Simply Irresistible (13 page)

Which was a lie. She’d been harping on his heart and soul, trying to save him, ever since she’d demanded the assistant position.
Not that he had much of a heart and soul left after he’d detonated both in his last job practicing law. He’d talked himself
into embracing the lifestyle: the big salary, the corner office, the penthouse condo, the trophy fiancée. And he’d reaped
the benefits, plenty of them.

The firm he’d worked for had been the best of the best at getting people acquitted of their white-collar crimes. It was a
multibillion-dollar industry, and Jax had been good at it. Good at twisting the facts, good at misdirecting, good at getting
their clients off with their crime of choice, even when it meant that innocent people paid the price.

Jax’s discontent over that had started small and slowly grown. And then came to a head when the wife of one of their clients
had paid the ultimate price.

With her life.

Her husband had been guilty as hell, and Jax had known it. Hell, everyone had known it. Yet Jax had gotten the man acquitted
of embezzling from his wife’s family, a family with known mob connections, so there’d been little sympathy for either side.

Except for the wife. She’d grown up as a pawn, and she’d been married off as a pawn. She’d never known life as anything else.
An increasingly disenchanted Jax had known her enough to understand that when this went down, in all likelihood her assets
would be confiscated and she’d be left penniless and alone. Unable to live with
that, he’d broken attorney–client privilege to warn her, but instead of heeding his advice and taking off for parts unknown,
she killed herself.

Forced to face his own part in her self-destruction, not to mention just how ethically indecent he’d become, Jax had quit.
His fiancée left him shortly after. Game over. He’d left Seattle without looking back. Alone, unsettled, even angry, he’d
somehow ended up back in Lucky Harbor.

The last place he’d been happy.

That had been five years ago. Sawyer had come back to town, as well, and after a wild, misspent youth had become a Lucky Harbor
sheriff, of all things. Ford was around, in between sailing ventures that’d included the world-class circuit. The three of
them had gravitated together as if they’d never been apart.

His first year back, Jax had lived on Ford’s second sailboat in the marina. He’d practiced a little law here and there, for
friends only, and he’d hated it. So he’d gone back to basics, which for him had been building things with his own hands. As
he’d worked on getting over himself, he’d designed and built the house he’d always wanted. He did what he could to give back
to the community that had welcomed him without question, including somehow, surprisingly, being elected mayor two terms running.

He was jarred out of his musings when his father strode into his office and immediately set Jax on edge with nothing more
than his stick-up-his-ass gait and ridiculously expensive suit. They hadn’t spent much time together, mostly because his father
was still good and furious over what he saw as Jax’s failure in Seattle.

“Got a case for you.” His father tossed down the file.

This wasn’t surprising. His father often felt the need to manipulate his son’s emotions. Which was ironic, since Jax had been
trained by the man himself that emotions and business never mix. Hell, in their little family of two, emotions didn’t even
exist.
“You haven’t spoken to me since I refused to represent that charming Fortune 500 sex offender you brought me last time. That
was three months ago. Now you walk in here like you own the place and toss me yet another case I don’t want. I’m too busy
for this, Dad. Jeanne and I have billings to go over—”

“He said I should go home,” Jeanne said softly from the doorway. “I’m done for the day anyway,” she said in silent apology,
jerking her head toward his father, indicating that they should try to talk.

Fat chance.

Jax didn’t often feel his temper stir. It took a lot, especially these days, but his father could boil his blood like no other.
“Still minding your own business, I see,” he said when Jeanne had left.

“Get over yourself, son. This is a simple, open-and-shut case.”

Everything in Jackson Cullen’s world was open-and-shut—as long as he got his way. “If it’s so simple, you take it.”

“No, they want someone young, an up-and-comer.”

“I’ve up and come. And gone,” Jax reminded him. “Now if you could do the same…” He gestured to the door.

“Jesus Christ, Jax. It’s been five years since you let your job go. You let your fiancée go, too. Time to stop feeling sorry
for yourself and get back on the horse.”

Jax shoved the file back across his desk and stood up. “Get out.”

“You’re not listening. Elizabeth Weston is thirty, loaded, beautiful, and her daddy’s going to be the next state governor.”

“Which matters why?”

“She’s looking to settle down. You’ll do.”

He choked out a laugh. “Now you’re whoring me out? Not that this surprises me.”

“What, you’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

Was he? He’d like to say hell, yes, but the facts were simple. He was guessing Maddie’s ex had been an attorney, and a real
asshole, to boot. When she learned about Jax’s past, she’d run for the hills. Even if he somehow managed to show her that
he’d changed, he doubted she’d understand his morally and emotionally bankrupt history. He wouldn’t expect her to.

Hell, just being a man was a strike against him. She wasn’t in a place to trust any person with a Y chromosome.

“A wife like Elizabeth will be an asset when you take over my practice,” his father said.

“I’ve told you, I’m not taking over your practice.”

“You’re a Cullen. You’re my only son. You have to take over the practice. I spent the past thirty-five years building it for
you.”

“You built it for you,” Jax corrected. “Come on, Dad, doesn’t this ever get old? You bullying me, me refusing to be bullied.
Hire an associate and be done with it.”

“This is asinine.” Jaw tight, his father scooped up the file and moved stiffly to the door. “No one can disappoint me quite
the way you can.”

Ditto. “Dismiss Jeanne or interfere with my work again, and you won’t be welcome back.”

When the front door slammed, Jax picked up a paperweight on his desk and flung it against the wall, where it shattered. There.
Marginally better. And it seemed that he and his father had something in common, after all—sometimes Jax disappointed himself,
too.

He was still struggling with his own temper when Ford strode into the office and kicked Jax’s feet off his desk. “Get up.
Water’s calm. Wind’s kicking. We’re going sailing.”

“Not in the mood.”

“I’m looking for a first mate, not a sex partner. Besides, you need some tranquility.”

Jax slid him a look. “Tranquility? A big word for you, isn’t it?”

“What? The bar’s been slow. I’ve been reading.”

“You didn’t get that word out of
Penthouse
Forum.”

“Hey, I read other stuff.” He paused. “Sometimes. Now get up. Jeanne’s got the afternoon off, and so do you.”

He looked at the one person who knew his entire sor-did story and didn’t seem to blame Jax for being an ass-hole. “How do
you know Jeanne’s got the afternoon off?”

Ford didn’t answer.

“Shit,” Jax said. “She called you.”

“A little bit,” Ford admitted. “She wanted me to give you a hug.”

“Fuck off.”

“Figured you’d say that. Also figured you’d be needing to get out.”

Which is how Jax ended up on the water on Ford’s thirty-two-foot Beneteau. It was late in the year for a leisurely sail. Far
too late. Most sailing enthusiasts had long ago winterized their boats, but Ford being Ford, he never
let a little thing like winter slow him down. He always thrived on pushing the envelope, and not just in sailing.

They were rewarded by an unexpected cold, hard wind that took their breath and every ounce of questionable talent they owned.
The swells rose to nearly eight feet, ensuring that their planned easygoing few hours turned into an all-out work-their-asses-off-fest
just to stay alive, much less afloat.

“Christ,” Ford breathed when they’d made it back to the slip. He slumped against the hull, head back. “I sailed the West Indies
and nearly died three times. That was nothing compared to this. What were you thinking, letting me take us out there?”

Jax didn’t have the energy to kick Ford’s ass, so he slid down the hull next to him and mirrored his pose, his every muscle
quivering with exhaustion and overuse, even his brain. “Forgot what a drama queen you are.”

Ford choked out a laugh. “If I could move, I’d make you eat that statement.”

“You and what army?”

“Fuck you,” Ford said companionably. “And when were you going to tell me about Maddie? I have to hear about some supposedly
hot kiss on the pier from Jeanne, who heard it from—”

“I know this story, thanks.” And in tune to Ford’s soft laugh, Jax thunked his head back against the hull and closed his eyes.
He wondered what she was doing right now, if she was working at the inn. He knew everyone, himself included, had found Phoebe
fun and free-spirited, but having met her daughters now, Jax found himself angered at how Phoebe had neglected them.

Maddie deserved better. They all did.

“Did you know that Anderson asked Maddie out?” Ford asked.

“Yes!”

“Hell, man, sailing’s supposed to relax you.”

Jax
was
relaxed. He was easygoing and laid-back. It’d taken him five long years to get there. He no longer let things stack up on
his shoulders until he was ready to crumple. He no longer kept secrets for a living, his clients’ or his own, secrets that
had the ability to burn holes in the lining of his stomach.

So why hadn’t he told Maddie that he’d been a lawyer?

Because he was a dumbass.

And a chicken, to boot.

And because you know she’d stop looking at you like you’re a superhero…

Oh, yeah,
that.

Maddie and her sisters spent their days going through the inn and marina, each for different reasons. Chloe was bored. Tara
didn’t want to miss anything of resale value. But for Maddie, it was about sentiment and about learning how the inn could
run. She’d hoped to have everything computerized by now, but she’d spent most of her time digging her way through just to
see what she had to work with.

On the second day, she headed into town with a list of errands. When she saw Lucille out in front of the art gallery, she
pulled over. Lucille was thrilled for the company and after hugging Maddie hello said, “I hear you’ve been kissing our Jax
on the pier.”

“Oh. Well, I—”

“You’ve picked the cream of the crop with that one, honey. Did you know he lent me the money to help my
granddaughter stay in college? Don’t let the motorcycle, tattoos, and aloofness fool you; he’s a sweet, caring young man.”

Maddie hadn’t found him aloof. Big and bad and intimidating, maybe. Sexy as hell, certainly. And—Wait. Tattoos? He had tattoos?
Just thinking of ink on that body of his had heat slashing through hers.

“Come in, come in,” Lucille said. “I just put up my Christmas decorations. And I have tea. And brandy.”

She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she was tempted. “I’m on a mission for Tara, running some errands, but thank you.”

“Going back to the hardware store?” Lucille cocked her head. “Heard Anderson asked you out.”

Maddie had gone yesterday to get some organizational supplies. The guy behind the counter had been wearing a Santa hat, and
was extremely cute and extremely funny, but she’d left with only her supplies, gently turning down the date.

She’d given up men.

Or she was trying. “Does everyone know everything around here?”

“Well, we don’t know which guy you’re going to date, Anderson or Jax. But if you could tell me, I’ll be real popular tonight
at bingo,” she said hopefully.

Maddie’s next stop was the pier for another shake, which she needed bad.

She smiled at the familiar guy behind the counter. “Lance, right? Straight chocolate this time.”

He smiled and nodded. He was in his early twenties, small boned, and had a voice like he was speaking through gravel.

He told her that he had cystic fibrosis. He had family in Portland, but he lived here in Lucky Harbor with his brother, priding
himself on his independence in spite of a disease that was slowly ravaging his young body.

Listening to him, Maddie decided she had nothing, absolutely nothing, to complain about in her life. And on the way back to
her car, she stared up at the looming Ferris wheel.

Had her mother ever ridden it? From all that she’d read on Phoebe’s “recipe” cards, Maddie had to believe her mom had lived
her life fast, and just a little bit recklessly.

Chloe was a chip off the old block.

Tara hid her wild side, but she had traveled far and wide, as well, and she had a lot of life experiences under her belt.

Maddie… not so much. Sure, she’d lived in Los Angeles, but that was because her father had brought her there. Those adventures
she’d had on movie sets were because of him, not because she’d had some deep yearning for the profession.

She’d fallen into it. She’d fallen or been dragged into just about everything she’d ever done.

Including the inn.

No, she decided. This was going to be different. She was going to make this adventure her own. Nodding, she walked along,
listening to the rough surf slap at the pier. The slats of wood beneath her feet had spaces between them, and in the light
of day that gave her vertigo and a fear of falling through.

“The trick is not to look at your feet when you walk.”

Maddie turned toward the voice and found a woman busy nailing a sign to a post. Appearing to be about Maddie’s age, she was
petite and pretty, with dark waves of hair falling down her back. She wore hip-hugging pin-striped trousers and a business
jacket fit for her toned figure, looking cool and composed and far too professional to be standing on a pier with a hammer
and nails in her manicured hands.