Back in His Ex's Bed

His brothers had always adored Beah and had given him a hard time about the failure of his marriage, frequently telling him he was making a mistake by letting her go. But Finn was, like them, as stubborn as hell and he’d genuinely believed the divorce was for the best.

Carrick darted a look between them, a tiny frown appearing between his dark brows. “I can catch another elevator if you two need to talk.”

Beah gestured him inside. “No, come on in.”

Carrick stepped inside, the elevator resumed its ascent, and Carrick stood between them, a solid shield. Finn darted a look at Beah and saw she was staring down at her feet, her arms crossed over chest.

Yeah, this silence was as awkward as hell. Thank God they only had to endure another twenty seconds of tension. When the elevator opened, Carrick looked from Beah to him and shook his head.

His oldest brother sighed. “It’s going to be a long couple of long weeks,” he said before stepping out.

Beah started to follow him but Finn’s hand shot out to grab her elbow, halting her forward momentum. He waited until Carrick was out of earshot before meeting Beah’s eyes. She looked down at his hand clasping her arm and very deliberately stepped away.

“Oh, please, just now you had your hand in my pants.” Finn shot the words out and immediately regretted them. Yep, he went there. God, he really wasn’t good at talking. Finn released a frustrated growl and linked both his hands behind his neck. He released a low curse. “Okay, sorry, again.”

Confusion and frustration jumped in and out of Beah’s eyes. “Let’s just go find your brothers, Finn.”

Finn took the risk and grabbed her fingers, linking them in his. “Just hold on a second, Beah, let me get this out.” He looked for the right words, mentally tested and discarded a couple of sentences, and went with his gut. He’d either flame out or not, but Carrick was right—it was going to be tough if they didn’t find a way to deal with each other.

They all had important jobs to do and a show to put on, art to sell. “Can we try, at the very least, to be friends?”

“This again?” Beah tugged her fingers away. “Seriously, Finn? After everything, you want us to be friends?”

Finn lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I wasn’t a good friend to you while we were together, Bee. I’d like to change that.”

Beah looked astounded and he didn’t blame her. Hell, he barely understood the request himself. “Well, what do you say?”

Beah looked at her watch, hauled in a breath and gave him a what-the-hell look. “Okay, whatever. Give it your best shot,” she told him, her voice saturated with doubt. She expected him to fail, Finn realized, as he followed her down the hallway to the conference room.

At the door, she turned and lifted her fine, arched eyebrows. “And what are we going to do about our still ridiculously strong chemistry?”

Finn grinned at her as he reached around her to open the door. “I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase friends with benefits?” He immediately noticed her shock but managed to swallow his laughter. He placed a hand on her back and gestured for her to precede him. “After you.”

Carrick, standing just a couple of paces from the door, looked from him to Ronan and grinned. “And so it starts.”

Finn’s eyes jumped between his brothers’ smirking faces. And what did Carrick mean by that?

Finn pulled up in front of Mounton House, cut the engine to his Porsche Cayenne and took a moment to look at his ex-wife, walking down those stone steps. He’d texted her early this morning, telling her he needed her input on the upcoming wedding, and asked if she would spend part of the morning with him. He’d expected her to say no but here she was, heading toward his vehicle. Finn leaned across his seat and pushed open the passenger door. She took the hand he held out and he gently tugged her into the car, casting an eye over her beautiful face.

“I miss your freckles.”

Beah sent him a surprised look. “What?”

He shrugged, punched the start button and his powerful car roared to life. “You cover your freckles with makeup, but I like seeing them.”

She touched her nose. “You do?”

“And I also miss your curls.”

“Fire-red curls and freckles make me look like I’m fifteen and it’s not how I need my clients to see me,” Beah said, crossing her legs. She looked incredible in a bulky oatmeal sweater worn over tight black jeans tucked into knee-high boots.

Finn pulled out into traffic and turned down the heat, thinking this was one of the first sunny days Boston had seen for a long, long time and he could actually feel some heat in the sun. It had been a long winter and he couldn’t wait for spring.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Beah asked.

Before he could answer, Beah’s phone rang and she dug in her tote bag, pulling out the expensive device. Since he’d stopped for a red light, he looked at her as she stared down at the screen, obviously debating whether to answer her call.

He wanted to peek at her screen to see who’d put the excited but hesitant look on her face.