrance. It was a scent he’d already memorized, and every time he caught a whiff of those tantalizing notes, he remembered the first time he’d been close enough to smell her perfume.

He’d been kissing her. Sealing their marriage vows in Charlie’s office. And right now, all he could think about was kissing her again. And more, much more.

Damn.

“We’re pretending to be married,” he said.

“Are we?” He didn’t respond. She lifted her gaze to his. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

She let a beat pass. Another. Still her emerald gaze held his. “Why did you agree to marry me?”

“Because you said that’s what it would take. To get on board with the hospital project.”

“You are ‘the Hawk,’ Finn McKenna,” she said, putting air quotes around his nickname. “You could negotiate your way out of an underground prison. But when I proposed this … marriage, you didn’t try to negotiate at all. You agreed. What I want to know is why.”

The night air seemed to still. Even the whoosh-whoosh of traffic seemed to stop. Nothing seemed to move or breathe in the space of time that Ellie waited for his answer. He inhaled, and that damned jasmine perfume teased at his senses, reawakened his desire.

Why had he married her? She was right—he could have offered something else in return for her cooperation on the hospital project. Or he could have just said no. “I guess I just really needed that project to help my business get back on track.”

She took a step closer, and lifted her chin. “I don’t believe you.”

“Truly, it was all about business for me.”

“And that was all?”

She was mere inches away from him. A half step, no more, and she’d be against him. Desire pulsed in his veins, thundered in his head. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips, to her curves. “No,” he said, with a ragged breath, cursing the truth that slipped through his lips. “It’s not.”

Then he closed that gap, and reached up to capture one of those tendrils of her hair. All day, he’d wanted to do this, to let one silky strand slip through his grasp. “Is it for you?” he asked.

She swallowed, then shook her head. “No. It’s not.” She bit her lip, let it go. “It’s becoming more for me. A lot more.”

Finn watched her lips form the words, felt the whisper of her breath against his mouth. And he stopped listening to his common sense.

He leaned in, and kissed Ellie. She seemed to melt into him, her body curving against his, fitting perfectly against his chest, in his arms. She was soft where he was hard, sweet where he was sour, and the opposite of him in every way. Finn kissed her slow at first, then harder, faster, letting the raging need sweep over him and guide his mouth, his hands. She pressed into him, and he groaned, in agony for more of her, of this.

His cell phone began to ring, its insistent trill ripping through the fog in Finn’s brain. He jerked away from Ellie, then stepped away. “I’m sorry.” He flipped out the phone, but the call had already gone to voice mail. The interruption had served its purpose.

Finn had regained his senses.