Tank (Blue-Collar Billionaires 1)

A series of clicks sounds somewhere to my left before a small flame appears, floating disembodied in the dark. A moment later another flame appears, then another. Tank has obviously found the small lighter and candles I keep near the window for just this purpose.

In the light of the candles I can see him standing next to the window. He flips the small lighter closed and leans against the wall, staring out at the rain. In profile, he looks almost regal.

“This is surprisingly relaxing,” he murmurs.

“Yeah it is.” I clear my throat and looked away from the temptation that is Tank. The universe seems to be conspiring against me, determined to throw us together until I lose all resolve. Between ignoring him at the law office, and now being stranded together in the dark, part of me wants to just give in, rip my panties off and let the universe have the last laugh. But I’m not a femme fatale and seducing a man isn’t something you can study in school.

Sasha taught me to dress up to play a part. At the Black Kitty, it was all about the costume. The illusion. But I don’t want illusions and I don’t want a fantasy. No one can teach me how to be sexy in real life. I’m woefully out of my element.

“Well, I suppose I can’t offer you anything to warm you up. Unless you want a real drink.” I gesture to the row of liquor bottles lined up on a sideboard against the wall. I still have brandy and scotch. They were my father’s and the bottles haven’t been touched since he died. The thought darkens my mood. I really should get rid of those. I’m not much of a drinker but occasionally like a glass of something when I curl up reading. Or when I’ve had a hell of a day.

“Brandy would be good. Only if you join me though.” He looks at me, his dark eyes intense. “It’s not good to drink alone. So they say anyway.”

His eyes follow me as I walk to the sideboard and select a bottle. “One day I would really like to know who ‘they’ are. For people who don’t exist they seem to have a lot of influence.”

His soft chuckle rumbles through me as I pick up the bottle of brandy and stack two glasses together. I carry them over to the table and pour a small portion in each glass. In the dark the beauty of the storm is revealed, the rain and lightning putting on a private show of wat

er and light. I take a sip of the brandy, enjoying the way it warms on my tongue.

“I haven’t done this in ages.” I sit in one of the wooden chairs by the window. “I used to love watching the rain. Whenever there was a storm my parents used to cut off all the lights and we’d all pretend we were camping out in the living room.”

He sat in the chair across from me. He leaned over and took one of my hands. “You miss them.” It was said as a statement.

“Yeah, I do.” Just that quickly, I’m back there, hiding in the closet, terrified. I look up to see Tank watching me. “They were murdered. It was a home invasion.”

His hand tightens around mine. “I’m so sorry, Emma. When you said they died …”

“Most people assume it was a car accident. I usually don’t correct the assumption. It’s just easier that way but somehow with you, I don’t know. It feels like you’d understand.” I take my hand back and tuck it in my lap.

Touching him is becoming too easy, a habit I can’t afford to adopt. But he’s watching me with eyes that seem to reflect the kind of horror that I feel inside. He has the eyes of someone who has seen terrible things and survived. Maybe that’s how I knew I could tell him. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t make me talk about it. Instead he does exactly what I need him to do. Listen and be there.

“So what about you? Did you and Finn grow up around here, too?” I take another sip of brandy feigning calm. I’m way too interested in his story.

“Yeah, we were raised in Norfolk. Mom tried her best to do it all but she could only do so much.” He sits back and folds his hands behind his head. “I just found out I have three half-brothers, too. My dad was busy after he left us. I didn’t even know they existed until recently.”

Everything he’s saying sounds so foreign from the Maxwell Marshall that I know. How could he not have even known his brothers? Did something happen and they lost contact? It just doesn’t sound right.

“Wow. I can’t even imagine not knowing my sister.”

His eyes remain on the storm. “It sucks but that’s life. I’m over it.” Lightning streaks across the sky again and he’s illuminated in the sudden flash of light. He looks tense despite his relaxed pose, the lines around his eyes and mouth more prominent.

I turn away and look out at the rain. It seems unfair to watch him in such an unguarded moment, like catching him with his clothes off. Tank Marshall naked in any sense is not something I can handle right now.

I reach for the bottle of brandy on the table and pour a little more in my glass. I usually don’t drink hard liquor but under the circumstances I don’t think it would hurt to have seconds. If I’m going to be stranded in the dark with Tank, I need a little liquid courage.

I hold up the bottle and Tank nods. He holds out his glass for more. Even being careful, a little of the dark liquid splashes out onto his hand. He lifts his hand to his mouth and licks up the drops. I can’t look away, the sight of his tongue sliding over his skin igniting a million different fantasies.

“See something you like?” His brown eyes soften as he watches me, his eyes lingering on my mouth.

I flush, the heat in my cheeks going straight between my thighs. It’s bad enough to have these fantasies about him. It’s unbearable for him to know about it. A man like Tank can have any woman he wants and no doubt has plenty, probably more than one at a time. I’m a goody two shoes, former Honor Society president who had only one boyfriend until college. Not exactly a good match.

“Like I was saying, you’re just not what I expected. You seem, more normal than I would have thought.”

He leans closer until our shoulders are almost touching. “You thought I was an arrogant meathead.”

“You are arrogant. It would take a sledgehammer to chip through that ego of yours.”

“I’m confident. There’s a difference.” He shrugs and smiles, a slow easy grin that makes my heart bang an extra beat in my chest. “It’s not my fault I’m always right.”