Just One Scandal (The Kingston Family 2)

“Beck,” she said, picking up her champagne flute and taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. “I realize we don’t know each other well, but there is something you should know about me.”

“And what is that?” he asked, studying her. In fact, he could barely take his gaze off her, which meant her dress had accomplished its goal.

She’d wanted him to take notice. Needed him to understand she wasn’t the crying woman he’d rescued or the needy female who’d hidden out in his loft for a week. She was not only finding herself but standing up for what she wanted as well.

“I don’t play games and I’m hoping you don’t either.”

“Looks like you’re going to beat me to this conversation.” Although he’d taken a sip of champagne after toasting to her bravery and hopeful success, he’d also ordered Macallan on the rocks and took a drink of that now.

Not willing to make whatever he wanted to discuss too easy on him, she waited in silence. After all, he’d been the one to turn to ice last night only to be totally different again this morning. If he’d given it thought, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

He leaned back in his seat, holding his drink. “I told you about my sister.”

She nodded, the urge to take his hand and comfort him strong, but she waited.

“Whitney had this … let’s call it a bucket list of things she wanted to do when she recovered … and turned eighteen, because let’s face it. For ideas like sky jumping, hot air ballooning, and seeing the northern lights, she needed my parents’ permission. Or to be an adult.” A muscle ticked in his jaw but he continued. “When it became obvious she wasn’t going to get better, she made me promise I’d do all the things on her list.”

He placed his glass on the table, and unable to help herself, she reached over and put her hand over his. He shot her a grateful look.

She couldn’t believe how insightful his sister had been, so young. But then looking at a potentially terminal illness would make anyone grow up fast. Chloe was so sad, both for the girl who’d never had the chance to live out her dreams and for Beck, who was obviously so destroyed by losing her.

“Anyway,” he said, picking up the thread of conversation. “I promised I’d do all those things myself if we couldn’t do them together, and I did. Mostly. Except for the northern lights and the last thing on her list.”

“Which is?” Chloe asked, curious and with a lump in her throat thanks to his story.

He met her gaze. “Fall in love and get married.” He slid his hand from beneath hers.

She opened and closed her mouth again but had no idea what to say.

“Thing is, I’d already promised myself I wouldn’t add anyone to the list of people I care about so deeply that losing them would break me.” His entire body looked taut, his muscles tense, and he appeared suddenly ready to bolt.

But she’d gotten the message and both understood and accepted the reason behind it. “So no relationships,” she said. “And no messy falling in love or getting married.” Why did her stomach hurt with those words?

He inclined his head. “Last night was … intense and I had a freak-out moment. But I’ve given it a lot of thought and it’s all on me. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious, either, so I had no reason to go cold on you.”

She took a longer sip of champagne, considering her options, gathering her thoughts. “I meant it. I’m not interested in a relationship either.” And she really shouldn’t be given she was just getting back on her feet.

He studied her face, as if assessing whether or not she was telling him the truth. Obviously he believed her because he visibly relaxed.

“Which means there’s no reason we can’t continue to have fun while you’re staying with me. If that’s what you want.” He lifted one eyebrow and waited, his words hanging between them.

By suggesting they continue to sleep together and by putting a time limit on things, he’d taken her off guard. Again.

Did she want to hook up with Beck until she moved out? Yes, she did. Even if she had to be very careful with her emotions because she already felt something for this man who’d obviously lost a piece of himself when his sister died and was too afraid to rebuild by letting other people in.

“Is that what this is all about?” She waved a hand around the room. “The exclusive club, the private room, piped-in music, fancy clothes … are you wining and dining me in the hopes of convincing me to sleep with you again, Mr. Daniels?” Because she had to admit, if so, he was trying pretty hard.