The Family Simon: Tucker Part 3

"With the right woman, I'm up for anything." A memory flashed through him-an image of tangled legs, heated skin, the kiss of rain, and Marley. And just like that the hatchet that was buried inside his chest stirred. It cut deeper, awakening things he didn't want awake.

Suddenly the lightness was gone. Suddenly everything was gone, and he just wanted to close his eyes and maybe forget. s.h.i.t.

"Tucker?" Abby asked quietly.

"You're right," he said abruptly. "We'll deal with it in the morning." Turning back to the desk clerk, Tucker grabbed the keycards and led the way to the elevators. The ride up was silent, broken only when he let them into their suite.

"Wow." Abby walked forward a few feet and whirled around in a circle. "Wow! This is bigger than my entire apartment."

Tucker dropped his bags. "It's a bit much."

The suite was over-the-top and reeked of money. With soft blues and creams, light bamboo and marble, it was something to see. High-end furniture filled the large, open area-a patio and hot tub sat out under the stars. The place was meant for relaxation, luxury, and s.e.x. Lots and lots of s.e.x.

With a scowl, he nodded toward the left. The bedroom wasn't enclosed, but the bed was hidden behind yards of gauzy material that fell from the ceiling and tucked behind it was the bathroom.

"You can sleep there, I'll take the sofa."

"No," Abby said. "I can't. That wouldn't be right."

His mood already darkened, Tucker crossed the room and paused at the bar where he scooped up a bottle of whiskey. "I'm not arguing. Take the bed." Once his tumbler was filled with ice and booze, he turned back to Abby. She stood still, with her carry-on and small suitcase, her eyes on him. Eyes that were unsure.

Eyes that made him feel like an a.s.shole.

"Look, Abby. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Please take the bed." He shrugged. "I'm not going to sleep for a while, so..."

A heartbeat pa.s.sed, and then with a quick nod she whispered, "All right."

After she disappeared into the bathroom, Tucker made his way out to the patio and sank onto a chair that was in the far corner, buried in the shadows. Overhead, the night sky was crystal clear, and a million stars shone down on him. A breeze moved languidly, bringing with it the smell of the ocean-a scent he was familiar with-one that he loved.

He inhaled deeply and felt the weight of it as his lungs filled with the open air and unmistakable tinge of the ocean. It moved something inside him. Something he'd been trying to bury for years, it seemed.

d.a.m.n, but it still hurt.

Someone told him once that smell was more powerful than memory. That smell could bring back the most intimate or minute detail. It was true. The smell of the ocean always reminded him of home, family, and ultimately, Marley.

He knew it was a bad idea to come back here. He knew that the memories might be too much. That maybe he wasn't strong enough to deal with them.

A grimace crossed his face. d.a.m.n family. He'd always had a problem saying no to them, even though his first instinct when he'd received his cousin's invite was to toss it.

Slowly he sipped his whiskey and, after throwing his ball cap onto the patio floor, rested his head back so that he could see the sky better.

Where the h.e.l.l was the Big Dipper?

He stared up at the stars for so long that they blurred and only looked away when his gla.s.s was empty. He poured himself another and was just about to settle back when a sound caught his ear, and he glanced over to the patio doors.

Abby.

After a few moments, she crossed the tiled floors and paused a few feet away.

"It's beautiful out here," she said softly.

"Yeah," Tucker answered, though his eyes didn't follow hers as she glanced up at the million dollar blanket of stars.

The breeze picked up again, lifting her hair into the air, and she giggled as she tried to tug it behind her ears. The white tank-top she wore was pressed tight against her body and those long legs-h.e.l.l, they went on for miles.

Her laughter dried up when she looked his way, and she crossed her arms over her chest, though she wasn't able to hide her erect nipples. From the cold? Or was she feeling what was brewing inside him?

Mouth dry, Tucker dragged his eyes away and downed his tumbler in one long swig. He was tight. Angry. Tired and confused.

He was also h.o.r.n.y as f.u.c.k and right about now was wishing it was Sonya standing a few feet away wearing next to nothing. Because he sure as h.e.l.l would have had Sonya bent over the chair and maybe then he'd get some relief from the tension that rode him so hard.

What the h.e.l.l did that say about him? Five minutes ago, he'd been thinking of Marley. His wife. Five minutes ago, he'd been remembering things...things that he was afraid to forget.

Now, one glance at Abby and it was gone.

Anger spiked inside him, and suddenly he needed to hold onto it with a desperation he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Did you need something?" he asked, his voice sharp.

She tightened her arms across her chest but didn't look away. In fact, her gaze was direct.

"No," she answered slowly, drawing that one word out. "I just wanted to say goodnight and to make sure that you were okay."

He lifted his tumbler in a mock salute. "I'm better than okay." He paused, noting the way she bit her bottom lip-a nervous gesture-and maybe it was the devil that had him tonight, or maybe he was just being a p.r.i.c.k, but he forced a smile and reached for the bottle.

Maybe he just didn't want to be alone after all. "Want a drink?"

She shook her head.

"Are you sure?" He leaned back and watched the shadows cross her face, moving erratically in the breeze.

"Yes," she said eventually. "I'm sure."

He wasn't used to this awkward silence between them. d.a.m.n, he was going to ruin things. He took a sip from his gla.s.s, his eyes on hers and never wavering.

"I didn't take you for a Rangers fan."

"Excuse me?"

He nodded at her tank top-the one that stretched tight across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Every single one of your brothers are diehard Flyer fans, which is odd considering you're New Yorkers." He shrugged. "I guess I thought you'd be the same."

Her head fell, but she kept her arms crossed over her chest, partially obscuring the New York Rangers logo. "Oh." She cleared her throat. "No, I'm the lone Ranger fan. I...I thought I was sleeping by myself or else I would have brought more..." Again she cleared her throat. "Appropriate...stuff...to wear to bed."

Her toes curled into the patio tiles and with the wind running through her hair, the shadows playing across her face-all that skin on display-she sure as h.e.l.l didn't look like the Abby he knew.

This Abby could grace a G.o.dd.a.m.n Ranger calendar, and it would sell like hotcakes.

"I just signed Dean Kendrick as a client." The admission slipped out before he could stop himself, but when her eyes went big and that delectable mouth opened wide, it was worth the slip. h.e.l.l, he hadn't shared the news with anyone yet but considering her choice of sleepwear, it was somehow appropriate to share it with her.

Kendrick was the new face of the Ranger franchise and as a three time all-star center, he'd been a dream to sign. The guy had buckets of talent, charisma, and that extra bit of something that was hard to describe as anything other than golden. Tucker had been working on him for the last few months, and now that he was on board as a client, his roster was looking d.a.m.n fine. Made being an agent sweet as h.e.l.l.

"Wow," she said moving forward, a big smile on her face. "That's awesome, Tucker. My G.o.d, Dean Kendrick?"

She paused a few inches away. "I'm really happy for you."

His eyes dropped to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s-briefly-before he yanked his head up and took a good long swig of whiskey. "Thanks," he said as he set down the empty gla.s.s. He'd been happy too-for about five minutes. But then, like everything else in his life, the joy he'd felt when he'd closed the deal had vanished like water down the drain. It had swirled around for a bit and then...nothing.

He didn't need to see a shrink to know that he was in trouble-that if he didn't turn things around, there was a chance that he'd just disappear. He'd disappear like Marley. One morning he'd kissed her goodbye and that night she was gone.

The thought was morose, and he gave himself a mental shake.

"We should hit the bed. Golf in the morning," he said gruffly.

"Golf?" Her eyebrow shot up.

"s.h.i.t, did I forget to tell you? We're playing a round before the rehearsal dinner. It's a family thing."

"Oh Tucker, I don't have the right clothes for golf."

"Don't worry about it. We'll hit the pro-shop and as for clubs, I'm renting, too." His brows furrowed. "You do play, don't you?"

She didn't answer right away and then shrugged, a soft smile on her face. "A little."

"Good. We're buddying up with Beau and his brat of a girlfriend. Don't let her scare you."

Abby's eyes glistened as she stared back at him, and he got the impression she was trying to figure something out.

"Betty Jo Barker, isn't it? Model turned actress?"

He nodded.

"She...she seems interesting."

Abby had no idea. "Yeah," he answered. "Interesting, infuriating, opinionated and ..." He groaned. "Maybe this isn't a good idea after all."

"It takes a lot to scare me, Tucker," she murmured.

He held her gaze for a few more moments, thinking he should say something or do something, but then she turned and headed inside. She was nearly to the patio doors that led into the suite when he spoke.

"Abby?"

She stopped but didn't turn around. "Hmm?"

"I like your pajamas. Ranger wear is always appropriate."

"Good to know," she said softly and then disappeared inside.

Tucker glanced back at the half-empty bottle of whiskey. He could finish the bottle which meant that he most likely would play a s.h.i.t round of golf, for which his brother Beau would never let him hear the end of...

Or he could pack it in and try to get some sleep.

Except Abby was in there, in that hot little Ranger outfit, and there were no benefits to be had. h.e.l.l, if he didn't get his s.h.i.t together, there would be no friend to be had either.

Tucker fell back into his chair, sank into the shadows and reached for the bottle. It was gonna be a long night, but he decided to keep company with his good buddy Jack. He didn't want to think about his family, or Abby, or even Marley. He just wanted to lose himself in the stars and the smell of the ocean-even if it was only for tonight.

He filled his tumbler once more as the shadows enveloped him.

Chapter Four.

The smell of coffee woke Abby. A roasted blend and something else...caramel?

Or was it the smell of clean, fresh soap?

Whatever it was, it was nice, and she sighed, sinking deeper into the mattress. Inhaling that lovely scent once more, she relaxed for a moment as whatever the heck smelled so good infiltrated her nose and wove its way through her body. She was warm, heavy from sleep and content.

A noise sounded, something that didn't belong-waves?-and she rolled over, nearly falling out of bed. For a moment, she had no idea where she was.

Pushing a tangle of hair from her eyes, her vision slowly came into focus, and when it did, her mouth went dry. It went so dry that she couldn't swallow. Her insides quaked and fire raced across her skin.

She'd been right about the coffee. Yep. There it was, right in front of her. Great big honkin' mug of java.

But it was attached to a hand, and that hand was attached to a muscular arm that glistened with drops of water as if fresh from the shower. Of course, there was an accompanying wide expanse of flesh and since she was weak-and let's not forget confused-it drew her eye.

And-holy h.e.l.l-suddenly, she was wide awake.

A hot thrust of l.u.s.t (sheesh, was she a poet now?) had her girlie parts singing Hallelujah-shouting, praise the Lord and whispering G.o.d bless Tucker Simon.

Hot d.a.m.n, she had a freaking Baptist Choir going crazy inside her body, and Abby glanced away from his bare chest-from all that hard, damp, and defined muscle-pushing away the image of her tongue on those picture-perfect abs.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she held her breath as her mind scrambled to catch up to what her eyes had just seen. Sure, she was used to waking up with Tucker on the brain but never...never so up close and personal.

She froze. Wait. Was she still dreaming?

Cracking an eye open a smidge, Abby angled a peek and everything inside her went squirrely.

Nope. That there was one hundred percent, tanned, toned, and freaking hot Tucker Simon-prime, USA Grade Tucker Simon-and he was looking down at her with an amused look on his face.

"Morning sunshine. I'm done in the shower if you want to take a turn."

G.o.d, he was only wearing a towel.