Years ago, she left him at the altar

She. Owes. Him.

Now Tanna Murphy shows up, wanting to make amends? Nothing she could say would salvage Levi Brogan’s broken trust. Or so he says. Yet Levi needs someone at his beck and call for the next six weeks. And he’s discovered the perfect way Tanna can make it all up to him... With desire still burning between them, will temptation lead to their second chance?

JOSS WOOD loves books and travelling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa and, well, anywhere. She’s a wife, a mum to two teenagers and slave to two cats. After a career in local economic development, she now writes full-time. Joss is a member of Romance Writers of America and Romance Writers of South Africa.

Also by Joss Wood

Love in Boston

Friendship on Fire

Hot Christmas Kisses

The Rival’s Heir

Dynasties: Secrets of the A-list

Redeemed by Passion

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Second Chance Temptation

Joss Wood

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09281-4

SECOND CHANCE TEMPTATION

© 2019 Joss Wood

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

About the Publisher

One

Levi Brogan hurt.

Everywhere.

That’s what happened when you leave your dirt bike for a make-out session with a gravel road lined with rocks.

His ass was now welded to a chair, partially because his leg was in plaster from above his knee down to his ankle, but mostly because moving anything more than his eyelids hurt. He’d not only broken his patella but also managed to pull a muscle in his left rotator cuff, so using crutches was like stabbing himself repeatedly in the shoulder.

Wah-wah-wah...

God, he was so over himself and his injuries, but he was rapidly coming to the conclusion he could do with some help.

Someone who wasn’t his mother or his sister. He loved them but, God, they never shut up. Ever. And if they weren’t talking about wedding guests or honeymoons or babies or flowers, they were fussing over him.

By the time he’d kicked them out earlier this morning, he was close to overdosing on estrogen. Levi now deeply regretted his show of independence and there was a good chance that, by nightfall, he might swallow his pride and send out an SOS.

Levi pushed his hand through his hair, feeling utterly frustrated. His world was now confined to the bottom level of his home. Working out in his state-of-the-art gym in the basement was, obviously, not possible. He wasn’t able to climb the stairs leading to his master bedroom, so he was sleeping on the sofa in the media room and using the downstairs bathroom to clean up. He would kill for a hot shower, but he needed help to get in and out of the bathtub. And right now, the kitchen was a million miles away.

And he was hungry.

Levi looked at his crutches, not sure if he had the energy to make the trek to find food, and checked the pain level in his shoulder. It was still screaming from walking the ten yards to the bathroom. Food was, unless he took another painkiller, out of the question. And every time he took a painkiller without food, he tossed his cookies.

Rock, let me introduce you to hard place.

Levi heard a knock on his front door and frowned. His family used the back door leading into the kitchen. And they all announced their presence. The extended Brogan family was not a quiet bunch. The Murphy guys were also frequent visitors and they also used the back door, knowing it was rarely locked. Business associates who needed to see him would’ve called to make an appointment and the rest of his small circle of friends were at work. And if they had a day off, they would’ve given him a heads-up via a text message.

End result: Levi had no idea who was knocking on his front door. A reporter? A photographer? The press had ambushed him when he left the hospital, the camera flashes making his headache a hundred times worse. He hadn’t responded to any of their nearly indecipherable questions, and neither had his mom or his sisters. His dad had loved the press, but Levi and his mom and siblings didn’t.

Despite the Brogans shunning the limelight, the tabloid press paid him, and his sisters, far too much attention, all because they were the children of Boston’s most successful businessman and bon vivant, Ray Brogan. And, because those bottom-feeders loved drama, there had been a few articles about Levi’s accident, reminding the residents of Boston that he and his father had had a volatile relationship. The press took great delight in telling the world he’d spurned Ray’s offer to take over Brogan LLC , a holding company that owned and operated companies in many different sectors and that Levi, reserved, private and taciturn, wasn’t the man his father was.

He wasn’t as charming, as exciting, as loud or as volatile. Thank God.

Levi didn’t make rash decisions, never made promises he couldn’t keep, didn’t take huge risks, causing the people he loved anxiety. Ray got off on risk and adrenaline—betting every cent on huge deals that might or might not come off. He made impulsive decisions—buying companies without doing due diligence—and calling people who suggested caution—mainly Levi—unimaginative and boring.

Ray’s successes had been stratospheric, his failures equally impressive. Levi’s mom had ridden the roller coaster; Levi, on joining the family firm after college, couldn’t handle his father’s volatility and resigned after a year.

His father called him dull and a coward, not cut out for a high-stakes world. Levi had never understood his father, who never felt embarrassed or chastised. He just blustered and BS’d his way through the criticism, and the world seemed to love him even more for his confidence, his brashness.

Levi was the exact opposite; he was not, and never would be, a fan of failure, not privately or publicly. He preferred to be the master of his own ship, avoiding storms rather than sailing directly into them. He liked to be in control. But the world expected him to be like his famous father, so whenever he showed even a hint of his father’s impulsive nature—and apparently crashing his dirt bike qualified—he made the news.

Levi used his crutch to lift the drape covering the window of his study, through which he could see the road and his driveway. An unfamiliar SUV sat in his driveway, too expensive to belong to an intrepid reporter.

He hoped.

The knock came again and Levi bellowed a quick “Come in!” But, honestly, if he could persuade his visitor to make him a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee, he’d listen to a pitch for an interview, or from a salesman.

He was that desperate.

“I’m in the media room. Down the hallway, second door on your left.”

Levi heard the front door closing and, judging by the hesitant steps, knew his visitor wasn’t someone who had constant access to his house.

“For God’s sake,” Levi muttered, impatient. “Second door on the left.”

“I heard you. I’m not deaf.”

The words hit his ears at the same time she appeared in his doorway, and Levi stared at her, not sure whether his incredibly strong pain pills were causing hallucinations.

Black jeans and a thin, mint-colored sweater hugged her curves under a thigh-length leather jacket. A multi-colored scarf held back curls and her face was thinner, older and, God, so beautiful. Levi gripped the arm of his chair, physically grounding himself, fighting the instinct to rush her, to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her neck, in her lustrous hair. He needed to inhale the scent of her skin, to know whether it was as soft and creamy as it looked.

He wanted to strip her naked, to finally feel her round breast in his hand, to find out whether her nipples were as luscious as he imagined, her core as warm, as spicy, as the rest of her.

So much time had passed and Levi felt shocked at how much he wanted her. Unable to stop himself, he drank her in. Those light green eyes fringed with long, thick black lashes fascinated him and he’d loved running his thumbs across those high cheekbones and that round, stubborn chin. He’d been addicted to her wide, sexy mouth, with its full lips, and he’d adored her curly, black-as-coal hair. Tanna’s skin, thanks to her Bengalese grandmother always made her look like she’d recently returned from a six-week holiday in the hot Caribbean sun.

Tanna was warm island breezes and hot beach bonfires, with a body made to wear a bikini, or better yet, nothing at all. She was a hot sun, a shooting star, blue skies, happiness.

Or she had been...

Before she screwed with his life and made him look like an idiot in front of his family and the world. Before she’d left and his world spun out of control.

He didn’t need to see her again, didn’t need to hear whatever the hell it was she wanted to say. He’d worked damned hard at surviving her, creating a life he loved and enjoyed, and he’d made a conscious effort to forget her. Like Ray, she’d caused chaos in his life and he never again wanted to feel like he was falling out of an airplane without a parachute.

He was over her.

He had to be.

“What the hell are you doing here, Tanna?” he demanded in a low growl.

“I need to talk to you,” Tanna said, advancing into the room and standing next to an easy chair, a twin to the one he was sitting in. He saw her eyes flitting to his leg and an exquisitely arched eyebrow lifted. “What happened?”

“My dirt bike and I parted ways,” Levi responded curtly. He jerked his head, hoping she didn’t notice the fine tremor in his hands. “You know the way out.”

Tanna ignored his order and sat down on the chair, placing her tote bag on the floor next to her. She rested her forearms on her knees and clasped her hands together. “We need to talk, Levi.”

Did he want to hear anything she had to say? Hell no. And hell yes.

Hell no, because her walking out on him shortly before their wedding without an explanation made him reluctant to indulge in a rehash ten-plus years later. And hell yes, because, dammit, this was Tanna. The only woman who’d ever caused his lungs to stop functioning, blood to drain from his brain, his heart to beat erratically.

Self-reliant and reticent, Levi didn’t make friends easily and, before Tanna Murphy, had never been in love. For months after her leaving, he’d felt like his ribs were broken, every breath he took hurt.

He’d loved her, craved her, would’ve moved heaven and earth for her. And, because of who he was, his nonmarriage had made all the papers on the East Coast. And on the West Coast too.

God, he’d been the village idiot.

“Just walk your pretty ass out of here, Murphy.”

Tanna tipped her head and Levi noticed the determination in her eyes. Dammit. He recognized her look; he’d seen enough of it when she was injured in an accident of her own, before their engagement. Tanna didn’t take no for an answer. And since he couldn’t forcibly remove her from his house, he was stuck listening to her.

Levi scowled at his right leg resting on a small ottoman. She pretty much had a captive audience and that annoyed the ever-loving crap out of him.

But if he was going to listen to whatever drivel she was about to spout, he’d get something out of it. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can have five minutes if you make me a cup of coffee.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Ten minutes, but for that I want coffee and a sandwich,” Levi countered.

Tanna had the audacity to smile at him. “Or I could do neither and just sit here and stare at you until you give in.”

Levi picked up his phone and waved it. “Or I could call 911 and charge you for trespassing.”

He saw her hesitate and heard the silent curse on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated and snapped her mouth closed.

“I thought you’d see it my way,” Levi said as she stood up. “You’ll find everything you need in the kitchen. And do not think you can fob me off with a PB&J. There’s deli meat, salad stuff and an array of condiments. Pile it on, princess.”

Tanna stiffened at the use of her old nickname, the one he used to murmur with affection. Now it was coated with sarcasm and a whole lot of annoyance. He’d made sure of it.

Levi watched Tanna walk out of his study and pushed both his hands through his hair. He really wanted a sandwich, mostly so he could take a pain pill, but he was willing to put up with the pain if it meant her walking out of his house and his life.

Tanna Murphy had a way of complicating the hell out of everything and all he craved was simplicity.

Tanna Murphy found the kitchen off the hallway and immediately walked up to the overlarge fridge and rested her forehead against the cool double doors, trying to control her breathing. Her rental car was parked in his driveway and she fought the urge to walk back through the house, out the front door and drive back to Beacon Hill or, even better, to Logan International Airport.

You promised yourself you would do this, Murphy.

She’d sworn to herself she’d do anything to combat the PTSD symptoms that had suddenly flared up before she left London. It was easy to identify the trigger; she’d been the first responder to a car accident where a dark-haired, dark-eyed teenager had caused a multicar pileup. The girl had looked like Addy, and Tanna had frozen. After a minute, her colleague had yanked her off the patient and provided the medical treatment necessary, and Tanna, from that minute, started suffering from anxiety attacks and flashbacks to her own car accident.

She was put on medical leave and, on the advice of her London-based therapist, she’d returned to Boston to face her past. But to her friends and family, she was taking a break from work. Her overprotective brothers didn’t need to hear about the demons she was fighting.

Tanna walked across the black-and-white tiles of the kitchen to pull out a chair at a big wooden table. She’d sit here for a minute, gather her courage, because, damn, she needed it. She had to confront the past in order to return to work, to do her damn job. Nobody needed an EMT who hyperventilated in a crisis.

Tanna had only been back in Boston for a week and her local therapist, located in the very trendy area of Back Bay, already had her talking through her memories of the accident. She’d accompanied Tanna on her visit to the scene of the fatal crash, and wanted her to talk to the people impacted by the accident. Isla, having lost her only child, Addy, in the same accident, had been the first person on Tanna’s list.

Their conversation had not gone well.

Tanna blinked away her tears. Addy had been bright and beautiful and so damn conscientious. She’d been working her way through college, juggling two jobs and her studies with grace and humor. The night of the accident was the first night in months she’d allowed herself to have some fun.

And, yes, it was stupidly unfair that Addy, completely sober, the most mature and responsible person in their group of friends, was the one who’d lost her life in the crash. And Isla felt the same. Tanna could see Isla’s point—Addy, poor but proud, had been studying to be a social worker and worked at soup kitchens and no-kill animal shelters in her spare time. Tanna, a trust fund baby, paid little attention to her studies but was completely devoted to all-night partying with her friends. Addy had been driving Tanna’s car because Tanna was drunk, and Addy, an inexperienced driver, hadn’t been able to handle the powerful convertible.

Tanna didn’t blame Isla for being angry; the useless society girl survived when sweet Addy hadn’t. And Tanna’d not only survived, but in the hospital she’d fallen in love with the guy who’d been driving behind them, who’d held her hand while they waited for medical assistance to arrive. The same guy who also happened to be the son of a famous billionaire.

And then Levi had slid a diamond onto her finger.

She’d been told she was exceptionally lucky to be alive, even luckier her family had resources for her recovery.

Because, as Isla had pointed out, she was the lucky one, the girl who’d cheated death, who’d come out of a terrible situation with a couple of scars and a gorgeous man on her arm.

Hell, Isla was right...

And that was why she’d run away from her privileged lifestyle and her wonderful fiancé ten years ago, because the only way she could deal with the guilt of surviving when Addy hadn’t was to be anything but that party-loving, credit card flashing trust fund baby. She owed it to Addy to be better, to be more, to contribute...

To suffer.

Tanna sighed, digging both sets of fingers into her hair. Her conversation with Isla had been brief and unpleasant but it was over. Now she needed to talk to Levi...

He looked good, Tanna admitted. If she ignored his pale face and his dinged body, he looked...wonderful. At twenty-four he’d been tall and built and, sure, conventionally handsome with his deep brown hair shot with auburn and his ink-blue eyes. But somehow, and unfairly, Levi Brogan looked even better a decade later. He seemed a lot more muscular and more masculine, with heavy scruff on his face and messy hair.

Unfortunately, her ex-fiancé, even battered and bruised and a little broken, was wildfire hot.

So unfair.

Tanna rubbed her hands over her face and tipped her head back to look at the wooden beams running across the ceiling. Running out on Levi, hurting him, still shamed her, it was her biggest regret.

She’d left his engagement ring on the hall table of the house in Beacon Hill, along with a letter addressed to him in a sealed envelope. She could’ve explained she was debilitated with guilt, having second thoughts about getting married so young, that she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s wife.

That she had a debt to pay, that she needed to do more, be more. For Addy.

She could’ve said she was wondering if she was confusing gratitude with love...

She could’ve written any or all of that, but she didn’t. Through tears, and with her heart breaking, she’d just said she was sorry and she couldn’t marry him.

Tanna didn’t regret not getting married, didn’t regret, not for one moment, the last ten years, but she did regret hurting Levi, for running when she should’ve had the guts to face him.

But she’d been scared...

Scared she’d never be anything more than her brothers’ adored, overly protected sister, Levi’s wife, a socialite with ample funds who loved art and designer clothes.

She’d wanted to be more...

More grounded, more real. She’d wanted to be a person who gave rather than took.

And, in time, she’d hoped to feel less guilty. But that had yet to happen.

Tanna doubted it ever would. So, she would work at what she could control and that included facing the past, dealing with her PTSD and getting back to work...

“Hell, Murphy, are you baking the damned bread? What’s taking so long?” Levi bellowed.

...and making Levi a damned sandwich.

Two

Standing in his light-filled office, Carrick Murphy, the oldest of the four Murphy siblings, looked across his desk to his two brothers. Finn, as per usual, was on his smartphone, occasionally sipping from his Nerd? I prefer intellectual badass coffee mug, a gag gift from their sister, Tanna, many Christmases ago. Carrick transferred his gaze to Ronan, who was staring out the window, his thoughts a million miles away.

Carrick ran a hand through his dark hair and rubbed his hand over his jaw. He knew many Bostonians looked at them, three bachelor brothers—rich and reasonably good-looking—and their beautiful little sister, and thought they lived charmed lives. From the outside looking in it was easy to forget they’d lost their parents when they were young, that the brothers had jointly raised their younger sister and they’d all lived through Tanna’s near-fatal accident. Carrick’s marriage had imploded, Ronan’s wife died, Finn and Beah divorced, and Tanna left Boston...

People seldom looked behind the wealth and success...

Carrick, annoyed by his introspection when he had work to do, rapped his knuckles on the desk. Two sets of Murphy green eyes focused on him. “Before we get to work, let’s discuss Tanna.”

“Something is up with her,” Ronan said, turning around.

Carrick nodded. “I think so too.”

“I have to wonder why she’s really back in town because Tanna doesn’t do vacations.” Ronan walked over to the coffee machine. He placed a cup under the nozzle and pushed the start button. Carrick drained his cup and passed it to Ronan for a refill. “And why does she have to live in London? She can save lives here as easily as she could there.”

“We can’t pressure her to move back to Boston. That’ll just make her run in the opposite direction,” Finn said, placing his forearms on top of a stack of paper folders. “She’s more stubborn than all of us put together.”

Stubborn and determined. Those two traits were the only reasons she was walking after the best specialists in the country had given her a ten percent chance of regaining her mobility. A decade later, nobody would suspect their fit and active sister had spent five months in the hospital after the ball of her right femur shattered her pelvis and her left ankle splintered into what they called a fountain break. The only clues to the hell she’d endured were a few livid scars and a barely there limp.

“Does Levi know she’s back?” Finn asked.

Carrick raised his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Should we give him a heads-up?” Ronan asked, thinking of their close friend.

Levi and the Murphy brothers had stayed friends after his breakup with Tanna, but Levi never spoke about their vibrant and gorgeous sister, refused to look at the many pictures of her in the Murphys’ Beacon Hill house. By the way he now acted, nobody would suspect that, at one time, Levi had loved Tanna.

While they were all tight with Levi, he and Carrick had the closest relationship. And as Carrick was the eldest, being the bearer of news, both good and bad, was his responsibility. “I’ll tell him.” He picked up his phone and dialed his friend’s number. Putting the call on speaker, he waited for Levi’s terse greeting.

“Yo.”

Carrick exchanged a wry smile with Ronan. Levi was taciturn and abrupt and never used three words when one would do.

Carrick opted to shoot from the hip, the way Levi preferred. “Just a call to let you know Tanna is back in town and she’ll be here for about six weeks or so.”

Levi waited a beat before he responded. When he did, his tone was colder than an Arctic blizzard. “Too late. She’s here.”

Carrick heard the call disconnect and shook his head. He took the coffee Ronan held out to him and sighed. “Levi should really stop wearing his heart on his sleeve.”

Ronan smiled at Carrick’s sarcasm. “Yep. And he really shouldn’t be so open and forthcoming.” Ro leaned back against the credenza and crossed his foot over his ankle. “Well, he’s been told. That’s all we can do.”

“I have news...” Finn stated after a moment’s silence. “And it’s big.”

Happy to get off the subject of his sister’s and best friend’s nonrelationship, Carrick turned his attention to Finn. His younger brother was normally the definition of cool and collected, so the excitement on his face was strange to see.

“As you know, Isabel Mounton-Matthews left her entire estate to Keely Matthews and to Joa Jones, whom she took in when Joa was fourteen. Keely and Joa have decided to sell most of Isabel’s extensive collection to raise funds for Isabel’s foundation and we are handling the sale.”

The company they’d jointly inherited, Murphy International, was one of the most exclusive auction houses in the world, renowned for the quality and rarity of the pieces of art passing through their hands. The sale of Isabel’s well-documented art collection would be one of the biggest in the past decade and the items were causing a stir in their wealthy art and auction circles. “I’ve been cataloging the collection and I’ve come across three paintings I think might be sleepers—”

Carrick exchanged a quick, excited look with Ronan. A “sleeper” was an artwork whose real value or attribution had been missed by either the owner or art dealers.

“Keely said that Isabel thought it was painted by Winslow Homer. Two are iffy but there’s one that makes me think it might be.”

“Provenance?” Ronan asked. In their world, provenance was everything.

Finn shook his head. “There’s nothing but Isabel’s suspicions. But, damn, the painting I saw, stylistically, looked like it might be one of his depictions of African American rural life.”

“A lost Winslow Homer?” Homer was one of the country’s most revered artists and a lost painting by him would set the art world on fire. Carrick would get excited but he also knew fraudsters loved to fake Homer. And they were good at it. “It sounds too good to be true.”

Ronan looked at Finn, who was their resident art historian. “Are you going to chase this down?”

“I’d love to but I’m slammed. And I think we need an expert in nineteenth-century American painters.” Finn gestured to Carrick’s phone. “If the paintings are by Homer, it would have to be authenticated by you-know-who.”

You-know-who, she-who-should-not-be-named, Satan’s Bride.

Also known as his ex-wife.

Tamlyn had written the catalogue raisonné, the definitive work detailing all of Winslow Homer’s work. If Tamlyn didn’t believe the paintings were by Homer, the canvas wouldn’t be worth diddly-squat.

“We need a specialist art detective, preferably someone Tamlyn trusts, to run the tests, to track down any provenance,” Finn stated. “Tamlyn takes every opportunity to smear your name, Carrick. She’s vindictive enough to dismiss these paintings just because you brought them to her attention. But if we hire someone she respects, someone she works with regularly, we might have a shot of getting a decent result.”

Carrick and Tamlyn’s marriage had been brief. It was a relationship he now deeply regretted. They’d both been ridiculously unhappy and when, after a year, he’d asked for a divorce, Tamlyn punished him by dragging his reputation through the court of public opinion. Since he’d never, not once, publicly defended himself, Carrick, in certain social circles, was still considered to be a bad husband at best, an adulterer at worst.

Good thing he didn’t give a crap what people thought.

At least his reputation as an honest art dealer and auctioneer was still intact, and that was all that mattered.

“Okay, point taken.” He looked at Finn. “Find me an art detective whose opinion Tamlyn Smith respects.”

“I’ll find someone,” Finn told him and then his mouth curved into a smile. “And that’s Tamlyn Smith-Murphy to you, son.”

Carrick resisted the urge to punch his youngest brother. Finn was yanking his chain and he’d learned not to respond. But he wished Tamlyn would stop using his surname, dammit. Yeah, she was an art appraiser and in the art world using the name Murphy added gravitas. But surely, when you’d screwed a guy six ways to Sunday—physically, emotionally, financially and mentally—you forfeited the right to use his name?

Carrick looked at Finn and ignored his building headache. “Find someone with impeccable references and unimpeachable references. The sooner we establish provenance, the more publicity we can generate for the sale.”

Ronan nodded. “This sale is going to be huge.”

Carrick agreed. “And profitable.”

Tanna put the plate holding two thick sandwiches on the small table next to Levi’s chair and picked up a state-of-the-art tablet to make way for his large mug of coffee. Levi immediately lifted the cup to his mouth, his low groan reminding her of the sound he’d made the few times they kissed.

For two people who’d been about to legally and morally bind themselves to each other for the rest of their lives, they hadn’t indulged in a lot of public displays of affection. Or even private displays of affection.

For the first few months of their relationship, she’d been in too much pain, and when she started to feel better, Levi had treated her like spun sugar. On leaving the hospital, she’d still needed time to recover and when she regained most of her mobility, she was so confused about what she was feeling she’d asked Levi if they could wait until their wedding night to make love.

He’d gently teased her for being old-fashioned and she’d felt guilty because her morals had nothing to do with her decision. She was having enough doubts about her future without sex complicating her thought processes.

Not making love to Levi, not having him be her first, was one of her most profound regrets.

Pulling her attention off the past—she’d have to address that soon enough—she looked around the room.

She’d visited this house a few times between leaving the hospital and running out on Levi. His parents—lovely Callie and charismatic Ray—had lived in it back then and Tanna had fallen in love with the open plan, light-filled, spacious mansion.

Callie had filled the rooms with a mishmash of contemporary and family pieces, effortlessly combining old and new into rooms that felt both lived in and cozy, comfortable and sophisticated. While this was now Levi’s home, it still held traces of his mom’s creative flair.

Tanna couldn’t help thinking that if she’d stuck around, this might’ve been her home too, stamped by her style. There would be photos of her siblings on the walls along with his, artwork she’d loved and bought, pieces of furniture she’d inherited from her parents. But everything she owned was in her flat in London, Levi’s stuff was here and they hadn’t had the chance to combine their lives and possessions.

Because she’d run...

“I like this room,” she said, ignoring his deep scowl.

“It’s not filled with priceless pieces of artwork like your childhood home but it’s okay.”

As auctioneers and fine art dealers, her family, going back generations, had amassed an incredible collection of art, most of which adorned the walls of the house in Beacon Hill. Her bedroom held a sketch by Degas and a watercolor by Georgia O’Keeffe.

She’d grown up surrounded by incredible art, textiles and ceramics, and had planned to follow her brothers into the family business at Murphy’s, joining the auction house’s PR and publicity department. But she hadn’t been back to Boston in years and hadn’t, not since her accident, been back to Murphy’s. She’d avoided it because it had once been her second home, a place she adored...

Murphy’s was the one place in Boston where she’d felt completely at ease and happy. She adored art, in all its forms, loved talking about it and promoting it, and being around people who loved it as much as she did. On every visit home, Tanna knew that if she stepped into Murphy International she’d start questioning her decision to become an EMT. So she avoided the family business. And, as much as she could, Boston.

Tanna sighed. “I should’ve just stayed in London,” she said, mostly to herself.

“I absolutely agree. Feel free to go back.”

She would if she could but that wasn’t possible until she had her PTSD symptoms under control. And who knew how hard she’d have to work or how long it would take her to achieve that goal? Tanna’s stomach clenched and the muscles in her neck contracted.

Relax, Tanna.

Concentrating on her breathing, she pushed away her negative thoughts.

She’d just hit a bad patch and she needed a little time to get her head sorted. Her accident had been a long time ago and she was fit and healthy. She was done being hostage to her fears. She liked emergency medicine, and the notion of helping others as she was once helped was important to her.

She owed those paramedics for saving her life—her heart had stopped twice en route to the hospital—and the only way she could show her gratitude for walking away from the crash with nothing more than a few scars was to pay it forward.

Unfortunately, paying that debt came with panic attacks, flashbacks and cold sweats. She just needed to control her reactions at work. She’d live with her PTSD symptoms if she could save lives. The symptoms wouldn’t, after all, kill her. Sometimes it just felt like they would.

They couldn’t sit here in silence, so Tanna attempted to initiate conversation. “I’m sorry about your dad, Levi. I know it happened years ago, but I’m still sorry.”

“As you said, it was a long time ago.”

Okay, then. She’d try again. “And I read somewhere your family sold your dad’s company when he died. It must’ve been difficult losing your dad and the company.”

“Not really.”

She hoped he was referring to the loss of the company and not his father’s death. The Levi she remembered was private and reticent but he’d never been a jerk.

“Is there a point to this inane conversation? Since you walked out on me, I didn’t think you particularly cared about my life. And I, in turn, don’t care how you’ve spent the last ten years, Tanna.”

“I’m an EMT.” Seeing the quick flash of surprise in his eyes, she blurted out a question and immediately regretted letting the words fly. “You didn’t, just once, ask my brothers where I was, what I was doing?”

“You bailed on me, bailed on the life we planned, so I didn’t feel the need to keep up with yours,” Levi shot back. So that was a no then.

“Sit down, say what you want to say and then leave.”

His casual order, and his expectation that he would be instantly obeyed, annoyed her. Unless she was at work being paid to take orders, she took umbrage at being told what to do.

Tanna took her time walking to a wingback chair, crossing her legs, making herself comfortable. Levi placed his plate on the arm of his own chair and picked up his sandwich. “Talk. Make it quick.”

Tanna stared down at her hands. She’d imagined this meeting so often, had practiced what to say, but now those carefully crafted words wouldn’t come. Seeing Levi’s impatience building, she forced them across her tongue. “I didn’t leave you at the altar, but it was close.”

“You left straight after the rehearsal dinner. A scant twenty-four hours before,” Levi said, dumping his hardly touched sandwich back onto the plate and putting it on the table. Tanna forced herself to meet his eyes, a deep blue that defied description. Sometimes they were cobalt, sometimes ink. Sometimes, like now, they held more than a touch of ice.

“I should not have left without talking to you, without a goodbye. Without an explanation.”

“No argument from me.”

“Levi, from the time we got engaged, I had my doubt—”

“Did I ask you for an explanation? Do I want one? I have a one-word answer...no.”

Well, okay then. Tanna wasn’t sure what came next, so she sat quietly, wondering how quickly he’d ask her to leave. The words were on his lips; she could see them hovering there. She needed to speak before he kicked her out.

“I was wrong, and I should’ve had the courage to face you, to explain. It was easier to run, to leave you that letter.”

“Yeah, after watching you fight to recover from your injuries, watching you learn to walk again, I was surprised by your lack of bravery. And decency.”

Ouch. Tanna felt the knife in her back, felt it turn. But she couldn’t argue with his statement. How she wished she could tell him the truth. That she couldn’t talk to him face-to-face before she left because if she had, she knew he would have brushed off her fears as prewedding jitters. He would’ve dismissed her concerns, persuaded her they were doing the right thing, and she would have listened. Then she’d have been miserable. And furious with herself for not standing up to him.

“My mom canceled the wedding, called everyone and returned the presents. Christmas was pretty crap that year.” Levi’s words drove the knife in deeper and harder. “But we did make headlines, day after day, week after week. All of us—me, my parents, your brothers and my sisters—lived with the press following us everywhere, shoving cameras into our faces, demanding an explanation, a comment, something. Yeah, best Christmas ever.”

Tanna winced. She’d asked about the press attention but Carrick told her not to worry about it and she hadn’t. Because she’d been trying to find a new life, a new normal, she’d done as he suggested.

“Maybe one day you will let me explain...”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Levi told her, his expression reminding her of the Bering Sea in the dead of winter.

Tanna nodded and rubbed her damp hands on her thighs. “Well, I am sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you.”

Levi stared at her and she could see his agile mind working, spinning a hundred miles a minute. He was cooking up something and Tanna looked at the media room door, her inner oh-no radar telling her to leave, now. Whatever Levi was going to say next was going to flip her life on its head.

“Carrick said you are in town for six weeks. Is that right?”

She was due to go back to work on March 1. “Give or take,” Tanna replied, wondering where he was going with this.

Levi’s smile was full of sarcasm. “You say you want to make it up to me?”

Yeah, and she’d meant it, kind of. She’d meant it in an it’s-the-right-thing-to-say way, not in an I’ll-do-anything-to-make-it-up-to-you way.

“Uh...what do you have in mind?”

Levi picked up his coffee mug again and looked at her over the rim. “It pains me to admit this but it’s become abundantly clear I need help. I’m mobile but walking hurts like hell—”

“It should if you broke your patella.”

“The cast I can handle. It’s annoying but manageable. But I can’t hobble around because using the crutches hurts like hell. So, it would help to have a runner, a gopher. Someone at my beck and call. Someone I don’t mind ordering around—” Levi bared his teeth “—because she owes me.”

Oh, crap. She’d walked right into that one.

Three

Damn right, she owed him.

Tanna owed him for walking out on their engagement, from running away from their wedding, leaving behind the life they’d planned. He didn’t care about the hours he’d spent by her bedside, holding her while she cried—from pain and from frustration—

Those were his choices and he lived by them.

But it had been her choice to say yes to his proposal, to agree to a Christmas wedding, to say yes when she really meant no.

The weeks and months after their nonwedding had been hell on so many different levels. He’d shrugged off the embarrassment factor and ignored the subtle comments about his young bride’s flight, the fake sympathy in the eyes of people who cared more about gossip than they did about him. He’d hated the media attention for making him, as intensely private as his father was extroverted, a public spectacle.

And he never gave the money he spent on the wedding another thought.

But Tanna damn well owed him for encouraging him to take a chance on her when he knew how risky taking chances could be.

She owed him for the sleepless nights he’d spent questioning his own judgment, for making him think asking her to marry her wasn’t a smart decision. For the months and years he’d spent second-guessing himself. For whipping the entire situation out of his control...

She.

Owed.

Him.

And yeah, he could freely admit he really wanted to sleep with her, still. Maybe more now than he ever had before. A decade had transformed her from an eager-to-please girl into a fully confident woman and he didn’t feel the need to rein in his responses, to choose his words.

Tanna could give as good as she got.

And, hey, she was stunning and he was injured, not dead.

Levi rubbed his hand over his face, conscious of his throbbing shoulder, leg and, yeah, cock. In the past, he’d never allowed their physical interactions to go much beyond a couple of light kisses. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire her; he’d been twenty-four years old and a vibrating hormone, and she’d been a beautiful, striking girl.

But she’d also been broken, and every time he’d wanted to take their physical relationship deeper, he remembered her pinned to that crumpled car seat, her green eyes wide with shock and pain, her thin voice asking him if she was going to die. He clearly recalled telling her not to look at Addy, sitting in the driver’s seat, slumped over the wheel, bloody and unresponsive.

During the weeks and months following that god-awful night, he’d found himself falling deeper and deeper, entranced by Tanna’s fierce courage. He’d loved her, craved her and promised himself he wouldn’t push her for a physical relationship. He was a big guy, he outweighed her by a hundred pounds and a part of him was terrified he’d inadvertently do something to hamper her recovery. So, he’d pushed down his desire and banked his lust. Things would change when she left the hospital...

But they hadn’t. When she was finally discharged, sporting his ring, she asked for more time, to delay intimacy until they were married.

In hindsight, that was a pretty big clue all was not well.

Tanna wasn’t weak now, or fragile. And the lust he’d felt for her back then was a baby version of the hot, needy, roiling emotion coursing through his system today. She was toned, healthy, vibrant and he knew she could handle him...

Physically, emotionally, mentally.

Unlike a decade ago, she was whole. And strong. And challenging. And, God knew, he could never resist a challenge.

Payback wouldn’t be a bitch, it would be a delight. Revenge would be supersweet.

Levi watched as she tried to find a way to say no, to wiggle out of her obligation. She opened her mouth and the lame excuse he expected failed to materialize. Instead, she posed a question. “How long will it take me to work off my debt?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No, it’s a question,” Tanna replied. “How long?”

As soon as he could use his crutches, he’d be able to fend for himself, to move about. But he still wouldn’t be able to drive. And he needed to get to his businesses—his marinas, the shipyard and the extensive corporate interests he ran on behalf of the Brogan Family Trust. Yes, he could take time off work for as long as he wanted. Hell, he could retire tomorrow if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to do that. Work kept him sane and by staying involved, he kept control and control was essential to his peace of mind.

“I’m not allowed to put any weight on my leg for six to eight weeks,” Levi replied. “I need someone on call for another two weeks, part-time for at least another four weeks after that.”

“Your sisters and mom aren’t prepared to help you?” Tanna asked, looking for an escape.

“Of course they are, but I like them. I don’t see why they should have to put up with my foul mood when you can.”

“Because I owe you,” Tanna said, sounding miserable.

Yep, she did. And also because he couldn’t imagine her walking out of his life again until he knew every inch of her luscious body.

Because he wanted revenge, a little payback.

And her.

Remember that, Brogan. Sex and revenge were the only two reasons he was pushing her to stay.

Levi looked at her again and swallowed, wondering why his mouth was so dry. His heart was also slamming against his rib cage—a pissed-off prisoner demanding release—and his stomach was joining in the rebellion.

What the hell was wrong with him?

So much. He was sore, he was horny and he was, not that he’d ever admit this to anyone, a little scared. Nobody had ever affected him the way Tanna Murphy did.

Damn.

Right, enough BS, Brogan. Get your head on straight.

He was attracted to Tanna. This grown-up version of the girl he’d loved was as sexy as hell.

It was okay, normal even, to be a little carried away thinking about how she’d feel, naked and soft, and so intensely feminine, in his arms. But sex was all he’d take from her, all he had to give her. He wasn’t fool enough to give her more. Not again.

“I don’t think so, Levi.” Tanna shook her head. “It’s really not a good idea and I don’t see why I should give up my...vacation time to be at your beck and call.”

Why had she hesitated when she said vacation? Why did he suspect a vacation was not the reason she was back in Boston? And why did it matter? All he needed was for her to be around...

“I’m not asking you to glue yourself to my side, Tanna. I just need you to move in here, to help with some meals, to drive me to work and back.”

“You are not nearly ready to go back to work,” Tanna told him, her tone as bossy as hell. Levi raised his eyebrows at her assertiveness.

“But I will be, soon. I heal fast,” Levi retorted, not willing to get into an argument about something that wasn’t going to happen today, or even tomorrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I need you for a couple of hours a day, to be on call if I need you. The rest of the time will be your own.”

“Good of you.”

Levi refused to let her see his quick smile. Assertive and sarcastic. Better and better. And he was glad. If Tanna was the same timid, eager-to-please girl she’d been, he probably wouldn’t be making this offer, wouldn’t be half as interested in that version as he was in this.

At twenty-four he’d been happy to have his ego stroked; at thirty-four he liked women who pushed back, who weren’t afraid to speak their minds.

He was surrounded by strong, gutsy, opinionated women and if he ever came to the point of considering another relationship—an exceedingly remote possibility—he wanted someone who could stand on her own two feet, who was prepared to make her own mistakes and live with them.

Being the voice of reason when his dad’s ambition outstripped his common sense, Levi couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t felt responsible for protecting his mom and sisters. When his dad died, Levi oversaw the sale of Brogan LLC and he personally managed the billions in the family trust.

He did, he admitted, have a strong rescue gene. But his mom and sisters were perfectly able to look after themselves and while they were happy for him to manage their family money, he’d been told, repeatedly, he didn’t need to worry about their emotional well-being.

They had their own alpha men doing enough hovering, thank you very much.

He still felt protective of them; he probably always would. But he was smart enough not to tell them that. But they were his blood, a part of his psyche. Tanna—or any other woman—did not warrant that much of his soul. It hurt far too much when they handed it back to him, battered and bruised.

God, enough with the melodrama, Brogan.

This was a straight-up deal. He needed someone. Tanna owed him, and while he’d never be verbally abusive to her or any other woman, with her he wouldn’t have to pretend he wasn’t in pain, frustrated or pissed off. He could just be because, dammit, there was nothing she could do to hurt him again.

“A couple of meals, a couple of rides, a little light housekeeping, that’s all I need you for.” Levi shifted in his seat and pain barreled through him, digging its claws into his body, and it took everything he had not to allow her to see how weak and miserable it made him feel. He’d been vulnerable once with her. He’d never allow her to look beneath his surface again.

A tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows. “You’re in pain.”

Dammit, what had happened to his impenetrable mask? Not wanting to give her an inch, he made a sound he hoped sounded like a scoff. “Please.”

“God save me from stubborn men,” Tanna muttered.

“I’m fine, Murphy.” Such a lie.

Dropping his head back, Levi fought to keep his eyes open, cursing himself for feeling so tired. Sometimes he managed to ignore the pain and drift off and he felt this might be one of those times. His battered body needed sleep to recover but he didn’t want to fall asleep now, not in front of Tanna. If he did, she’d leave and he might never see her again.

He wouldn’t get any payback if she did that.

Levi forced his eyes open and gripped her wrist. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

Tanna shook her head. “Probably not.”

Disappointment, hot and sour, rocketed through him. Why did he care? She meant nothing to him, not anymore.

Tanna didn’t try to pull her wrist from his grip and her skin was so soft, so smooth. He thought he heard her sigh and her voice, when she spoke, came from a long way away. “I have things to do. I need to talk to my brothers, explain what I’ll be doing here. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. Sleep now, Levi.”

Levi hoped, for the first time in a decade, he’d see her again. But only because, he sternly reminded himself as he drifted off, he needed help and she owed him.

And because he really, really, really wanted to see her naked.

Like that other famous auction house on the other side of the pond, Murphy’s boasted a canvas portico in front of its main entrance with Murphy International written in white across the bloodred canvas. It was simple, effective and attractive, and Tanna felt the familiar kick of pride as she stared up at the letters spelling her surname.

Her great-grandfather started the company, passed it on to her grandfather, then to her father and now her brothers were running the world-famous auction house with satellite offices across the world.

She was the only Murphy who’d ever stepped away, who was working in a completely different field.

The thought made her sad.

Tanna jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat, conscious of her heart beating out of her chest. Just like always, she’d planned to avoid Murphy’s, but she needed to talk to Carrick and he was, if she remembered correctly, leaving for Tokyo shortly. She needed to tell him she was moving out of the Beacon Hill house, moving in with Levi...

But only to help him, of course.

She definitely could not tell her brother she hoped, as insane as it sounded, that somehow, some way, she and Levi would finally get naked and she’d find out what making love with her ex-fiancé felt like.

She’d spent many nights imagining the way his hands would feel on her skin, how strong and hard he’d be when he pushed into her, filling up those empty and desperate spaces no man had ever managed to fill.

She needed to know because, honestly, her sexual education was incomplete.

She and Levi were done, over, their time had passed...

But, not having slept with him, Tanna was convinced there was a puzzle piece missing, like she’d never quite seen the complete picture. Like she’d never read the last chapter in a sad but compelling story.

Tanna heard the incoming message on her phone and pulled it out of her pocket. She swiped the screen and read the text from Carrick.

Security just warned me about a suspicious-looking woman casing the joint. Get your ass in here before you get arrested.

Tanna grinned. She knew Murphy’s security firm employed facial recognition software and she’d been identified within a few seconds of arriving at the entrance. Carrick was just yanking her chain.

Tanna greeted the doorman and walked inside the iconic building, her boots echoing on the polished concrete floor. In front of her was the concierge, and to the left and right were the main viewing rooms.

Tanna was a frequent visitor to Murphy’s website and knew there was an upcoming auction of Henry Moore sculptures and a collection of vintage clothing and accessories. She wanted to lose herself in both exhibitions but she knew she couldn’t afford to step inside either room—there were too many memories here that she wasn’t quite ready to deal with.

Tanna watched as a young woman wearing a black pencil skirt and sky-high red heels half ran up the marble steps leading to the private offices on the floors above. She pushed down a wave of envy. How lucky that woman was to be working here, to be interacting with art lovers, with collectors, with the beautiful objects. How fortunate she was to be immersed in art, surrounded by beauty.

She could be you. You worked here, before you left. You chose to leave, Tanna Murphy, nobody chased you away.

Tanna had left because she didn’t have a right to live her dream life, the life she’d been born to. Addy’d never had that chance and it was Tanna’s fault. For Addy she had to do more, be better, be useful.

Art was lovely but it wasn’t important...

She shouldn’t have come back here. She should’ve just called Carrick...

Feeling sad and emotional and teary-eyed, Tanna ran up one flight of stairs, through a security door and up another flight of stairs. Her feet took her down the hallway to Carrick’s large, third-floor office and after greeting Marsha, Carrick’s PA, she knocked on his partially open door.

Carrick looked up at the knock and his smile broadened as he waved her in. Standing up, he kissed her cheek and shook his head, bemused.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tanna asked him, dropping her bag onto one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

“Just happy that I’ve finally gotten you to come into Murphy’s. I’m also thinking about how much you look like Mom,” Carrick replied, his voice gruff. Tanna appreciated the observation but she knew she couldn’t hold a candle to her obscenely beautiful mother.

“I know I don’t talk about her often, Tan, but I still miss her. I miss them both.”

Tanna’s eyes misted over. “I do too. But I don’t remember them as well as you do.”

Carrick gestured to his messy desk. “I could do with Dad’s help today,” he admitted, slapping his hands on his hips.

Tanna dropped into the other chair and crossed her long legs. “Problems?” She couldn’t help asking the question. She might be completely devoted to her career but Murphy’s was, and would always be, a huge part of her.

Carrick walked around his enormous desk and rested his butt against the edge. “When are there ever not?”

“Tell me.”

Because, just for a minute or two, she wanted to pretend she was still part of this business, still a Murphy. Tanna never got the chance to talk art with her colleagues. For the most part, art didn’t interest them and they were also too damn busy saving lives.

But she wasn’t at work now and she could spend time talking about Murphy clients and collections with her elder brother.

It didn’t mean anything...

“For someone who professes to have no interest in the family company, you still ask pertinent questions and make sensible suggestions,” Carrick said later, sending her a sly grin.

“I could still use you here at Murphy’s, in public or client relations. You enjoy people, love art and you’re naturally warm and charming, just like Mom. Do you still enjoy being an EMT?” Carrick asked her before she could think of a suitable response.

Tanna crossed her legs and stared at the tip of her leather boot. “It’s an important job, Carrick. I make a difference.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Carrick persisted. “Do you enjoy it?”

She didn’t hate it.

She looked at the painting sitting on the easel in the corner of his office and lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to spoil her trip to Murphy’s by fighting with her brother over her return, something she couldn’t consider. So she changed the subject. “Is that a Homer?”

Carrick, thank God, didn’t push.

“We’re not sure,” Carrick said, looking at the painting of two children and their African American mother.

“It’s an intensely powerful painting and if it isn’t a Homer, then it’s a superb fake.”

“I have an appointment shortly with an art detective we are hiring to chase down provenance and run tests.”

“I thought you employed art detectives. Isn’t that what Finn does?”

“Finn is checking and double-checking the provenance of all the paintings we are putting up for sale at the Mounton-Matthews auction. It’ll be the biggest sale of the decade and we’ve been working on it for months. Finn is slammed. We also need to use an art detective Tamlyn trusts because she’ll be the one who will eventually decide whether it’s a genuine Homer or not,” Carrick continued.

Tanna’s eyes cooled at the mention of his ex. She and Tamlyn had never jelled and neither made any bones about the fact. “You’re dealing with that witch?”

It was Carrick’s turn to change the subject and he did it by tapping the face of his watch with his index finger. Tanna couldn’t complain; what was good for the goose and all that.

“I have an appointment in five and I need to leave for the airport in an hour so was there a reason for this visit or did you just drop in to say hi?”

Tanna scratched her forehead and wrinkled her nose. “Talking of revisiting the past...”

“Yeah?”

“So, as I said, I’m in Boston for about six weeks...” Tanna nibbled at the corner of her mouth. Get it out, Murphy. Her words rolled out in a rush of syllables. “I went to see Levi this morning. I wanted to apologize to him, see if I could make things right.”

Carrick winced and Tanna didn’t blame him. They both knew a couple of words wouldn’t make it right. “How did he respond?”

“It didn’t go well,” Tanna admitted. “I apologized. He was dismissive.”

Tanna looked past her brother’s shoulder to his incredible view of the Downtown Crossing neighborhood and Boston Common.

Carrick folded his arms, tipped his head and waited for more. Because, somehow, he knew there were at least ten thousand things she wasn’t saying. “He’s still angry at me.”

“Uh-huh?”

“He says I owe him and there’s something I can do to repay him.”

When Tanna didn’t speak again Carrick frowned.

“You going to tell me what Brogan wants, Tan?” Carrick demanded, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“He wants me to move in with him. He needs someone to run errands for him, cook and clean.” Tanna pulled a face. “He says he can be rude to me and not care.”

“Uh-huh,” Carrick said and Tanna didn’t appreciate his lack of effort to hide his amusement. “And you believed him?”

“He was pretty damn rude,” Tanna muttered.

She couldn’t see anything funny in what she’d said. What was wrong with her oldest brother?

“So, are you going to agree to his demands, clear your debt?” Carrick asked.

“You think I should?”

“I think you should help him out, Tan.”

Tanna narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that in the hopes something will spark between us again, so there might be a chance of me moving back to Boston.”

“I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I want you back in Boston and that I want you to be part of the family business again, part of this family. We’ve missed you intensely and you’ve barely spent any time with Ronan’s kids. London is a hella long way away. Levi sat by your bedside for months. The least you can do is help him out when he’s in a jam.”

Yep, Carrick wasn’t above playing the guilt card. Tanna muttered a curse. “Ugh.”

“Is that a yes?” Carrick asked.

“Actually, I’d pretty much made up my mind to help Levi before I got here.” Tanna glared at him. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Carrick started to speak but was interrupted by another knock on his door. Marsha opened it and behind his middle-aged, short and ruthlessly efficient PA stood a tall blonde.

“Carrick, your three o’clock appointment is here. This is Dr. Sadie Slade.” Marsha stepped aside to allow a tall, modern Cinderella look-alike to walk into his office. Tumbling honey curls framed a triangular face dominated by big, round blue eyes holding more than a trace of violet. Tanna looked from the Sports Illustrated model to her eldest brother and her eyes widened at the look of profound—Was that shock on his face?

It was either that or Carrick was having a heart attack. Since she knew her brother was a workout junkie, she figured she didn’t need to call for an ambulance. Thank God, because the thought of giving him mouth-to-mouth made her want to gag.

Then again, the blonde—judging by her flushed face and her inability to pull her eyes off Carrick’s face—wouldn’t hesitate.

Chemical reaction.

Tanna looked past Carrick to where Marsha stood in the doorway and she caught Marsha’s eye, fighting not to return her grin. So, she wasn’t the only one who’d caught the zings between these two.

Ha ha, karma is a bitch, Carrick.

He’d laughed at her for her Levi predicament. She couldn’t wait to watch him dealing with Dr. Sadie Slade, acting like the cool, reserved CEO of one of the premier auction houses in the world while fighting his fierce attraction.

Tanna had no idea how he was going to act cool with his tongue on the floor.

Four

Tanna, leather tote over her shoulder, rapped briefly on Levi’s front door and stepped inside. Pulling her suitcase into the hall, she dropped her duffel bag to the floor and looked up to see Levi shuffling down the hallway.

He stopped, stood on his good foot and relaxed his arms, regarding her with eyes that instantly made her want to spill her secrets.

Even dinged and dented, you are so hot.

I’ve missed you.

It’s weird and wrong and right to be here.

“Hi.” Scintillating opening line, Murphy.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” Levi said, his voice extra growly. And, strangely, extra sexy.

“Miss me?” Tanna asked, aiming for jokey but hitting breathless. Honestly, what was wrong with her? She just had to look at Levi and her brains, and ovaries, exploded.

Not good.

“I survived. Just I like I survived the past decade,” Levi replied, but his words didn’t hold the bite she expected. He just sounded tired.

Tanna glanced at the antique, freestanding clock in the corner, wincing when she saw it was later than she’d realized. “Yeah, I’m sorry I’m a bit late. I meant to be here earlier, but I had to go see Carrick, tell him I was moving out of his house into yours—”

Alarm skittered across Levi’s face. “Ah, I meant to call him, to explain the situation, but I fell asleep. How did he take the news?”

Tanna thought about her brother’s reaction. She couldn’t forget his amusement.

“Strangely, he said that I should help you. He, kind of, agreed that I owed you. But he didn’t say very much on the subject at all.”

She really hoped her big brother wasn’t trying to play matchmaker. That ship had sailed.

And sunk.

Levi frowned and instantly looked suspicious. “That doesn’t sound like Carrick.”

“I thought so too.”

Levi ran his hand over the scruff on his jaw. “Huh. Should I call him and ask?”

Tanna shook her head. Why borrow trouble? “No...hell no. Let sleeping dogs, or noncommunicative brothers, lie.” She glanced down at her bags. “Where can I dump these?”

“There’s a guest bedroom up the stairs on the right. I have a cleaning service. They come in once a week and they keep it in a state of readiness.”

“And I supposed your overnight guests stay in your bed and don’t use the guest room.”

Tanna winced when the words left her mouth and she wished she could haul them back. Dammit. His sex life had nothing to do with her, nothing at all. But if he did have a live-in or a steady girlfriend, why wasn’t she here, tending to her man?

And if he did have a girlfriend, how would she react to Tanna’s presence in his house?

But if he was seeing someone, Tanna would have the perfect excuse to leave. She could just pick up her bags and walk out the front door. There was only one way to find out and Tanna bit the conversational bullet. “So, should I be worried about some girlfriend showing up here, ready to scratch me stupid?”

A smile touched Levi’s mouth. “Jealous?”

She was not going to dignify that with an answer. Mostly because, yes, she was. But she was allowed to be. This man had once considered spending the rest of his life with her. But she’d left him, bailed out in a spectacular fashion. She’d forfeited her right to feel jealous.

Or any other emotion.

Tanna, because she knew she was digging a hole for herself, just lifted her chin and waited for him to answer her question, and Levi finally put her out of her misery...

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