What You Need (Need You #1) Read online

  I opted to parallel park. I’d rather passersby gawked at my car out in the open instead of leaving it to chance in a parking garage.

  Lennox got out of the car before I could help her out.

  Immediately two guys around my age stopped to check out my car. “Dude. Is that a Maybach?”

  “Yes.” I’d ordered it the year I was named CFO. I had to call it an investment to justify the expense, but it was cool as hell to drive such a rare car.

  “What’s it got in it?” the surfer-looking dude asked.

  “V-twelve.”

  “Holy shit.” Then he looked me over. “You a politician or something?”

  “Actually, I’m a spy with British intelligence.”

  His red-rimmed eyes lit up. “Like James Bond?”

  “Exactly.” I slid an arm around Lennox’s waist. “So if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to be late for my appointment.”

  “No problem.” As they strolled away, I heard him say, “The chick he’s with could totally be a Bond girl.”

  “See? That’s the ultimate evaluation of your hotness.”

  She sighed. “From two stoners.” She stopped and got in my face. “How many cars do you own?”

  “Several. Why? We’re not going to get into an argument about the differences in our current financial situations, are we?”

  “No.” She started to say something but stopped herself. Then she threaded her fingers through mine and tugged me toward the front door of Zorn’s.

  The reception area looked like an upscale salon. Instead of pictures of hair, there were pictures of tattoos and designs. The receptionist sported a head of vibrant blue hair in addition to sleeves on both arms. She was pierced everywhere: lips, ears, nose—even her dimples were dotted with stars. I tried not to stare at the diamond stud piercing below the hollow of her throat, but I couldn’t help but wonder how one got pierced there.

  Her gaze moved between me and Lennox. “Something I can help you with?”

  “Brady Lund. I have an appointment with Zorn.”

  She finally smiled. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Lund. I’m Tawny.” She offered her hand.

  When I shook it, I felt the cool press of metal since she had rings on every finger.

  “Before we head back to Zorn’s station, I want to go over the charges with you, so you don’t suffer from sticker shock.”

  Then she went into a spiel about Zorn’s qualifications, awards and all that crap that justified the six-thousand-dollar price tag for a custom image and for Zorn to tattoo me personally.

  “Any questions?”

  “None right now, thank you.”

  She placed her hand on my forearm and squeezed. “You’ll have to ditch the suit jacket so I can gauge how tight your shirt is.”

  “Excuse me?” Lennox said.

  “If your shirt is loose enough, you can leave it on,” Tawny said to me, ignoring Lennox completely.

  I shrugged out of my suit jacket and handed it to her, watching as she hung it up. I unbuttoned the shirt cuffs and rolled up the left side first to the bend in my elbow.

  Tawny returned and ran her hand down the outside of my arm. “This fits you to perfection, but I’m afraid it might cut off blood flow, so it’ll have to come off.”

  “Then I’ll be the one to remove it.” Lennox moved in so close our thighs brushed. Then she began to unbutton my shirt.

  The act of her undressing me as her right put Tawny in her place and she backed off.

  “How do you not roast every day?” she murmured when she saw that I wore a thin V-neck T-shirt beneath my dress shirt.

  “I’m used to it.”

  She locked her gaze to mine and the lust in her eyes knocked me back a step. “You have so many outer layers, Brady. Is that intentional? What I’ll find underneath is better than the outer wrapping?”

  What a loaded question.

  After she got all the buttons undone, she flattened her palms on my abdomen and floated her hands up my torso with deliberate provocation. When she squeezed my pecs and feathered her thumbs across my nipples, I released a low warning growl that had her gaze snapping back to mine.

  “Not. Here,” I said with a rough edge.

  But my warning didn’t deter her. She pressed her lips to my chest where the vee of my T-shirt ended. She slipped her fingers beneath the open collar on each side of my shoulders and pushed the dress shirt down my arms. After she’d removed my shirt, she held it out for Tawny to take, without looking away from me.

  Such a sexy show of possession.

  So I returned the favor. I brought my hand across the front of her throat and held her in place. I leaned in. “I think she gets it now, Lennox.”

  “What makes you think that was for her?”

  I kissed her. Not with the passion she expected, but with tenderness.

  “If you two are done marking your territory,” a male voice said dryly, “there’s a tattoo I’d like to get started on.”

  I glanced at the guy leaning on the doorjamb. He wasn’t the bearded biker-looking dude I’d expected. He was taller than my six feet, two inches. His dark hair was parted in the center of his scalp and hung past his shoulders. He wore a YO, BITCH T-shirt and I smiled at the Breaking Bad reference.

  He started toward me, his hand outstretched. “I’m Zorn.”

  “Brady Lund. I appreciate you fitting me in this week. I understand you’re usually booked weeks in advance.”

  “Months, actually. But I had a client cancel due to a family emergency. And your design concept intrigued me.”

  Lennox offered her hand. “I’m Lennox, Brady’s girlfriend.”

  Zorn’s gaze moved over her. “Where are you inked, babe? Tramp stamp?”

  “And this.” She gave him her back and lifted her hair with one hand as she pulled her shirt down with the other.

  “Nice. Who did that?”

  “Pixie. She owns Pixie’s Skin Pixels in Kansas City. Do you know her?”

  “I haven’t met her in person, but I’ve seen a few designs here and there.” Zorn ran his fingers across the design and I clenched my jaw to keep from telling him to get his hands off her. “The ink needs refreshed. If you’re not going back to Pixie to have her do it, that’s a service we provide.”

  “Thanks. I noticed the one on my arm needs a touch-up too.”

  Zorn looked at me again. “Is she coming back with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. Get something to drink, babe, ’cause this is gonna take a while.”

  *

  The pain associated with getting a tattoo wasn’t as bad as having to sit still in the chair for four hours.

  Since the tat was on the inside of my left forearm, I had the ability to adjust the chair from a sitting to a reclining position. For the first hour I sat upright and talked with Lennox about the “getting to know you” stuff we’d skipped. Then the next hour Zorn and I talked. He was an interesting guy. He’d put his art degree to good use in a field where he actually made a great living. Once he learned I was in finance, he picked my brain about investments. Some of my colleagues in the investment world played their strategies so close to the vest you’d think they were guarding the secrets of the universe. But I was more of the mind-set that all businesses needed professional advice from time to time and I was more than happy to pay it forward.

  After Zorn took a quick break, he resumed inking the design and I dozed off during hour three. When I woke up, I heard the buzz buzz buzz of another tattoo machine and looked over to see Lennox in the chair next to mine. I lifted a brow at her.

  “Just getting the ink refreshed. I figured since I’d be rubbing gel on you, you could return the favor.”

  “As long as you’re here, maybe you oughta get the one on your ass touched up too.”

  “Brady!”

  “Just trying to be helpful, baby.”

  Zorn laughed.

  “You know, that is a great idea, baby,” she said in that sexy tone that always go
t me hard—even when she was being sarcastic. “We’ll stick around after Zorn is done with yours. I’m sure it won’t bother you at all when you see Zorn’s hands all over my bare butt. Because one ass pretty much looks like the next one, huh, Zorn?”

  “Not even fucking close, babe,” Zorn said. “Some asses are a joy to work on.”

  A joy? Oh, hell no. “I changed my mind. The tattoo on your butt is just fine the way it is.”

  Lennox smirked. “I thought you might say that.”

  Zorn laughed again. “Now you two play nice—you’re blowing my concentration.”

  After he finished, he sent Tawny in with aftercare instructions and he disappeared into the back room.

  And it was done.

  The whole thing was a little anticlimactic, really.

  I paid and put my shirt and suit jacket back on while I waited in the reception area for Lennox to finish up. With the aftercare booklet was a photocopy of Zorn’s design with a color key for each section.

  “Is that your tat?” Lennox asked, peering over my arm.

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Jensen family crest and the Lund corporate logo melded into one image. I sent Zorn the two images and he combined them into one design.”

  “Brady. That is really cool.”

  I pushed a flyaway hank of her hair behind her ear. “You approve?”

  “Yes.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed me. “It means something to you, so now I believe you won’t have regrets.” She smirked. “At least until your high-society family freaks that the prodigal son got a tattoo.”

  “I’ve got a plan for that.” I kissed her nose. “Blame you.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’m skipping the family deal this weekend.”

  I tugged her against me. “I was joking.”

  “So we’re still on for dinner?”

  “It’s almost nine thirty.”

  “So?”

  I happened to glance out the window and in the streetlight’s glow I saw it had started snowing. “The Maybach isn’t good in this weather.”

  “Did you do this on purpose?”

  “What? Make it snow?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Take the fancy car, knowing the weather was going to turn. And then you’ll be all like, ‘Maybe you should just stay at my place tonight, Lennox.’ Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.”

  “And that idea is appalling to you?”

  “It’s manipulative. You said you’d take me to dinner. Now you’re trying to turn it into something else. So you know what? Forget it. I’ll just take a cab home.”

  Lennox acted possessive in public, but when it came time for the two of us to spend time alone . . . she balked? That made no sense. And since the snow was coming down harder, I didn’t have time to wait around while she waged an internal war with herself.

  “If that’s what you want,” I said to her. “Thanks for coming along. I’ll see you at the office.” I popped the collar of my jacket and hustled outside to my car.

  *

  Lennox

  My arm had started to sting from my tattoo touch-up.

  At least that’s what I’d told myself when I poured bourbon into my hot tea.

  I’d needed a shot of alcohol to calm me down. I hadn’t retreated from Brady because I was afraid of how the night would end. I’d retreated from Brady because I’d known exactly how it would end.

  The entire scene had played out in my head on fast-forward. We’d arrive at his trendy apartment. We’d crack open a bottle of wine. We’d have the requisite amount of small talk before we’d start to make out. Things would get hot and heavy. We’d adjourn to his bedroom and slowly peel off each other’s clothes. Then we’d make love. It would all be very . . . nice.

  But I didn’t want nice. I wanted his heat and passion. I wanted the man I’d tangoed with Saturday night.

  So yes, I’d retreated—for Brady’s own good.

  Although Brady had stepped outside his comfort zone and into a tattoo shop, he’d micromanaged every detail beforehand. While I wasn’t an advocate of showing up drunk and having some hack tattoo artist ink a lame Chinese symbol onto a random body part, I also knew he didn’t understand spontaneity.

  I wasn’t sure if that was something I could teach him. Or, more to the point, if that was something he wanted to learn. He’d told me that all the crazy physical challenges he’d done with his brothers and his cousins hadn’t been his thing. He wanted to find his own track, off the beaten path. I could take him only so far; he had to take that first step, and no way was I making it easy on him. He wanted to be wild? I wasn’t falling into his bed when he didn’t have another, better plan.

  The front door opened. Clothing rustled and then Kiley appeared in the doorway, big chunks of snow covering her black hair. “Hey, girl. It’s getting crappy out there.”

  “I know. I don’t think my cabbie knew how to drive on snow.”

  “Why does it seem like all the cab companies in the Twin Cities are hiring Somolian immigrants? There’s no snow in Somolia! Of course these guys don’t have a clue how to drive on snow and ice.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Why did you take a cab home? Something wrong with your car?”

  “No. I left it in the parking garage since Brady and I had plans after work.”

  Kiley placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head at me. “You telling me that man didn’t drive you home after your damn date?”

  “Simmer down, mama bear.” I sipped my tea. “We spent time together, and when it started to snow, he was more concerned about getting his fancy car back home than he was about anything else. It rubbed me the wrong way. So I told him I’d take a cab.”

  “Lemme get a toddy and I’ll be back to discuss this in detail.”

  There was one drawback to having a counselor as a roommate: Everything was subject to an in-depth conversation. And this time, when I needed some advice, I couldn’t tell her what was really going on without breaking Brady’s confidence.

  Kiley had slipped on a pair of flannel pajama pants and her slippers when she shuffled back into the living room with a mug of tea. “You know, this flowery shit ain’t half bad with booze in it.”

  “How’d your meeting go tonight?”

  She scowled. “No luck in finding a permanent venue. And with the weather like this, I can’t continue to meet with the kids outside. So I won’t need your help this Saturday. But I do have hopes that there will be good news at next week’s meeting since we have three leads on other places.”

  “I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

  “I appreciate that. Now recap the evening’s events for me.”

  “There’s nothing else to add. Wait, he did plan on taking me to dinner. But we got done late . . . and then he made that stupid comment about needing to get his car home because it wasn’t made for snow or something like that.”

  “He was talking about that sweet Beemer he was driving on Saturday?”

  “No. It was a different car.”

  “What kind of car?” she prompted.

  “I don’t know. I tune out when guys start talking car stuff.” I thought back. “It’s a . . . May something or other.”

  “A Maybach?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Well, that makes sense he’d be freaking the hell out about getting that car inside.”

  “It’s a car, Kiley.”

  “It’s a car that costs upwards of a million dollars, Lennox,” she chided.

  I choked on my tea. “What?”

  “Every Maybach is custom ordered and custom built. So if he took you out in that car, he was seriously trying to impress you.”

  “But that’s the thing! I don’t know cars, I don’t care about them, and if Brady knew anything about me at all he’d know that wouldn’t impress me.” I exhaled. “And yeah, now I get why he wanted to get the million-dollar baby out of the elements, but I couldn’t help but feel I’d already served my purpose to him. That’s why I t
ook a cab home.”

  Kiley ran her finger around the rim of her cup. “So if Brady would’ve said, ‘Tough crap, get in the car and after I switch it out I’ll take you home in something more weather appropriate and then I’m feeding you at my favorite restaurant’ . . .”

  “I would’ve done what he asked.” I hated admitting that.

  “Well, well. My roomie has a submissive streak.”

  “What? No! No way.”

  “You like it when Brady gets all bossy and decisive. You’re not mad about the car; you’re mad he let you go without a fight.”

  Okay. Although I hadn’t given Kiley all the details, she had gotten some things right.

  I did like it when Brady took control. That was what had made me so hot for him Saturday night. He’d touched me, kissed me, even danced with me the way he’d wanted.

  That had been powerful stuff.

  “Lennox?”

  I looked at Kiley. “I dislike it intensely when you’re right.”

  She grinned. She despised the word “hate” and had stricken it from her vocabulary and banned the use of it in her house. “So send the man a text and see if he made it home all right.”

  “We didn’t exchange numbers.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I guess maybe he knows he can get ahold of me at work.”

  “Think he’ll do that tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. “I have a dental appointment, so I’m taking the entire day off as a personal day.”

  “Nice. They’re predicting snow tomorrow and Saturday, but promise me you won’t sit around and mope all weekend.”

  “I don’t mope.” I finished my tea. “Where will you be?”

  “Since I don’t have a place for my kids Saturday, I signed up for a seminar in St. Cloud. I leave in the morning and won’t be back until Sunday night.”

  The prospect of a long weekend by myself didn’t fill me with the usual elation.

  Kiley stood. “My last bit of advice, roomie. Don’t be stubborn. You knew going into this thing with Brady that he has the mind of a CFO, not a lothario. Work with him. Be forgiving of his slipups. And bear in mind you’re not perfect either.”

  *

  The next afternoon I’d changed into sweatpants after returning from the dentist. I had my laptop out and I’d finished my weekly bookkeeping when two loud raps vibrated against the door.