Page 9 of Backup Plan

We couldn’t possibly take Liam up on his generous offer.

He flashes a card in front of some reader before he pushes the button for the sixteenth floor out of seventeen total, and as the doors close, it feels like this elevator is too small for the two of us.

I break the silence with a question. “So you live by yourself and have a four-bedroom place?”

He chuckles. “And I’m only here about half the year.”

“Why such a big place?” I wonder aloud.

“Honestly, the views.” He shrugs. “My place is two floors, and the balcony is too. My front door is accessible from the sixteenth floor, there’s a doorman, it’s a good part of town, and this building is quiet and secure. I guess it just had everything I was looking for when I was ready to get out of the Bradley Mansion.”

“Consider me jealous.” I smirk.

“I already offered to have you move in while you get on your feet, so it could be all yours, too.” He smirks back, and something in his smirk makes him look…older. Hotter. Not like my best friend’s brother.

I blow out a breath as I try to gather my wits about me. This is perfectly innocent. He just said to me on the sidewalk that he’s having fun with me. He’s just being friendly.

We get to his floor, and even his front door is fancy. He unlocks it and holds it open, indicating I should walk in first, and I’m immediately blown away.

I mean, I live in a fairly nice house in Lincoln Park. We bought the place for two million several years ago, and it’s only appreciated in value in the time we’ve lived there.

But this?

This is something else, from the hardwood floors to the wrought-iron staircase to the wall of windows looking out over the darkness of Lake Michigan.

“Wow, Liam,” I murmur. “This is incredible.”

God, just the thought of my kids and those stairs has a shudder of fear darting down my spine. I could see Benji taking colorful Sharpies to the white walls, and Sammy would take one look at the railings and consider it a personal challenge to ride down them only for his brother to follow in his footsteps but inevitably end up either bleeding or breaking a bone.

“The primary bedroom, the office, and my weight room are upstairs,” he says, nodding up the stairs. “The guest room is down here along with my kitchen, dining room, and family room.”

“It’s a nice setup.”

“Come on in,” he says. He leads me through the front hall toward the kitchen, and I stand by the table in the breakfast nook looking out the windows, imagining how gorgeous it must be in the daylight. He grabs another beer from the fridge. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe some water,” I ask.

He grabs me a bottle, twists the cap, and brings it over to me.

“Thanks,” I say. I chug a few sips and set the bottle on the kitchen table, and it looks out of place since there’s nothing else on the table.

He takes a long pull from the bottle of beer, and he sets it on the counter.

“Come check out the view from my balcony,” he says.

He leads me out a door on the other side of the kitchen. The air is colder up here, and the wind whips more, but even in the dark, the view is something spectacular.

I turn toward him to say that, but he catches me off guard when I find him staring at me.

My brows dip together, and I’m about to ask him what he’s looking at when he takes a step toward me.

“Fuck it,” he mutters. He wraps an arm around my waist, hauls me into him, angles his head down, and brushes his nose along mine.

“Liam,” I say softly, trying to be the voice of reason.

The pull causing my thighs to clench together is working hard to negate that voice.

“We can’t do this,” I say softly.