Winston Brothers 04 Wild

by Lori Foster

  Using the tip of one finger, Zane brought her gaze around to his. His brown eyes, shadowed by his lashes, were dark with annoyance. "Do you have a problem following orders?"

  Unsure whether she should be outraged or incredulous, Tamara leveled a look on him. "You've got to be kidding, right?"

  His brows snapped down. "I specifically told you to wait upstairs."

  Tamara leaned back to stare at him in disbelief. "Surely you never, for one second, thought you could give me orders?"

  Zane glanced up at her uncle, who held out both hands, wisely refusing him any help. Tamara waited.

  With an exaggerated sigh, Zane said, "I can see we're going to have to work out a few ground rules."

  "Absolutely, but later." She was beginning to notice the mess around her. An enormous box of erotic books she'd purchased from an estate sale had fallen from a top shelf. They were everywhere, a few of the spines broken, some pages torn.

  She hadn't had a chance to assess the value of all the books yet. Some of them seemed very old, maybe even antique. A collector might pay a high price for them—if they hadn't been destroyed by the fall.

  Thank God she'd already moved the journal upstairs. In truth, it was probably worth less than any of the other books. But Tamara found it fascinating reading, and beyond value to her personally. "What happened here? Are you sure no one hit you?"

  Zane worked his jaw as if only the clench of his teeth held his temper at bay. "No, there was no one here. No intruder, no spirit. You must have put the books too close to the edge of the shelf, and they fell. That's the racket you heard. I tripped over the damn things, and you tripped over me."

  It seemed very unlikely to her that the books would have fallen suddenly. She'd bought the box of books almost two months ago, and they'd been on the shelf ever since. They hadn't shown any sign of toppling before now.

  Tamara rubbed her bruised elbow. "Where are you hurt?"

  "I conked my head is all. It dazed me for a second." Zane took her hand and pulled her arm straight so he could examine her elbow. "At least you landed on me rather than the hard floor."

  Tamara blinked at him. "News flash, Zane. You're no exactly cushiony."

  To her amazement, he brushed off her elbow, ran his thumb over it twice, then pressed a soft kiss to the red spot. In a voice far too intimate, considering her uncle stood close by at full alert, he asked, "Does it hurt?"

  She nearly melted on the spot. Her insides turned to liquid, problems faded away under the impact of his touch.

  The intruder had been at it again, she just knew it. But for the first time since the trouble had started, she really didn't give a damn.

  Zane Winston wanted her. For tonight, that was enough.

  Thanos hauled them to their feet. "None of that, now," he said to Zane. "You keep your lips to yourself until Tamara's aunts and I have had time to consider this."

  Zane raised a brow at Tamara, who sighed theatrically. "There's nothing to consider, Uncle Thanos, so back off."

  "Not this time, sweetie. There's a lot going on here, what with the trouble and ghosts." He eyed Zane. "How do we know who's involved and who isn't?"

  "Thanos!" Tamara looked prepared to have a full-fledged fit, and Zane meant to forestall that occurrence. Already his head ached from connecting with the concrete floor, and other parts of him ached, thanks to Tamara's bold curiosity and soft little hands. He couldn't take a family brawl right now.

  "I'm here because she asked me to be," Zane pointed out, "and I wouldn't do anything to her that she didn't want me to do." He hoped to reassure Thanos, and at the same time spoke only the truth. From what Tamara had said to him, she wanted a lot, all of it sexual. That suited Zane just fine.

  Tamara gasped as if she'd known his exact thought, but Thanos laughed out loud. "Ah, now there's the rub. What our little Gypsy lacks in dark looks, she makes up for with darker passion and an imagination that boggles the mind.

  Zane eyed her. "Dark passion, huh?" He wasn't sure he liked hearing that. How many men had come before him? Had she seduced them as the Gypsy, or as the angel? And exactly what had her imagination dredged up that could boggle the mind? His mind was pretty damn creative, all on its own.

  That's enough out of both of you!" Tamara looked beyond Thanos, then put her hands to her head. "Here come Eva and Olga. This night is never going to end. Zane felt his smile slip. Did she mean her relatives intended to hang around a little longer? That wouldn't do. He wanted her now. Right this instant. He was willing to wait a few minutes more . . . but the whole night? He snorted.

  Tamara gave him a pathetic, helpless look, and nodded. Damn it, if she didn't stop reading his thoughts, he'd—

  Olga suddenly came around Thanos and threw her skinny arms around Zane with an exuberant hug. "Zane! Thank God you were here, young man." Then she thrust him back and demanded shrilly, "What did you see? What did Hubert look like? Is he well?"

  Eva shook her head. "Olga, Hubert is dead. How can he be well, for pity's sake?" Then to Zane, "Was he ethereal? Wispy? Or was he as solid and substantial as ever?"

  She turned to Tamara without waiting for Zane to answer. "You know Hubert always was a stocky man. Thick in the chest."

  He'd landed in bedlam, Zane decided. In precise tones, so no one would misunderstand, he said, "There was no ghost. No Uncle Hubert. No intruder." Waving a hand, he indicated the books scattered everywhere. They were dusty and old, some of the yellowed pages lying loose. "The books fell, that's all."

  Olga peered at the books. "Wonder if Hubert pushed them down."

  Eva nodded enthusiastically. "Probably did. Hubert never was one much for reading."

  "No." Tamara stood like a small amazon, hands on her hips. "For the last time, it's not Hubert. It's a . . . well, a man, probably, though I suppose it could be a woman."

  Zane surveyed her serious expression and swallowed his impatience. "What makes you think a man would break in here? For what purpose? To steal your books?"

  "No, of course not. But...." She hesitated, then shrugged. "Never mind. It's not your concern, and I don't want to involve you."

  Zane felt like he'd been slapped. Damn her, he hadn't even wanted to be involved, not until she tried to exclude him. First she'd propositioned him, then insulted him, and now she was shutting him out. He matched her stance, fists on his hips, legs braced apart. "I'm making it my concern."

  "No."

  That did it. Zane's temper exploded and he glared down at her. In a near shout, he said, "You're saying that cursed word more and more! I think I liked it better when you stayed quiet and mysterious."

  Eva clapped her hands together. "That's what we keep telling her! She's not nearly mysterious enough." Olga agreed. "She's too . . . blonde."

  Laughing to himself, Thanos added, "And green-eyed." Zane wished her meddlesome relatives elsewhere, but obviously his wishes meant very little.

  "That's enough on my appearance." Tamara's tone was stern, bordering on brittle. She started to smooth her wayward curls, then caught herself and sent Zane a crooked smile meant to placate. "I guess you should be going." She nodded toward her aunts. "The family and I have a lot to discuss."

  Now she hoped to dismiss him. Crossing his arms over his chest, Zane propped himself against the door frame and stared impassively.

  Tamara frowned. She turned and took two steps toward the door. "C'mon, Zane." She sounded like she was enticing a pet. "It's time to go." She took two more steps.

  Zane yawned, then asked Thanos, "So what's been going on?"

  "Mischief," Thanos told him without hesitation. Tamara rushed back to her uncle's side.

  "Uncle Thanos, our family problems don't concern anyone else. I'll thank you—"

  Thanos threw a meaty arm around her shoulders and squeezed her till she squeaked. Zane started to protest, but Tamara had a long-suffering look on her face, as if she quite used to the rough affection. "You can thank me later, little one. For now, why don't you take your aunts upstairs and
get them settled while Zane and I talk things over? They've had an upset."

  "Tea," Olga hinted elaborately, "would be just the thing to settled the nerves."

  "Oh, no." Tamara pried herself out of Thanos's embrace and glared at him. "I'm not going to be dismissed like a...a..."

  "Female?" Zane supplied.

  "That's right!" Going on her tiptoes, she poked a finger into Thanos' s chest and said, "You can take them upstairs. I'm sure the three of you can manage a pot of tea. I'll pick up this mess."

  "I can't leave you alone here with the young lothario." Thanos shrugged. "He's looking at you like a hungry man looks at a juicy tart."

  "He is?" Tamara turned to Zane and examined his gaze. Now that she was the one feeling rattled, Zane relaxed a little. In fact, he tried for a leer so she wouldn't be disappointed.

  Tamara blushed as she turned back to her uncle and pushed on his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I can take care of myself, you know that."

  "Right." Thanos, ignoring her meager effort to shove him out of the room, looked over her head at Zane. "Give

  me your word there won't be any hanky-panky going on down here."

  Zane smiled lazily. He and Thanos were off to a fair start. "I never begin things I can't finish properly."

  For a moment, Thanos looked outraged, then his frown lifted and he laughed heartily. He thwacked Zane, near knocking him off his feet. "A man after my own heart."

  Catching Tamara under the chin, Thanos lifted her face and said, "I think he may just do for you, little one." He kissed her forehead. "But you do as I say. Mind your manners, and remember that your aunts and I will be right upstairs."

  Zane thought it would be near impossible to forget, considering they butted in more often than not. He imagined if they were anywhere in the vicinity, he wouldn't have guaranteed privacy. Which meant he'd have to wait tonight, no matter how it pained him. When he took Tamara, he wanted the whole night to enjoy himself, to indulge her every need. Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

  Tamara gazed at him, her eyes burning.

  Zane waited until Thanos had escorted both women from the room, then caught Tamara's arm and turned her toward him. "Are you reading my mind?"

  She looked startled, laughed a little too exuberantly. "First you accuse me of casting spells, and now I'm a mind reader?"

  Put that way, he felt just a little foolish. Until he looked into her eyes.

  She had the most incredible green eyes he'd ever seen. They were both sharp with intelligence and soft with innocence. It was a potent combination. Her lashes, a dusky brown, were thick and long, leaving exaggerated shadows over her high cheekbones. Her skin looked and felt incredibly soft, and her mouth.... Zane groaned softly and bent to kiss her.

  She opened her mouth right away, but Zane kept the kiss simple, light. He'd promised Thanos—and besides, he'd meant what he said. There was no point in making this more difficult on either of them.

  Against her lips, he said, "Tell me about this imagined intruder." Her small hands clung to his shoulders. "Not imagined."

  He let that pass. "Tell me, Tamara."

  She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. "I can think of a dozen things I'd rather talk about."

  "Such as?" Zane coasted a hand up and down her slender back. She was so sweet, so delicate. Her curves were subtle, but there, and very enticing.

  With his fingers spread, Zane's large hand spanned her back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. That fact was oddly exciting, exemplifying his harsh maleness to her elegant femininity. He imagined his rough hands on her breasts, her smooth belly, her silky inner thighs.

  Damn! Zane stroked her, his fingers barely touching her rounded hip—and he forced himself to stop. He drew a deep breath. "Tell me what you'd rather talk about."

  Tamara kissed his collarbone. "I'd like to talk about all the things I want to do to you." Her fingers felt cool on his heated skin, slipping over the nape of his neck, the of his shoulder. "I've been lying awake at night, think-about how I'd like to—"

  To save himself, Zane pressed a finger to her lips. His forehead touched hers. "Shh. Baby, if you talk like that, I'm not going to be able to keep my promise to Thanos."

  Tamara clutched at him, urging him on without even realizing it. "He shouldn't have asked for such a horrible promise."

  Zane laughed. "A horrible promise, huh?" He stroked her lips, then sighed. "Unfortunately, he's right, and you know it. Your downstairs is no place for an orgy when the upstairs is overloaded with relatives."

  A delicate little shudder went through her, and Tamara breathed, "Orgy?"

  Zane couldn't resist one more small kiss. He had a feeling he'd be dreaming about kissing her, and more, all night long. "An orgy of pleasure," he explained. "Any thoughts you've got, any sexual curiosities you want to appease, I'm all for it. Remember that."

  He deliberately stepped away from her and temptation. "But for now, I'll help you pick up this mess while you tell me why you're so set on believing an intruder is responsible. And don't leave anything out."

  Five

  Zane glanced at Tamara as he began gathering books. Her quick mood swings were almost amusing. Contrary to what he'd told her, he liked her honest reactions far more than the mysterious silence of her Gypsy self.

  Right now, she looked disgruntled and rebellious, but he knew in the end he'd win. He always did. His feelings for Tamara were too extreme for him to do less than maintain absolute authority. Considering the nature of their involvement, it'd be best for both of them that way.

  He had a stack of books back in the box before Tamara reluctantly began helping. "I don't have any positive proof of an intruder," she admitted, "or else my aunts wouldn't be convinced that it's Uncle Hubert come to haunt us."

  "Why would your uncle want to haunt you?" Zane gathered up one old relic that had more torn pages than not. He tried to get them back inside the cover in order, then gave up and just held them in his hand.

  "Uncle Hubert strongly believed our family has psychic power." She made a face. "Like the rest of the family, he was really into that sort of thing. We don't, of course, but he thought we did. My aunts are assuming he's haunting us because he thinks we could have predicted his death—so that he could avoid dying—but we didn't."

  Zane sat down and propped his back against the shelf where the box of books had been stacked. The shelf shifted slightly, obviously not sitting level. The old floor had sloped with age, and large cracks ran along the outside wall. "How did he die, if you don't mind me asking?"

  Tamara sat, too, crossing her legs tailor-style. "Hubert was a ladies' man, sort of a guru with a following. He got stuck in the sixties and never quite came out."

  "Ah. A flower child?"

  "Sort of. He was into tie-dye and tattoos and piercings and sex and . . . whatever felt good." She shrugged, but her disapproval was plain on her face. For a Gypsy, she was a prim little thing. "I told him time and again that he'd come to a bad end if he didn't clean up his act. My aunts think I cursed him somehow by saying it."

  Zane held himself very still. "But you can't curse anyone?"

  "Nope." She held up both hands. "You can stop fretting," she said with a frown. "I already told you, I'm incapable of any real powers."

  Looking at her, Zane wasn't at all sure he believed her. Whether she admitted it or not, she'd done something to him. Figuring out what was going to take some time.

  Tamara barely managed to control her annoyance. He silently applauded her restraint.

  "Still," she said, "they think Hubert believes he was cursed, because he was at a rock concert by his favorite group when a freak storm blew in."

  "He died in the storm?"

  "Actually, he died in a portable toilet, one of those little plastic houses they use on construction sites. The wind was fierce and knocked it over. He was inside and well .. . when they righted the Porta-Potti the next day, they found Hubert."

  Zane tapped the crumbling book on his knee. It was
n't really funny, yet he had the nearly uncontrollable urge to smile. Part of his mood was due to Tamara's expression. She looked so disapproving of her uncle. "Not exactly an auspicious way to go, huh?"

  "No." She glanced down at the book literally falling in his hands and reached for it. "I guess this one didn't hold up through the fall."

  An illustrated page fell out, and she stared. Zane released the smile he'd been holding, and grabbed the page before Tamara could. He lifted it for a closer look. "Ah. Exactly what have you been buying, Miss Tremayne?"

  Though her cheeks were bright pink, Zane gave her credit for trying to brazen out the situation. "I buy at estate sales in bulk, so sometimes I get things I hadn't planned on. Obviously what I got this time is erotica, as you can see."

  He turned the page, holding it eye level for her, and asked silkily, "Is this something you're interested in trying?"

  The illustration was an exaggerated depiction of a man and woman stretched out in the woods atop leaves and flowers, sharing oral pleasure. The ink sketch showed legs and arms in impossible positions, but there was no question about the enjoyment each derived; their eyes, the only facial features visible due to their carnal activity, were glazed with rapture.

  Tamara looked like she couldn't breathe, but then her gaze darkened and she peeked up at Zane. Before the words left her mouth, he knew what she would say. And still, hearing her say it, hearing the deepened timbre of her voice, shook him.

  "Would you . . . be interested in that?"

  Hell, yes. he'd be interested. The thought of tasting Tamara, of her tasting him.... Thinking it had almost the same effect as doing it. He felt burned.

  Zane stuck the picture inside the book and closed it. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, annoying him with the proof of his weakness where she was concerned. She left him breathless with just a few words. What the hell

  would it be like when he got inside her, when he could feel her squeezing him, hear her moaning, taste her excitement?

  "I already told you," he rasped, hoping she wouldn't detect the dark hunger in his tone, "anything you want to do is fine with me."