More Than Want You (More Than Words 1)

“I need to go,” she murmurs. “Give me your number. I’ll…think about it.”

With most anyone else, I’d call bullshit. But Keeley has never been less than mindful and ethical and wonderful.

I hand her a business card. My cell is listed on the front. She takes it without a word. Instead, she kisses my cheek, gives me one last look of regret, then shoulders her way past me and out the door.

My head tells me that, Griff aside, it’s for the best. As Keeley pointed out, I don’t have time for romance. I don’t need someone so sentimental they overlook the practical. The chemistry between us would probably fizzle out in another night or two anyway.

So why do I feel as if letting her go might be the biggest mistake of my life?

CHAPTER FIVE

Three long days drag by. I feel like I’m standing in slow motion while everyone is running in fast-forward around me. Rob and Britta are putting together amazing materials to wow the Stowe heirs. Dazzling marketing videos, brokerage tour concepts, and high-dollar-buyer party suggestions. Even a fucking slogan. They are brilliant, thank God.

My brain is stuck.

I’m going through the motions, wishing I could force myself to get my head in the game. I look at my phone again for the umpteenth time today. Not that I expect anything different, but Keeley still hasn’t called.

She’s gone.

I could track her down…but she has my number. If she wants me to find her, she’d tell me where to look. I feel antsy because I haven’t talked to her since the weekend. I even called Gus, the guy who owns the lousy sports bar. He couldn’t say if or when Keeley would be singing again. When we spoke, he sounded disappointed, too.

“You okay, buddy?” Rob asks, briefcase in hand.

I glance at the clock. Is it really six fifteen? “Yeah. Have a good one.”

“Will do.” He hesitates, then looks over at Britta, still huddled over her desk in the far corner. “She all right?”

Britta grilled me about why Keeley was answering my phone the other morning. I couldn’t tell Griff’s ex that I’d hatched a grand plan to make sure my brother caught a giant case of lust for the woman I put in his path. Britta would see that as a betrayal, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Instead, I told her that Keeley and I had been triaging my old family wounds. Not surprisingly, Britta seemed skeptical of a lounge singer in a cheetah dress giving me life coaching.

“I think. You know Britta.”

“Still touchy sometimes. What about you?”

Have I been acting weepy or something? “Me? Sure.”

Rob rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know I’m the last person who should give you romantic advice…”

“Um, yeah.”

My marketing manager is pushing forty and has never come close to marriage. Until recently, he’s always loved them and left them, then somehow convinced them to come back again so he can screw them once last time before casting them off for good. He makes me look like the poster boy for consideration and sensitivity.

“Ha!” Rob rolls his eyes. “I’m going to give you advice. Get laid. You’ve let this chick mess with your head. Move on. Find another pussy you like.” He shrugs. “It usually works for me.”

It would be a waste of my breath to point out that he’s practically living with Alania, a mortgage broker he met four months ago. I don’t expect it will take him much longer to realize that in terms of prowling like a bad boy, she’s moved him into the “former” column.

I also don’t want to admit that I’m one step ahead of him. On Sunday night, I hung out at the hotel bar near my unit and hit the jackpot with a bachelorette party. Eight single ladies, all eager, all looking to make dreamy memories in paradise. Instead of zeroing in on one from the group and sharing a great night with her, I drank a scotch, nodded their way politely, and left alone.

“Thanks,” I say, despite knowing he’s full of hot air.

“Have a good one, man. Night, Britta,” Rob calls. With that, he leaves.

My assistant stands and stretches, glancing at the time on her computer. “Oh, it’s later than I thought. I need to go get Jamie. You going to be okay here?”

“Yeah. Do you need my help with anything?”

“No. I think we’ll just have soup and watch a few cartoons before bed. You’re welcome to join us for dinner. He likes when Uncle Maxon drops by.”

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the little guy, and I’ll bet he’s grown. I’m certainly not accomplishing much here. I open my mouth to say I’d love to. I’ll even bring dinner. But the door to the suite opens.

My heart fucking stops when Keeley walks in. Then it begins to chug triple time. Damn, she looks good dressed in a black tank top, sexy cutoff shorts, and a pair of blingy flip-flops. Her pale skin stands out amidst all the Hawaiian tans. She looks like a pearl, all luminous and gorgeous. It’s no surprise I want her. Then again, I probably would have drooled even if she’d been wearing a sack.

“Hi.” She gives me an uncertain smile. “Can I talk to you?”

Does she really think there’s any way I’m going to say no? “Of course.”

She glances at my assistant, hand outstretched. “You must be Britta. I’m Keeley.”

I’m floored when my dependable, always friendly assistant fills her hands with work-related stuff and sniffs Keeley’s way. “I gathered. Stop messing with his head. He refused to track you down so he could set you straight about my ex because he’s a good guy. But I have no such qualms. Griff ripped us both apart. Stop being an AFAOE and actually listen to his side of the story.”

“AFAOE?” Keeley frowns.

“Don’t worry about it, sunshine.” I give Keeley a gentle push toward my office. “Britta is just tired. Cranky. Don’t you have PMS, too?”

My assistant utterly ignores my heavy-handed hint to shut up. “It means a fucking authority on everything. That’s how you’re behaving. You waltz into Maxon’s life and want him to give up the biggest deal of his career—his lifelong ambition—over some high-minded ideal about being kind to the man who stabbed us in the back, then left us bleeding to die without a second thought. Grow up.”

The room is utterly silent as she slams out the door. I have to close my eyes and shake my head. Could this visit start off any more awkwardly?

“Sorry about that.” I show Keeley to a chair in my office, then loop around the desk to sit. Damn, she’s a sight for sore eyes. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks. What did you tell her about our conversation?”

I had to tell Britta something. I couldn’t think of another quick excuse to explain my moping and lack of focus. Besides, we don’t keep many secrets from each other. “I told you a bit about her life to help you understand my situation with Griff. Since I divulged some of her painful past, I felt as if she deserved to know a little about our conversation and…” I need to stop digging myself a verbal hole and shut up. “I told her the advice you’d given me.”

“Clearly, she didn’t agree.” Keeley presses her lips into a grim line, then sighs. “Britta isn’t the reason I’ve come. Can we talk?”

“Of course. I was hoping to hear from you.”

Understatement of the century.

“I’ve given a lot of thought to your request over the past few days.”

To my request. Not to me. This isn’t exactly what I want to hear. Still, m

y palms get sweaty. My cock stands straight up. It’s