One Night To Forever

“Look,” Annie said, “if your situation changes I can have another talk with Martin.” But Lachlyn heard her underlying frustration, her Why would you want to spend your days digging through old papers when you could be shopping and seeing the world, playing the role of the Park Avenue Princess?

Nobody realized that accepting the money was the easy part. It was just a couple more zeroes—okay, a lot more zeroes—in her bank account. She could take it or leave it, spend it or give it away. It was the people involved that made this difficult, the fact that this wasn’t just a matter of moving cash around. The family dynamic of who and what the Ballantynes were and stood for made this situation complicated. A cold hand squeezed her lungs together and she deliberately slowed her breathing down and released her grip on her phone, shaking her hand to put blood back into her fingers. A few months earlier, when Tyce had told her that he was making plans for her to meet her biological family she’d thought that she’d meet the Ballantynes, have a meal with them and that they’d all go back to their very different lives.

She never expected to be offered a fat bank account, a limitless credit card, to be moved into The Den and to be hounded by the press. The possibility of being accepted as part of the family never crossed her mind. She was touched by their actions, amazed at their generosity but underneath it all, she was running scared, bone-deep terrified. Beneath the fame and money, the Ballantynes were people, and people meant relationships.

She didn’t do relationships... How could she make them see that?

“Lachlyn?”

Lachlyn heard Reame’s low, deep voice and scrambled to her feet. She ducked her head and dashed her fingers against her cheeks, annoyed when she wiped away moisture. The last thing she needed was Reame to see her tears.

Lachlyn looked at the now empty doorway, looking for Linc. His presence would, hopefully, stop her from making an ass of herself with his best friend.

“Hi.” Lachlyn placed her shaking hands into the back pockets of her jeans and felt a hole in the corner of one of the pockets. She was wearing ragged jeans, a long-sleeve white T-shirt and banged-up sneakers, while Reame looked fantastic in his dark jeans, pale blue shirt and cream jacket. The royal blue pocket square was a nice touch. He pulled designer shades off the top of his head and tapped the glasses against his empty palm.

Reame managed a tight smile and his eyes skittered off hers. Huh. “Where’s Linc?” she asked, darting a hopeful look at the door he’d closed behind him.

“Shaw.”

Reame didn’t have to say any more; in the few days that she’d spent in The Den, there had been a few “Shaw” moments.

“Ah, enough said,” Lachlyn said, rocking on her heels.

Reame walked over to the window and, standing to the side, pulled back the drape so that he could see out without being photographed. “The crowd looks bigger than it was twenty minutes ago.”

“I just wish they would go away,” Lachlyn muttered. “I don’t understand why they are so interested in me.”

“You’re young, pretty and you’ve just won the family jackpot. You are news,” Reame said in a flat voice, his back still to her. “You’re a modern-day fairy tale playing out in front of their eyes.”

Reame turned around and gestured to the comfortable couch. “Take a seat. It’s a lot more comfortable than the floor.”

Since he noticed she’d been sitting on the cold floor, Lachlyn knew that there was no chance that he’d missed her red-rimmed eyes and her wobbly lip. Reame Jepsen, Lachlyn suspected, didn’t miss a damn thing.

Pride had her forcing her shoulders back, lifting her chin as she made her way to the couch and perched on the edge of the cushion.

Reame sat opposite her and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his legs, his hands dangling between his strong thighs. This morning, his eyes were a cool, light peppermint and, as always, invasive. She felt like he could see into her soul, read her thoughts. Lachlyn felt exposed and uncomfortable. God, she hoped that this conversation wouldn’t take long.

“Let’s talk security, specifically your security,” Reame said, his eyes cool and tone brusque.

Lachlyn forced herself to maintain eye contact and responded with a nod.

“Linc is concerned about you being on your own.”

“He doesn’t need to be. I’m used to being on my own.”

“If you were the ordinary woman you were a month ago, I’d agree.”

“But you’re not Lachlyn Latimore anymore, you’re now a Ballantyne—at least in the eyes of the press—and that changes the picture,” Reame continued, the warm waves of his voice rolling over her skin. “You’re the newest member of a very prominent, very interesting family. The residents of this city have grown up with the Ballantynes. They remember when Connor took in three orphans. They cheered when Connor adopted Linc alongside Jaeger, Beck and Sage. They mourned Connor’s death. The interest in the Ballantynes has never wavered and the fact that you are Connor’s daughter is big news. The Ballantynes pulling you into the family and sharing Connor’s wealth with you is huge news.”

“I’m not taking the money,” Lachlyn blurted out. For some reason she couldn’t articulate, it was important that he understand that she wasn’t a gold digger and that she had little interest in the Ballantyne fortune.

“You’re not?”

Lachlyn squeezed her hands between her thighs. “No.”

Lachlyn thought she caught a flash of surprise on his face but a second later his expression turned inscrutable. Linc lifted a big shoulder in a don’t care shrug. “That’s between you and them. I’m just here to talk about keeping you safe.”

Nothing in his body language, voice or eyes suggested that they’d shared a hot look across a crowded ballroom and that electricity had sizzled and sparked between them. He was all business, only business.

Good. Then why did she feel a tiny bit disappointed?

Linc sat up straight, leaned back and placed his ankle on his opposite knee. He tapped his finger on his thigh. “Linc also wants me to give you a PPO—”

That didn’t sound very nice. “A what?”

“A personal protection officer, a bodyguard,” he explained, sounding impatient. “You need a shield between you and the press. And any crazies.”

“Crazies?”

“There are eight million people in this city, most of whom have heard or read about you. More than a few are delusional and a handful might think of you as their new best friend, as a potential lover or something more sinister. Until the attention dies down, it’s wise to take precautions.”

Lachlyn tried to assimilate the barrage of information, to make sense of what he was saying. It didn’t help that every time she looked at him, she wondered what his lips would feel like on hers, whether his hands would be rough or smooth against her bare skin. God, she’d never looked at a man and felt her saliva dry up, her heart bang against her chest.

What was it about him that yanked her libido out of its coma?

Let’s think about that... Did it have anything to do with the fact that he was the sexiest man she’d met? Ever?

Frustrated with herself, frustrated in general, Lachlyn refocused. What were they discussing? Right, bodyguards.

Reame played with the laces on his trendy shoes. “So in order to give you the best protection, I need some information about you. Let’s start with the easy stuff, your job. You’re a librarian?”

Lachlyn shook her head. “I work as an archivist at the NYPL.”

A small smile touched Reame’s mouth and a butterfly in her stomach took flight, followed by another ten. “I love that building.”

The Beaux Arts building was her favorite place in the world. “I do, too.”

Reame kept his eyes locked on hers, penetrating and steady. “And do you like your work?”

“I love it. Libraries, books...documents make me hot.”

Reame’s eyes heated and turned speculative and Lachlyn cursed her choice of words. She’d opened the door and flat-out desire walked in and plonked itself between them, its smile mocking. “Uh... I...” Lachlyn stuttered.

Reame looked away from her and Lachlyn saw his chest rise and fall as he took a big breath. His expression was so inscrutable that she couldn’t tell if he was feeling the attraction too or whether he was just making an attempt to hide his irritation. So far, she’d seen nothing of the heat she’d seen in his eyes last night...maybe she’d just projected her attraction onto him. Because she was an emotional hermit, she was inexperienced with men so it was entirely possible.

“Let’s talk about your living arrangements. You live in Woodside?” Reame asked, smoothly changing the subject and ignoring her flaming face. God, she had all the poise and grace of a walrus.

Lachlyn thought about her bright, cheerful space packed full of books and sighed. “I live in a small apartment above a bakery.”