More Than Want You (More Than Words 1)

When Griff didn’t acknowledge Britta’s pregnancy, we both figured he just didn’t care. She pleaded with Harlow, who still talks to the asswipe, to leave it alone. If Griff didn’t want his own son, she didn’t want anyone trying to make him give a shit. My sister didn’t love it but she agreed to respect Britta’s choice, mostly because she was pissed at Griff, too. And we all agreed that Jamie needed to be kept a secret from my parents. My mother would have turned that into a custody battle worthy of a made-for-TV movie. We know all too well how my father would treat the boy.

“He’s going on three…”

I get the emotional argument for Jamie meeting his father. I do. I would have loved a father who gave a damn about something besides business. “I think Jamie is better off. Britta gives him unconditional love.”

Barclay Reed never gave that to his sons. Neither of his apples have fallen far from the tree, either. I worry Griff would only use his son to manipulate Britta, and because she would move heaven and earth to protect her child, she’d let Griff run all over her. Keeley would probably find my low opinion of him shocking, but what good does lying to myself do?

“I know she does,” Harlow agrees. “And she’s been through a lot, but I think Griff has changed. He’s… I don’t know. Less angry.”

Or better at hiding his problems. “Maybe you caught him in a good mood. Griff is never going to change. I don’t think he wants to.”

“Do you?” she asks softly.

I grit my teeth in irritation. “Haven’t you done enough probing, Freud? Why don’t you bug your fiancé for a while?”

“He’s in London on business, so I decided to call you instead. Aren’t you lucky?”

I have to smile. “Honestly?”

“No,” she teases back. “Keep your opinion to yourself. I should get back to studying. Big exams coming up. Tell me when Keeley is ready to go in. I’ll call Griff, see if I can figure out where he’s at mentally and what his schedule is like. After they’ve officially met, I’ll be nosy, find out what he thinks of her, then report back.”

“Perfect.” Having a co-conspirator should feel good—a sign that I’m not fucking up everything with this plan. But ultimately, Harlow is on Keeley’s side. I can’t lose sight of that.

So…I’m alone. What else is new? And why does that suddenly bother me?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Keeley is still asleep when I leave for the office. I know it would piss her off, but I sneak into the spare room. I have to make sure she’s all right, don’t I?

She takes my breath away. Lying on her back with her arm cocked up and knuckles brushing her smooth, pale cheek, she looks angelic. She also appears as if she’s sleeping naked. I want to peek under the blankets to be sure, but I can’t risk waking her up and inciting her wrath. I’m smart enough to pick my battles. Still, I don’t see any sleeves or spaghetti straps. If she’s in the buff, maybe that’s a silent sex invite.

Or not, dumb ass.

When my phone starts buzzing in my pocket, I slip out so I don’t wake Keeley. All through my workout, I speak to a client in Vienna. After a quick shower at the hotel’s fitness facility, I head to the office. There, the pace doesn’t change all day. It’s one phone call after another from clients buying or selling amazing properties on Maui. They have multiple demands. This sort of thing has beaten me down over the last few days. But right now I’m energized. I’m making it happen. Tonight, I’ll go home to Keeley. She’ll fix me food. Hopefully, we’ll talk, preferably in more than monosyllables. Then…who knows?

I smile.

As afternoon slips toward quitting time, Britta drops a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I lost my temper.”

It’s unlike her, so I know Keeley’s ideas about healing the rift between me and my brother upset Britta on some level, probably the one where she’d be forced to see Griff—and maybe share their son—if we mend fences. “Don’t apologize. You have a right to your thoughts and feelings.”

“And she has a right to hers.” Britta looks down, peeling a bit of old turquoise polish from her thumbnail. “I think I was a bit jealous, too. If Griff meets Keeley, even to negotiate peace, I’m sure he’ll be attracted to her.”

Britta sees that, too. Nice validation of my plan…not so nice reality for my assistant’s feelings. She knows precisely what kind of woman attracts Griff since she’s paid attention to the wide swath of females my bonehead brother has “dated” since their split. That tears her up, probably more than usual because she couldn’t really date in the same way. She gave birth to a much bigger responsibility that doesn’t allow for random sating of her sex drive. I’m glad for her that she has a seemingly steady someone now, even if it still seems weird to see her with someone else.

“Hey, why don’t you take off early? Go spend more time with your little man. Jamie would like that.”

“I can’t. He had a field trip today. They won’t be back at daycare until five.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Jamie? Every day but—”

“Griff.”

Britta falls dead silent. She presses her lips together. A furrow takes up residence between her brows.

She’s not the same woman she used to be. Before everything went to hell, Griff and I decided that Britta would become my assistant so the two of them didn’t keep mixing business with pleasure. He hired an empty nester looking for something to occupy her time since the last of her kids had gone to college. Sheila still works for him, I hear. But three years ago, Britta always wore bright colors and a smile every day, along with heels and short skirts and a cocky attitude.

Today, she’s got on a navy pencil skirt that almost covers her knees, a plain white starched blouse, and a beige cardigan that does nothing to liven her up. She’s scraped her blond hair into a tight bun. If she wore makeup this morning, it’s gone now. Britta dresses like a librarian. She acts like an old maid. She looks as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“No,” she answers hesitantly. “I don’t miss him.”

She sounds as if she’s trying to convince herself.

“Be honest.”

We haven’t talked about this in well over two years. At first, when the anger was still fresh for us both, we ranted and railed and trashed her apartment together. We grieved. We grew close. I wonder why I’ve never wanted to have sex with her. Under her current frump garb, she really is gorgeous. I guess in my head she always belonged to Griff.

In so many ways, she still does.

Britta swallows and won’t quite meet my gaze. “I tell myself I shouldn’t. He obviously hasn’t looked back.”

“But you do?” My heart softens. It’s been doing that a lot lately.

I’m not a fan.

She sighs in defeat. “Sometimes. More than I want to.”

“Me, too,” I tell her. After all, I don’t want her to feel