course.
The two had ended up saving each other—and her brother—and generated enough steam to power Long Island.
It was also clear that they were hopelessly in love.
Liam had no illusions about love. He’d watched his father blow through women his entire life. He’d watched his mother harden her heart after she’d had it broken more times than he could count, and then introduced him to her younger and younger boyfriends.
Since Liam had found success, women threw themselves at him so often it got tiring.
But as he stared at Zane and Monroe, he felt a sharp pang in his chest. Bloody hell. He was jealous.
Suddenly, standing there in the middle of Central Park, pulse still elevated and running gear soaked with sweat, he realized that he wanted a Monroe. He wanted a smart, funny woman who was totally in love with him the way Monroe loved Zane. And the woman did love Zane, not his wealth or the trappings of it.
“You okay, Kensington?”
Liam glanced at Mav. “Sure.” He took another swig of water.
He hadn’t had a relationship longer than a month or two in a long time. He loved women, in all their many shapes and varieties, and he’d indulged that. When he looked in the mirror, he was afraid he’d start to see his father.
The water curdled in his gut.
Rupert chased anything in a skirt. Since he’d separated from his third wife, there had been an endless parade of young women. Liam dragged in a breath. Hell, it had probably been going on since before his separation.
Liam had no desire to be anything remotely like his father.
But one thing you couldn’t escape was the blood in your veins.
“Next race, I’m beating your British ass,” Mav said.
Liam shook off his thoughts. “Not bloody likely, but you’re welcome to try. Maybe we’ll add a side bet. The loser has to double their donation to the charity.”
Mav nodded. “Deal.”
They both looked at Zane and Monroe. The pair were still kissing.
“Those two ooze love pheromones,” Liam said.
Mav grunted.
Liam smiled. “Careful or you might catch the love bug.”
“Never,” Mav growled.
Mav had fallen for a pretty, young thing in college. He’d been on the verge of making serious money after the sale of some fancy computer chip. Needless to say, the young lady had been a very clever gold-digger. Mav had gotten burned, and since then, he fucked, but let no woman get close. Ever.
Liam watched Monroe stroke Zane’s cheek.
For some reason, he thought of a certain blonde who worked in his marketing department.
He squelched that thought. He barely knew Penn Channing, and she worked for him. End of story. She’d attended a fundraiser Monroe and Zane had organized a few days ago. When a man had gotten violent, Penn had taken the guy down without batting an eyelid.
And Liam couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her.
“You want that?” Mav tilted his head at Zane and Monroe.
“Maybe.” Liam straightened. “But I’d have to find the right woman first. She needs to be beautiful, talented, smart, funny—”
“Jesus, you’re a perfectionist snob sometimes, Kensington.”
“I like quality.” Liam sniffed. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Like those damn Saville Row suits you collect.”
“British tailors are exceptional at what they do. That’s just a fact.”
Mav snorted. “Come on, Brit. I’ll buy you a drink. Next time, when I win the race, you’ll owe me one.”
Liam shook his head. Mav hated losing. He glanced at the crowd and saw some photographers. Most were busy snapping shots of Zane and Monroe. It was big news that one of the billionaires was off the market.
That’s when Liam noticed that one of the photographers had a giant camera lens pointed his way. Not unusual. He was used to photographers, and tolerated the press, even when more often than not they were a pain in his ass. This man had a dark-green ball cap pulled low over his face, and no press pass around his neck.
“Hey, lovebirds,” Mav said. “Quit making out and let’s get a drink.”
Zane discreetly shot Mav the finger, but set a smiling Monroe down.
When Liam glanced back at the photographer, the man was gone. Liam straightened. “Let’s drink.”
Aspen
“What did you do to my mascara, Briar?”
“Nothing. I didn’t touch it! I used your eyeliner though. And your blush. And your bronzer.”
“Stay out of my makeup!”
I rolled over and squinted at my alarm clock. It was still early, but the twins were up, gracing me with their morning serenity.
Stretching, I started to roll over, but then I remembered that text from Nexus. Today, they were finally going