Impossible Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series, Book 2) Read online

  “Why do you always need to win?” Penny’s mouth drops into a disappointed pout.

  I could launch into a deeper conversation that’s way overdue for Penny and me. There are layers to our life we’ve been too afraid to peel back. Being neighbors has made us closer in proximity but we’re still feeling our way around in the dark when it comes to being sisters. Instead I give her the simplest and truest answer I can. “Because if I don’t win, I lose. And I don’t lose. If I do this right they will fall like dominoes without the slightest idea I had anything to do with it.”

  “How have you gotten all this dirt? Are you putting yourself in danger? What kind of risks are you taking?” Her hand is propped on her hip, and I love how serious she is about this. Flaky funny Penny has recently mastered a maternal tone. I’m happy for her. Keeping Dalton in line has brought out a side she should be proud of.

  “Risk is only a risk if it doesn’t pay off. This is going to work.” I tap the wall again. “You see this guy? I’ve got a lead I’m tracking down. Apparently he set his own yacht on fire for the insurance money.”

  “Put on your shoes.” Penny walks over to the corner of the room and grabs my black heels. “You and I are going out. All you do is work, come home to this, and sneak away to play private detective. You and I are going to dinner and coming up for air.”

  “You have plans with Dalton tonight.” I remember the desperate look in Dalton’s eyes this morning in the hallway when he reminded Penny they have a dinner with clients, and they can’t miss it. Reading between the lines, he was telling me to get my shit together so Penny can be on his arm tonight rather than at my place, checking up on me.

  “He’ll understand. He’s worried about you too.”

  Before I can counter there is a light knock on the door. “That’s Dalton, I’m sure. He’s going to be pissed off if you cancel on him again so you can babysit me.”

  I swing the door open to find Ben with his hands casually tucked into his pockets. I hate that I find him attractive at all. It’s like discovering your favorite wine can be purchased at a gas station. I refuse to go there. But it tastes so good.

  “What do you want?” I keep the door mostly closed so he can’t get a glimpse of the wall. He’s been good to Penny and Dalton. He doesn’t need to be crushed along with all these other bastards, but I’m not letting him in on my plan either.

  “Come out with me,” Ben says casually, his shaggy black hair intentionally messy.

  “Into the hallway?”

  His boyish grin is hard to resist but I do. “No, I mean out for dinner. Just you and me.”

  “Thanks, but no.”

  Ben stands there with his wide shoulders, fit body, and dark eyes that I would find attractive if I let myself. Men like him are a waste of time for women like me. He doesn’t have the drive to conquer to the world or even be the top in his field. I’d be better off trying to have a conversation with a puppy.

  In a sneak attack, Penny shoves my shoes into my chest and pushes me out my own front door and into Ben’s arms. He braces my elbows and my face plants into his chest. He does have a nice chest. Damn.

  “What the hell?” I shout at my now closed and locked door. “Penny let me back in.”

  Through the door she says, “No. Go out. Laugh. Have good time. You need this.”

  Penny loves me, but she has no fucking idea what I need. She got lucky with Dalton, but most relationships are nothing more than a time drain.

  “If I did want to have a good time it would not be with a man from this building.” I meet Ben’s eyes. “It doesn’t speak much to one’s character.”

  Ben sets me upright again and smiles, seemingly unscathed by my insult. “I didn’t pick this place. It was a perk in a deal I signed. What’s your excuse for being here?”

  “You know why.” I eye him skeptically.

  “I’m not sure I do.”

  “Then I’m not sure I care to tell you.”

  “We can stand here all day and argue, or we can go eat somewhere.” He gestures toward the elevator as though this is all completely normal.

  “Did Penny tell you to ask me out?” I can smell a conspiracy, and I don’t like being handled.

  “No.”

  “Dalton?”

  He doesn’t deny it, but he doesn’t look guilty about it either. “I had no idea you were so skittish.”

  “Skittish?” Is there an adjective that less describes me?

  He flexes his shoulders. “I can see how I might be intimidating, but you can relax.”

  “I am not intimidated by you.” Not by anyone.

  “Then one dinner shouldn’t be a problem.” There it is, the grin that does funny things to my stomach. “Unless you’re afraid you might enjoy it too much. I should warn you now, I’m not the type to put out on the first date.”

  “On the first date or ever?” I sound like a snarky bitch, but he’s getting to me. He leans closer, and I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s masculine but understated. I hate that I like it.

  “If I were a virgin would you be gentle with me?”

  I slide my shoes on and cross my arms. “Not for a second.”

  “No one could ever call you boring.” His cheeks flush and my own warm in response.

  “I don’t have my purse or anything.” I look back at my closed door and try to count the ways I’m going to make my little sister pay for this prank. Doesn’t she remember all those wet-willies I gave her when she read my diary?

  A moment later Penny slides one of my credit cards and my driver’s license under the door. This is ridiculous. Not only is she listening in, but clearly she intends to overcome any of my objections. Does she think he’s my type? I could argue the point, but I’m actually hungry. It may be easier to go to dinner and show her what a waste of time this is. I let her in on the secrets of my life and now I have to manage the result. Attempting to be sisterly is overrated.

  “You won’t need your credit card. It’ll be my treat.”

  “But not a date.” I bend down and pick up my things and then point at him accusingly. “This is not a date.”

  “Because we have nothing in common. Any date would be a disaster.” He states this as though he’s taking the position that the sky is blue. As though any idiot can see how right he is. I completely agree with him. Ben is nothing like the men I date. First of all, he breaks my rule about proximity. I like men to have a home base in another state. Pilots are great. Military men. They cruise into town and cruise right back out. We can blame logistics for keeping us from getting serious. Dating someone who lives in the same building is a suffocating prospect. But for some reason when I hear Ben announce how bad an idea dating would be, I feel a pang of something I can’t define.

  “A complete disaster,” I finally agree, because I’ll be damned if he thinks I like him. “But I’m not going to be held hostage by my sister and her crazy whims.”

  “Go,” Penny shouts through the door. “If you don’t I’m going to start taking push pins out of the wall.”

  “Push pins?” Ben asks.

  I ignore his question. Like a time machine, Penny and I are transported back to a time in our lives when we had to draw a line down the middle of our shared bedroom at my dad’s house. She needed boundaries. I only came over to my dad’s one weekend a month, but when I did she couldn’t respect that parts of my life were off-limits to her. She needed to know how I felt all the time. Was I happy? Who the hell is happy? And here we were again. She’s trying to fix me again. “Don’t you dare touch my stuff. Penny, I’m serious.”

  “Go and all will be left intact.”

  “Let’s go,” I say, tugging Ben down the hallway at a ferocious pace. “The sooner we go the sooner this is over.”

  “You’re turning me on right now,” Ben says with a smile.

  If there’s anything I don’t like it’s being laughed at. I stop at the elevator and give him a look that sends my employees scurrying. “I wish I could say you were doing t
he same.”

  Ben laughs, but when I growl deep in my throat, it becomes a cough. “You’re a real charmer, Kylie.”

  “Fuck you.” I press the button of the elevator firmly. I don’t care what he thinks of me. This isn’t a date; it’s a joke. Penny won this round, but I won’t let her get away with this again.

  “You care where we go?” he asks as we descend. How he’s taking these hits without getting riled up is beyond me. But he has a hell of a poker face.

  “Aren’t you going to sweep me off my feet and try to impress me with something fancy or unique?” I look at him as though I’ve seen the plot to this movie before, and I’m not impressed.

  “You’re an executive at a huge company. I’m pretty sure if you wanted something fancy or unique you could get it for yourself. I don’t have anything planned. Not unless this is a date.” He waits a heartbeat then smiles again. “Which it isn’t.”

  My normal quick rebuttal jams up in my throat. Gas station wine is a choice. To drink it you have to choose it. That’s not the life I want for myself. “I have an idea. It’s not dinner. It’s something more exciting. Unless you’re going to be a wimp and run back to my sister to complain about where I take you.”

  “Never.” The corners of his mouth rise slightly, and there’s a sexual tension between us that makes me glad I know exactly how to show him how wrong we are for each other.

  I eye him, watching for a reaction. “Are you afraid of a little pain?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Right now? That look on your face.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ben

  “Interesting choice.” I follow her into a high-end gym a few blocks from our apartment building. A quick stop at the desk scores us each a set of workout clothing. In my fantasy she’d be in spandex, but when she returns in a black tank top and loose yoga pants I realize that works too. She is one kick-ass confident woman, and I would tell her if I didn’t think she’d knock out my teeth for saying it.

  I shoot her a sidelong glance. Or at least try to. She’ good at deflecting anything I send her way.

  She leads me to the back of the gym. Some men are put off by strong women, but I’ve always been close to my sisters, and I know the struggle they have with stereotypes. A man who speaks his mind is decisive, authoritative. A woman who does the same is labeled a bitch. According to my sisters, a woman has to be twice as good as a man to be considered his equal—if that admission is ever made.

  I don’t know if Kylie is about to try to out-bench me or challenge me to a pull-up-a-thon, but I’m game for either. I work out. I’m not a muscle head, but I’m no slouch either.

  A man who looks like he was born to kick my ass—tall, bald, and built like a truck—comes over to greet us. He shakes Kylie’s hand then steps away to talk to her for moment.

  He says no about five times, looking over at me each time with a doubtful expression. He clearly doesn’t agree with whatever Kylie is asking for. I’m trying to imagine what he thinks I won’t be capable of beating her at.

  He walks off, and Kylie returns to my side. Her hair is now swept up in a ponytail and it makes her look younger, more vulnerable. Her smile, however, is one hundred percent trouble.

  “Ready?” she asks.

  “Always,” I answer easily.

  The man returns with two sets of boxing gloves and head protection for us. He opens a door to another room and beckons us to follow him inside.

  As we enter a room dominated by a boxing ring, Kylie says, “Ben, this is my trainer, Jonny.”

  I offer my hand to him. He doesn’t shake it, but instead hands me the gloves and helmet. “Ben,” I say.

  He grunts. “You ever boxed?”

  “Never.”

  “Great,” he says with heavy sarcasm. “We’ll start with the bags. You need to learn basic jabs and blocks.” He turns his displeasure at Kylie. “This isn’t how I would teach anyone. Just so we’re clear—no shots to the head.”

  “Of course,” I say.

  His attention stays glued to Kylie. “Not one.”

  Kylie puts her head gear on, and he helps her lace her gloves. She’s glowing with an excitement that gives me a distracting hard-on. “Not one,” she repeats obediently.

  I feel like a naughty child as Jonny laces me into my own gloves. My heart is already working double-time. Kylie moves away and begins to punch a hanging bag with impressive power. She’s light on her feet, bold in her movements, and the aggression she unleashes on the bag is real.

  I enjoy learning new things so I follow Jonny’s instructions without hesitation. He says it’s about learning to use my whole body and not just my hands. Block with my weaker hand. Strike with my stronger. Move. Hit harder. Hit faster. Don’t hold back; it’s a bag and won’t punch me back.

  The adrenaline rush feels good. I’m not an angry person by nature, but I have to admit whatever frustration I have is melting away. I’m Stallone in his best years. I’m Ali taking someone down with one punch.

  What part of this did Kylie think I wouldn’t like?

  “Looks like you two are ready,” Jonny announces and chucks a thumb toward the ring. I’m not looking forward to feeling the power behind those fists, but I’m not afraid of it either. I climb into the ring.

  Kylie does as well.

  I look from her to Jonny. He doesn’t look like he’s coming in with us.

  I shake my head. “I can’t hit you, Kylie.”

  “Why? Because I’m a woman?” she mocks as she circles me.

  I appeal to Jonny for help. “Exactly, because you’re a woman.”

  She takes her first jab at me. I block it. “I don’t want to be treated differently.”

  I block another jab. “And I don’t want to hit a woman.”

  She dances around me and takes another swipe. “If I were a man you wouldn’t hesitate. You think I’m weaker than you. I’m not.”

  Her next jab fakes me out and leaves my stomach open. I feel the air whoosh out of me from the power of her blow.

  I take a breath and raise my gloves defensively. “Don’t tell me what I think.”

  She dances around me again. I take the stance Jonny taught me and keep my moves evasive. She strikes again, but this time I’m ready and block her. “I don’t like you.”

  “You don’t know me.” I mimic her movements and decide boxing is actually a great workout.

  “I know your type,” she growls and jabs again.

  I weave out of her reach. Hey, this is actually fun. “And what is that?”

  She dances closer. I see the wheels turning in her head. This fake-out doesn’t work on me either. It seems to work her up even more. “Weak. Unreliable. Happy with whatever comes your way.”

  I strike her gloved hand with a pillow-fight strength jab. “Then why are we here?”

  She comes back at me with a powerful jab. “You’re the one who asked me out. You want to know me? This is me.” She connects with my side. I stumble.

  I counter with a series of more forceful blows, but I’m holding back. Nothing she can do will anger me enough to actually strike her. I’m not that man. But she needs to know I’m also not a man she can back into a corner. “Guess what? You’re fucking hot like this.”

  She takes a swipe at my head and connects; Jonny blows his whistle. “Kylie. Corner.”

  She walks off to face her trainer. This time their voices carry.

  “What the hell are you doing, Kylie?”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay, Kylie. Get out of my ring.”

  “I got carried away, Jonny. It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t. You’re done for tonight. Get a water and go cool off.”

  Kylie looks as if she wants to say more, but instead shoots me a glare and leaves the ring. I undo my helmet. “I goaded that swipe out of her,” I say in her defense as I step out of the ring.

  Jonny unties my g
loves. “She needs to learn to control her temper. Boxing is an art form more than a battle. You lose your perspective and advantage when you lose control.”

  I nod even though I really have no idea what it takes to win in the ring. I respect that he does, though.

  He accepts my gloves and helmet then says, “That said, I will fucking kill you if you ever hurt her. I mean, ‘six feet under send me back to jail’ kill.”

  “Good to know,” I say, taking a step back.

  He smiles suddenly. “I like you, though. You rattle her, and she needs that. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Thanks,” I say, offering my hand for him to shake. He doesn’t take it, but I feel like we’ve bonded so I let it slide.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kylie

  I slam the door to the changing room and thud my head against the wall. I hate when I let my temper get the best of me. I found Jonny five years ago when my lawyer suggested I take an anger management course before the court ordered one for me. He had malicious destruction of personal property charges dropped on a technicality after some bastard blocked in my car when I was late for an important meeting. After the fact, I wasn’t proud of how I’d used my car to slam his out of the way. Yes, parking that close to my car had been a dickish move—but losing control had proven costly in time as well as legal fees. Working out with Jonny taught me to direct my frustration into something productive like a good workout. He’s helped me through some dark times.

  In retrospect I realize I shouldn’t have invited Ben into this corner of my life.

  When I’m pounding a fist into a bag or sparring in the ring, everything is clear to me. There is no emotion, just release. Ben was supposed to hate the experience. It should have sent his granola and almond milk ass scuttling back to Bachelor Tower.

  I don’t know what box to stick him in. He’s not a man who takes pleasure in exerting power. He says he thinks Bachelor Tower is better since I showed up.

  I don’t think he’s a liar. He doesn’t look like the type who would be good at it.

  I shouldn’t have punched him in the head. Not something every girl can say on a first date. If this were a date. Which it is not.