Turbulent Intentions (2 page)

Still, he wasn’t able to outrun his father’s last words of disappointment . . .

“. . . And for my boys, I leave each of you, Cooper, Nick, Maverick, and Ace, a quarter of my assets, but there is a stipulation . . .”

It had only been a day since the funeral, and none of the boys wanted to be sitting in this uptight lawyer’s office while he read a stupid will. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know what it was going to say anyway.

Their father, of course, had left his fortune to them; that is, what he hadn’t already given them in their enormous trust funds, and to their mother and his brother, Uncle Sherman. They were the only living relatives—well, the only ones they knew about, at least. So this was a waste of all their time.

“Can you get on with this? I have things to do,” Cooper snapped.

“You will learn some respect by the end of this,” Sherman warned Coop.

“Yeah, I get it,” Coop said. “Can I go now? I don’t want to hear the rest.”

“I think you do,” their mother said.

Her sweet voice instantly calmed the boys. They did love their mother, had a great deal of respect for her, and listened when she spoke. But they had hardened through the years, taking for granted what had been given to them.

That was about to change.

“You won’t receive a dime of your inheritance until you’ve proven that you will actually better not only your lives, but the lives of others.”

Cooper spoke first. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” He was up on his feet, his chair flying backward with the momentum. His brothers were right behind him.

The world was suddenly spinning and none of them knew how to deal with this latest news.

“If you will shut up and listen, then you will hear the rest,” Sherman told them.

The four young men were obviously upset, but slowly they resumed their seats, all of them except for Cooper, who stood there with his arms crossed, daggers coming from his eyes.

“You have ten years to turn your lives around. At the end of that ten years, if you haven’t proven yourselves self-sufficient, by working hard, being respectful to your mother and your uncle, and bringing something to the society that you live in, then your inheritance will be donated to charity.”

The attorney paused as if he were reluctant to read whatever else was coming next.

“Get on with it,” Ace growled.

“Your mother and I shared a wonderful, beautiful, exciting life together. A man isn’t meant to be alone. He’s meant to love, to share, to grow with a woman who will help guide him through the hardest parts of his life,” the attorney began.

“What in the world are you speaking about?” Maverick snapped.

“Son, this is in your father’s own words, so I would pay attention,” Uncle Sherman said, his tone sad.

Maverick leaned forward, but he didn’t seem to be hearing anything that was being spoken at that moment.

“Shall I continue?” the attorney asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cooper said with a wave of his hand.

“You will receive your full inheritance once you marry.”

Dead silence greeted those words as the boys looked at one another, and then at their mother, who had a serene smile on her face.

Finally, Cooper was the one to speak again. “Mom? What in the hell is going on?”

She gave her son a sad smile. “Your father and I have watched the four of you lose your way these past several years. He knew he was dying and he’d run out of time to guide you, shape you. He didn’t want to lose you forever, as I don’t. So he changed the will.”

The boys waited for her to go on, but she sat there silently.

“We’re rich without his money,” Nick pointed out.

She was quiet for several moments. “Yes, Nick, you are,” she finally said.

“Are you going to take away what we already have?” Maverick asked.

“No, I’m not,” Evelyn Armstrong told them all. “You don’t have to get your inheritance, though it makes your trust funds look like pennies, as you know. But getting the money isn’t the point,” she said with a sigh.

“What is the point?” Cooper asked, trying desperately not to yell, but only because his mother was in the room.

“The point is to grow up. You need to grow up,” Evelyn said as she looked each of the boys in the eyes before turning to Sherman.

“Your father wants you to be good men. He’s asking you to show your mother that you are,” Sherman added.

“So, even in death, Father wants us to jump through hoops?” Ace snapped.

“No, son, even in death your father wants you to grow into the men you are meant to be,” Evelyn told them.

“I don’t need his stupid money. I have plenty of it that he’s already given me and besides that I have my own plans. If he thinks I’m such a screwup, then he can keep it all,” Cooper thundered.

“Agreed,” Nick snapped.

“I’m not doing anything because someone is trying to force it upon me,” Maverick said, joining his brothers.

“If he thinks we’re such screwups, he can go to hell,” Ace said, pushing it a bit too far.

“Ace . . .” Coop whispered.

“Save it, Cooper. You’re always trying to be the leader, but this is crap. Yeah, I’m the baby of the family, but that just means that I’ve had to try to make up for every mistake that you guys have already made. I’m done with it,” Ace bellowed.

“Calm down, son,” Sherman said, rising and resting a hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“No!”

Ace yanked away from Sherman and then moved toward the door.

“I love you all no matter what you choose, but I hope you’ll listen to your father’s last words and know he does this because he loves you,” Evelyn said quietly, stopping Ace for a moment. Then his eyes hardened.

“I’m out of here.”

Ace was the first to leave. He rushed from the attorney’s office, fury heating the very air around him.

Cooper stood there dumfounded. What was happening? They’d not only lost their father, but they’d all just found out that they had never been good enough in his eyes.

“To hell with Dad—and to hell with this place.”

Cooper followed his brother, though Ace was already long gone. It didn’t matter. Cooper would prove himself, but he’d do it because he wanted to. He would never be someone’s puppet—not even his father’s.

CHAPTER ONE

What in the world was he doing at the lavish Anderson wedding of Crew Storm and his bride, Haley?

He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be around anyone, actually, but he feared his friends were going to call in the National Guard at any minute if he didn’t come out and at least pretend he was still somewhat normal.

It had only been six months since his father’s passing. There’d been zero word from Ace, and though he talked to his other two brothers, the conversations were short. All of them were dealing with their demons and the final words of their father.

He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to his mother, which he knew was terrible, but he couldn’t see her while he was like this.

“It’s really good to see you out, Coop.”

Mark Anderson stood next to him as they scanned the merry crowd celebrating all around them. Cooper couldn’t even try to smile. His lips just weren’t turning up.

“I haven’t felt much like celebrating lately,” Cooper admitted to his friend.

“I understand that. I don’t know how I would survive it if my dad died. The man’s meddling and always in my face, but I love him. I think the old guy is too damn ornery to let go anyway. He’s gonna outlive us all,” Mark said with a chuckle.

“Yes, I agree with you. Joseph is a force to be reckoned with,” Cooper said, his lips twitching the slightest bit. It was almost a smile.

“Are you enjoying your new job?” Mark asked.

Cooper paused as he thought about the question. He was doing exactly what his father had wanted, even if he was doing it in spite of his dad. He was working for a small airline, using the skill that had been nothing but a hobby for him up until recently.

“I don’t know about enjoying the actual job and the paperwork that comes with it, but yes, flying is what I love. I can’t seem to get enough of it. Who knew that playing with planes my whole life would turn into a career,” Cooper said.

“Even without your inheritance, you’re a very wealthy man, Cooper. It isn’t as if you have to work. But before you say something, I know it isn’t about a paycheck. I don’t have to work myself. But choosing to work despite my fortune is a matter of pride,” Mark told him.

“I didn’t have much pride,” Cooper said with a shrug. “Or at least I didn’t think I did. Not until that reading of my father’s will. I guess he was right in the sense that we have all sort of skated through life. But he raised us that way. I don’t know what he expected.”

“I think when people know their time is coming to a close, they start to get scared,” Mark said. “Not that I would know from personal experience, but now that I’m a father, I get scared. I want my kids to grow into fine men and women. They work on the ranch, and they even go into the Anderson offices and are learning there.”

“Aren’t your kids really young?” Cooper asked.

“Yeah, but I was a bit spoiled myself. I don’t want that for my kids,” Mark told him.

“Well, I don’t know what earning only a couple grand a month proves, but my father seemed to think that would make me a man, so now instead of flying for fun, I fly for an airline. It’s not so bad. It just all pisses me off a little,” Cooper said.

“The anger will eventually drain,” Mark told him.

“I don’t know . . .”

Cooper stopped talking as he scanned the crowd. Coming to the party had been a very bad idea. Maybe it was time for him to take his leave. He wasn’t fit company to be around at the moment.

Just as his scan was almost finished, something caught his eye. He stopped and zeroed in on a woman in the corner, sitting by herself.

Mark continued to speak, but Cooper didn’t hear what his friend was saying. He was too focused on the blonde woman in the tight red dress who was holding her drink close to her like it was a lifeline.

She nervously glanced around the room, not meeting his gaze, before she looked back down again. Cooper was shocked at the stirring he felt.

It had been a long time since he’d felt any emotion other than anger.

“Who is that?” he asked Mark, interrupting his friend mid-sentence.

Mark followed his gaze and looked at the woman for several moments.

“I have no idea. Haven’t seen her before,” Mark said. Then he smiled. “But I have a feeling you’re about to find out.”

“Don’t overanalyze this, Mark. I’m just curious who she is,” Cooper snapped.

“No judgments here,” Mark assured him with a pat on the shoulder.

“I might like to screw the ladies, but I won’t give my father the pleasure of marrying one,” he said with a little growl.

“What does that mean?” Mark asked, looking a little lost.

“My father seemed to think a man’s life isn’t complete without a wife. I think all women search for a man with the deepest pockets,” he said.

Mark gave him a sad look and shook his head. “Not all women are like that. I married a good one.”

“Then you got the last,” Cooper said with conviction. Then he walked away.

He didn’t know why, but he had to meet this woman who was trying to hide away.

It was sex—that was all. And sex was worth throwing down a few dollars for, he thought with a cynical smile.

CHAPTER TWO

Stormy Halifax would have given anything for the ability to fade into the background. She tried in vain to squeeze herself back even farther into the corner as she watched the designer-clad couples swirling around on the dance floor, all of them laughing and completely at home surrounded by the glamour and glitz of the night.

Only American royalty like the Andersons could afford to pull off a wedding like this one. Stormy would bet her entire bank account, which actually wasn’t that much, that she couldn’t have afforded even a single flower among the many placed so elegantly in the hundreds of exquisitely designed centerpieces.

She eyed the door longingly. Just a few more hours . . . How had she ever let Lindsey convince her it was a good idea to crash the society wedding of the century? If Stormy made it through the evening undetected, she swore she would never listen to her best friend again.

Of course, how many times in her life had she had that same thought? Too many times to count.

At least she sort of looked like she fit in with the crowd—or somewhat fit in. That meant she looked
nothing
like herself on this beautiful summer night in Seattle.

Lindsey had insisted she wear the ridiculously tight red dress she currently felt plastered to her skin, and her friend had layered on so much makeup that Stormy felt like a clown. With the dyed blonde hair taking the place of her naturally brown hair, she barely recognized herself. When she had gotten a look at herself in one of the gilded mirrors hanging on the walls of the banquet hall, Stormy could hardly believe she was staring at her own reflection. The girl in the mirror almost looked like she belonged at the lavish wedding. Almost.

At least she looked old enough to drink. Even if she wouldn’t be for a few more weeks. She reached up and clasped the chain around her neck, feeling more secure, if only slightly. She never left home without the simple piece of jewelry she’d designed herself.

Stormy scanned the room for Lindsey. Only the flies on the wall would know what excitement her friend was off having. Lindsey certainly wasn’t hiding in a corner somewhere.

Enough was enough. With or without Lindsey, Stormy needed an exit strategy. She gathered up her glittering clutch, slipped her feet back into the ridiculously high stiletto heels she had borrowed from Lindsey, and then covertly tried to make her way to the door.

She was mere inches from freedom when she felt a solid, masculine hand touch her bare shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze. Busted.
Okay, play it cool, Stormy. Just smile, pretend like you belong here for five more seconds, and then make a run for it.

“Are you lost?”

The deep baritone of the voice sent a shiver down her spine. She really wanted to turn and look at him, but at the same time she didn’t. Cowardice wasn’t normally one of her traits, but she was in uncharted territory and she was trying to flee.

“No. But thank you.” She took another step.

“Are you refusing to have a conversation with me?”

Now she seemed rude. His voice didn’t change, but she could swear there was a challenge in it. Dammit! Stormy couldn’t resist a challenge.

Stormy finally turned, and when she looked up, she found herself gazing into a set of sea-green eyes with the longest eyelashes she’d ever witnessed on a man before. She found herself speechless.

“Let’s dance,” he said, holding out a hand, not concerned by her lack of vocal abilities.

This wasn’t a good idea.

“I don’t think so. I really need to go,” she told him. But he didn’t remove his outstretched hand, and she didn’t want to pull away and call attention to them having this conversation.

What if the people standing around realized she was crashing this wedding? She was going to murder her best friend if she ever found her again.

“One dance won’t take long.” The deep timbre of his voice made her stomach stir.
Uh-oh
.

His dark hair was rumpled, and his stark white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, showed a nice view of his tanned chest. And those shoulders—oh, those shoulders—looked as if they could carry a roof trestle on them. There was a bit of youthfulness in his face, but he had to be a few years older than she was.

What was one dance going to hurt? The racing of her blood proved she wouldn’t dislike it. Heck, even if she were caught, it might just be worth it to have this man’s arms around her for a few minutes.

He said nothing else as he waited, confident she would cave. He was right. She watched a smile lift the corners of his mouth as he moved a little closer, and she knew she was a goner. His smell was wafting over her, a mixture of spice and leather. She almost giggled as the verse
Sugar and spice and everything nice
flitted through her frazzled brain cells. Wait! That was for girls, not for drool-worthy men.

“I guess one dance wouldn’t hurt,” she finally said.

The shiver that rushed through her had nothing to do with the warm evening air. She
wished
she could say it was chilly out.

Without saying anything more, the stranger leaned down and took her hand in his slightly work-roughened fingers. He pulled her toward him, casually wrapping his arm around her waist, his hand resting on her now trembling rib cage as he led her toward the overflowing dance floor. Without hesitation, he turned her, pulled her tightly against his hard body, and began swaying to the music.

She couldn’t even concentrate on the song that was playing, he was holding her so close. Her heart was beating out of control. Wasn’t this something she’d fantasized about many times on those lonely nights that she lay in bed after putting aside her favorite romance book?

She’d close her eyes and picture a handsome man finding her sitting alone somewhere. He’d have a smile that could light up a darkened room, but his gleaming eyes would look no farther than her.

As she began to relax and enjoy the moment, a woman’s laughter made her tense all over again. Panic flooded her. What if this really was a dream—the dream she wanted to come true so bad? Maybe someone had even spiked that second glass of champagne she knew she should have turned down? This was too unbelievable to be real. After all, men like this man didn’t dance with wallflowers like her.

As her arms rested around the back of his neck, she reached for her own hand and gave it a quick pinch. She knew she looked ridiculous, but she had to be sure this was real. The little jolt of pain drew a quiet squeak from her lips. Oh yes, she was awake
.
She didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified by that fact.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, leaning back, those green eyes gazing into hers, just as she’d always imagined.

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper. Her cheeks flamed as he looked at her, a knowing gleam in his eyes. She was busted and she knew it, but there was nothing else she could do, so she continued to sway in his arms.

“I’ve been watching you for the past ten minutes. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he told her.

Oh my! This man was either incredibly smooth, or she really had conjured up her dream man. Either way, she decided to enjoy this moment to its fullest. She found herself gazing at his lips as he spoke. He had beautiful lips—strong, firm, masculine, and turned up in the most appealing way.

“Thank you,” she told him, feeling like a fool as she uttered the words.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?” he asked.

The dreaded question should have panicked her, but she was almost in a trance now and couldn’t help but answer honestly. “Neither. I snuck in with my friend. I can’t find her now.”

His eyes crinkled, though still, there was something restless about him that she couldn’t quite interpret. Something was wrong, but before she could analyze that, the feel of him pressing against her wiped anything other than desire away from her thoughts. Stormy didn’t have a clue who in the world she was right now. She certainly wasn’t
this
woman dancing with
this
man.

She’d had sex once before, two years prior with her high school sweetheart. That had been a disaster and she’d never tried it again.

Dancing with this man was making her think maybe another try wouldn’t be so bad. Did that make her an awful person? She didn’t know.

When he stopped moving, she felt her throat close. She wasn’t ready for him to release her. But he pulled back anyway, and where she’d felt his warmth down her entire front, she now felt cold. Then she noticed the music had stopped.

Maybe it was midnight and time for Cinderella to go home.

“Let’s take a walk.”

He began leading her away from the dance floor before she responded. His confidence was overwhelming her, but it didn’t matter. There was no hesitation on her part as joy filled her. Later, she might ask herself why that was, but for now, she was in her dream world.

The sounds of the party began fading as they moved away from the tents and lights and then down a trail.

As he slowly walked next to her, with trees on either side of them and the moonlight barely filtering through, Stormy wondered if she should be afraid. As his hand caressed her lower back, though, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of desire and . . .
rightness
. Not knowing why it felt right didn’t matter.

She soon found herself on a sandy beach, her shoes dangling from her fingers as she looked out at Puget Sound, the waves splashing gently against the shore. There was very little breeze and the full moon gave everything a soft light.

“This is incredible. I can’t imagine being so lucky as to live here,” she told the man. That’s when she realized she didn’t even know his name. Should she ask him? Or would that break their moment together? She sort of liked the mystery of it all.

“I think Joseph’s place is a little too close to the hustle and bustle of Seattle. But I do love the Sound. It’s a great waterway.”

“Are you here very often?” Was she being nosy now?

“Yes. I don’t live too far away.” He stopped walking and she stood next to him, enjoying the clasp of his fingers in hers. “Sit with me.”

He again didn’t wait for a response, simply led her to a log and then sat down, pulling her to his side as they gazed out at the water. He put an arm around her and the feel of his hard muscles enveloping her gave her both a sense of peace and panic at the same time.

She tried to remember a time she’d ever felt so much agitation at just the mere touch of a man, but she couldn’t think of a single moment. Only this man—only right now.

“I don’t live far away either,” she finally said, the silence too intimate. Should they exchange information? Was that what she wanted? Or what he wanted?

When he was silent for several moments, her brain spun. She began wondering if she was being a fool. This could be simply a case of a man trying to hook up at a wedding. It happened all the time, didn’t it? Did she really want to be that girl the guys laughed about in the morning?

She realized she didn’t actually care what gossip might spur from this.

Maybe she should be more worried. But how often in her life had she done something reckless? Not very often at all. What this man was stirring up inside of her she couldn’t understand and didn’t want to stop feeling.

“Where exactly are you from?” he asked.

The question helped slow her racing heart. “I’ve lived all over the world—in my youth, mostly third world kind of accommodations.”

That had the man silent for a moment. Then he raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You can’t just leave me like that. Go on,” he told her.

“My mom and dad were missionaries until I was about ten, then they worked modest jobs after that,” she began. “I was born in Portland, Oregon, but I lived abroad with my parents for half of my life, then in the Portland area after that. After I turned eighteen, I decided to move to Seattle.”

“Now you have me curious of all the places you’ve been.”

“Gosh, let me think,” she said. “Africa, South America, Asia for a short time, and a few more places.” Noticing she had his undivided attention bolstered her confidence and made her want to keep sharing. It was sort of nice.

“Of all the places you’ve lived, which one was your favorite?” His fingers were playing with her hair, making little flutters in her stomach.

“I can honestly say I’ve loved every place I’ve lived, save maybe a few apartments I’ve had in the city. But of all the places . . .” Stormy looked up at the starry sky to recall the fondness of a distant place in her memory. “I’d have to say it was Kosovo.”

“Kosovo? Where exactly is that? In the Mediterranean somewhere, right?”

“No, it’s not exactly in the Mediterranean, as it’s landlocked on all sides, but it’s right next door to Serbia, Montenegro, and Albania. It’s a fantastic place. Incredibly dangerous at the time, but it was cool,” she began. “I mean, one minute you’d be drinking Turkish coffee at a café and hear a car driving by playing Euro dance pop on the stereo, while the next car to pass would be blasting dance music in Arabic. The country was a collision of Western and Eastern European culture, with distinct flavors from Turkey and the Middle East. Being a Westerner, of course, gave me instant celebrity status, which as a preteen, I didn’t mind so much.”

“That’s always nice for a teen,” he said as he pulled her even closer. The thing was, for Stormy, it felt right. Somehow she was connecting more with this stranger than any other person she’d ever been with before. “What do you do, Cinderella?”

She smiled at the name. Hadn’t she been thinking about how this all felt like a dream, like she was going to disappear when the clock struck twelve? His words fit how she was feeling.

“My job isn’t interesting,” she hedged, and then she found herself playing with the locket hanging around her neck. “But I love to design jewelry,” she admitted while her cheeks flamed the tiniest bit. Why had she told him that?

His fingers clasped the locket she’d been clutching as he moved to study it. “This is beautiful,” he told her. “Did you make it?”