Love Slave for Two Collection [Box Set 7]

by Tymber Dalton

  “Asshole.” Thomas rummaged through a cabinet. “What do I take for my head and stomach?”

  Tyler reached around him and grabbed a box. “Take that, follow the instructions. Then two pieces of wheat toast, dry—that means no butter, dear—and a large glass of water. To start. Let that settle your stomach and we’ll go from there.”

  Thomas squinted at the box. Tyler sighed and took it from him. He fixed the remedy, dropping the tablets in a glass of water then handed it to Thomas. “Wait until it dissolves, then bottoms up.”

  “I’ll up your bottom when I’m feeling better,” Thomas grumped.

  “Yes, that’s a great comfort, love. You could have upped my bottom last night had you not been drunk as a skunk.” He handed Thomas the bread. “I assume you can toast it yourself?”

  Thomas nodded. Tyler rooted through another cabinet, found a box of ginger tea. “Make yourself a cup of this. It’ll help settle your tummy. No coffee this morning.” He started down the hall. “Oh, when you’re done, go take a shower. You stink like a rancid brewery. I’ll have to change the sheets. It smells like someone spilled beer in the bed, you drank so much.”

  Thomas burped. “Oh, sorry. I did spill beer in the bed last night. You’d already gone to sleep.”

  Tyler shook his head in disgust and set off to change the sheets, muttering under his breath.

  * * * *

  Thomas felt nearly human by the time Tyler was ready to leave. He’d settled the worst of his upset stomach and made it into the shower.

  Tyler stepped into the bathroom. “I’m taking the truck.”

  “The Ford?”

  “No, the Ridgeline.”

  Thomas stuck his head out of the shower. “Why? You never drive the Ridgeline.”

  Tyler dangled the keys. “Because there is something psychologically impressive about showing up in a large, brand new vehicle. It speaks money and power. We have no idea what this moron is like, but the difference between that piece of shit he makes our poor Nevvie drive and your truck is the difference between Queen Elizabeth and King Kong. My Lexus, while nice, doesn’t give the same psychological advantage. Neither does the Ford. In other words, dear Thomas, size matters.”

  Thomas muttered “evil genius” under his breath and continued his shower.

  Tyler had made a few assumptions based on Nevvie and the car. She was always tidy, plain and understated, usually wearing men’s golf shirts a size too large. When he went shopping one day at Wal-Mart, they were on sale for only five dollars each, identical to the ones she wore, versus similar women’s shirts costing ten dollars or more. The next week after the sale she wore a new one, obviously recently purchased.

  She was broke.

  The boyfriend was a pig, the car proof of that from the way he left his things in it. She carried a small, practical purse, functional but not fashionable. Her shoes were also discount-store standard. Some of the shorts he imagined she either got on sale or bought them at thrift stores. Never short-short or incredibly tight—damn—usually mid-thigh or longer. She wore jeans on cooler mornings, but those were few and far between.

  She rarely wore make-up. She probably couldn’t afford it, but the truth was she didn’t need any. He found her creamy skin with a hint of freckles across her cheeks absolutely magnificent. The way she blushed when they paid her a compliment took his breath away. She had no idea they found her attractive.

  Attractive? Hell, she was his beautiful angel.

  Traffic was light—he’d expected as much. He’d driven by the apartment complex on Friday afternoon, horrified that their poor Nevvie lived in such a place. Best to get that shock out of the way so he could keep a straight face when he met the man whose girl they were stealing.

  Suitcase City was the common term for an area sandwiched between the University of South Florida and University Square Mall. Run-down, low-rent apartments and high crime. The apartment complex’s better days were at least two decades past, and several junk cars took up parking spots along the cracked and weed-strewn asphalt. More dirt than grass populated the open areas, and paint peeled from the stucco walls in several different colors from the most current—beige—to a plumbago blue and baby poop yellow.

  He didn’t tell Thomas. If Thomas knew where she lived he’d insist on talking to her immediately, begging her to leave her boyfriend and live with them. Tyler didn’t know if Nevvie would take that step in such a sudden way.

  This called for finesse.

  Tyler had planned his arrival for twenty till ten. She might be ready, for all he knew. He expected her to be ready at least fifteen minutes early, eager to leave. Twenty minutes pushed it, but he willingly risked it to possibly speak with Alex for a few minutes, size him up.

  Tyler parked in an empty space next to the Escort.

  Pitiful.

  The Ridgeline was by far the nicest vehicle around.

  Nevvie lived in apartment 111. Tyler quickly found it, and Nevvie immediately replied to his knock.

  “Hold on!”

  Seconds later she opened the door, fully dressed and ready to go. Her welcoming smile couldn’t be denied a reply. Tyler idly wondered what the unshaven, shirtless, surly-looking man standing in the kitchen would think if he kissed Nevvie right in front of him. He looked at least twenty years older than her but it might have been from hard living. Nevvie kept the sparse apartment tidy and clean.

  He expected no less from his angel.

  “Hi, Tyler.”

  “Hello, dear. I’m sorry I’m early,” he lied, “but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t running late.”

  “That’s fine. Let me get my purse.”

  “You gonna innerduce me?” the Neanderthal grumped.

  Nevvie turned bright red. “Tyler Paulson, this is Alex LaRougue.”

  Tyler grabbed the bull by the bollocks. He strode over and stuck out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, sir. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Both lies, of course. It was neither nice to meet him, nor had they heard a lot about him. Although it was nice to see it wouldn’t be difficult to steal her away.

  Alex finally shook and Tyler didn’t give an inch when the man tried to turn it into a pissing contest of strength. Tyler would be damned if he’d flinch.

  The Neanderthal finally let go. “Yeah. Ain’t you a writer?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Have a good day, Nevaeh,” Alex muttered. Her name was beautiful, but the way the caveman said it sounded harsh and ugly.

  Nevvie hadn’t budged from the front door. “Yeah. I’ll be back later.” Tyler noted she didn’t say when.

  “Thank you for sharing her with us today.” Tyler winked, hoping it would piss Alex off. “We had a bunch of friends over for dinner and a poker game last night. As expected, our home looks like a bomb went off.”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  Tyler turned and walked to the door. “Shall we?”

  She smiled and followed him. Three steps outside, Tyler placed his hand on the small of her back, carefully timing his steps to match hers, hoping the jerk watched. They’d rounded the corner to the parking lot when Tyler heard him.

  “Nevaeh!”

  She cringed. Tyler wanted to take her into his arms and hold her.

  They turned and watched as the Neanderthal practically jogged across the commons, barefoot and still shirtless.

  “What, Alex?” Tyler noticed she didn’t look at her boyfriend. She stared at the ground with her jaw clenched. She didn’t just fear him—she loathed him. She’d made no attempt to kiss him goodbye or pay him any terms of endearment. Her smile had been for Tyler alone.

  “I need money. You didn’t leave any.”

  She turned bright red again and dug into her purse, practically flinging a twenty at him. “Here, it’s all I’ve got. I gave you the rest yesterday.”

  Without another word she turned and headed for the Ridgeline. Tyler followed, unlocking the door and holding it for her. With smug satisfaction, he not
ed the look of enraged impotence on Alex’s face. Tyler grinned and waved as they drove off.

  That’s right, arsehole. Watch the rich queer steal your girlfriend.

  * * * *

  “We need to make a couple of quick stops. Bob down to the bakery for some fresh bagels, and our Thomas is feeling less than stellar.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, he imbibed a little too much last night.”

  “Poor guy.”

  Tyler patted her hand and squeezed it, and didn’t let go. “Don’t worry, my dear. He’ll survive, but he won’t enjoy it for a day or so.”

  She squeezed back and hoped he didn’t let go. With Tyler holding her hand she could easily forget how mortified she’d been when Alex followed them. She’d kept the pendant hidden under her shirt so Alex wouldn’t see it. With her right hand, she quickly teased it out from under her collar.

  Tyler left his hand where it was. Every signal she sent screamed, “Rescue me!” If she’d let him hold her hand, he’d hold it until hell froze and re-thawed. Their first stop was a drugstore to get a few things for Thomas’ comfort. Their second, the Panera bakery on Bruce B. Downs Boulevard, near the mall.

  Nevvie must have thought he’d leave her in the truck. She looked surprised when he opened her door and offered his hand. He held the bakery door open and let her go first, then led her to the short line in front of the counter.

  “Are you in the mood for anything special, sweetheart?” He leaned in close, near her ear. She gripped his hand a little tighter. Bingo.

  She shook her head. He adored the way her skin flushed, not in embarrassment this time, but the cute pink that colored her cheeks and around her collarbone.

  “Anything special?” Yeah, how about you, naked, with a heaping side order of Thomas?

  Jesus, this was crazy! How could she feel like this about him? He would never in a million years want her, not with yummalicious Thomas in his bed every night.

  And he was gay.

  Duh.

  She’d glanced at their matching wedding bands many times, wishing she had one from either man.

  Hell, she wouldn’t mind both. Her sweet love gods.

  Tyler stood behind Nevvie, putting his hand on her waist and standing close. “Did you want coffee or anything?”

  Huh? Wake up, stupid! “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

  Tyler rested his chin on her shoulder. “I could make a few jokes about that, love,” he purred.

  She looked over her shoulder and studied his playful smile. Sweet Jesus, is he kidding? She didn’t know which was more dangerous—his blue eyes or British accent. He was in a great mood today, even better than usual. Flirtier than usual. Their eyes locked for a moment, making her decidedly damp between the legs. Then he looked away as they stepped forward to place their order.

  He moved his hand to get his wallet. Then he returned his hand to her waist and gently guided her to the pick-up counter.

  The clerk handed them their coffees. Of course he’d ordered something Nevvie loved. She carefully sipped hers, sneaking looks at Tyler over the lid. Then his eyes met hers again, and for a long, sultry moment he didn’t look away. She sensed he purposely held her gaze.

  When the clerk called his name for their order, Tyler winked at Nevvie. She involuntarily gasped when that simple, playful gesture made her quiver.

  * * * *

  On the drive back to the house, Tyler decided to probe a little. “Alex is an…interesting fellow.” Still not totally certain of her feelings for the arse, he carefully weighed how he said it.

  She turned bright red again. “He seemed like a good idea at the time.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t have a good track record.”

  “He’s older than you.” A statement, not a question.

  “Eighteen years. I met him in New Orleans, when I worked at the hotel. He worked in maintenance. I was training to work in the office.”

  “What attracted you to him?”

  She shrugged and stared out the window. “When he moved in I could pay the rent again.” She finally looked at Tyler and her voice dropped. “Like I said, I don’t have a good track record.”

  Tyler patted her thigh and left his hand there, sensing he shouldn’t push more on the topic at that moment. She took his hand and held on.

  He changed his approach. “You know, I’ve always meant to ask about your name. It’s beautiful. What does it mean?” Of course he knew this, or suspected he did. He’d spent an hour Googling it when she first started working for them.

  “It’s ‘heaven’ spelled backwards. My mom came up with it when they adopted me.”

  “You’re adopted?” Tyler hoped his surprise didn’t show. He didn’t know that about her. In fact, he didn’t know much about her history. She rarely mentioned her background.

  Nevvie’s voice developed a bitter edge. “I didn’t know until I turned fifteen, when my mother and stepfather turned me over to a cousin. My dad—adopted dad—died when I was eight. I hated my stepdad, and the feeling was mutual.”

  Tyler’s brain whirled, a lot of pieces fitting into place in Nevvie’s puzzle. He didn’t need to push her any further right then.

  “Well, sweetheart, you bring a slice of heaven to Thomas and myself every week.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. When she smiled in return, it lifted his heart.

  She would be theirs. Now he knew exactly how to approach it.

  * * * *

  “Uh, wow. You guys did have a party.” Nevvie paused at the front door and surveyed the debris.

  It went against every fiber of Tyler’s being to allow their guests to make a mess, but he’d choked back the urge to clean up.

  Thomas leaned against the kitchen counter. At least he was vertical. “Yeah. The First Annual Kinsey-Paulson Pulled Pork Poker Party was a success.”

  Nevvie laughed. “Try saying that five times fast.”

  “Don’t worry about the grill,” Tyler said. “Thomas and I will clean that.” He put the bags on the counter and handed one to Thomas. “Things for your hangover, love.” Tyler set out bagels and cream cheese and made Nevvie eat before starting her chores.

  Tyler watched Nevvie throughout the day. Thomas, practically useless and still suffering from a headache, grumpily went to lie down after lunch. Tyler noticed how Nevvie slowed as the day progressed, not from exhaustion, but deliberately stretching her time with them.

  He walked to their bedroom and closed the door behind him. “Thomas, are you conscious?”

  Thomas nodded from the bed. “I’m awake, but I’m not in the mood.”

  “You stupid sod. We need to talk to Nevvie this afternoon.”

  Thomas sat up. “What?”

  Tyler dropped his voice. “Before I take her home, we’re going to proposition her.”

  He focused on Tyler for a moment. “You’re talking the job, not sex?”

  “Yes, Thomas, and would you like ‘Even More Reasons Not to Drink’ for five hundred?”

  He collapsed to the bed. “I’m going to kill Eddie.”

  “Not his fault you got snockered.” Tyler sat next to him. “I’m serious. We need to ask her today, move her in as soon as possible.”

  “What’s going on, Ty? What did you see this morning?”

  Tyler studied his hands. “Let’s just say we need to act sooner rather than later.” He met Thomas’ now-steady gaze. “We’ll ask her to be our full-time housekeeper, to be my personal assistant, and to work at your office part-time.”

  Thomas rubbed his head. “That bad, huh?”

  “Let me do the talking, love.”

  “Duh.”

  * * * *

  Nevvie didn’t want the day to end. It was after four, and Alex had called her cell once already. She’d let it go straight to voice mail, not wanting him to ruin her day. He probably wanted to come pick her up now that he’d seen Tyler and the truck, to show his ass and try to intimidate her boys.

  If she didn’t know any better she
’d think Tyler drove the Ridgeline on purpose to goad Alex. Tyler never drove Tom’s truck, preferring his elegant Lexus sedan.

  Tyler insisted she stay for dinner. After washing the dishes, they all sat at the table, Tyler on her left and Thomas on her right.

  They were cute, like mismatched bookends you knew were perfect for each other. Tyler’s sandy brown hair bordered on blond and held the barest traces of grey at the temples. It was smooth and looked silky soft, neatly styled and just long enough to run your fingers through and have enough to hold on to. He looked thirty, not nearly forty. Thomas kept his wavy dark brown hair trimmed shorter than Ty’s, and she imagined if he let it get long it would be a hideous mess. He kept it at the perfect length, just long enough the texture allowed him to wash and run his hands through it.

  Tyler took her hand. Jesus, those blue eyes. Deep and sweet like the Caribbean Sea.

  “Nevvie, we need to talk with you about something serious.”

  Her heart sank. Oh please, don’t fire me!

  He glanced at Thomas and squeezed her hand. “We would like to discuss a new arrangement with you.”

  Huh? “What? You’re not firing me?”

  Tyler’s face went blank, then the men laughed. “Fire you? Are you mad? We would never fire you, sweetheart!”

  He hugged her. Her relief was so strong and piercing she nearly cried.

  Still holding her hand, he paused as if composing his thoughts. “Nevvie, we are very fond of you, if you haven’t already guessed. We truly consider you part of our family. Thomas and I are in need of a full-time personal assistant. It takes too much of my time for the day-to-day things around here, and write and take care of email and phone calls. His assistant at work is preparing to go on maternity leave, so he’s short-handed as well.”

  She nodded, not quite following him. She only cared that they weren’t firing her.

  “What we’d like to suggest is this. We feel very comfortable with you. We trust you, you respect our privacy, and your personality matches ours. We love you, Nevvie. You mean the world to us. Frankly, we hate seeing you leave every week.”