Secrets to Hide 2: Naughty Little Christmas (8 page)

For the blink of an eye, real, agonizing pain lit her face and then disappeared. Harley turned away, but not before Damien got the distinct impression he’d gone way beyond dickhead into bastard territory. “It’s none of your business, Damien. Now leave me alone and let me work.”

Chapter Four

A woman like her. For two days Harley had tried to figure out what those words meant, beyond the obvious. The knowledge that Damien thought she was some kind of slut had cracked open her breastbone and clawed her heart to pieces. This man who had touched her senses, who had drawn her to him like no one before, had turned out to be just a…a…an ass. What else could he be, to say things like that to her?

Except she’d spent the past week watching him, and he wasn’t an ass to anyone else. A leader, a businessman, a good friend to Marc, and a damn sexy flirt with every woman who came into his presence. Except her.

Oh, and Hank.

Damien’s attitude plummeted for two reasons: because she was in his direct vicinity, or because Hank was in hers. Which seemed to indicate he had a problem with her in general, and with her being around Hank specifically. Damien appeared oblivious when any other man spoke or even flirted with her, but Hank’s presence triggered the jerk in Damien, a fact even Marc had commented on—in private, of course, and to her, not Damien. He might’ve lost his tongue otherwise.

And what exactly did it say about her that here she was, obsessing over the man acting out said jerkiness?

“Hey, Harley!”

Hank jogged toward her across the lobby of the club, giving her a moment to take in the broad expanse of his shoulders, the solid build of his body. He was almost beautiful in a tough-guy sort of way. Masculine. Definitely sexy. Why couldn’t he be her obsession instead of her jackass boss?

Hank came to a stop before her, barely breathing heavy, she noted enviously as his hands settled onto her shoulders. “Hey. Still working?”

“Always,” she said with a little grimace. “There’s so much left to do.”

“You’re tired. You need a break.” He rubbed his thumbs down along her tense biceps, bending to put his face on level with hers. A mischievous grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. “Come to lunch with me.”

“Hank, I…”

“Come on, Little Miss.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come play with me.”

He always had known how to get to her. Her life had been one big responsibility since she’d found out Sonny was pregnant. He was right; she needed a break. Besides, she had to eat anyway, didn’t she?

And then the reason she shouldn’t go out barged its way into her frazzled brain. “You know you’re going to get me in trouble, right?”

Irritation replaced the twinkle in Hank’s eyes. “You mean Lover Boy? Oomph.”

Shaking out the fist she’d used to punch his rocklike abs, Harley rolled her eyes. “Suck it up. That was just a love tap.”

“Well, hopefully there’s more where that came from,” he said, his grin reappearing. “And as for your boss? Bring it on.” He reached up to smooth back a strand of her hair that had fallen forward, his touch familiar, soothing. “You need. A break. Come on.”

“Okay.” Looking around, she saw Marc standing next to the bar, attention focused on the paperwork spread out in front of him. “Let me tell Marc where I’m going. I’ll meet you over by the door.”

That earned her a full-on frown. “You aren’t trying to shuffle me out of here before a certain someone sees who you’re leaving with, are you?”

“I don’t want him seeing me leave, period. I can do without the indigestion. Go on.”

Hank didn’t look happy, but he went. Harley headed in the opposite direction.

Marc glanced up at her approach.

Steeling herself for some ribbing, though not of the jerky variety Damien had been hitting her with the past couple of days, Harley cleared her throat. “I’m going to grab some lunch. Is that okay?”

Dropping his pen on the bar, he turned to her with a huff. “Harley, how many hours have you worked this week?”

“No more than you,” she said defensively.

“Way more than me,” he countered. “I at least take a break to eat. And despite what Damien wants you to believe, all work and no play…” His raised eyebrows told her to fill in the rest. “Lucky for you, the slave master is out meeting with some LA bigwigs. So”—he leaned in, his voice going low and serious—“I want you to go to lunch, and stay gone. Don’t come back here till three, got it?”

Her shoulders literally sagged in relief, which surprised her. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much pressure she was carrying around. Marc and Hank realized it, though, and they both seemed determined to at least give her a pause in the chaos.

And really, who was she to argue? “Got it.”

“
Bien
.” Marc threw a quick glance at the door, where Hank stood, jiggling his keys with obvious impatience. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said with a wink.

Marc’s mood lightened her own, and as she walked toward the door, Harley threw back over her shoulder, “
Is
there anything you wouldn’t do?”

“Not much,” he called with a laugh before returning to his paperwork. Harley laughed too and picked up speed until she was jogging over to join Hank, whose gaze dropped to her bouncing breasts before rising back to meet hers. The sudden heat in his eyes said he liked what he saw. Harley had to admit to a purely selfish feeling of pleasure at his look. Given Damien’s dour mood swings, her self-confidence needed the hit of appreciation right now.

“Hey, eyes up here, buddy.”

Hank grinned, gaze locking with hers, as he jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s have lunch.”

Standing outside the front of the club was Hank’s red Corvette convertible. It felt strange to be riding with the top down in December, especially since Atlanta was downright cold and even had the occasional snowfall at this time of year. Harley had visited LA in the winter before, but she didn’t think she’d ever get used to the two-season weather.

“In you go,” Hank said, handing her into the passenger seat. She buckled herself in while he rounded the car, and then he was joining her, his big body filling up the small confines of the sports car. The engine rumbled to life with a twist of Hank’s wrist, and they were off.

By the time they hit the highway, Harley knew they weren’t headed around the corner for a quick bite. “Where are we going?”

Hank smiled, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses. “Someplace I can have you all to myself.” He reached out, settling his warm hand on her jean-clad thigh. The touch both steadied and jangled her nerves. She needed Hank’s friendship, his comfort, his willingness to give her a break from the stress of work. He obviously hoped their relationship could change from the way they’d left it two years ago.

Hank wanted more, and she couldn’t lead him on. He was too good a friend for that.

Placing her hand over his, she heard the ache in her voice as she said his name. “We need to talk.”

That big hand squeezed her thigh, then withdrew. “Isn’t that why I brought you out with me?”

Yes, it probably was. The lightness of her mood settled into something darker as they exited into a part of town she was unfamiliar with. Several twists and turns later, they pulled into the parking lot of a tiny shack of a restaurant that looked like it had seen much better days. The lines outside the two order windows said the place still had it going on, however. Hank directed her to stay in the car and joined one of the lines. Harley watched him for a moment, feeling the sun shining down on her head, the slight breeze in her hair, hearing the noise of birds and traffic and people filling the air. A smile tugged at her lips as she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest.

The stillness of her body eased the frenetic roller coaster her mind had become over the last week, the constant strain of trying to prove herself to Damien and, if she was honest, to herself as well. She wanted to be the best at what she did. Since Damien didn’t accept anything less either, the pressure had mounted every day.

She didn’t open her eyes until she heard Hank approach the car.

“Here.” Hank passed her two drinks and settled the bag of food behind her seat before he cranked the car. Five minutes later they were parking in a spot overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the waves crashing below the perfect accompaniment to the food Hank doled out.

“Fish tacos. Yum,” Harley said, practically drooling. The fresh seafood here on the West Coast just couldn’t be beat. Apparently Hank had remembered this was one of her favorites. “Thank you.”

Hank’s “You’re welcome” was mumbled around a big bite of food. Harley grinned at the suddenly boyish picture he made and dug in.

He finished before she did, but he didn’t talk, just sat quietly watching the water as she ate every last bite of her tacos. When her stomach was full, she laid her head back to look at the soft blue sky with a sigh of relief.

“Better?” Hank asked.

“Better.”

“Good.” Taking her by surprise, Hank leaned forward, his firm mouth settling over hers.

Harley jerked into an upright position, forcing him back. “Hank!”

“Harley!” His voice was teasing, but desire burned clear and bright in his eyes.

Would it be so bad? Just let him kiss you. At least he wants you—not like Damien.

Listening to the voice inside her instead of what she knew was right, Harley closed her eyes as Hank’s lips brushed hers once more. She remembered this, the feel of his kiss, soft but firm, the thrum of desire humming through his tough, taut body when he held her. And still, though his scent and taste and the way he surrounded her with strength and security felt so, so good, behind her closed eyelids she only saw Damien’s face, his gaze, the need she imagined he could feel.

Pushing gently against his chest, she eased away. “Stop.” She dragged her eyes open, not wanting to see hurt on Hank’s face but knowing it was the only thing she could do. What she saw instead was a kind of resignation. Sadness. Acceptance. His heavy sigh warmed her chilled skin. “I’m sorry, Hank.”

Mouth twisted in a grimace, Hank slid his sunglasses back on, hiding those expressive eyes. “When are you going to let go and let someone in, Harley?”

“I…”
I have
. Klio. Cassie. Jace and the guys. She’d only let them into certain parts of her life, though, hadn’t she? Just below the surface, but not too far. She kept so much of herself back, because it was safer. Because if they hadn’t gone too deep, it hurt less when they disappointed you. Or when you disappointed them, she thought, images of her family flitting through her mind.

But she was learning. Even considering sex was a step forward for her. The fact that the man she was considering it with was her boss, her daughter’s father, and currently pissing her off was another story altogether. And Hank—Hank deserved a woman who could give him everything.

“You what?” Hank shook his head. “You’re still an island, still holding yourself back, refusing any happiness for yourse—”

“I have a daughter.”

The words shocked them both. Hank’s gaze was hidden by the sunglasses, but the set of his mouth said everything. Slack. Then tight. His jaw flexed as he turned to look out at the pounding waves.

Harley held herself still, waiting, anxious for Hank to break the heavy silence. When he didn’t, she whispered his name across the distance separating them. The sound drew him back to face her, and she reached forward and took off the glasses, needing to see his face, needing to read in those light eyes his response to what she was determined to say.

“She’s not mine; she’s Sonny’s.” Ignoring Hank’s soft curse, she forced the words out of her mouth, forced the lid off her most private self to reveal what lay below. To prove to them both that she could. “I adopted her the day after she was born. Sonny signed the papers giving up custody and just left us there. Alone.” A strangled laugh escaped. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I just knew I loved her. Klio,” she said with a watery smile. “Her name is Klio.”

“God, Harley.” He yanked her toward him, startling her, but then she settled into the comfort of his arms. “She’s why you quit Aftershock.”

The top of her head nudged his chin as she nodded. “I couldn’t travel anymore, couldn’t leave her behind. Of course, then Damien hired me and threw me into this gig. I miss her.” Even as busy as she was, all day, every day, she’d sent Cassie a barrage of texts. Every morning and every night she carved out the time to call, hoping Klio was awake, wanting the baby to hear her voice, even if over the phone.

“Damien knows?”

“God, no.” She leaned back to meet his gaze, willing him to understand. “I had a hard enough time getting him to hire me. No way would he be willing to work around a baby.”

“At least not till you make yourself indispensable, huh?”

There was the Hank she knew. She winked despite the wobble in her voice. “That’s the idea.”

“And the dad?”

Harley stiffened in his arms. “Sonny never told me who he was.” That was the truth, if not all of it. Not even for Hank would she reveal Damien’s involvement with her twin. That would be for Damien to decide, if the time came to tell him about Klio. She was very much afraid that
if
was becoming a
when
, though. A shiver went through her, prompting Hank to pull her closer.

“A baby, huh?” He fell silent for a moment. “Who’s helping you?”

“A friend.” Just thinking of Cassie relaxed Harley’s mood. “She’s taught me everything I didn’t know about babies.” She explained about Cassie agreeing to nanny for her, about the bond Cassie had formed with the baby. Which of course led to wanting to show him the baby, so Harley pulled her phone out of her back pocket and opened the photo album on it. “See?”

Hank took the phone, staring down at the picture Cassie had taken of Klio laughing up at Harley while lying in her crib. It was Harley’s favorite. Hank probably had as much interest in babies as he did blenders, but still he grinned. “Cute.”

She ducked her head, trying to hide the pride his comment evoked. As if she’d had anything to do with Klio’s cuteness. But the feeling was there all the same, and it seemed too much, too big and new and overwhelming to share with anyone else.