Any Time, Any Place (Billionaire Builders #2)(11)

The image of Dalton’s bright blue eyes and slow, sexy smile flashed in her mind.

Raven sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee, then sat at the small kitchen nook to watch the sun rise. How long had she been obsessed with the idea of revenge after the funeral? She’d burned with the need to prove that Diane Pierce had seduced her father with wicked lies and sex. That he would have discovered the truth and come back to his daughter, begging her forgiveness, but the crash had occurred before he’d been able. That he’d never have gotten on that plane to Paris and left her.

Over the years, her thirst for vengeance had faded under the need to bury the past and move on. But with Dalton and his brothers visiting her bar on a regular basis, the memories no longer stayed buried. And if she didn’t do something about it, maybe the nightmare would keep continuing until she went insane again.

Raven took another sip, enjoying the nip of caffeine in her veins and the slight burn on her tongue. Yeah, that was a problem. She wanted to be able to keep her distance and hopefully gather more information about the brothers, but Dalton threw her off balance. Her body snapped to attention when he walked in the room, and though she was used to dealing with hot men who were bad for her, he made her . . . uneasy. When he’d offered to renovate the bar, she’d been overcome with a surge of pure rage and a sense of shame. Yes, she planned to restore the bar and update the restaurant this upcoming year. She had big plans for My Place. But she refused to allow Dalton to barge into her space. Wasn’t she betraying her father’s memory just by speaking to him? Her constant seesaw of emotion around Dalton was unnerving. One moment she buckled under the sting of his eyes, and the next she was throwing him the hell out of her bar.

She hadn’t changed much.

Her mercurial moods weren’t easy to live with, but she accepted them as part of who she was. No wonder she had no long-term relationships to speak of. She doubted any man would be able to handle her past a few weeks, when they learned she was sometimes bitchy, sometimes ridiculously emotional, and always a control freak.

Yeah. A perfect Match.com profile with a high level of desirability.

She groaned into her mug and feasted her gaze on the slope of fields outside her window. She was lucky to own two acres of land, with a perfect view of endless green that spilled out until it disappeared over the horizon. The wraparound porch was ideal for watching sunsets and sunrises, her favorite thing to do since she rarely slept more than five hours. Poised on the outside edge of Harrington, the small log cabin was right down the road from My Place, and she’d bought and renovated them both. She had a taste for simple, earthy, and strong. The polished wood gave off a rustic appeal, and the decorations reflected a comfortable living environment. The open area between the living room and kitchen boasted leather couches, braided rugs, a stone fireplace, large windows, and little clutter. Large, comfy blankets were scattered about.

She had little patience for big novels, and sought out an array of eclectic magazines with glossy pictures. She also preferred paper to digital. Raven believed in touching and feeling solid items that could give comfort. Her home and bar were reflections of that belief.

She lacked the typical feminine or girly qualities. Maybe from being raised by her dad. Another reason she didn’t have many female friends, feeling more comfortable in the company of men.

Her gaze fell on the one corner that held her most precious memories. A few of her father’s paintings were propped up against the wall, covered with a canvas cloth. They’d been held for her when she returned home, but Raven hadn’t been able to look at them. She’d quickly covered them up, but kept them in her living room so they were always near. It was as if a part of her father’s soul was with her, but the idea of looking at his most valued visions broke her apart. His betrayal still seethed through her, raw and overwhelming. One day, maybe she’d be able to reveal them and completely forgive him for leaving.

One day.

The sun crept up, sliver by sliver, bathing the hills in various shades of color. She watched in silence as another day came to be, and wondered if her father would be proud of the woman she’d become.

The pain accompanying the thought made her push the question aside.

Didn’t matter. She needed to make a decision on how to deal with the Pierce brothers. Maybe if she had some closure it would help erase the nightmares. Maybe if she dug a bit deeper, she’d be able to restore her father’s reputation and ease her own tortured memories.

Maybe Dalton Pierce was the key to it all.

The itch settled between her shoulder blades. She’d been able to retrain it toward more positive outlets, but the lack of physical intimacy was beginning to erode her sanity. She’d always been a woman who craved touch, and it had been way too long since she’d been hugged or stroked. She’d sold her motorcycle to funnel more money into the bar, and stopped having affairs with men who were bad for her. She’d given up smoking and recreational drugs.

Raven sighed, finished her coffee, and went to change. There was only one thing left to do to rid herself of the restlessness.

Go beat the crap out of a punching bag.





chapter five




You need to get me the snakewood.”

Dalton jerked back. He stared at the plans for the elaborate chest that would serve as the focal point of the living room and shook his head. “Impossible. Do you think I’m a magician? Plus, it’s very difficult to work with, especially with multiple carvings.”