No Fooling Around: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy

by Hunter, Talia

  A handful of LPs were stacked next to the record player, and I leafed through them. She had an eclectic mix, everything from indie rock to easy listening.

  “I always wanted a record player.” She emerged from the kitchen carrying two glasses of champagne, Ruff lumbering beside her. “And seeing as this is my first house where I get to call the shots, I figured I should treat myself.”

  “What do you want to hear?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Benedict only liked classical music, so I didn’t get to hear much else. I bought a random bunch of second-hand records, hoping I’d find something good.” She shot me a smile. “Surprise me.”

  “How about Florence And The Machine?” I slipped the record from its sleeve, set it on the turntable, then started it turning. The arm moved smoothly over the record, then settled into the groove.

  “I like this,” she exclaimed when it started. “Good choice.”

  When she came toward me with two glasses of champagne, I found myself wanting to smile at her for absolutely no reason, which wasn’t like me at all.

  In Mexico, I’d perfected the art of keeping my emotions hidden. But around Iola I forgot my control, as though admiring her physical presence engaged so many of my thought processes there wasn’t room for anything but her.

  “Here.” She thrust a glass of champagne into my hand, and I took a deep breath of the scent she was wearing. She smelled like she’d wandered through a herb garden. Woody and fresh, with a sprinkling of mint.

  “With records, you can hear the difference in the sound,” she said. “It’s raw, with the tiny bumps and scratches you get on the vinyl. But I like it, don’t you?”

  “I like it a lot.”

  She clinked her glass against mine, and I took a sip of champagne, rolling the sweet liquid around my mouth.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you before.” She leaned her hip against the table. “Someone so inscrutable. A man of mystery.” Her teasing tone suggested she didn’t mind a little mystery.

  But she didn’t know the secrets I was hiding.

  Being alone with her was too tempting. She was too beautiful, too funny, too talented, too intriguing. As much as I prided myself in controlling my emotions, I couldn’t trust myself not to kiss her. When she was this close, it was all I could think about.

  I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I noticed something over her shoulder. A photograph of Santino in a silver frame.

  Even though it would ruin her evening, I had to tell her I was responsible for her brother’s incarceration, and that I’d soon be taking this house away from her.

  Steeling myself, I walked to the photograph. “Iola,” I started. “There’s something I need—”

  “Wait. Is that your cat?”

  I turned. Nemesis was sitting beside Iola’s coffee table. Ruff stood stiffly behind her, staring down at her. He glanced up at us, his brown eyes confused, as though he had no idea whether to growl, try to bite her, or pretend he didn’t see her.

  Nemesis yawned. If she had a magazine, she probably would have flipped through it.

  “How did your cat get in here?” Iola asked.

  “Maybe she slipped in behind me.”

  Iola shook her head. “I would have seen her.”

  “I haven’t ruled out the possibility she can walk through walls. Nemesis is an unusual cat.”

  Iola raised her eyebrows. “Then she must take after you.”

  Ruff let out a whine. Nemesis lifted a paw and licked it, not bothering to glance at him.

  Iola put her champagne glass on the counter, then crossed over to me. “I want to dance. Will you?” Taking the glass out of my hand, she set it next to the photograph.

  The confession I needed to give her was on the tip of my tongue, but her hands slid around my neck and her body moved into mine.

  Then the warmth and softness of her curves were pressed against me, and my brain short-circuited. All thoughts became cave-man-like grunts, and the only words in my head had one syllable. Mine. Want. Take.

  I slid my hands around her waist, holding her to me as we swayed to the music. Bending my head, I dropped my nose to her hair to breathe her in. Then I brushed her hair back from her ear. A serious mistake. The intensity of my desire to kiss her earlobe made fighting to reboot my brain and restore rational thought even harder.

  But allowing myself to be this tempted was dangerous. As good as it felt, it was only making it more difficult to tell her the truth.

  I dragged in a breath, forcing myself to speak. At the last second, I realized I couldn’t blurt facts about drug cartels, property forfeiture, and the legality of property transfers by convicted criminals into the delicate curve of her neck.

  “What about Kade?” I murmured instead.

  She drew back a little, her brow furrowing. “Your brother? What about him?”

  She looked genuinely baffled, so at least she didn’t have romantic feelings for Kade. If I actually believed my twin had intentions toward her, there was no way I’d put myself in this position, but using him as an excuse to slow things down meant I could take a breath before confessing my secrets.

  “You and Kade went out on a date,” I said.

  “Yes, but we didn’t—”

  Ruff barked, and a moment later, I heard footsteps.

  Iola and I jerked around as a man appeared in the doorway.

  “Hello, darling,” he said.

  It was the man I’d seen in the newspaper picture, though he was seven years older and his eyes looked meaner. As his gaze moved from Iola to me, then to Ruff, his thin lips tightened with anger.

  Searching online, I’d learned the Honorable Benedict Appleby Junior was forty-five, which made him seventeen years older than Iola. He wore a dress shirt and slacks, and a heavy gold watch. Unlike Iola, he was wearing a wedding ring.

  His features were handsome. He had a long, straight nose, white teeth, and a golden tan. His hair’s blond highlights were salon perfect, his nails were professionally manicured, his eyebrows shaped, and I was fairly certain his tan was fake. He’d chosen a shirt that had the Versace logo across its front pocket and his watch was one of the biggest Rolexes on the market. He clearly spent a lot of time and money on his appearance.

  But even if I hadn’t known who he was, I would have distrusted him on sight. His upper lip had an obnoxious curl, there were no laughter lines around his eyes, and his face seemed to fall naturally into a contemptuous sneer.

  Iola’s face went white. “Benedict? How did you get in here?” Her voice was breathless and she sounded panicked.

  I stepped in front of her. An automatic reaction, one I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Fast work, Iola. You’ve already found yourself a boyfriend to pay your bills?”

  “Who are you?” I asked, because it would serve no purpose to let on that I knew.

  The man drew himself up. “I’m Iola’s husband.”

  “My ex husband,” she snapped. Her shock was turning to anger, the red of her cheeks getting darker.

  “If Iola doesn’t want you here, you need to go.” I sounded bored. When faced with a threat, my mind always went clear and my thoughts sharpened. The logical side of my brain took over the driver’s seat, while my under-developed emotional side took a nap in the back.

  Benedict’s top lip curled even more. “It’s none of your business. This is between me and my wife.” As he spoke, he looked me up and down, obviously evaluating what might happen if our confrontation got physical.

  Benedict Appleby and I were a similar height, but he had a saggier build and I could read his posture well enough to be confident he’d be a coward in a fight.

  I didn’t have bulky muscle like my brother Mason, but I regularly bench pressed two ninety. And I’d been in enough fights that I felt little fear at the prospect of another, even though I’d been badly beaten a few times. When I was fifteen I’d received some valuable lessons that way on the ki
nd of targets not to pick for our hustle.

  Iola’s fists were clenched and I could feel waves of anger radiating from her. “I’m not going back to England,” she snapped. “You can’t make me.”

  His gaze raked her up and down. “You’re already getting fat.” He tsked. “See darling? You need me.”

  “You have no power over me here.”

  “If you won’t do the right thing and come back where you belong, I’ll take Lord Ruffington.”

  At the mention of his name, the dog lumbered to Iola and sat down next to her. Nemesis was nowhere to be seen.

  “Over my dead body.” Iola dropped a protective hand onto Ruff’s head. “He hates you, and I won’t let you take him.”

  “The dog belongs to me.”

  “Careful, or I’ll order him to bite you.”

  Benedict let out a hard humorless laugh that sounded more like a slap. “The dog’s too well trained for that, darling. And I thought you knew better than this. You owe me an apology for making me come all this way. Not to mention a debt of gratitude. What would have happened if I’d let you run out of money over here on your own?”

  She spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m doing just fine without you.”

  He scoffed. “You were nothing when I met you. A pitiful, destitute orphan. A worthless drudge. I took pity on you, gave you luxury and status beyond your wildest dreams, and this is the thanks I get?” His voice hardened. “If you turn me down now, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

  It was taking every bit of my self-control to let them talk without interruption, but when Iola hissed, “Get out, Benedict,” I took it as permission to enforce her request.

  “You heard what she said. Leave now, and don’t come back.” Though I still sounded bored, I moved toward Benedict with purpose and he took several fast steps back toward the door.

  “I’ll leave.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But remember what I said, Iola, and don’t test my patience.”

  He turned and strode out, the front door slamming shut behind him.

  Iola dragged in a loud breath, her green eyes still bright with fear. “How did he get in here?”

  I went to the front door, opened it and looked out. Benedict was getting into a car across the street. “The door was unlocked,” I called to her.

  “I must have forgotten to lock it. How could I have done that?” The music switched off abruptly. She’d clearly had enough of it.

  Once Benedict’s car had disappeared around the corner, I turned the latch and tested the front door to make sure it was secure. But even with the house locked, I wasn’t about to leave Iola unguarded.

  When I went back to the living room, Iola was on her knees beside Ruff with her arms around him. “I won’t let him take you,” she was saying. “We’re family. I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

  I waited by the door for her to give the dog a last squeeze, then cleared my throat. “I’m going next door to get my toothbrush and a change of clothes. I won’t be longer than five minutes. Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it again without being certain it’s me.”

  “What?” She got to her feet keeping one hand on Ruff’s head. “Why are you—?”

  “I won’t leave you here alone. I’ll sleep on your couch. ”

  Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course.”

  Telling her the truth about her brother would have to wait. I couldn’t risk her being upset enough to throw me out.

  “But I don’t like asking for favors,” she said. “I’d have to pay you back somehow.”

  “Then agree to sell me a self-portrait, once you’ve painted another one.”

  Her smile was small and shaky, but I was relieved to see it. She was so pale, even the tiniest smile was a win.

  “That doesn’t feel like me paying you back,” she said.

  “Believe me, it is.”

  “You don’t need to take the couch. There’s a spare bedroom through there.” She pointed.

  I shook my head. “The living room’s central to the house, so if anyone tries to break in, I’m more likely to hear him from the couch.”

  She swallowed. “You really think Benedict would come back in the middle of the night?” Before I could answer, she choked out a mirthless laugh. “What am I asking? Of course he would. He followed me all the way to California.”

  She looked so scared and angry, I wanted to smooth away her frown and promise everything would be okay. But she bent to give Ruff another hug. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t bite him, baby. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  I stuck my hands in my pockets, feeling rueful. The last bit was almost exactly what I’d wanted to say to her.

  “Benedict doesn’t strike me as much of a dog person,” I said.

  “He’s not. But Ruff has won a room full of rosettes and trophies, including Best In Show at Crufts.”

  Ruff had won trophies? The ugliest dog I’d ever seen had been Best In Show?

  Maybe when she’d said Crufts, she hadn’t meant the famous British dog show. Perhaps I’d misheard, and there was a parody dog show called Craps, or Mutts.

  “But now he’s too old to compete, Benedict just wants him because he knows how I feel about him.” Iola went to the counter to pick up her glass of champagne. She took a big gulp of its contents, then turned to me.

  “The thing about London is all the rich people go to the same schools, which means a lot of them know each other. Benedict lunches with the manager of the bank where we have our accounts, he plays polo with the lawyer who’s representing him, and he golfs with the judge who’s going to hear our divorce case. With all the power and privilege on his side, he’s always been able to do whatever he wants.”

  “That’s corruption.”

  “They call it the old-boy network.”

  I picked up my own half-full glass of champagne that was growing warm and losing its fizz. The thought of a system so rigged against Iola made everything inside me want to rebel.

  “I’ll help you fight him.”

  “He’s too powerful to fight.” She went to the fridge and took out the open bottle of champagne. “But now I have my own house, and the money I earn here will go into a bank account that Benedict can’t touch. I finally have my own life, and the only thing I want from my old life is Ruff.” She topped up my glass, slopping the champagne because her hand wasn’t steady.

  “We won’t let him have Ruff,” I told her.

  Shooting me a quick, grateful smile, she filled her glass to the brim. “I’m glad you’re in my corner, Asher. I have a feeling nothing gets past you.”

  Although I didn’t particularly want any more to drink, I clinked my glass against hers, sealing my pact to protect her. Taking a symbolic sip, I saw Nemesis on the window sill with Ruff’s squeaky chicken toy dangling from her mouth. My cat must have stolen the toy back from Ruff and sauntered straight past us, jumping soundlessly up to the window ledge without so much as a squeak from the toy.

  Nemesis flicked the latch with her nose and nudged the window open. The security catch stopped it from opening more than a thin crack. Nemesis carefully maneuvered the toy out of the tiny opening, worked her head through, then somehow squeezed her body out. She hung for a moment by her hips and I was certain she was stuck. But with one final wriggle she dropped out of sight with her prize.

  “That’s right,” I promised. “Nothing gets past me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Iola

  “Omph!”

  There was a heavy weight on my chest.

  Shocked out of sleep, I opened my eyes and stared into a bristle of whiskers, a triangular black nose, and piercing yellow eyes.

  “Nemesis,” I gasped.

  The black cat stared back at me, her front paws pressing painfully into my breasts. How could a small, slinky cat weigh so much? She was a feline version of the Tardis, only instead of being larger than she looked from the outside, she was
heavier, like she’d eaten lead weights for breakfast.

  She wasn’t blinking. Her piercing gaze seemed to be trying to tell me something, but my brain was too fuzzy to understand. It was probably something about how she could have killed me with one paw while I slumbered, and I should ply her with endless gratitude and mountains of panties for allowing me to live.

  “How did you get in here?” My voice was croaky with sleep. Daylight was leaking under the curtain, so it was probably time I woke up. But I would have preferred my regular alarm clock to being woken by a feline serial-killer-in-training.

  Nemesis stepped off me slowly, taking her sweet time about it, then jumped lightly onto the floor.

  Snoring was coming from the dog bed in the corner. Ruff was fast asleep.

  “Ruff?” I croaked.

  Giving a little sigh, my dog’s front paws twitched as though he were dreaming about all the cats he wanted to chase. Then he snored harder.

  Nemesis sauntered past his head, choosing a route that took her a bare inch from his nose. Her small whiskers probably brushed against his giant ones. Still, he didn’t move.

  She leaped onto the enormous wooden dresser that took up a large part of the room. Its top drawer was broken and I couldn’t get it to close all the way. The gap was just big enough for a cat’s paw to slide into. After fishing around in the drawer for a moment, she hooked a pair of panties with one claw and pulled them out.

  “Ruff?” I demanded, my voice an incredulous squeak. “You’re really not going to wake up and do something?”

  This time, his snoring didn’t even falter.

  Though I could have sworn my bedroom door was closed when I went to sleep last night, it was now cracked open. Nemesis jumped down from the dresser and sauntered out with my panties hanging from her mouth.

  “Ruff!” I threw the pillow at him.

  He jerked his head up and gave me a reproachful stare.

  “Seriously, you call yourself a dog?” I pulled myself out of bed. “Come on, there’s still time to redeem yourself. Follow that cat and get my panties back!”