by Kate Steele
In the soft glow of the lamplight, her skin gleamed, fine and porcelain pale. Long, wavy hair—richly chestnut with golden highlights—fell past her waist. Her green eyes were dark and mysterious pools as she gazed at the even features framed by the oval of her face. Her lips parted, her tongue sliding over the full bottom lip. Her eyes widened at the sensuality of the gesture before her gaze slipped lower.
Veiled by the gossamer strands of her hair, her body was curved and rounded. The firm spheres of her breasts were tipped by pink nipples that flushed darker as they tightened. Her slender waist gave way to the fuller curve of her hips and the slightly convex slope of her belly.
At the apex of her rounded thighs, a soft nest of chestnut curls guarded her mound. Her gaze finished the journey, traveling down her well-proportioned legs and feet, then rose as she made eye contact with herself and tentatively smiled. The image reflected in the mirror was not the gawky and too-plump adolescent she’d been once upon a time. This woman was curvaceous, not fat.
She suddenly realized that perhaps, just perhaps, there was merit in Gabriel’s words. Perhaps she did have something to offer after all. Turning, she looked at the painting propped on her dresser.
The thought of standing before them like this boggled the mind and made it hard to breathe, and yet she knew that very thing would happen if she said yes to them. She would feel their touch, feel the satiny heat of their skin against hers as their hands and lips explored her body. Suddenly she wanted it, wanted it so badly a sheet of pure fiery desire burned away her doubts.
“I’m so tired of being afraid,” she confessed to their silent images. “So tired of dreaming of things that are always out of reach.”
At that moment Layne made her decision, and though she knew doubts would return to assail her, she was saying yes this time. Yes to the pleasure that waited in the arms of two men she’d only dared dream about.
Chapter Two
Layne’s sandal-shod feet moved forward one step at a time as she forced herself to keep walking. The closer she got to the Montfield Gallery storefront, the harder it became to keep going. Last night she’d made her decision, but now, in the light of day, carrying it out was taking a kind of courage she wasn’t used to exercising. She always did safe things, things that came easily and at no risk to her emotions or peace of mind.
Her excessive caution was being thrown to the wind and she felt the pull of that wind’s turbulence begin to build around her. She wondered if she would be left standing and whole when it calmed, or if she would be torn asunder and broken. Either way, she was determined to know, and so, with shaking fingers, she reached for the door handle and pulled. A gentle rush of cool air greeted her and she shivered before stepping inside.
A smile pulled at her lips, for someone who had visions of walking into a storm, the gallery was surprisingly calm and welcoming. Soft music played and low voices could be heard as patrons wandered and commented on the different pieces on display.
There was no sign of Dillon or Gabriel. She relaxed slightly and began to meander at a slow pace, moving from painting to painting admiring the work, but finding nothing that really sang to her until she came upon a small grouping of five. Done on stretched canvas of various sizes, they were all obviously the work of one person, and Layne knew the artist without having to see the initials GLM worked in the corner of each piece.
A beach landscape drew her gaze. Pictured in the distance, she could see two nude male figures, one light-haired, one dark, walking along the beach. Another depicted a storm over a city, the small buildings just visible and dwarfed by the fiery yellows and oranges of a darkly clouded sunset. Blue-white bolts of lightning split the sky and arrowed toward the earth.
Each painting brought a sense of wonder and admiration. The use of color, the light and shadow, not to mention the subject matter itself, all intrigued and delighted her. Much as she liked them all, the one that drew her the most was a nude. An amazingly beautiful male reclined with his back to the artist. His body was all sleek lines and delineated bundles of taut muscle, the pose negligent and relaxed.
Though his face was not visible, Layne knew without a doubt that it was Dillon. His dark hair was short and carelessly tousled and she felt the sudden urge to touch it, sure that it had to be as soft as it looked.
“Do you like it?” a deep voice questioned behind her.
Inevitably, knowing that this was her reason for coming, she turned and came face-to-face with Gabriel and Dillon. Gabriel was smiling, his golden eyes gleaming with pleasure, but Dillon, Dillon’s expression was enigmatic, his blue eyes shadowed, as though he waited for something. Layne was struck by the barrier that he’d erected, and intuitively realized it was of her making. Dillon was still waiting to be forgiven.
She answered Gabriel’s question. “I like it very much. In fact I love them all. I had no idea you were so talented.”
Gabriel stepped forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Thank you. It’s good to have you here again.”
“It’s good to be here,” she replied with a smile and turned her attention to Dillon. “Hello, Dillon.”
“Hello, Layne,” he replied neutrally.
Layne took a step closer to him. “Thank you for the flowers. No one’s ever sent me flowers before. I have them in my bedroom next to Gabriel’s painting. They’re beautiful.”
Dillon’s blue eyes began to warm. “Do you really like them?”
“Very much.”
“Am I forgiven?”
“Yes.”
“Laynie,” he said softly, “I never meant to hurt or frighten you. You have to believe that.”
“I know that now,” she answered. “It wasn’t entirely all your fault. I…well, to tell you the truth, I have self-esteem issues. Aunt Sylvie is constantly chiding me about it,” she revealed with a wry smile.
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that,” Dillon promised and leaned in to kiss her cheek as Gabriel had done.
Layne blushed and smiled shyly. “Will you two show me around the rest of the gallery? I want to see everything I’ve been missing.”
“Everything?” Gabriel asked with a teasing light in his eyes.
“Well…anything that won’t bring a charge of public indecency against anyone,” she teased.
Dillon shouted with laughter and Gabriel poked him in the ribs.
“Our shy siren has a sharp wit,” Dillon crowed. “I think you just got stung.”
“Siren?” Layne questioned with a smile.
“The first time we noticed you sitting on the rocks, looking out at the ocean, Gabriel said you looked like a siren waiting to lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom.”
Layne raised a brow and laughed. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. Sirens lure their victims with their beautiful song. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, although they might jump into the ocean just to make the awful noise stop.”
Both men were laughing again and Layne couldn’t believe the way she was opening up to them and letting her inner self show through. This was usually something she was only able to do with those she felt closest to. It seemed as though, once made, the decision to let them in her life felt natural and right.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Gabriel said, offering his arm. “Since I can’t lure you upstairs with an offer to come and see my etchings, I guess we’ll just have to settle for wandering around here and looking at everyone else’s.”
Dillon offered his arm as well and Layne wound hers around his, feeling giddy with excitement and, oddly enough, protected. They made their way slowly through the gallery, meandering here and there, stopping to discuss the merits of various paintings and sculptures.
There were many beautiful things to see, but Layne found that it was still Gabriel’s paintings that touch her the most.
Finally, having explored every inch of the gallery, they approached the front doors where Layne thanked them both. “That was fun,” she told them sincerely. “But then, yo
u two could probably make a trip to the dentist fun.”
“I don’t know about that,” Dillon replied. “But we could probably continue the fun through dinner. Will you have dinner with us, Layne? Gabriel and I are both fairly decent cooks.”
Despite the fact that she was enjoying their company immensely, she hesitated, not sure if she was ready to be alone with the two of them.
“Or lunch tomorrow, somewhere public if you like,” Dillon offered gently, understanding reflected in his eyes.
She smiled at him gratefully.
“I know!” Gabriel spoke up. “How about a picnic on the beach? That would be fun and you could pose for me.”
Layne’s eyes widened. “I like the idea of a picnic. I’m not so sure about the posing,” she answered. “But I can’t tomorrow. I got shanghaied into doing the walk-a-thon for the new children’s wing of the hospital. I’ll be out walking a good part of the day.”
“But that’s what, twenty, twenty-five miles?” Gabriel asked, exchanging looks with Dillon. “Are you up to that?”
Layne gave him a steely-eyed glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that it’s a lot of miles to cover in one day, is all,” Gabriel hedged, taken aback by her look.
“For your information, Mr. Montgomery, I walk three miles almost every day, from my apartment to Sutton’s gas station and back. I’m not exactly unprepared,” she told him huffily.
Gabriel took a half step back, looking desperately at Dillon. “Say something.”
“No way. I’m staying out of this one. No reason both of us should end up in the doghouse.”
Layne turned her smoldering gaze to Dillon. “So you’re saying that anything you can think of to say will only get you in trouble?”
“Whoa, now, wait a minute! I just said I’m staying out of it, no comment, zip, nada, none,” Dillon replied.
“Humph! I think you two are going to owe me an apology tomorrow,” she said, opening the door and stepping through. “And some more flowers,” she tossed back over her shoulder before sailing out the door and letting it close behind her.
“Nice going, now she’s cheesed at both of us,” Dillon accused.
“Well, crap,” Gabriel replied with a sigh. “Where’s the number for the florist shop?”
“Upstairs, Mr. Charming, and you better make that bouquet a nice one.”
Neither one of them could see the small smirk of satisfaction that curved Layne’s lips as she walked down the street.
The next afternoon Layne’s smirk was long gone. She was hot, sweaty and exhausted. With one mile to go, her legs felt like lead, her hip joints were screaming bloody murder and feeling like they were about to pop free. All she wanted to do was lie down on someone’s lawn, sink into the cool lush grass and pass out. She struggled on, determined to finish the seemingly endless torture.
Riding on bicycles, Dillon and Gabriel had both been by several times, encouraging her and handing her bottles of fortified sports water, insisting that she drink. There were water stations along the route, but Layne had to admit it was nice to have her own personal water boys and cheering section.
Up ahead, she could see the banner stretched across the street that heralded the end of the walk. She was near to tears when she crossed it. After making sure that her name was recorded as having finished the walk so that her pledges could be collected in full, she moved aside and stood in something of a daze. She wanted nothing more than to go home, but wasn’t sure if she could make it on her own.
She needn’t have worried.
Suddenly Dillon was at her elbow, his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her close. “Come on, baby, Gabriel’s waiting with the car just down the block. Can you walk or would you like me to carry you?”
“I can walk,” Layne replied in a shaky voice, determined not to cry in front of all the people that surrounded them.
Dillon began walking slowly, holding her securely until they got to the car, a vintage sedan with bench seats. He helped her into the front seat, sliding in next to her. “Are you all right?” Gabriel asked, giving her a worried look before easing out into the traffic.
“You were right, I wasn’t up to it,” she admitted. “I’m exhausted…and…I hurt,” she was able to say before the welling tears overflowed and trickled slowly down her face.
“Oh Laynie, baby, don’t cry, you were too up to it. You finished the walk. Dillon and I are so proud of you. We’re going to take care of you.” Gabriel placed a large warm hand on her thigh and soothingly stroked her as Dillon pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
“It’s okay, baby, you’ll feel better soon. You’re gonna have a nice hot bath to soothe those aching muscles. Does that sound good?” Dillon asked.
With her head against his shoulder, Layne nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
The trip was made in less than ten minutes and Gabriel parked the car behind the gallery in a small lot. “I’ll go on up and get the tub ready, you carry Layne up, all right?”
Dillon nodded and as soon as Layne eased herself out of the car he swept her up into his arms and headed for the stairs. Layne gasped with surprise and automatically wound her arms around his neck. “I could walk up,” she protested softly.
“Nope,” Dillon answered succinctly. “You’ve done enough walking for one day.”
Not having the energy to protest, Layne tried to relax. For someone who spent a good part of her life struggling with her weight, being carried by a man of Dillon’s size and strength made her feel small and more than a little vulnerable. The novelty of the experience brought a lump to her throat and she buried her face against Dillon’s shoulder to hide her emotions. She felt unsophisticated, unworldly, and more than a little gauche.
Just as she lived above her Aunt Sylvie’s store, Dillon and Gabriel lived above the gallery. Dillon carried her up the sturdy outside staircase to a small balcony entrance. The open door led into the kitchen, and Layne had only a quick glimpse of the apartment as Dillon carried her through it. Aside from the furnishings and the general arrangement of the rooms, the only difference between their apartments seemed to be that theirs was three times the size of hers.
Dillon carried her into the spacious bathroom and set her down. Gabriel had water filling a raised sunken tub and was setting out clean towels and a washcloth on the wide ledge that surrounded it. Waiting on the counter by the sink was a new toothbrush and anything else she might need.
Keeping her head down to avoid making eye contact with either of them, she hobbled to the counter and picked up a bottle of moisturizer. “You’ve got everything here a girl could ask for,” she commented.
“Some of this stuff we keep around for when my mom visits. I can even offer you lavender bubble bath if you like,” Gabriel answered.
“Have you and Dillon used it?” she asked, half joking.
“As a matter of fact we did,” Gabriel chuckled. “But we used too much. The tub was so slippery, we almost knocked ourselves out trying to get out from under the mounds of bubbles.”
“Don’t tell her stuff like that.” Dillon scowled. “It’s embarrassing.”
Layne smiled and mustered a halfhearted chuckle at his discomfort.
“Oh, you’ll survive,” Gabriel chided with a laugh. He joined Layne at the bathroom counter. “What’s wrong?”
Still avoiding his gaze, Layne bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s nothing really. I guess you could say I’m struggling with my past.”
“I see.” Gabriel reached out and brushed a loose tendril of hair back from her cheek. “Dillon and I are both willing to listen, honey. I think we’ve all got things in our past that cause us pain. It really does help to talk about it.”
“I know, just…not yet. Okay?”
“Okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured. All right?”
Layne nodded.
“Now, do you need help getting undressed?” he asked, moving to turn off the water in the tub.
&nbs
p; Surprised, Layne found herself returning two bright-eyed, innocent gazes. “I think I can manage,” she replied with a smile as she squelched their hopes. Her spirits rose as she shooed them toward the door.
They both began moving slowly. “Are you sure?” Dillon asked hopefully. “It’ll be no trouble at all. You might need help getting in the tub. Your muscles are pretty sore, you know. No use straining them further.”
Openly grinning despite her mixed emotions and aching muscles, Layne kept herding them steadily toward the door. “If I need help, I’ll call.”
“All right,” Dillon conceded, looking like a little boy who’d lost a promised treat.
“Just yell out if you need anything, sweetheart,” Gabriel grinned, giving her a wink before pulling the door shut.
Layne’s first move was to down a couple of ibuprofen from the bottle Gabriel had left on the counter. Moving to the tub, she tiredly stripped out of her clothes, leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor, then carefully climbed the two marble steps with their safety treads and cautiously tested the water. It was hot enough to make her toes tingle, but not so hot that she couldn’t stand to leave her foot immersed. By slow degrees, she lowered herself into the water and groaned with relief when she was finally seated.
The water came nearly to her shoulders. Reaching for a towel, she rolled it and placed it behind her neck, leaning back and relaxing with a heartfelt sigh. The warmth of the water worked to loosen tight, sore muscles and the tension that came with pain. Experimentally she scissored her legs open and closed, testing the wide confines of the tub while dreamy visions of old-fashioned water ballets swam through her drifting mind. She leaned back and closed her eyes, promising herself that it was only for a moment or two, when the next thing she knew there was a knock on the door.