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Rourke
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Doreen waves her hand in front of my face. Damn it. I try to focus on what she’s saying, but it isn’t easy. I’m exhausted. I didn’t get any sleep last night, I spent it in a perpetual state of need with my cock hard half the damn night. My mind unable to stop thinking of Olivia naked in the pool, floating like a freaking mermaid, with a damn full moon revealing every inch of her body. When I realized she was in the pool, I should have backed away as quietly as I could. I was going to, really, I was. Until I saw her.
Fuck, my cock is instantly hard, all over again. To see what I’ve been dreaming about, fantasizing over for what feels like fucking forever but has only—no way has it only been three weeks—but my calendar confirms it. The sight of her body, besides causing me sleepless nights, is now turning me into a waking fool. Fantasy had nothing on the real thing. Her body is art, her body is invitation to sin, and it’s imprinted on my fucking brain.
Closing my eyes tight, I run my hand over my eyes. I need to fire Olivia Casey. I need to get her as far away from me as humanly possible. Only I can’t because it’s not her fault I want to fuck her so badly. I can’t because she’s breathed new life and happiness into my mother. I can’t because I don’t want to. I don’t want her farther away from me than where I can reach out and touch her. And I’ve never felt this way before. And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. If I give in, break my rule for her, what comes next? Two weeks, three weeks, until my mom is better? And then there’s my mom, there’s no way she won’t know, and if I don’t put a ring on Olivia’s finger for having had her I’ll lose my mother’s respect, probably forever.
With a curse the door slams behind Doreen. Damn it. I look down at my desk to see the projections for the next three weeks on my hotels. Sighing, I open the one on my downtown hotel. I should have been paying attention to these. Besides dinner, I’ve only been to the hotel once since I put Valentina and Anthony in charge. I haven’t received a single text or phone call questioning policy or procedure or what should be done. It doesn’t mean there hasn’t been trouble. I check the clock: five thirty. Perfect timing.
Once again Becky picks up. “Becky, it’s Rourke. Are you busy at the front?”
“Hello, sir, no. I’m good to talk.”
“Excellent, tell me how things are going with Valentina and Anthony.”
“Amazing, sir, better than I think we all hoped for. The first day or two it was a little umm, I think there was a little friction, then they spent like half the day in the office. Once they came out it’s been great ever since. They work really well together and have each other’s back. If we ask them both a question we get the same answer. That didn’t even happen with Denise.”
“I’m glad to hear it. If anything should change though, I would appreciate you letting me know.”
“Yes, sir, I will. Umm...sir?”
“Yes, Becky?”
“There was some talk and questions about those new hotels of yours in France and Italy. Some people were thinking you were going to hold on to them instead of selling right away like you did with the others. And some people were wondering if you do, if there’s a chance to transfer to one?”
I consider the question. “At this time, Becky, I do not know what will happen with the properties I have outside of Austin. I’m not even done redoing two of them. I haven’t had an offer on the one in Monaco, so I can’t say if the offer wasn’t excellent I wouldn’t take it. However, once I know for sure, I’ll make sure those positions are open to my people in Austin. It’s always easier to move people up then hire and train them from outside.”
“Okay, sir. Thank you.”
“No problem. Have a good night.”
“You too, sir.”
With a few clicks I bring up the projects in Tours and Florence. The place in Tours is really coming along. My mom was right: it looks more like a home than a hotel. I’ve only been on site once, but I remember being struck by how peaceful and scenic it was. Sitting on twenty-two acres with an old stable, a pool, green and trees as far as the eye could see, it seemed like a dream vacation spot to get away from it all, but it still has a nice-sized town only a half hour away. Closing the window, I’m left looking at the report on the Florence property. This is definitely a hotel, and it will be an elegant draw by the time I’m done.
I consider Becky’s question. I don’t know if I’ll keep any of the properties for long. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay in Austin or if I’ll leave again. Only a week ago, I thought I knew everything. Now I feel like I don’t know shit, not even myself.
***
Olivia
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It’s been three days since the night Rourke saw me naked, and three days since I’ve seen him. I’m barely interested in dinner, only moving it around my plate.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Cheryl looks worried.
I shrug, not able to meet her eyes. “I think Rourke is avoiding me.”
Cheryl sighs. “I think you should know it won’t be easy. Rourke doesn’t do commitment, but not because he’s some playboy like people think. The truth is he refuses to commit because he’s convinced he’ll die young and doesn’t want to leave his wife to grieve like I do for his father.”
“You cannot be serious.” She is; the sadness in her eyes has me flinching. “He cannot believe that. He’s the healthiest man I’ve ever met.” Then I remember dinner, how he was sure he’ll end up with diabetes, the strict diet and exercise he does.
“It’s why he’s so careful about what he eats, to stave off the diabetes that runs in his family. I understood, at first. Emilio died at only fifty-two—he never took care of himself with his diabetes and even after his first heart attack. Then there’s Emilio’s father, he died when he was only fifty-three, of a heart attack. At first, I was as worried as Rourke.
“I urged him to get tested. He’s had thousands of dollars in tests, MRI, EKGs, things that would have found the smallest thing. When they found nothing I was relieved and believed he would be too. Only he still believes he’ll die young; it’s what drove him away from Austin, to see the world while he could.
“I’ve tried to talk to him dozens of times. I reminded him his mother’s father is still alive, his great-grandfather on her side didn’t die until he was a hundred and two just last year. All of the men and women on her side are aging into their eighties and nineties. He won’t listen.” Her sigh is sad. “You’ll have to be patient and strong. I have faith in you.” Her smile is teasing.
“Wait, his great-grandfather was Charles Rourke? Of the Rourkes who at one time owned a quarter of Texas and into Louisiana? The family who for three decades was the main source of meat and cattle in Texas?”
Cheryl nods. “The very same. Although by Charlie’s generation they were well and truly land rich, cash poor. They had horrible problems for several years with their cattle and feed. When Rourke turned twenty-one he was gifted with a parcel of land, as a part of terms from a family trust. Since there was no money, the land was in the appraised value of the fifty thousand he was due for being a descendent of a Rourke.
“At the time Rourke was upset, swearing he wouldn’t take it. Since he was in the middle of his tour Emilio talked Rourke into waiting until he got out and home to make a decision. That tract of land became where he built the complex of the theater and strip mall and was a major cornerstone of his commercial real estate business.”
“Wow. Does he have any contact with any of them at all?”
“No, but almost ten years ago one of his uncles had the gall to come and ask for money. They had a particularly bad year. Rourke said no, but he advised them to go natural and organic as a way of diversifying. From what I heard they did and have had a bit of a resurgence.”
“I can’t imagine having a child, then turning my back on him to cling to a family who couldn’t love him because of the color of his skin. It blows my mind. I’m also thinking it’s a crazy way to react when from their history they used to be O’Rourke, Irish gypsies who were chased out of Ireland then settled in Texas. To have suffered intolerance, then to turn around and do it all over again. Emilio and Rourke are so lucky to have you in their life, to take them exactly as they are.”
“Oh no, I was the lucky one. I had a horrible marriage before them and had given up on ever marrying again. After managing to get out, I swore I wouldn’t give any man that kind of control over me and my life again. Except when I met Rourke, he kind of burrowed under my heart. He was so serious, such a beautiful child, thinking constantly. I knew he deserved more than being stuck in a classroom with other children he was far more advanced than.
“Then I met Emilio and all my previous convictions crumbled. He didn’t talk about taking care of me, loving me—he showed me every day. I told him I didn’t want to get married, I couldn’t take the chance. Emilio nodded, saying he understood, then told me he loved me too much to not have me as his wife. It was my decision, but if I loved him too then we needed to get married or I could leave. At the time, there was no real decision, I loved him, I wasn’t going anywhere. You aren’t either, my dear. It’s clear as day, so please be a little more patient with him.”
As I lie in bed unable to sleep, I turn the conversation from a few hours over again and again in my mind. Was he avoiding me?
I hear a door close, and my eyes flash to the clock on the bedside table. One in the morning. Is he really working, or is he staying away from me? Before I lose my nerve, I’m up grabbing my silky black robe and tying it tight as I open my door and gasp when I find Rourke almost directly outside it. He was going into the bathroom; he’s only got on a thin, silky robe that makes it very clear he’s naked below the robe.
He blinks at the bright light I had flipped on the moment I opened the door. When he turns away to keep going into the bathroom, without thinking I reach out to stop him. My hand lands on his arm, and at the feel of the hard muscle, my hand tightens before I realize in horror what I’ve done as Rourke turns back to face me. Oh man, this was a bad idea. Bad, very bad. He’s angry. He’s the volcano ready to blow. Instinctively, I take a step back. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to talk to you and I wasn’t sure...” My words dry up under the red-hot anger in his eyes.
“You could have called me like a normal person. I told you in the beginning if you ever need me to call me. I’m not going to have a conversation with you in the middle of the night with both of us half-naked. Good night.”
Without another word or look he’s gone, closing the door to the bathroom with a final click. Why was he so mad at me? Why the fuck am I crying? God, I fucking hate him. Slamming my door, I throw myself onto my bed. I never hear the door open. One moment I’m on my bed, the next I’m pulled off the bed by my arm. “Are you trying to wake my mother? What the hell is the matter with you? Is that what this was, to set me up? Because you know if my mother catches me in your room she’ll force me to put a ring on your finger.”
The words are so ugly, so angry, I’ll do anything to make them stop. Stop. I press my hand against his mouth. “Stop no, please, it wasn’t like that. You fucking coward.”
Rourke’s hand grabs me by the wrist so tight I have no doubt it will be bruised tomorrow morning. “Coward? I’m not a fucking coward for not wanting to end up forced to marry a woman to keep from losing my mother’s respect.”
“No, you’re a coward for hiding from what you feel, what you want because of some stupid fear of what might happen. Maybe isn’t a good reason to twist yourself and everyone around you into knots instead of living life every damn day as it comes without fear.”
“Big words coming from a woman who on the basis of one mistake, refuses to live her own damn life. You go from one patient’s house to another, keeping people from getting close with smart-ass remarks and hiding behind a smile. The minute you start to get attached it’s on to the next patient, never staying for long, never taking on patients who aren’t in good health so you have to worry about losing them. No home of your own, no life of your own, I wouldn’t call that living life. Before you start calling people cowards, take a look in the fucking mirror.”
Letting me go, he pushes me away as he walks out of my room. This time he closes the door with a firm, soft click.
***
Rourke
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It’s been two days since the night in Olivia’s bedroom when we tried to tear each other apart to keep from tearing our damn clothes off. She recognized my fear, and I fucking hate the way she knows about what I see as a weakness. The way she struck out at me landed a blow I’d believed I was long past feeling. Then I turned right around, trying to hurt her, to push her, and I landed a punch too. At the pain in her eyes I hated myself, hated the whole fucking situation. I don’t want to hurt her, not ever again. Yet even through all the harsh words, I was a hair’s breadth away from throwing her on her bed and fucking her until neither one of us could move.
Two damn days since I found out I was fooling myself into thinking I could keep away from her. Not a single day was free of me thinking of Olivia, and the nights were the worst. I’m not sure what the hell I was thinking staying here sooner. I haven’t seen her since, and yes, I’ve been working at it. I’m exhausted when I come home in the hopes this will be the night I fall asleep without needing to jerk off like a fifteen-year-old kid. I’ve taken so many cold showers my balls shrink every time I walk past the bathroom.
Tonight I don’t have a choice in avoiding her. It’s a ritual for my mom and me to have dinner the night before the festival begins, as it’s usually over before we have dinner together again. She’s already called in all the bad stuff from our favorite Vietnamese place for delivery. If I don’t leave now I’ll be late. With a sigh I shut down and leave.
When I walk through the door my eyes find Olivia immediately. What the fuck is it with her and muscle-bound guys who have something against shirts? She’s smiling up at a guy in a tight white shirt who is inches away from her, and he has his hand on her arm as if he’s showing her something. Every muscle in my body tightens, preparing to do battle; my hands become fists, clenching with the need to break every bone in his body for laying a hand on Olivia. I’m not aware I make a noise, but the growl has to come from somewhere. Instantly, Olivia jumps, blushes then moves, only the guy does too, and right into her. I move fast across the room, and my hand goes around Olivia’s arm as I pull her up against me. “Leave,” rumbles out of me in a growl as I fight for control of my emotions. The guy is gone in seconds, slamming the door behind him.
With him gone I turn my attention to Olivia. Her eyes are wide. She’s shaking her head. “What is the matter with you? I was just talking to him. He was showing me the plans for the kitchen. The guy was married; I had zero interest in him and he had less than zero interest in me.” She tries to shake me off, but I can’t let her go. Her soft curves against me soothe the savage in me still threatening to break free. She feels it, a sigh slips from between those sweet lips of hers and she moves against me, pressing herself closer. “Don’t you get it, you idiot? I don’t meet and instantly want just any guy. It’s only ever happened once, and I know it’s stupid and crazy that it was you but—”
The second she says you, my control snaps. She doesn’t get another word out before my mouth is on hers, sweet, so fucking sweet. I want more, I want to taste every inch...plum, black cherries, she reminds me of a pinot noir, as subtly sweet and intoxicating. Her hands are in my hair, her breasts nearly flattened against my chest, and we still aren’t close enough. I want, I need to be inside her. Then I hear the rumble of the garage door. Holy fucking shit.
I wasn’t even thinking of my mother. It’s a bucket of ice water down my back. Thank fuck it hit Olivia too. Her eyes are wide, mouth soft and swollen. A mere glance would give it away she’s been kissed thoroughly. She moves fast down the hall, nearly slamming the bathroom door closed.
Running a hand through my hair, my tongue sweeps out to taste my lips before I wipe my mouth. I swear I can still feel Olivia’s mouth on mine. The door leading out to the garage opens, my mother’s smile is triumphant. “I went and got the takeout all by myself. I only took out one parked car while doing it. Oh, I’m joking dear, don’t look so fierce. Did you meet Christopher, the architect? Did he leave already?”
“Yes, he needed to get home to his wife.”
“Oh yes, they were only recently married and already a baby on the way. I’m so happy I’m able to give him a job when he needs it the most, and I love his ideas. What did you think?”
I turn my attention to the sketches laid out on the island, thankful to have something to focus on. He wanted to move the stove away from the wall to the island. “I don’t know, Mom. It means you’ll have to go electric. I don’t want gas lines rerun.”
“I’m fine with that, dear. You know I’m barely cooking now. I enjoy baking better with electric, the oven cooks more evenly.”
Olivia rounds the corner. She’s back to her normal self, and barely looks at me as she greets my mom. Since the wind is high and it’s a little humid, we sit down at the table in the dining room. For a while the talk is about the kitchen, then it goes to the festival and who will be coming to town.
With a sigh after I list the music lineup, Olivia shakes her head. “I’m old. I have no idea who any of those people are. I also don’t care, I’ve never been into indie stuff.”
“Let me guess, rap and R&B?”
Her eyes go wide then narrow. “How do you know?”
“You were singing along to a Drake song once when I came home late.”
“Oh, sorry if I disturbed you.”
I make the mistake of meeting her eyes. Everything about her disturbs me. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t that loud.”
“Did it at least give you some ideas on what the cool kids listen to? What kind of music do you like?” A half-smile makes it clear she’s teasing me.
Mom laughs as I frown. “Now I listen to more artists like Adele and John Legend. However, I like rap, especially while I work out. I listen to Eminem, Dre, Snoop. Do you even know who Eric B. and Rakim are?”
“Uh, duh, they majorly influenced Eminem, so yes I know who they are. I even know who Afrika Bambaataa and KRS-One are.”
It’s hard not to chuckle as Olivia’s eyes widen and she nods, supposedly putting me in my place. “That reminds me.” I reach into my inner suit pocket and offer Olivia two badges. “I got you a few badges that will get you anywhere you want to go.”
Instead of the happiness I expect, Olivia frowns without reaching for the badges. “I appreciate the thought, thank you, but I won’t be using them. I’m not comfortable in crowds. I’ve tried going a few times, and it was too overwhelming for me to actually enjoy myself.”
With a shrug, I tuck the badges back into my inner pocket. “Even better, I won’t have to worry about you roaming the crowds not taking care of yourself.”
“I can take care of myself just fine,” she snaps at me.
I shake my head. “You’re too easy a target at only five six, a pretty woman like you, in a crowd you’d be easily overtaken.”
She blushes even as her eyes flash. “Gabe taught me more than enough to take care of myself. Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I’m going to go easily or quietly.”
My phone goes off with a text. “So it begins. I have to go.”
“Be careful, dear. I saw on the news there have already been accidents.”
Careful not to even glance in Olivia’s direction, I leave.