The Harder They Fall (3 page)

Blaine
finished his glass and then put it down on the coffee table. He was done. Any
more and he wouldn’t be able to walk home. “I know that, but at least it’s
over. We can all go home now.”
Eventually
.
Once the building was complete. If their fucking government didn’t hold
that
up for all eternity.

Blaine
rose to his feet slowly, testing his balance. So far, so good. Perhaps he
wasn’t quite as drunk as he’d imagined?

“So,
when are you going to ask Colleen out?”

Emitting
a loud sound of disgust, just in case Ace had any doubts how Blaine felt about
his prying, he took out his phone. It was close to midnight on a Friday night.
Would the fiery redhead be asleep? Was she in another man’s bed? That would
prove awkward if he called her.

“Want
me to dial her number for you?”

“Fuck
you, Ace.” Blaine punched in the numbers. She answered on the third ring, and
it was clear from her voice he’d woken her.
Shit
.
“Hi. Um, Colleen?”
Oh my God
. Could
he sound anymore like a teen calling the first girl he’d ever asked out if he
tried?

Blaine
turned away from Ace’s obvious efforts to keep from laughing out loud.

“Who
is this?”

She
was clearly annoyed. He would disconnect the call, but she might find out who
had called her another way. That would prove even more embarrassing. “Blaine
Parker.” He counted three seconds of silence and thought he’d lost the call,
which would have been a huge relief at that point.

“Why
are you calling me at this hour?”

Still
annoyed, but not quite as much as before.
Interesting
.

“I
was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“Excuse
me?”

Ouch
. He might as well have asked her
if she wanted to bathe in lava, judging by her tone.

“I’m
asking you out to dinner. Tonight. I mean
Saturday
night. Though technically it’s already Saturday since it’s now after midnight.”

Ace’s
efforts failed, but at least he left the room. Blaine only hoped Colleen hadn’t
heard the loud guffaw in the background.

“Is
this an effort to get me to let you build without permits?”

Oh,
this girl was good.
Very
good.

“Partly.
But mostly because you have the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen.” No point
in lying about the permits. She knew anyway.

“Is
that so?”

Her
voice was no longer annoyed, but she wasn’t quite convinced he’d told the
truth, either.

“Yes.
I never lie about eye color.”

He
counted five seconds of silence this time, and wished he’d never made the call.

“All
right, Blaine Parker. I’ll have dinner with you tomorrow night. I mean
tonight
. Saturday night.”
Smart ass
. “Where should I meet you?”

“I
don’t like to ask women to meet me somewhere. It’s not gentlemanly. Text me
your address and I’ll pick you up at six.”

He
swore she laughed softly. “All right then. I’ll see you at six.”

She
disconnected the call, and Blaine stared at his phone, waiting for the text,
wondering if he’d have made the call if he’d been sober. After the text came
through, he saved her address and went in search of his laughing friend to tell
him he was leaving. It was time to call it a night before he made an even
bigger ass of himself.

Chapter
Three

Colleen
woke up Saturday afternoon feeling like she hadn’t slept in days. She had
almost texted Blaine at least ten times during the night to tell him she’d changed
her mind. When she did sleep, those eyes chased her down in dreams to the point
she woke up with a wet pussy and her clit throbbing.

What the hell?
Okay, so she hadn’t had sex in a
really long time. And the last guy she’d dated for longer than a month had been
during her undergrad years.
The point is
?
Blaine Parker wasn’t the only hot man in NorthCentral. He was one of the
richest, but that didn’t matter to Colleen. Her mother’s family had money, and
it didn’t impress her.

She
wasn’t working because she had to. She wanted to make her own way in the world,
not rely on her mother’s family name or their money. She wasn’t any more
impressed with Blaine’s wealth than she was with the trust fund her maternal
grandmother had set up for her when she turned eighteen. It would make a nice
retirement fund. Either that, or she’d donate it to charity.

She
liked her new job, and she was committed to working hard doing it. Right now,
Blaine Parker stood in the way of her plan to do that.

So why are you having dinner with
him?

Good
question. Colleen had no answers, even as she stood in front of her full length
mirror to assess the outfit she’d chosen. Short skirt, but not slutty short.
Cute shoes, top cut low enough to show her cleavage but not so low he’d take it
as an invitation.

Who are you kidding? This is Blaine
Parker. Making eye contact is an invitation as far as he’s concerned.

Which
brought her full circle again. Why was she doing this? Raging hormones? Rabid
curiosity? A morbid desire to see exactly how much he’d beg her to bend the
rules for him? It was intoxicating to have that kind of power over one of the
infamous Weathermen. Now if only she could keep her lust at bay, this evening
might turn out all right.

The
downstairs buzzer sounded at five to six, and Colleen pushed the button to tell
Blaine she’d be down in a moment. No way was he coming up here. Her willpower
wasn’t that solid.

He
was dressed in casual slacks and a very expensive shirt. The sports jacket was
dressy enough that he didn’t look too informal, but not so stiff that she
wanted to ask to him to wait while she changed into a cocktail dress.

His
gazed traveled over her slowly, sending unwanted shivers down her spine. “You
look wonderful.”

So do you
. “Thank you. Where are we going?”

“Tiffani’s.
Do you know it?”

“Yes.”
She knew it. It was one of those super expensive, super trendy places where
people went to be seen.

He
frowned. “Uh-oh. Not a fan?”

“I
don’t eat there very often.”

“We
can go somewhere else.”

“Tell
me first why you want to eat there.” If this was a ploy to be photographed with
her, she’d be very disappointed.

“They
have the most delicious swordfish I’ve ever tasted. I haven’t found another
restaurant in any city that makes it the same way.”

She
couldn’t suppress a smile in time as relief flooded through her. “Does that
mean you’re not going there to be photographed having dinner with me?”

He
gave her an intense stare that threw her off balance for a few seconds.
“Colleen, no matter where we go, we’ll be seen and photographed. So unless you
want to go back to my apartment, where I’ll have my chef whip us up anything
you’d like for dinner, we might as well eat somewhere that has excellent food
and wine.”

He
had a point. If one of the Weathermen so much as went to the store for bread,
it made the tabloids. “Do they still have those wheat pasta shells, stuffed
with cheese and pine nuts?”

He
held out his arm. “They sure do.”

She
hesitated for a second, then took his arm. Touching him now had the same effect
that shaking his hand a few days ago had produced. A tiny tingle went straight
up her limb. Maybe she needed to see a doctor?

Maybe you should relax and enjoy
yourself?

“How
is work?” he asked. “Still backed up on permits?”

“You’re
not very subtle.”

He
laughed softly. “What else should we talk about to break the ice? It’s all we
have in common, at least as far as we know.”

He
winked at her, but she averted her gaze before he had a chance to gauge her
reaction. It took all of her willpower not to smile at the gesture. There was
something so sexy and intimate about a man winking.

“All
right. That’s true, I suppose. Work is crazy, and it will be for at least a
decade. We have to get survey teams up there, try to figure out where the
boundaries are, assemble the information pouring in from all over the country.
People wanting to know if their homes are still there—”

“Oh
come on,” he said, cutting her off. “No one’s home is left.”

“I
know that, but they don’t. Not everyone has been paying as close attention to
the storms as you and your friends.”

“They
must not have been paying attention at all if they don’t realize the surface is
wiped clean.”

She
decided to ignore that for now and return to the subject they were discussing.

“We’re
dealing with special interest groups and companies like yours, who think
getting businesses up and running again is more important than people
rebuilding their homes. There are no roads, no utility cables that weren’t
buried, a few satellite linkups still, but no servers to connect what is
operational up there. No police force, no communication towers, no—”

He
cut her off again. “And that’s exactly my point. That’s why—”

“Blaine,
I do understand your point.” She stopped walking and faced him. “I never meant
to give you the impression I don’t. But do you see my dilemma here? You’re not
the only owner of a business who believes their service is more important than
anyone else’s. If we let one person circumvent the rules, the backlash would
bury us in paperwork for the rest of our lives.”

“My
business
is
more important. Without
the means to communicate, all the others might as well exist on islands.”

“So,
are you telling me that getting the cable and radio stations back online is
more vital to man’s existence on the surface than, say, getting roads in place
so a functioning hospital can be built? Or constructing a police station, and
getting the electricity up and running for both those institutions?”

“You’re
twisting my words.”

“That’s
not an answer.”

“I
own that land.”

This
man was adorable when he argued. “I don’t disagree. You do own the land, hands
down. That’s not the point.”

“I
can’t run effective communications on that many acres with only one tower.”

She
released his arm and placed her hands on either side of his face, which made
her want to kiss him in the worst way. “Blaine, apply for the permits and make
a case for your exception in the comments. There’s a place to do that. Have you
actually looked at the application process?”

“No.”

She
released his face and laughed, because if she didn’t do both, she was
definitely going to kiss him. “Do that first. Then we’ll talk about your
specific needs.” The man was infuriating, but she understood the dedication to
his company. She admired that about him. He hadn’t inherited his wealth or his
business, like a few of the Weathermen had done. He’d worked his ass off to
make Clear Channel Industries number one.

They
walked along in silence, and Colleen missed having her hand around his arm, but
didn’t want to be the one who initiated contact again. She sneaked a quick
glance at his face. He didn’t look angry, only deep in thought.

She
let a few minutes of silence go by, and was about to ask a question when he
spoke first. “Do you have family underground?”

“Yes.
Everyone made it. How about you?”

“No
one made it but me. They were all still living in North Dakota, and a massive
tornado came through. I was underground, setting up the company here. None of
them survived it.”

Colleen
stopped walking again as a cold chill raced through her body. She couldn’t
imagine anything so horrible. “I am so sorry.”

He
shrugged. “A lot of us have similar stories. But thank you for saying so.”

“Won’t
the memories make it difficult to rebuild your company in the same place where
you lived?”

A
muscle in his jaw twitched. “No. It’s home. It’s where I want it to be.”

They
continued walking. His passion suddenly took on a different meaning, but there
was nothing she could do to push his request through without the permits. She’d
lose her job. She doubted asking her aunt, who had created this agency, would
do any good, but made a mental note to do so anyway, just in case.

“Here
we are.” His voice was relaxed and cheerful again, but Colleen knew when
someone was trying to cover up a negative emotion. She had enough practice in
that area herself.

Inside,
she glanced around at the pretentious, over-the-top décor and forced a smile to
her face when she spotted the flashes from Internet phone cameras. He hadn’t
been exaggerating.

Blaine
took her hand as they were led to a table near the back, and she wondered why
he’d done that. Did it matter whether people who looked at the picture thought
they were out as a couple? Wouldn’t it hurt him if someone jumped to the
conclusion he was trying to bribe a member of the AFSR? What was he up to?

As
soon as they were seated, a server came over to take their drink orders.
Colleen had no idea what she wanted. It had been a while since she’d eaten
here, and the menu was completely different from the one she remembered.

“Will
you allow me to order a pitcher of one of their signature drinks?”

“What’s
in it?”

“Tequila,
lime—”

“You
had me at tequila.” She picked up the menu while Blaine ordered the drinks,
water for them both, and an appetizer. She only caught the word “oysters” after
the server left.

She
peered at him over the top of the menu? “Oysters? Seriously?”

“You’ll
love the way they do them here.”

She
leaned closer, although no one was near enough to hear their conversation. “Do
you think we
need
an aphrodisiac?”

A
slow, sexy grin spread across his face that had her wondering why she’d been so
reluctant to go out with this man. They were going to end up having sex
tonight. It was inevitable. She’d known it the second she’d spotted him on the
surface days ago, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. The cowboy boots had sealed
the deal. She never could resist a handsome man in boots and casual clothing.

“I
don’t need one. Do you?”

Colleen
shook her head. He might be richer than her family, even, but he wasn’t the
arrogant bore she’d assumed he was. He was blunt, passionate, and not afraid to
make his intentions known. That was exactly the kind of man Colleen preferred.