Any Time, Any Place (Billionaire Builders #2)(49)

The man was too much.

“He’s something, ain’t he?”

She looked up. Cal jerked his head at his brother, then regarded her with a curious stare. The first time she’d met the Pierce brothers, Cal had stood out to her as the leader. He had a strong, quiet presence that commanded, and each motion seemed economical, as if he hated wasting energy on either inane conversation or action. Cal seemed completely solid, trustworthy, and low-key.

Completely different from Dalton.

“Yeah, he is.” A smile curved her lips. “He kinda saved me.”

“He likes you.”

She pulled back, uncomfortable. “Umm, well, we got to know each other better when he was restoring the bar and stuff. Seems like a good guy.”

“So I guess it all worked out for you. Restoring the bar, I mean. You were pretty stubborn about not working with him.”

Damn. She lifted her chin. “I was wrong.”

“Yeah. Maybe we both were.” She frowned, not understanding. Cal shifted his weight, as if measuring whether to tell her something. She held her breath, wondering if he would warn her away or have his brother’s back.

“He likes you,” Cal repeated. “More so than I’ve seen before with other women.”

“Yeah, he’s a player. There’ve been many women, I’ve heard.”

His gaze narrowed. Assessed. “He’ll be honest about who he is and what he can give. That’s not my concern.”

“Then what is?” she asked curiously.

“You. The way he looks at you. The way he . . . is with you. Just don’t hurt him.”

She swallowed back a gasp at the stark words. Cal was worried about her? Every time Dalton’s name was mentioned, she was warned about his reputation. About his womanizing, and inability to commit, and his expertise at charming the panties right off any female he desired. Never, ever had she imagined his brother would be concerned about her being some type of enchantress ready to break his heart.

“It’s just an act,” she insisted. “I’m a challenge to him, and we happen to have this strange chemistry. Believe me, it won’t be long before he’s moving on to the next woman who intrigues him.”

“Don’t be too sure. And don’t judge him, Raven. Dalton’s more of a romantic than any of us. He’s gotten his heart shattered before and still hasn’t recovered. When he loves someone, he doesn’t hold back.”

She pulled in a breath, leaning forward. The music and the laughter and the chatter drifted away as she hung on Cal’s words, which gave her a glimpse into the man who was beginning to haunt her. “I didn’t know he had a long-term relationship,” she murmured. “Who was she?”

Raw pain flickered in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she could have imagined it.

“Our mother.”

Raven had no time to answer. Cal lifted his beer, nodded his head, and walked away.

Stunned, she took a few minutes to snap back into action. And in that moment, she wondered if fate was stepping in, entangling her with a sworn enemy from the past whom she was beginning to care about.

He wasn’t even the enemy any longer. Just a man who may have experienced the same rage and pain she did and was learning to live with it. Maybe they were more similar than she’d originally thought.

“Daydreaming on the job?”

She jerked around at the teasing voice. He grinned down at her with the usual charm, but she wondered what really hid behind his walls. When she’d lost her father, the years afterward were filled with her own personal therapy. Dalton had run to California, but had he ever tamed the need to self-destruct? Wasn’t blocking himself from ever thinking of a long-term relationship a way to punish and get revenge in a different way?

Holy crap, she was becoming a professional therapist. She needed to get it together and stop thinking about him so much.

Raven shook her head hard to clear it. “Just creating my next great cocktail.”

He motioned toward the jar that held an endless array of singles. “I think they like me.”

“Especially the perky blonde.”

He didn’t even deign to glance back. If he had, he would’ve caught the lustful gleam in her eye and the shiny, parted red lips that said I’m yours. “Think if I peeled off my shirt I’d get some fives?”

She had to clamp down on the smile threatening to break out. “Think this is Coyote Ugly, Slick? Not that type of bar.”

He leaned in. “Damn, I’d pay a million to see you dance on the bar.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I may do it for a million.”

“How about my tip jar? The whole thing.”

The connection tightened, crackled. She struggled for breath amid the short-circuiting of her body, which practically wept to experience one more kiss. Why was the forbidden so hard to fight? “Not worth a hundred bucks. Think I’m cheap?”

He gasped in affronted shock. “There’s got to be over two hundred in there!”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe it’s all singles and mine are all fivers. Let’s announce last call—it’s later than I’d originally planned.”

“Bet I got some tens,” he muttered, grabbing glasses and refilling drafts. She watched as the perfect amount of head foamed up, and nodded with approval as he pushed them toward the customers. Not bad. “Maybe even a twenty!”