Page 29 of Temptation at His Door

Finn knocked on the door frame to Ronan’s office and, when his brother raised his head, instantly realized that Ronan was nursing a hell of a hangover. At one point Finn and Carrick had been worried about Ronan’s fondness for drowning his grief in a bottle of Jack, but after six months, he’d cut down on his consumption of alcohol and started to be the father his boys needed. Within the year, he was back to being the social drinker they all were.

Finn stepped into his office and, because he could, raised his voice. “Hey, bro! How was the auction?”

Ronan leaned back in his chair and held up his hand. “Not so loud, dammit.”

Finn grinned and dropped into the chair on the opposite side of his desk. “You look like crap.”

“I feel like crap.”

Ronan’s honest reply surprised Finn. Wondering what had sent him to the bottle, he scrolled through his computer-like memory, searching for a reason Ronan needed to drown his sorrows. It wasn’t the anniversary of his wedding or Thandi’s death, it wasn’t her birthday. Sam and Aron were fine and Carrick was in his office down the hall, some of his attention on work but most of it on Sadie, the attractive art detective. Finn knew they were sleeping together, that much was obvious, but he suspected that his oldest brother wasn’t managing to keep their affair surface based.

Finn was sure Carrick was, as millennials liked to say, catching feelings.

Apart from Carrick’s love life, it was, as far as he knew, just a normal day at the beginning of February in cold and wet Boston. “How was the Beijing auction?” Finn asked, placing his ankle on his opposite knee.

“Some lots were pulled but the five-hundred-year-old Ming vase made bank.”

“Did it break the record?”

Ronan managed a smile. “Itshatteredthe record by a million five.”

“Nice.” Finn grinned. “Did your Mandarin pass muster?”

“Mostly. If I need a lesson in humility, speaking Chinese is a good way to get it.” Ronan rubbed his forehead. “Those damn words that sound the same—”

“—homophones—”

Ronan pointed a finger at him and nodded. “Those. I swear they invented them to confuse us foreigners.”

“It’s all about the tone,” Finn told him but knew he was speaking to a brick wall. Ronan was competent but he wasn’t a natural linguist. He wasn’t like Finn, who was fascinated by language, words and puzzles.

Finn tended to absorb too much information too quickly, and when that happened, he found the easiest way to slow down was to do something that took him totally out of his big brain. Since his teens adventure sports were his way to blow off a whole bunch of steam.

Talking of...

“Don’t freak—” Ronan would freak, of course he would “—but I’m going to Colorado this weekend.”

Ronan shot him a hell-no look. “Heli-skiing? Black diamond runs?”

Not this time but he’d do both before winter ended. “Ice climbing.”

“What the hell is ice climbing?” Ronan demanded.

“We climb ice formations such as frozen waterfalls, using axes and other specialized climbing equipment.”

Finn saw Ronan’s jaw clench. “And have you tried this before?”

Yeah, sort of. But he wasn’t about to admit that to his highly overprotective brother. “Sure.”

“Liar.” Ronan put his elbows on his desk and his head between his hands. “You’re giving me a headache, Finn.”

“You had a headache when I walked in,” Finn said, rising to his feet. If that was all the grief he was going to get, he’d take it. He really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. But he couldn’t help wondering what had put his brother in a foul mood and sent him to the bottle.

Finn was nearly at the door when Ronan spoke again. “I heard you saw Beah in London.”

Finn tensed, as he always did when he heard his ex-wife’s name. A stupid reaction since Beah was as much a part of Murphy’s as he was.

“Yeah.”

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