Someone Like You (10 page)

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath and breaking their locked gaze, his lips quirked as he also took a step back. “See you at practice on Thursday. Get home safe.”

“You too.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for dinner. It was nice.”

“Nice,” he repeated, his grin spreading. “Yes, it was. Maybe you'll let me take you out again soon?”

She blinked. “You mean . . . like a date?”

The grin turned into a full-fledged amused smile. “Yeah.”

“But . . . we can't.”

“Really? Why not?”

“We're coaching the team together,” she said. “We have to be professional.”

He nodded slowly, seeming to consider her words. “So . . . we can't date.”

“I don't think it's a good idea to mix personal and professional.”

“We're coaching a kids' soccer team, Abby. Not the Spurs, for fuck's sake.”

She blushed but said firmly, “I take my commitments seriously, whatever they are.”

“I know. And I respect that. But . . .” He pinned her with his eyes. “When do you allow yourself to have any fun?”

She frowned, affronted. “I have fun!”

“I'll take you at your word.” His voice was a sexy rumble as he edged closer, his gaze intense. “Gotta admit, I've been wondering . . . when's the last time you really let yourself go, Abby? Just lived in the moment?”

She swallowed hard, his presence engulfing her, swamping her with desire and craving for things dark and wicked that she spent most of her life tamping down. His blue, blue eyes searched hers, promising sin as he waited for her answer. But her mouth was dry and her mind blank. Her blood pulsed through her body as he moved even closer, so close their bodies almost touched. She felt his warm breath against her face and wanted to throw her arms around his neck and drag his mouth down to hers.

But she managed to say, “I don't like to ‘live in the moment.' The few times I did, I ended up regretting it.”

“Aha. Well . . .” His fingers lifted to caress her cheek. “You can't let that stop you from trying again. Life's short, Abby.”

“I think I'll stick with my clipboard, thanks,” she retorted.

“That clipboard. Jesus.” He chuckled softly. “Your name shouldn't be Abby McCord, but Abby McClipboard.”

She couldn't help but giggle at that. “Smart-ass.”

He winked, and his fingers trailed down her cheek, along her neck, sending shivers up her spine. “Don't get me wrong,” he said. “Planning is all well and good . . .” God, his voice, so deep and naughty. It made her wet just to listen to him. “But I think the best moments in life can't be planned. Shouldn't be. There's a lot to be said for spontaneity.”

“Well . . . we're very different, Pierce.”

“Yeah, we are.” He leaned in close, his mouth hovering over hers. His breath was warm against her lips. “Makes it more interesting, though, don't you think?”

She almost swooned. When Pierce captured her with those smoldering eyes, made her insides melt with his seductive voice and moved in close like that . . . her whole damn system went into an uproar. In a flash, carnal need and reckless want seared through her like lightning, burning from the inside out.

His hand lifted again to brush her hair back from her face, and again she shivered. Holy God. Being touched by Ewan, or any other man, had
never
affected her like Pierce's touch did. Raw, pulsing desire. He shook her to her core, she couldn't deny it. And it kind of terrified her. If she gave in to him, gave in to the molten lava that coursed through her insides when she was near him . . . who knew what she'd do? Probably whatever he suggested next. And that . . . just wouldn't be good.

Because Pierce was a player, and she had to remember that. He played fast and loose—on the field, at life, and especially with women. She never played. She didn't know how. She was too structured, in all aspects of her life. And in relationships, when she was in, she went
all
in. It was just how she was wired. She didn't know any other way to be.

A man like Pierce . . . as tempting as he was, the reality was he'd likely chew her up and spit her out without a second thought. And after what had happened with Ewan, she just couldn't go through that again. It would break her for good.

Her survival instincts kicked in—or maybe just plain fear—and she backed up, her back now flat against the car. It was hard to breathe. “I have to go.”

For the second time, his hands fell to his sides and he stepped back too. His heated stare didn't let up, but his stance showed he'd read her clear signs and was backing off. “Good night, Abby.” His voice was husky. “See you on Thursday.”

“Yup. Good night.” She quickly got into her car, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot without looking back at him. When she went to turn on the radio, she realized her hands were trembling. “Holy hell,” she whispered. Her heart pounded against her ribs and the throbbing between her legs didn't let up until she was almost all the way home.

Chapter Eight

“I can't believe you're making me do this,” Pierce groaned. “And on a Friday night, no less. Jesus.”

“You've been home for almost three weeks now and I only dragged you to see the family once,” Tess said, ignoring her younger brother's protests. She linked her arm through his as they walked across the expanse of lawn between her house and the main house. “It's Ava's birthday. It's a family dinner. You're a part of the family. So stop bitching.”

He rolled his eyes and nudged her playfully with his elbow. “Wanna go out afterward, get some drinks?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe we'll ask Dane and Julia to come out too. Yes?”

“Sure.” Pierce glanced up at the imposing mansion as they approached one of the side doors. Just looking at it made his stomach churn. But he could never say no to Tess, and didn't want to slight his only niece either. She was a decent kid. It wasn't either of their faults he hated the house, or his father, so much.

“Pleasure to see you both,” the butler said when they entered, his English accent still crisp. Now in his late fifties, Richard Guilfoil had been in the Harrisons' employ for over thirty years. When the number of family members living in the mansion had dwindled to only Charles II, the household staff had diminished as well. There was still a maid, a chef, two cleaning women, a chauffeur, and of course Guilfoil, who was more of a friend to the family patriarch than half of Charles's actual friends nowadays, though Charles would never admit to it. Guilfoil was trusted, something rare for a person outside of the Harrison inner circle. He'd watched the kids grow up, proven himself unfailingly loyal, and been through thick and thin with the Harrison family. He now oversaw the general running of the entire Harrison estate. Guilfoil was probably more of a family member at this point than Pierce was.

“Looking good, G,” Pierce said, smiling as he shook the butler's hand. Guilfoil had more gray in his dark hair and more lines on his face, but looked well. “Can't believe you're still here. Never escaped, huh?”

“Never had the need to,” Guilfoil said amiably. “So. How has your stay at your sister's house been? Is this still just a visit, or are you back in New York for good?”

“That's the question we've all been asking,” Tess said.

“The visit's been good,” Pierce hedged, “and I always enjoy time with Tess. But I'm still undecided on my future plans right now.”

Guilfoil simply nodded and took the gift-wrapped presents Tess held. “I'll put these with the others. The family is in the back den. Would either of you like a drink?”

“Any kind of IPA would be fine,” Pierce said. “Thanks.”

“Just ice water for me,” Tess said. “Thank you, Guilfoil.”

“Of course.” He turned and walked away.

“He totally runs this place now, doesn't he,” Pierce whispered.

“Pretty much.” Tess pulled him along the hallway.

Pierce stole a glance at his watch. Ten after six. It was going to be either a very long and barely tolerable night, or a short and explosive one. He steeled himself as they entered the back den.

It was just as he remembered it. Lavishly decorated, with high-end furniture, Persian rugs on the marble floor, fine art on the walls, and the high, long back wall of the room, all glass, facing the gorgeous view of the Long Island Sound. Dane, Julia, and a young man he didn't know sat on the longest couch. A pretty dark-haired woman, also a stranger to him, sat on the opposite couch with his niece and nephews. The kids all had handheld electronic devices in their hands, but the woman was playing with Ava on hers, a game for two, apparently. His father sat in the oversize armchair in the corner, glass of Scotch in hand. He smiled at Tess, but the smile faded when he looked at Pierce.

Uh-huh. Everything here was just as he remembered it.

“Hi, Dad,” Tess said, going to him for a hug hello.

Dane rose from the couch to clasp his younger brother in a welcoming hug too. “Good to see ya, man.”

Pierce wasn't used to affection, much less from his family. Tess was the only one who had ever shown him any consistently. But, to be fair, Dane kept trying. When he was living abroad, Dane had sent e-mails. Once a month maybe, just to say hello, but he'd made an effort to keep their contact from fading completely. Since he'd come back to Long Island, Dane had texted him every other day to say hi, check in. Maybe being happily married had made him even more gregarious than he was before, if that were possible. Regardless, Dane continued to reach out to him. It was time to start reciprocating. He flashed Dane a smile and slapped him on the back. “Good to see you, too.”

He bent to give Julia a kiss on the cheek, and she introduced him to the guy next to her. The man with the firm handshake and shy expression turned out to be her son, Colin. Tess had told him that Julia had a grown son in his early twenties, but seeing him was still jarring, simply because Julia didn't look old enough to be his mother. She didn't look her age, and Colin wasn't a little kid, he was practically a peer. And Dane was his stepfather? That was kind of amusing.

As Pierce crossed the room to say hi to the kids, all three bent over their games, he noticed who was missing. “Where's Charles?”

“Still at work,” the woman sitting next to Ava said. She had a pretty face, with luminous dark eyes and high cheekbones, her thick, dark hair pulled back in a French braid. Her voice was soft and sweet. “He'll be here soon, though.”

Nice,
Pierce thought disdainfully. His own kid's birthday, and he's still at work instead of being here. Like father, like son. He glanced over at his father.
You trained him well, Chuck.
“I'm Pierce,” he said to the woman, extending a hand. “The black sheep of the family.”

“You're not a sheep!” five-year-old Myles chirped.

Pierce and the woman laughed together as she shook his hand. “I'm Lisette,” she said. “The children's nanny.”

Ah. Tess had told him about her. Charles III had gone through three nannies in two years, thanks to his unruly kids. Then, six months ago, he'd hired Lisette, and things had improved. Not only hadn't she quit and run screaming like her predecessors, but also she'd somehow managed to tame the kids a little. Tess said they genuinely liked her because they sensed that she genuinely liked them, which made all the difference. Pierce imagined she probably spent a lot more time with the kids than Charles did, which would make her almost like the mother figure they needed so desperately.

He knew all too well what that was like. Myles was only five, Thomas was almost seven, and today was Ava's eighth birthday. Vanessa had shot out the kids, taken her huge divorce settlement, and left the country—just like his own mother. God, what a horrific thing to repeat.

He kissed Ava's little cheek, then ran a hand over each of the boys' dark heads. “You know what?” he said to them. “I'm gonna start seeing you guys more often. We can play ball, go to a movie, the park, the beach, whatever you three like. What do you think of that?”

They all answered with loud enthusiasm. Lisette grinned broadly at him and said, “I think that's their yes.”

“Okay, good.” He smiled down at them, liking the light he saw in their eyes. “We'll hang out once a week minimum, for as long as I'm around.”

“Don't make them promises you won't keep,” Charles II rumbled from his chair.

“Dad,” Dane said sternly. “Really? You're going to start now?”

“Well, hey,” Pierce quipped, giving his watch an exaggerated glance. “I've been here for five minutes and he hadn't insulted me. I was beginning to worry.”

Charles II snorted and shook his head before taking a long sip of his drink.

Pierce crossed his arms over his chest and glanced over at his father. Charles Roger Harrison II. Powerful CEO of Harrison Enterprises, a powerful international corporation. Oldest son of a third generation of a self-made empire. Shrewd businessman. Billionaire. Entrepreneur. Philanthropist.

Shitty father.

At least, he'd been a shitty father to Pierce. He'd been decent to the other kids. Only Pierce had earned his utter lack of warmth, compassion, any feeling of connection at all. Of course, it was pretty much public knowledge that Charles had never wanted him in the first place. He'd only wanted three children. Oops. Added to that was that Charles thought Pierce was way too wild, even as a toddler. And Charles Harrison II was not a man who liked to feel out of control. Pierce had learned that early on.

“I think it's wonderful that you'd like to spend time with the kids,” Tess said, moving to the loveseat to sit. She patted the empty seat next to her as she looked at Pierce, all but commanding him to sit beside her. He did as she beckoned.

“Well, I like kids,” Pierce said, “and these are my nephews and niece. Time to get to know them better.” He shot the kids a collective grin, and they smiled back at him.

“That implies you're sticking around,” Charles II said. “Are you?”

“I just might,” Pierce answered. “I'm seriously considering moving back to New York. Maybe the city, maybe Long Island . . . not sure yet.”

“I think the city would be better for you,” Charles II sniffed.

Pierce shook his head and gave a hollow laugh. “Don't worry, Pops, wherever I end up, it won't be near you.”

“Ahh, there's no place like home,” Charles III said as he entered the room. Looking every bit the COO of an international conglomerate in his expensive slate-gray suit and striped tie, he looked from his father to his youngest brother, shaking his head in disdain. “Sorry I'm late, but not sorry I'm missing the two of you bickering as usual. Knock it off.” He went straight to his daughter and cradled her head in his hands, dropping a kiss on her dark hair. “Hi, Princess,” he smiled. “Happy birthday.”

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, before going back to playing her game. Lisette smiled at him and murmured a hello, which he warmly returned before grabbing the boys. They mumbled greetings as he kissed the forehead of one, then the other. Straightening, Charles III loosened and removed his tie, popped open the top button of his shirt, and took off his jacket, laying both articles over the back of the couch. “God, that's better,” he said on an exhale, stretching his arms over his head. “Hello, everyone.”

Guilfoil came in with a silver tray, dispersing drinks around the room. “Shall I tell McConnell that you're ready for dinner to be served in a few minutes?”

“Yes, please,” Charles II said. “Now that Charles is here, we can start.”

Guilfoil left the room, closing the grand doors behind him.

Pierce was grateful for the interruptions, stemming the always-simmering tension between him and his father, even if only for a little while. He wasn't afraid of the old man, and the competitive part of him actually welcomed the skirmishes. But not in front of the kids. That wasn't necessary, or right. The next generation of Harrisons, who had already been through too much in their short years, didn't need to be exposed to their nasty battles.

Small talk went around the room. Lisette kept the kids occupied while Charles II and III discussed Harrison Enterprises business, Tess and Julia talked about the latest renovations Dane had made to their house, and Pierce spoke with Dane and Colin about football. English football. Apparently, Colin knew who Pierce was, and was a fan of the Spurs. While Pierce didn't want to talk about his now-defunct career, he was happy to change the topic and fill them in on the coaching gig he'd started.

“Are you serious?” Dane said, grinning. “You're coaching kids' soccer?”

“Yeah. It just kind of happened, but I'm liking it.” Pierce shrugged. “Something to do, anyway.”

“I helped mentor some kids' clubs when I was in college,” Colin said. “Extra credit for courses. But I ended up really enjoying it. Kids are great.”

Pierce's phone vibrated in his pocket notifying him he had a text. He got a little thrill when he saw it was from Abby.

So cut and dry. He sighed and wrote back, Ouch, that's early.
But sure, no problem. Thanks for calling the parents. See you then.

Abby McCord was one tough nut to crack. She'd kept him at arm's length at practice on Thursday. She hadn't been cold, but not inviting, either. Yes, they were at a kids' soccer practice, not the place to be flirty. But she seemed determined to act like they hadn't both enjoyed their date, like they hadn't almost kissed, like their chemistry wasn't as crazy electric as it was. He'd seen the look in her eyes as she'd pulled away from him, flattening her back against the car when there was nowhere else to go. She was scared. He wasn't sure why, though she had mentioned being burned before. He intended to get that story out of her. Maybe it would help explain why she was wound up so tight, or why she wouldn't let herself give in to the obvious heat between them. Damn, he wanted her to give in to it. He wouldn't give up until she did. Somehow, he'd get through her walls and—

“Earth to Pierce!” Dane snapped his fingers in front of his brother's eyes and laughed, returning him to reality. “Wow. You zoned out. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Pierce assured him, slipping his phone back into his pocket.