Ronan, the middle Murphy brother, was also currently distracted by his, so he said, inconvenient attraction to Joa, his temporary nanny.
Finn’s brothers’ preoccupation with their women suited Finn; it took their attention off him—BASE jumping, Finn, are you mad? Shark diving without a cage? You take too many risks—and he was grateful for the reprieve. They didn’t understand his need for adrenaline, his willingness to push the envelope.
He didn’t understand why, after experiencing div
orce and death, they were even flirting with love and commitment, so he considered them even.
To Finn, handing over his heart was the biggest risk of all. Allowing oneself to be vulnerable was, to him, the most dangerous thing one could do.
He’d tried love once but hadn’t allowed himself to go all the way, to risk everything, with Beah. And, not surprisingly, their marriage had crashed and burned.
Carrick pulled back the cuff to his designer jacket to check his watch. “Cummings will want to talk art with you. He’s a bit of an art history and science buff. Just go along with it. Beah and I will jump in if you start getting...impatient.”
Finn knew Carrick wanted to add irritated.
But holding an intellectual conversation with one of the world’s wealthiest collectors of art, in front of Beah—the woman who still starred in his every sexual fantasy—was going to be a challenge.
“I saw your email saying you are wanting to take some vacation time in a few weeks. Where are you going?” Carrick asked.
“Ice climbing in Colorado.”
Three, two, one...
“Is that safe?” Carrick asked, frowning.
Well, no. Because if it was safe, Finn wouldn’t be doing it. Half the fun of adventure sports was the risk. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, risk his heart, but he had no problem putting his body on the line.
Because when he stood on the knife-edge of danger, that was when he felt most alive. And, yeah, he liked the excitement of achieving something exceptional. The complete focus the sports required also switched off his washing-machine brain, and it was his way to stop thinking, analyzing, planning.
And the dopamine rush kicked ass...
“Aren’t you scared something will happen?”
Finn considered the question. Sure, it was a factor, but he didn’t let fear stop him. “You know we can’t control the future, Carrick. Bad things happen.”
Carrick didn’t reply and Finn knew he was thinking of their past, the many tragedies the Murphy siblings had been forced to handle. The world saw them as this successful, rich, we-have-the-world-at-our-feet family but people rarely remembered the hell they’d walked through, hand in hand.
But they’d stuck together and yeah, here they were. Scarred, battered, but still a unit, still stronger together than they could ever be apart.
Yet their pasts had shaped them, had molded him. All his siblings had their issues; Finn didn’t like how love made him feel vulnerable and he knew it was better, easier, less risky, to hold back than to love someone completely.
It was better, safer, to keep his distance than to love someone and lose them.
Rolling his shoulders, Finn sent Carrick a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry so much, Carrick. Nothing is certain, so we might as well live in the present and not worry about the future. Besides, I plan on being around for a long time, if only to keep annoying you and Ronan.”
“Cummings is here,” Carrick said, standing up. “Play nice.”
Finn rose to his feet and buttoned his suit jacket. He rearranged his face into what he hoped was a genial smile as he watched the tall, thin man cross the room. Catching a flash of cobalt blue behind him, Finn moved his gaze from the art collector to the bold redhead talking to the maître d’, wild curls pulled back into a ruthlessly tight chignon.
Her makeup was perfect, hiding the spray of freckles on her nose and cheeks, and her once-lush, curvy body was fifteen pounds lighter.
Finn felt his stomach twist. Beah looked older, sleek and sophisticated, every inch the successful London businesswoman. Wildly attractive but cool, remote...
He couldn’t help wondering whether anything remained of his arty, curly haired, impulsive wife.
Ex-wife.
You speak many languages, Murphy, you can remember she’s your ex-wife.