“Eternally.”
“And that’s not what you want from life.”
It’s no question but a statement of fact. Imp is not cut out to be a lawyer. While she’s insanely intelligent and focused, the woman enjoys crocheting doilies, bleeding hell.
I can picture her in a courtroom about as well as I see myself wearing pink fishnets beneath a dress. Not at all. Ever.
“Tell him, imp.”
“And then what? He’ll have a fit and start the freeze out like he did with poor Logan. No, I’m just—”
“Putting off the inevitable.”
Chapter Four
Becky
Yeah, I know this shit is inevitable, I think, staring down at my half-eaten chicken and the potato I’d been about to go Terminator on, suddenly not even a little hungry anymore.
I always feel this way when I think about Dad and his unreasonable expectations. Too bad I’m not always capable of staying without an appetite, hence my big butt.
“Look, Devon, give me a goddamned break, okay? My dad’s like a Nazi when it comes to what he expects. You know what happened when Logan went into the Marines instead of taking that football scholarship and going pro-ball. They haven’t spoken in years. The only reason we’re seeing him next week is because Lila threatened to cancel the wedding if he didn’t keep his yap shut.”
Logan is by far my favorite brother. He’s three years my senior, but he’s always been there for me, even in girly situations like that time I got my period and needed him to bring me tampons.
We used to be inseparable, but due to the ‘banishment’ I haven’t spoken to him in about eight months, when he was deployed. Dad’s a great guy, but he has these goals for each of his kids and if we don’t conform he gets stone cold about that shit: what I am currently trying to avoid.
“You’re talking to me,” he says, and I frown, before it hits me.
I haven’t stammered or stuttered or blushed once, not once, because I’m angry and irritated by his nosy interference. Well, ain’t that fabulous? The only way for me to string a decent sentence together is when I’m giving him heat.
Dammit.
“So? I have lips, a tongue, and a freaking mind. Of course I can talk,” I mutter, attacking my potato for something to do while he just sits there and stares at me. “I just don’t do it all that well around you.”
Oh God, why did I have to go and say that? It’s like a red light, a beacon, a siren’s song for guys like Devon. They thrive on knowing that some poor pathetic chick is too dazzled by their beauty to form coherent words, and now I’ve gone and hinted that I’m still a complete dork when it comes to him.
Cripes.
I’d give anything if he’d just let that kernel go unasked and change the subject.
“I know. I also know you haven’t been with anyone. Why?”
I change my mind, I change my mind! Ask about the other thing instead! I yell inside, feeling my face heat so suddenly my hair should be standing straight up.
“This…something…potato?”
Aaand we’re back to the ‘soup for brains’ part of my schoolgirl crush. I’m so mortified I want to let myself turn to Jell-O and melt right off of my seat and into the floorboards, but he just smiles and keeps looking, his expression letting me know he has the patience of Job and expects an answer.
“Um, uh, I…”
If I string the words together really slowly, there’s a chance I might get a decent, albeit lacking, sentence together, something that’s better than my show of genius a second ago.
“No…attraction?”
There, not the most engaging thing I’ve ever said, but as my anger is totally dead, crushed beneath mortification and humiliation, I feel it’s better than stringing together something that will undoubtedly contained the words ‘broccoli’, ‘cabbage’, or ‘Brussels sprout’.
It’s a thing: when I get nervous I start recapping the name of every vegetable I know of. It was an exercise in therapy to correct my lisp, and I’ve had the brain fart ever since.
His eyes seem to sparkle at the statement, and I shake my head, oh brother, and stand to my feet, pointing toward the noisy bunch out in the hall and marching toward them.
“What about that arse at the airport?”
I choose not to answer, because telling the dick that I’m so stunted I can’t even get a wettie for a guy as hot as Dillon is so low on my list of things to do I can’t even…
“Mind your….business,” I snap, pasting a fake smile on my face and scuttling around to stand beside Mama, not wanting to get between Dad and his golden boy.
I love the bastard, but one of these days I’m going to tell him how brown that ring around his nose is.
“There you are, scamp. Come give your favorite brother a kiss!” he yells, bringing me in for a hug as if I haven’t seen him in years instead of the three months it’s been since he came to check my apartment and give me another lecture about safety, pepper spray,and kicking balls—ask questions later, after the dick wad’s dropped.
I know, a real teddy bear this one.
“Hey right back. So you ready to make that poor woman a bad deal on Saturday?”
That statement gets a round of chuckles and a mock scowl from brother dearest before he gives me a wedgie—I shit you not—and shoves me into the wall to sweep Lila up in his arms.
“Come here, you sexy minx.”
And then we all have to leave and go back to the dining room when he starts kissing her like he’s getting ready for a whole lot more than just a little lip action.
“Oh, get a room, Greyson,” Mama mutters, rolling her eyes at no one in particular. “No porn in my house, young man. The only sex here is for Brand and me.”
“Oh Jesus, Mama, I just lost the ability to give you grandbabies.”
“And my freaking will to live,” I mutter, swallowing as a twitch of disgust rattles my bones.
“Oh now, you got in my belly only one way, little lambs, and I hate to break it to ya, but it wasn’t a stork who put you there. Tell them, Brand.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Me too.”
“Pardon me kindly.” (Devon)
“Gross, Mama!”
We hear the old coots laughing as we all break for the stairs, and I feel a chuckle escape when I beat Devon to the top in time to miss whatever she hollers up the stairs.
His wince makes me grateful I’d shoved him to get here first, and I’m laughing by the time I get to my room. The last time Mama got a bee in her bonnet I got an A to Z recap of childbirth; I think this is why the thought of having a kid makes me physically ill.
“Bloody cheat,” I hear from down the hall, and turn to see Devon shaking a fist at me with a scowl.
“And don’t you forget it. Losers finish last!”
Chapter Five
Dev
I want her.
How, why, when, the answer doesn’t matter. All I know is that with that one look as she’d sashayed up the stairs, after bloody rugby-tackling me out of her way, she’s caught my interest, and now I just…want.
How I’m even supposed to justify that to myself after Grey’s little talk four years ago is beyond me, but I’ll find a way. I always do when it comes to getting what I want.
I’m a self-made billionaire, one of the hottest bachelors of the year—and still more to come if I have my way. I know how to handle women and give them what they need while taking what I want.
The only problem that needs resolving now is how to get it and keep Grey a friend, because that is one man I really never want as an enemy. He’s a self-made man himself, just like me, and I’m smart enough to know that those men are never to be tangled with.
I know because I’ve had my share of obstacles and gotten over them one way. Sheer grit and a bloody bulldozer of a personality.
I’ve lain awake half the night. Thinking, plotting, trying to figure a way to get imp without seeming as if I’d purposefully set out to get her, and t
he only thing I can come up with is that she has to seek me out.
Hard to imagine what with the way she scuttles around and away every time I enter a room, but I think I can accomplish it and stay in the clear.
I just have to seduce her into seducing me. Seems simple enough, but with a woman like imp it’s likely that I’ll have my fair share of problems. She’s green, as these Yanks like to say, and likely doesn’t know flirtation from a bleeding set-down, so I’ll need to do this in a way that will be as subtle as it is obvious.
If I can even get anywhere near her without her big bad brothers swooping up and taking her away. That’s a major problem. How to get time alone with her before they see anything.
“You gonna eat that bacon, or just keep glaring at the poor defenseless pig all morning?”
I snap out of my musings and flip Grey the bird, chomping on the bacon as he leans forward and ducks his head. We’re alone in the kitchen since the only people up at five in the morning are the two of us and the housekeeper.
“So, you spent two hours in the car with Becks yesterday. Did she talk to you about work or anything?” he whispers, glancing at the door to ensure we’re still alone. “She’s been really down lately, and no matter how hard I try she won’t talk to me. Lila knows, but she’s not talking, and—”
“Sorry, mate, the imp drove like a bat out of hell the whole way and rebuffed every attempt at conversation. I should have taken the hint because she played the Spice Girls all the way here just to shut me up.”
I’ll get her back for that. Somehow.
“Dammit! I hate not knowing what’s going on with her. She’s so…”
“Vulnerable?”
“Yeah. And I can’t stand knowing she’s unhappy and alone with it. I got Matt to call her last week, and she told him to fuck off and find a friend if he wanted to share his feelings.”
That makes me laugh, harder than it should, because imp has always been one of those rare, kind souls, the girl who gives her last ten bucks to a homeless person because she can’t not do it.
If she’s cursing her brothers out that can only mean they’re smothering her, something I shouldn’t be surprised at since they’d refused to take her training wheels off till she was eight and took a hammer to the things.
She’s sweet and kind and always there for anyone who needs her, but that woman has a pair of bollocks bigger than her brothers’. Any day of the week.
“Maybe you should give her some space, Grey. The woman is twenty-two years old, not five. If she needs help with something she’ll let you know.”
I say it, but I still have every intention of finding the wanker who’s harassing her and shoving my fist down his throat. Grey doesn’t need to know this, so I keep it to myself and concentrate on my coffee while he broods.
“Maybe…maybe you could get her to talk to you? She’s still got that schoolgirl crush, and…I dunno, maybe if you paid her some attention she’d open up a little,” he mutters, meeting my eyes with a pleading look.
“Whoa. Are you asking me to play on her emotions to ferret out information about her life?”
I already know what he wants to know, but I want to see how far he’s willing to go with this. Plus, I want him to suffer a little for that lecture four years ago. That shite had offended me, even if he’d been spot on about the way I’d looked at imp.
“No. Yes. Look, she already likes you. All I’m saying is spend some time with her and see what happens,” he pleads, giving me a mock pout. “For me?”
Bingo.
“Fine, but I’m not leading her on to get anything out of her. The last thing I want is for imp to get hurt just so you can have what you want,” I warn, hiding a smile beneath my usual scowl.
“Deal. So you ready to spend the next week ‘enjoying’ the wedding games?”
“Jesus. Who decided to take an entire week and turn it into a torture session before you say your vows?” I ask, letting him know exactly how thrilled I am at being subjected to this shit.
I’ve seen the itinerary for the festivities, and I highly doubt I’m going to enjoy treasure hunts and team sports.
“Diane, Lila’s mom. She’s been planning this shindig since my girl got planted in her belly, so it’s not an option. Lila wanted to run off to Vegas but the woman almost had a stroke, so now we’ve just resigned ourselves and let the harridan have at it.”
We talk about the wedding and the convoy it will take to get everyone to the hotel Grey has booked for the two hundred plus guests for the week, and then move on to general things until we hear movement upstairs and the grumble of voices.
Imp is the first one through the door, her arse jiggling seductively behind a pair of Sponge Bob cotton sleep pants. I try not to look too closely at her breasts, because she’s not wearing a bra and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her big brother and father and get myself beaten to death.
“Hey, scamp, you still a bear in the morning?”
“Shut up, asshole. Let me drink my coffee. I can’t believe you ate breakfast without us, you animals.”
She proceeds to decimate a full breakfast and a chocolate muffin, not even half ashamed that she’s eaten the same amount as a fully grown man.
I like that. A lot.
When she licks a crumb from the cupid’s bow above her lip, her tongue slicking the pink crease, I smile and start putting my plans in place. Two days I give her, and then, ready or not, I’m taking what I want.
Chapter Six
Becky
I don’t know what the heck is going on right now, but something is, and it’s making me feel more than a little uncomfortable. Well, okay, not uncomfortable but very much confused…and suspicious.
Devon’s been glued to my side since I caught him checking out old Sponge Bob and the goofy smile across my ass yesterday morning, not to mention the way he’d almost choked when he’d seen my boobs.
And now he’s elected to be my partner for the games, something I was so totally hoping to avoid, since I’m the clumsiest nut this side of the Mississippi.
“Remember, the aim of the game is to hit the shoe as to—”
“Will you quit it! I’m not dumb, just not coordinated,” I yell, shoving him away.
Half of my problem is that he’s plastered to my back and wreaking havoc on my concentration, and, yeah, the other half is that I’m pretty darned useless at anything that even remotely requires hand-eye coordination.
So sue me.
And why the heck is he getting so competitive about this stuff all of a sudden? Yesterday it was like pulling teeth to get the guy even halfway enthusiastic about it.
“Why do you want to win this so badly?” I ask suspiciously, glad I’m still retaining enough annoyance to speak to him.
I know that once it’s gone I’ll be back to carrots and freaking yams. Story of my freaking life.
He doesn’t answer, but I catch his eye movements and spot a blonde head towering over the other wedding guests. When the guy turns, I almost swallow my tongue and turn my eyes back to a scowling Devon, watching the tick in his jaw increase as he grinds his teeth, never looking away from Dillon.
“What’s he doing here?”
Devon shrugs and turns back, pointing my hand towards my target, his hot breath fanning the fine hairs at my nape.
“The aim of the game is to hit the target,” he murmurs, pressing his front to my back in a way that startles me even as my skin heats and my limbs start trembling. “I like your sleep wear,” he purrs so close to my ear I feel the heat of his lips.
Okay, now I’ll never hit that target.
“Uh…”
“You weren’t wearing any underwear.”
I’m not even looking anymore because my eyes are closed, and I’m pretty sure my lungs are sitting in my uterus, which is throbbing. And begging me to do something.
His hand surrounds mine, helping me aim, twisting my wrists to line up the shot, but all I’m capable of seeing is the way his eye
s had looked when he’d seen me.
I imagine that look and so much more, if lightning should strike and I should ever find myself the recipient of more than a lust-filled stare from this man.
“I could see your bum, and I thought…”
I’m not even listening anymore. All I can do is feel, and what I feel makes my breasts throb and a clenching start low in my abdomen.
I’m panting by the time he tells me to throw and so worked up I’m trembling.
“No bra either.”
I let go of the horseshoe, needing to be done so I can turn around and throw him to the ground and have my wicked way with him, when a shriek and yell shatter the bubble, pulling me rudely from fantasies of scorching hot kisses and naked, sweaty skin.
“She’s bleeding! Who threw that shoe?”
Um.
I turn around and see Diane Bing, Lila’s mother, sitting on the grass, a huge lump crowning the left side of her forehead, my misguided missile clutched in a white-knuckled grip as she glares around the hotel’s grassy yard and eyes everyone present.
Oh snap. I just brained the mother of the bride, and I did it in the presence of the man I am gaga for. Shit.
My face is flaming by the time I turn and peep up at him, and I’m so mortified I can barely force myself to look up and meet his eyes.
“Clumsy?”
He laughs and grabs my hand, towing me away from the field and the crowd that’s formed around a now screaming Diane.
“Have to apologize.”
I’m panting, trying to keep up with his long-legged stride and trying to kick him in the shin at the same time as he pulls me back inside and into the elevator, his shoulders shaking he’s laughing so hard.
“That’s not funny!
At least my mind is back, I think morosely, stamping my foot to get his attention. Seriously, I like a guy who finds a woman getting brained by a horseshoe funny?
“Devon!”
“Sorry, imp, sorry,” he gasps, collecting himself with an effort. “I’m just completely taken with the fact that you, you of all people, managed to throw a horseshoe at her head. Accidentally! Half the people involved wanted to do that exact thing, and yet you are the lucky bugger who got it right. Accidentally!”
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