For one long moment, everyone stared. Then Jeremy began to splutter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, Will. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to.” The boy’s face had crumpled, and his eyes were tearing up.
Harper leaped to him, bending to retrieve the camera. “It wasn’t your fault, Jeremy. I should have put the strap over your head.” She looked at the crack in the view screen and grimaced at Will. “We’ll replace it.”
“It’s just a cheap model,” Will said as he crossed to her side. An image of his shoes filled the viewfinder, and the crack was a short diagonal line across the upper right corner.
“Don’t make me go home, Will. I’m sorry. I won’t touch anything else. Promise.” Jeremy crossed his heart.
Will put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and made sure he was looking straight into his eyes as he said, “It’s okay, Jeremy. It was an accident.”
A tear slid down Jeremy’s cheek, and Will felt a rip in his heart. How many times had the kid been punished for accidents that weren’t his fault? Never by Harper, he knew, but it was a cruel world out there, with little tolerance for people who didn’t measure up. And Will should know, since he hadn’t always been tolerant, hadn’t always been kind. And others had paid the price.
Will took the camera, switched it to display mode, then clicked on the last photo to show it to Jeremy and Harper. Her brother had captured a shot with Will’s arm locked across Harper’s waist, her hand over his as if she were holding him there. It hinted at an intimacy he craved to make real.
But this moment was about Jeremy, so Will told him, “See, it still works.”
Beside him, Harper sighed with relief. He gave her the camera as Jeremy whispered, “You’re not mad?”
“Of course I’m not mad. We’re buddies. Buddies don’t get mad at stupid stuff.” Which brought him back to Evan, who was still standing in the open barn door. “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”
His friend raised his palms in surrender, a manila envelope in his right hand. “I didn’t mean to surprise everyone.”
They’d been friends since the sixth grade, when they’d first become the Mavericks. Evan had been a fifth grader, along with Matt, while Sebastian, Daniel, and Will were a year older. Evan’s brains were huge, and as a kid, people had called him a nerd. Though with his broad, muscular frame, he now looked more like a professional athlete rather than the financial wizard behind the Mavericks.
Evan gave Jeremy a lopsided grin. “Sorry I scared you. I’m Evan Collins.”
“Hi.” Jeremy’s voice was overly loud in the barn. “I’m Jeremy.”
Evan switched the envelope to his left hand and shook Jeremy’s. Then he swiveled his gaze to Harper, clear male appreciation lighting his eyes. “And you are?”
“Harper Newman.” She put her hand out, too, and shook his. “Jeremy’s my brother.”
Will didn’t like seeing Evan’s hand curve around Harper’s. Not because he thought Evan was going to try to swoop in and claim her, given that his friend had a wife to whom he was one hundred percent faithful. No, it was simply that Will wasn’t ready to share Harper yet, not even with his friends, who would be full of raised eyebrows and silent questions, just like Evan was right now.
What’s more, he didn’t want any of them to remind him that he had no business romancing a nice girl like her. Not when he was already well aware of that fact. And not when he’d already spent sleepless nights torn between wanting to do the right thing...and just plain wanting her.
“Nice meeting both of you,” Evan said, his voice low and powerful, a Maverick through and through.
“What do you need?” Will knew he was being abrupt, but his friend had just caused Harper to jump out of his arms, and he hadn’t yet forgiven Evan for it.
“I brought the Link contract for your signature.”
While each of the Mavericks had their own enterprises, they often entered joint ventures. This new agreement would fund Link Labs, a startup for a state-of-the-art, and affordable, personal robot. Matt, being the robotics guy in their group, saw huge potential in the field, and they’d all bought into it.
“Thanks, but you didn’t need to bring it by personally.”
Evan shrugged. “I felt like a drive.”
Figuring there was trouble in paradise, but that his friend wouldn’t want to talk about it around Harper and Jeremy, Will headed to the workbench and pulled out the document to scan it quickly before initialing the changes. He knew Evan was meticulous and didn’t make mistakes. Not with business matters, anyway.
“So what’s going on here?” Evan gestured toward the frame.
“Will and I are building a Birdcage Maserati.” Jeremy skittered across the floor to the front end, his enthusiasm back, the incident with the camera thankfully forgotten. “It was my idea, and Will agreed.”
“And you’re supervising?” Evan asked Harper.
Obviously catching the way his friend’s eyes moved between her and Will, her mouth tightened slightly. She put her arm around Jeremy, who quickly squirmed away as if it was too childish. “Jeremy recently wrote Mr. Franconi asking if he could see the car collection.”
Mr. Franconi? What was up with that?
“And Mr. Franconi was gracious enough to invite us to participate in his car project.”
If she said Mr. a third time, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. She was obviously trying to act like the only thing between them was a business arrangement. Anything but a relationship. But as much as he didn’t want Evan’s questions right now—and as much as he was trying to be careful not to push her too fast—Will sure as hell wasn’t going back to being Mr. Franconi.
He scrawled his signature and shoved the agreement back into the envelope, then stalked the few paces to Harper’s side, where he draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her into him.
“Here you go.” He handed the envelope to Evan with one hand and played with the ends of Harper’s hair with the other. “We’re going to start punching holes in the sheet metal. Want to help?”
He was sure Evan would rather watch the endless loop of a ticker tape. Cars didn’t interest his friend. Evan drove a luxury vehicle for the roominess and the comfort—and because Whitney liked to travel in style—but otherwise, he couldn’t care less.
True to form, he said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to drop in on Sebastian for the last signature. Nice to meet both of you. I hope I’ll see you again.”
“’Bye, Evan.” Jeremy waved big, his whole body getting into the action.
Just as Evan was engulfed by the bright sunshine, Harper elbowed Will in the ribs. Oh yeah, there’d be hell to pay for his little stunt.
But as long as it was Harper dishing it out, he’d look forward to every second.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What was that about?
Harper glared at Will. He’d deliberately made it appear as though they were a lot more than acquaintances in front of his friend and fellow Maverick. Evan was a very good-looking man, but even so, Harper thought he didn’t hold a candle to Will.
“I think you’d better start punching your holes,” she said flatly. Or she might punch him.
He was barely stifling a grin and she knew for sure that he’d been showing off to his friend. Or staking a claim. And she’d felt…
“All right, Jeremy, time to get started.” Will reached into a large wooden crate set against the wall. “We’ll work on the firewall first. That’s the panel protecting the cockpit.”
“I remember, Will.” Jeremy followed him back to the workbench, where the long piece of metal was laid out, its top curved.
What had she felt?
Harper thought of Will’s teasing and the feel of his body against her back. Every hard inch of it. His nearness had turned her insides to liquid. The final photo Jeremy snapped had exposed a woman flushed with desire. She’d looked—and felt—wanton. Sexual. Wild. And very willing. Way too willing, especially since she hadn’t even decided yet whether to let him make good on any of his wicked intentions.
The possessive arm Will had put around her after he’d signed the contract had clearly stated that he knew how tempted she was. And he’d had no qualms about letting his friend know it, too—as if she were some sort of conquest.
God. She must seem so easy to him. To both of them. Take her to dinner, flash around a little money, throw out a few sexy caresses—and she was about to cave.
“This is a fan spacer.” Will laid the accordion-style metal tool against the edge of a ruler he’d placed along the sheet’s edge. “We use it to make sure the rivet holes are equally spaced.” He fanned the spacer, a series of crisscrossed metal strips that could be adjusted, with a small hole at the end of each piece. As Will pulled, the spacers widened. “That measures one inch. Now we use a spring-loaded punch to mark where we’re going to drill. Like this.” Jeremy craned to watch as Will punched a small, sharp tool through each of the equidistant spacers.