Mine Until Morning (3 page)

Isabel answered on the fourth ring. They chitchatted a few moments, exchanging pleasantries, while Dani got her emotions under control; then Isabel turned to the real reason for the call. “How did it go last night?”

“He was perfect.” Perfect for what she’d needed rather than what she wanted. But having fun and getting a thrill out of it was, under the circumstances, a luxury.

“Did it help?”

Dani knew she meant the money. “I feel a tremendous sense of relief this 17

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morning.” It would take care of the mortgage, thank God.

“Now maybe you can stop worrying so much.”

“But I’d feel even better with a few more dates scheduled.” It might actually take years to get everything in order again.

“Well, I’m sure if your regulars know you’re back—”

“Actually, I’d like to do a ménage.” For a ménage, she could command a higher price. With Kern gone, this was strictly business.

“What kind? Two men? Man and woman?”

“Which can I get more money for?” It was blunt. She didn’t care. Isabel took it graciously. “That always depends on the clients we choose.”

Dani put two fingers to her lips, then blew out a breath. Kern had done all the arranging for her. Often, he went to meet the client or clients on his own first, vetting them. He always had an opinion. The guy’s dog meat—you’ll hate him. I told him no. If he thought she’d like the man, he’d whisper in her ear: Honey, this one you’ll want to swallow. I think I might be jealous. But he never was. She’d had a date with a couple once. Kern had watched from a darkened corner so they hardly knew he was there. The wife had wanted to see her husband with another woman. They’d ended up sucking his cock together, and she’d helped the man make love to his wife, holding his cock, guiding it in, showing them new positions.

How she missed having Kern be a part of it. Now it was just a job.

“If it depends on the clients, then I’ll do either a couple or two men, whoever would make it more . . . worthwhile.” God, now she was going to the highest bidder.

“Then I’ll let you know when I have something.” Isabel paused. “Need I say again that I think you’re rushing things?”

“Yes, you can say it. Thank you for being concerned.”

“Is this really what Kern would have wanted?”

Dani rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. “Kern was fine with it when he was alive. Now he’s gone, and this is the only way out.”

“All right. I’ll say no more. Call you.”

She wouldn’t dwell on it, reaching for the paper instead. And froze when the screen door squeaked on its hinges. Mac stood in the shadow of the house, the sun pouring over the roof and 18

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straight into her eyes. Her heart beat so hard she thought it might pound right out of her chest.

“I rang the bell. You didn’t answer.”

“So you just walked in?” A slight edge laced her voice.

“Your car was in the driveway. The door was unlocked.” He paused. “It never used to be a problem.” Unlike hers, his tone was completely flat. She wished he’d come into the light so she could see his expression. How long had he been there? Stupid question. Even without seeing his face, she knew he’d been there long enough.

“It’s not a problem,” she said. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

“I don’t need coffee.”

Then what did he need? For a moment, she had an uncontrollable urge to screech at him. Get out, get out, get out. Having his brother find out was the only thing Kern would have hated. Her breath felt shaky in her throat. Then Mac stepped down onto the sunny patio and stole her breath. He was so like Kern . . . and yet not. He wore his sandy hair slightly shorter than Kern had. His eyes were a darker shade of blue. Kern had been strictly casual while Mac always wore a suit and tie. He was a couple of inches taller and five years older, but the lines at his eyes only seasoned him. His build was huskier with hard muscles, but Kern had lost so much weight the last year of his life. It was his face, though—that struck her, the same firm jaw, same cocky smile, same mannerisms. You saw them together, you knew they were brothers. Looking at him was a physical ache.

He was all she had left of Kern. She didn’t have any family of her own, her parents long gone, a car accident when she was twenty. Mac had been her only friend during the worst of it, the rock she’d clung to in those last days of Kern’s life. Maybe he hadn’t understood everything she’d said to Isabel. God, she couldn’t even remember exactly what had come out of her mouth. She could only hope and pray her end of the conversation had been fairly innocuous. He stood over her, reaching into his jacket pocket, his eyes an intense blue. Then he laid a cell phone on the wrought-iron table. Kern’s phone.

“He had a woman named Isabel on speed dial.”

She blinked, the sun burning her eyes.

“And you were just talking to someone named Isabel.” His voice was rough 19

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as sandpaper.

Her chest was so tight, she couldn’t breathe. He’d heard. He understood.

“What the fuck, Dani?”

And he’d judged.

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3

A PULSE BEAT AT HIS TEMPLE, THROBBING SO HARD IT GAVE HIM A headache.

Mac had come to talk. Rationally. He’d rung the bell, checked the door, called out her name, then followed her voice out to the patio. What the fuck? Dates, clients, a goddamn ménage? She was selling herself?

And Kern was fine with it? He’d had Isabel on fucking speed dial, for Christ’s sake. His brother was more than fine with it. Mac felt like his head might explode contemplating it all.

“Why do you have Kern’s cell phone?” Her face was blank, eyes unreadable as she squinted against the sun.

“He gave it to me before he died, right before the coma.” Then, instead of playing twenty questions, he yanked out a chair, sat so the sun was no longer in her eyes, and gave her virtually the same explanation he’d given Isabel. “He said he’d fucked up, asked me to take care of you, and told me to call Isabel’s number after he was gone. That’s all.”

Her nostrils flared with a deep breath, and a flush rode her cheekbones. “Did you call?” He couldn’t tell if her tone was accusatory or merely curt.

“Yes. Isabel referred me back to you without telling me anything. She didn’t think it was Kern’s right to involve me.” He clenched his teeth together, waited. How was she going to answer that one?

“I appreciate that you’re trying to do what Kern asked,” she said steadily,

“but I can take care of myself, Mac.”

“If what I overheard is what I think it is, that’s not taking great care of yourself.”

She pursed her lips. “Then you shouldn’t have walked in when I didn’t answer the door.”

She was fucking calm, cool, and distant. As if they’d never shared those evenings while Kern lay sleeping. There was a closeness, a bond that came from caring for someone you both loved and were terrified of losing. “Talk to me, Dani. If you want me to understand, I’m willing to listen.”

She opened her mouth, and her hazel eyes deepened with a glimmer of moisture. Then she rolled her lips, bit down, and stared at her clasped hands a 21

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long moment. “You’ll need some coffee while we talk.” She went inside, the screen door banging.

He ached for her, swear to God. She’d met Kern when she was twenty-nine, dated him for six months, lived with him as man and wife for eight years, and watched him die. She’d lost her parents when she was in college, and Kern always thought that had been part of their connection, being alone in the world, no close relatives except for Mac, no big family. Perhaps that was the reason Kern had wanted Mac to take care of her. He was all she had left and vice versa. That in itself was why he needed to at least hear her out.

She gave him the coffee the way he liked it, strong and black. Folding herself into her chair, she curled her feet beneath her. She wore jogging pants that zipped at the ankles and a fleece sweatshirt. Even without makeup, she was a beautiful woman.

“Isabel runs Courtesans,” she finally said after a long sip of coffee. She liked hers sweet and creamy. “It’s an . . . agency, and I’ve been working for her for about a year to help make ends meet.”

“Working?” The word felt harsh in his throat, his tone ugly. She bristled, glared at him a moment before settling back again. “You heard enough to know exactly what I mean. Would you prefer I spell it all out detail by dirty detail?”

In his anger, he was also being an asshole. He ratcheted back. “What about Kern’s business?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “We got in at the wrong time, with the economy in flux and telecommunications companies struggling. Most firms started doing the work in-house rather than contracting it out.”

Kern had been a damn good technical writer for a telecom manufacturer, but he’d wanted to be his own boss. With his contacts in the industry, he’d been sure he could make a go of starting up a freelance business writing technical manuals for the equipment. It was a highly specialized field. The telecommunications industry had taken a big hit, however, and the smaller companies faded away, but Kern had made it sound as if he’d been able to diversify his skills. He hadn’t given Mac a single clue they were in desperate straits.

“Things were starting to come back, more contracts,” Dani went on. “We weren’t running in the red anymore. But then he got sick, and things fell apart.”

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She tapped her finger to her lips, staring into her coffee. “He was the technical expertise. I was just administrative: the billing, purchasing, formatting, editing. The actual writing and meeting with the customers’ techs, that was all Kern.”

She finally looked up. “Even with the customers we did have, he couldn’t keep up.”

Kern never said a thing. Mac had thought everything was under control, at least until the last few weeks when Kern spiraled down so quickly. “Why didn’t he say something? I could have helped somehow.”

“He didn’t want you to think he was a failure.”

So he let his wife prostitute herself? He closed his eyes, reeling in the emotions that threatened to get away from him. “I never thought he was a failure.”

She shook her head, then swept out a hand at him. “Look at you. CEO of a highly successful company before you’re even forty-five, while his venture simply tanked. Even before he got sick. He didn’t live up to your expectations.”

“I didn’t have any expectations,” he said, his gut churning.

“But you were always one step ahead of him financially and professionally.”

“I was five years older, too. That made a difference.”

She looked him square in the face, and he felt his skin heat under the collar. Had he done that to Kern, made him feel as if he weren’t good enough? He’d always tried to give him useful advice. True, he thought Kern was making a mistake going out on his own, especially when he wanted Dani to help run the fledgling company. It was putting all their eggs in one basket. Okay, yeah, he’d tried to talk Kern out of it. For his own good. Christ. Mac thought they were close, best friends as well as brothers. Yet Kern hadn’t confided a damn thing after that, never asked for help or advice. Not until he was dying, and he begged Mac to take care of Dani. When it was too goddamn late.

I fucked up so bad, man.

Jesus. Was this some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy? He’d been dubious about Kern’s success, so Kern had stopped asking for anything. His brother had needed someone to believe in him. No, dammit, he’d needed his brother to believe in him.

Picking up on his thoughts, Dani touched his hand briefly. “It’s not your fault, Mac. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

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No, he wasn’t to blame. But had his lack of confidence in Kern played a role in his so-called fuckup?

Mac might have allowed himself to wallow in the emotion, except for one thing. “Whatever happened with the business doesn’t explain letting you work for Courtesans.” It was no goddamn excuse for turning Dani into a hooker. “How could Kern allow that? You’re his wife, for God’s sake.”

“We were desperate.”

He wasn’t listening, barely registered the tense lines of her face and the hollowness in her gaze. An even worse thought occurred. Isabel’s number had been first on Kern’s phone. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me he was fucking pimping for you?”

She was so still, a deep line bisecting her eyebrows, her gaze suddenly bleak, centering on his chest rather than meeting his eyes. “He didn’t pimp for me,” she said very softly.

Maybe not. But Kern sent her out there knowing what she’d have to do.

“Goddamn him.” Mac gritted his teeth so hard, he thought they’d snap. He wanted to smash something, anything. He couldn’t believe Kern could do it. What kind of man had his brother become? “Tell me how he could fucking do that. Why?” He stopped short of actually shouting at her. She raised her eyes to his. Something chased away the shadow. Anger. Not just anger, but a deep rage. “Why?” Her lips trembled, she narrowed her eyes, and her fingers clenched. “I’ll show you fucking why, Mac.”