by Rita Herron
What if Lucy seduced him? Could she really blame Lance for giving in to her vixen sister?
Shuddering at the possibility, she pushed open the door and barreled inside, clomping her heels as loud as she could to alert them that she had arrived. Swallowing her pride was one thing; actually having to witness the man she wanted—correction: had wanted—naked in bed with her sister was another.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. "Lucy, I'm home!"
She dropped the bag by the steps, hesitating at the bathroom when she noticed the new tiles. Wow. Lance had made noticeable strides in the renovations already. Excitement budded in her chest, and she knelt to examine the work, running her hand over the sleek white ceramic. Jazzy loped in, turned up her nose, and rubbed against Sophie as she scratched the cat's back.
"Hey, baby, I can't wait to see the house finished. All my life I dreamed of having a real home, with a white picket fence, a walk-in closet...." She let the sentence trail off, adding other requirements silently—a house with nice, clean furniture, everything neat and orderly, none of the ratty furniture or beer-stained rickety sofas and cigarette-scarred cheap tables she'd grown up with. A small yard for children to run and play—
"You're home?"
She swung around on her hands and knees, and Jazzy growled. Lance stood in the doorway, his gaze glued to Sophie's butt. She instantly slapped a hand over her rear, wishing she'd forgone the decadent desserts in Cancun.
Lurching upright, she nearly smashed her knee on the toilet as she stood. Jazzy darted through Lance's feet and raced up the stairs. Smart cat.
Lance steadied her but she pulled away. "You shouldn't sneak up on a girl."
"Sorry. I was so busy I didn't hear you come in."
Busy doing what? She skimmed her eyes over his torso, willing herself not to react to the fact that his denim shirt had come unbuttoned (or had he just put it on?) and his rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular arms covered in a fine layer of dark hair. "You're still here at midnight?"
"Working."
Sure he was. Her gaze cut toward the kitchen behind him. "Where's Lucy?"
He chewed his lip, shifting uncomfortably. "Out with Reid."
Sophie gulped. So if Lance couldn't have her, the other brother swooped in for the kill. "Lucy's with your brother?"
He shrugged. "He took her to see the property on Skidaway Island."
"What time?"
"They left around noon."
Her mind ticked away the hours. "And they're not back yet?"
"He called. Lucy wanted to see the sights."
And no doubt Reid had offered to show her. Sophie paced to the front window, pushed aside the curtain, and checked the drive. "You shouldn't have let them go off together."
Lance grunted. "What do you have against Reid?"
Sophie folded her arms and swung around. "He's a Summers man. That's enough."
He grabbed her arms and forced her to look at him, but his gruff voice sounded gentle when he spoke. "Listen, I know you're upset about the dating game thing—"
"I'm not upset; I had a wonderful time with Rory."
His jaw tightened. "I realize when you called last night that you misunderstood—"
"I didn't misunderstand anything." She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly in place.
"Yes, you did. I did not offer to take Lucy to a hotel to seduce her." He pulled her through the hallway to the kitchen, then pointed to the space where the back door had once been. Plastic flapped in the breeze from the fan Lance had brought over. "I didn't think it would be safe for her to stay here without the house being secure."
Sophie winced, still unforgiving. "But you were looking at her... her—"
"Her boobs?"
Heat flamed her face. "Yes."
"You misunderstood that, too."
She planted her hands on her hips. "How the heck could I misunderstand that?"
He crooked his finger toward the oak kitchen table where a small silver case sat. "Look inside."
"What is it, a trap or something?"
He made an exasperated gesture with his hands. "Look and you'll see."
Determined not to let him off the hook so easily, she clip-clopped over to the table and opened the case. When a life-size fake woman's chest sprang up to greet her, she screeched in shock.
"Those are the boobs your little sister wanted me to play with."
Sophie glanced back at him, swung her gaze to the fake breasts again, then inched closer to the table, stumbling as she assimilated the remaining contents of the case. So this was the kit Lucy had been referring to, the reason the security guard had thought she was soliciting, then bribing him. Her new business?
What in the world had her little sister gotten into now?
Chapter 6
Lance hated the look of distress on Sophie's face. While she usually seemed so tough, so perfect, a soft vulnerability shadowed her eyes that made him ache to reach out and soothe away her worry lines. He actually found himself lifting his hand toward her, then remembered that she'd accused him of trying to seduce Lucy, and that she wanted marriage and family—her money pit of a house proved that. And he had been there and done the family part by raising his sister and brother....
"I didn't ask any questions," Lance said, indicating the case. "And in spite of what you think of me, I am not into kinky stuff like that."
"I... this can't be right." Her hand trembled as she reached for the kitchen chair. He pulled it out for her and she fell into it, looking lost and pale. "She... told me she was working for a new company selling bath oils and lotions and other romantic products."
He quirked an eyebrow toward a package of grape-flavored condoms sticking from one of the plush folds of the case. "Romantic?"
Sophie snapped the lid closed. "My sister has a vivid imagination."
"Maybe I should worry about Reid instead of the other way around."
He'd gone too far with that one. Sophie suddenly stood and pushed at his chest. "You'd better go, Lance."
He caught her hand, and her breath fanned his cheek. She was such a petite woman, so fragile-looking, yet so feisty. Her green eyes sparkled beneath the dim light in the kitchen, her milky-white skin golden from her trip to the beach. His body thrummed with arousal, the sultry scent of her exotic perfume sending his senses into a dizzying spiral. He wanted to taste her, to touch her, to revel in the heat that spiked a fever in his body every time he was near her. Why her?
Why Sophie, with the big green eyes and the temper and the house that screamed for a husband and kids?
Her long black lashes fluttered, and he lowered his head anyway. Her rosy lips were just a hairbreadth away. Then they were touching. Gently. Softly. Tenderly. His lips just barely brushed against hers. It wasn't enough. His hand snaked into her hair, and he dragged her mouth to his. A breathy sigh escaped her as he claimed her mouth. Then he flicked at her lips with his tongue, nibbling at the edges, begging entrance. The sweet sensations of her kiss tortured him, the hunger that rose inside him raw and so primal that Lance growled and took the kiss to another level, searching, exploring, savoring each delicious foray his tongue made.
But then Sophie pulled away.
She stumbled backward, her eyes wild with emotions as she pressed a hand to her mouth. To savor his kiss or erase it?
"You have to go, Lance. I... I can't do this."
He swallowed hard, knowing she was right, although his heart pounded in his chest and his body throbbed with the need to have her. Restless energy and desire exploded inside him, irrational fear seeping through. He wanted her but he couldn't give her the things she wanted. The settle-down man she deserved.
He'd come here to repair her house. He had to keep his hands off everything else.
His voice sounded gruff when he finally collected himself enough to speak. "I... I can't let you stay here alone."
She shook her head, fluttering long red fingernails through her dark hair. "Lance, you made it clear you didn't want to date me
. And I thought I made it clear that I felt the same way."
He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his neck. "I meant because of the door."
When he looked back up, hurt darkened the light green of her eyes to a shade near black. Guilt slammed into him again. He couldn't get it right with this woman.
Because you're not right for her.
He wanted different things in life, and being a Southern-bred boy at heart, he was too much of a gentleman to take what he wanted without giving back. And he didn't have enough to give....
"I'll sack out on the couch. I—"
"No. I can take care of myself, Lance. I don't need a man to protect me." She gestured toward the cat, who rounded the corner, pausing to snarl at Lance. "Besides, I have Jazzy."
"Right, psycho cat. Some protection."
"We'll be fine."
He started to open his mouth to argue. Would she really jeopardize her and her sister's safety to get rid of him?
Muttering beneath her breath about not wanting his Southern macho type around, she snagged his arm and ushered him to the door. He had his answer.
He stalked to his truck, wishing like hell that he'd never kissed her. Because that one kiss made him crave another.
But even though he couldn't have that kiss, he couldn't leave her and Lucy alone to unsuspecting predators.
No, he'd park his Blazer a safe distance away but close enough to watch the house, and grab some shut-eye. At least if he fell asleep, he'd be close enough to reach her if something happened at her house. Surely he'd hear if someone broke in, if she screamed for help. He'd drive home early in the morning, shower, and make his breakfast meeting with Reid and the owner of the new development he and Reid were trying to win bids on.
And if he didn't sleep, maybe he'd figure out why Sophie was driving him crazy, and how to put an end to it.
* * *
"I had a great time today, Reid." Lucy toyed with the curly ends of Reid's hair, scraping her fingers into the thick mass. His six-foot muscular body in tight denim had driven her insane with lust all night.
"Me, too." Reid's gaze dropped to her mouth. "You sure you don't want to come back to my place?"
"I can't. Sophie will be home tonight. We need to catch up." She ran a hand over his arm, smiling when his muscles bunched beneath her touch. "Girl talk."
"Right." Reid maneuvered the Tahoe down the street, and Lucy spied the pansies and day lilies dancing in the evening moonlight. The entire suburbia feel gave her the willies. Home. Responsibility. Kids. Boredom.
She already missed the excitement of Vegas, the bright flashing lights, the dinner shows... although the Salty Breeze had been a surprise. And River Street with all its shops and restaurants on the water was romantic. She'd actually envisioned herself and Reid taking one of the carriage rides. It really wasn't like her to be so mushy.
The front end of a Blazer caught her eye in the side mirror and she squinted, frowning when she noticed a man sitting inside. The vehicle was parked in the shadows of a huge Spanish moss-covered tree, the branches nearly shading it from view. Sophie had always told her to be careful and watch out for perverts in Vegas.
But a pervert had parked on Sophie's street here in Savannah and was watching her house.
"Here we are." Reid parked in the driveway to Sophie's house and killed the engine. "Thanks for the evening, Lucy." He curled his hand into a ball, then brushed his knuckles against her cheek. A shiver chased up her spine.
"Thank you. I'd like to see more clubs."
"Then we'll do it again while you're here?"
"Absolutely." She traced a finger along his jaw, intrigued by his husky voice. "You're pretty hot on the dance floor."
His voice grew even lower, humming with masculine want. "You have some great moves yourself."
If only he could come watch her show at the Palace. She bit back her comment, realizing she'd been on the verge of confiding in him her part in the Diva act.
But Sophie would kill her.
His eyes skated over her face, a heartbeat stretching between them before he dipped his head and claimed her mouth. Lucy gave in to the kiss, loving this bad-boy wildness. Reid was misplaced in Savannah; he needed to be in Vegas with the action instead of in this sleepy Southern town. One kiss led to several, the heat between them fogging up the windows. Reid was everything a lover should be, bold, wild, passionate, primal. She played a teasing game with his tongue, seeking, yearning, dancing around the flames of desire that erupted.
Too bad her older sister was waiting inside.
Already dreading the behave-yourself-Lucy lecture Sophie would no doubt greet her with, especially if she'd been watching through the window, Lucy slowly pulled away.
She finger-combed her tangled hair into some semblance of decency and tried to erase the whisker burns from her cheeks by licking her fingers and dabbing the moisture across the abrasions.
Before she climbed from the Tahoe, she kissed Reid one more time, this one long and slow, lingering with promises. A pebble caught in her red spike-heeled sandal as she tottered up the sidewalk to the front porch, and she paused and jiggled her foot to shake it free. But she caught her reflection in the glass windows flanking the door and winced. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, and the lickety-split job on her face had failed to erase the love bruises from Reid. Oh, well. Just because Sophie didn't want to have fun didn't mean she couldn't. Then again, maybe Sophie had had a fabulous weekend with her date and would be in a good mood.
She opened the door, but caught the reflection of the Blazer still parked in the shadows. Knowing she couldn't sleep with a pervert watching the house all night, she grabbed her cell phone and called 911. Later she'd work up one of her little protective spells to keep the other perverts away.
How could Sophie possibly be angry with her when she'd saved them both from a madman?
* * *
Lance hadn't expected to fall asleep, but exhaustion had finally gotten to him. Either that or the heat. He'd slumped down on the seat, his head thrown against the window of the driver's side, his legs sprawled in slumber. Minutes later, someone blammed on the door of his truck.
Jarred from the first stages of REM, he jerked upright, but he was so tired his head immediately fell backward. Good grief, he must be dreaming. He closed his eyes again and decided the blamming sound was a jackhammer. He'd fallen asleep on the job. Reid would have to oversee things; he needed to rest.
The hammering continued, louder, then a voice. "Open up, sir."
Sir? Who was talking to him? One of his workers? He had to wake up. He had something important to do... what was it? Pushing against the seat, he swiped a hand across his face and squinted through slitted eyes. A bright light blinded him. The sun? Was it morning?
He tried to crawl out of bed, but slid and his head hit the steering wheel. Through the rungs of the wheel he noticed a blue light swirling in the sky. A police car? What was a policeman doing at his house? His hand connected with the steering wheel as he dragged himself upright, and he realized he wasn't at home but in his Blazer. Sophie's. Right, he'd been watching her house to protect her.
The blamming started again. He swung his face sideways and squinted at the sunshine glaring through the window. It wasn't the sun, though. A beefy cop's face was pressed against the window, a flashlight aimed in Lance's eyes.
Blast it all to hell. Trying to orient himself, he rubbed at his bleary eyes, then threw up a hand to signal that he intended to roll down the window. The officer's hand went to his gun, his expression ominous.
Lance threw up both hands. "Don't shoot." He swallowed, struggling to unclog his sleep-deprived voice. "What's wrong, Officer?"
"License and registration."
Lance nodded and leaned sideways, digging through the crap on his front seat to reach the dash. A hammer and box of nails fell from the seat, nails flying in all directions. He scrambled to retrieve them, and wrapped his hand around the hammer, but too late, he realized the
officer thought he planned to use it as a weapon, because he opened the door, his gun drawn.
"Drop it and step out of the truck, mister. Now."
The commanding voice brooked no argument. Lance released the tool and pivoted.
"Have you been drinking, sir?"
Lance shook his head. "No, just tired."
"Your words are slurred. How much have you had?"
"Nothing," Lance said, wishing he could drag his eyes open more than halfway.
"Step out of the car, sir. And do it slowly."
Lance stifled a groan, but opened the door and climbed out. A wave of dizziness washed over him from exhaustion, and he wobbled.
The man's hand clamped down onto Lance's with a steely grip. "Come on. You're going downtown, buddy."
"But I didn't do anything." Lance steadied himself to an upright position by holding on to side of the truck.
"A neighbor called and reported a stalker in the vicinity. Man in a Blazer watching her house." The policeman jerked Lance toward the squad car. "You're the only one on the street, buddy."
"No." Lance tried to extricate himself so he could look into the policeman's face, but the man's grip tightened.
"Do you want me to add resisting arrest to the charges?"
Lance balked. "I'm not resisting. I was just watching—"
"Tell it to the judge." Beefy hands slapped a pair of handcuffs on Lance, then pushed his head downward and stuffed him into the backseat.
The officer's accusations sank in as the door slammed shut, trapping Lance in the backseat behind the protective mesh wall. Someone had called and reported a stalker? Someone who'd seen his Blazer? Who?
Lance slid down into the seat, mortified as the answer splintered through his befuddled brain.
Sophie.
Had she called the police for revenge?
* * *
Sophie had unpacked, thrown on a nightshirt, and scrubbed her face free of makeup when Lucy wobbled in, humming "Forever Young" and dancing through the den with an invisible partner. Blue lights swirled outside, lighting up the foyer, and Sophie peeked out to see a police car rolling down the street.