Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  Get it together, Bren.

  She met his gaze, smiling. “I think I’d heard something like that before. America was where the wealth was, so a lot of Europeans came here.”

  “Yeah, that’s it exactly. So the Lord Arrington decided to call this place New Durma and helped establish the town.”

  “Wow. I wonder if the family still lives here? I think you’re going to be glad you came here, Bren. I mean, I know your mom was the world to you, but you never had a full family and finding Iggie’s brother is a start.”

  “Iggie?”

  “Oh, that’s what Mr. Rawley called her. A pet name, I guess.” She chuckled, and for some reason the sound of her laughter made his chest tighten.

  Clearing his throat, he continued. “The family, the one that started this place, they kept their citizenship. Even though they came here to America, they kept their titles. Hope--” He spoke her name soft as a whisper, but she glanced up at him with bright, expectant eyes.

  “Lord Arrington’s name was Anthony Rawley.”

  She blinked a few times, holding a breath. Her face flushed pink and she shook her head. “Oh, Bren. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  He slipped one arm in front of Michelle to hold her so he could release his other hand to run his fingers through his hair.

  “I’m pretty sure your ‘Mr. Rawley’ is an Earl.”

  ***

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “It’s now or never, Bren. Let's go meet your family.”

  He didn't glance at her or acknowledge that she had spoken to him but started quickly up toward the intimidating doors of James Rawley’s home. Before he reached them, a woman in a black servant’s uniform opened the doors, looking down her nose at them.

  The bronze sign at the gate when they’d entered the property called it Arrington Manor, and it was every bit as large and imposing as Hope would have thought a “manor” would be. She didn’t know why she was surprised when a uniformed maid answered the door, leading them into an ornate parlor. Mentally she told herself she’d have to keep a close eye on Michelle to be sure she didn’t break anything.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come,” James bellowed when he came into the room. “Welcome to Arrington. I'm James, and I suppose I am your uncle.” He reached his hand out to Brennan who shook it firmly.

  That was when Hope noticed Jeremy standing in the doorway. His eyes flitted from James to Brennan then back again before he met Hope’s eyes and inclined his head in greeting. He took a step forward, and a short, pudgy woman came from behind him.

  “What’s all the shouting about?” she asked, wide-eyed and wringing her hands together in front of her.

  “Don’t you remember I told you we’d have guests this afternoon?” The older man grinned, motioning her further into the room. Satisfied, he turned back to Brennan. “This is Jeremy's wife, Margaret. Your other cousin, Kay, is away at law school.”

  “Cousins?” Margaret asked and looked around at the strangers.

  “According to Brennan, he is Aunt Iggie’s son,” Jeremy answered, placing a hand to his wife’s shoulders.

  Hope felt Brennan’s tension level rise, but she interjected in order to diffuse the situation. “Yes, Margaret. Bren’s mother left him a home here. We didn’t even realize he had family until Jeremy happened upon us about a week ago.”

  Margaret was taken aback, glaring up at her husband with a hurt expression. “You didn’t tell me. This is why you’ve been grumpy and—”

  “Meg.” His tone was a warning for her to be quiet. She did, clenching her still folded hands tighter to her belly.

  Hope could see the look behind her eyes was carefully restrained. For all she appeared the docile wife, Jeremy would likely get an earful later. She almost wanted to laugh.

  “Sit, sit,” Mr. Rawley told them all, motioning to the seats around the room. “Lorena will bring in some coffee in just a few moments.” Once every one had complied with his directions, he leaned back in his chair, put his elbows on the arms and folded his hands in the shape of steeple. “Did your mother not speak of us at all, son?”

  Hope cringed, worrying Brennan would balk at the endearment “son” but he only frowned and shook his head.

  “I never knew we had any family and I don’t know why, but I never really thought it important to question it.”

  He hadn’t questioned it, at least not until Hope did. It was during their initial try at dating, in high school. She couldn’t understand not having grandparents or aunts, uncles and cousins. He always managed to shrug off her curious interrogations with a disarming smile and a kiss.

  “It is likely my own fault,” James told them, nodding as if to convince himself. “Jeremy, you were only about five when she fell in love with Nate.”

  Hope’s heart clenched when she saw the pained expression on the older man’s face. He was lost in his thoughts, memories of his past choking away all awareness of where he was or who might be in the room with him. She watched the emotions play across his face, unable to break them apart to decipher them, but aware that all of them were hurtful.

  And as quickly as he became lost in that reverie, it was broken, and he returned to the now. Looking at Bren, he smiled apologetically.

  “It occurs to me you carry your mother’s maiden name. She left here so that she could wed Nate Hewitt when I refused to allow the marriage.”

  Brennan was taken aback a moment, then cleared his throat before speaking. “He left us when I was about nine. They weren’t married, though. I never knew why, but it was a source of argument between them. It seemed like he wanted something from her before he would give her the ring. He got tired of waiting, and one day, he was just gone.”

  “It isn’t right to speak ill of someone’s parent, but I was not fond of your father.”

  “Neither was I,” Brennan snorted.

  A moment of silence descended on the room, then James laughed and reached across the divide to pat Brennan’s hand.

  “I knew I liked you for a reason, son.”

  As soon as the physical contact was removed, Hope watched Bren slide his hand away from his knee, away from the old man’s touch. She imagined he was quite appalled by the instant affection shown by James Rawley.

  Just then Michelle released a loud cry followed by a whimper. They all turned, and Hope smiled because it appeared everyone had only just remembered the baby.

  “She's tired,” she excused.

  “Are you staying in the cottage?” James inquired, leaning forward as Hope stood to jostle the baby into quiet.

  “It isn’t quite ready,” she answered, shaking her head at the elder man. “We have some more electrical work to do, and after the last rain, we found a leak in the back bedroom.”

  Brennan stood, and she knew he was preparing them to make their exit. She switched Michelle from one arm to the other, still bouncing her a bit.

  Jeremy stood and approached the door to the parlor, and she imagined he was prepared to see them out of the house in an instant.

  “Would you consider doing this old man a favor?” James asked, his voice soft and tenuous.

  Neither Hope nor Brennan spoke; both of them just looked down at the man expectantly.

  “I’m sure you can see this is quite a house. Even with Jeremy and his family, we have so much room. Would you consider staying here, until the cottage is ready?”

  “Oh, no.” Brennan shook his head, answering almost before the older man had finished his question. “We couldn’t do that. We have a room at the bed and breakfast and—”

  “You are all that is left of my Iggie, Brennan. I would like to get to know you. This would be no imposition, but a favor to me.”

  “Daddy, you shouldn’t press them.” Jeremy spoke.

  Hope nearly laughed when she saw how quickly Bren’s demeanor changed. His second refusal to stay died the moment Jeremy indicated he didn’t want them to. Leave it to Bren to play that sort of game.

  He looked at h
er with the question in his eyes. “Of course we can stay. If you want.”

  “Marvelous!” James cried, taking his cane and standing. “I will have Marvin gather your things and deliver them here.”

  Brennan did a double take and glared at him with accusing eyes. “You knew where we were staying?”

  “No, son, but there’s only one bed and breakfast near here. It is a small town, you know.”

  Quite small, Hope mused, if he’s on a first-name basis with the proprietor of the B&B.

  “Come.” Margaret held out her hand. “All of you must be tired. I'll take you to your room.”

  Hope didn't have time to see Jeremy's reaction to his wife’s ready acceptance of them, because Margaret led her out of the room.

  “I suppose you already know my name, but most everyone calls me Meg, and I want you to also. You'll find Arrington Manor is a dream come true if you're like I was when I first arrived here. I had never seen anything near to this splendid.”

  “It's magnificent. I'm— Sealla.”

  “And the baby?”

  “Nichole.”

  Meg laughed as she turned down a corridor to a wing that looked deserted. “She doesn't look a bit like your husband, but she has your eyes I think. No one lives in this section of the house, but I'm sure you-” She stopped, and Hope nearly ran into her back. She looked over her shoulder with a confused expression. “Oh, dear, I’m terrible with names.”

  “Oh, Brennan. And he’s not my husband. We’re just friends. He’s helping Nichole and I find a place to settle down.”

  “Brennan, yes. I'm sure you and he will be comfortable.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard the clarification about their marital status. “It should be perfect for you, considering there's a nursery connected to your bedroom. The baby's crib is an heirloom, passed on since the time of Lord Anthony's great-great-grandfather.”

  “Really? Are you—” She stopped when they entered the bedroom. Hope gasped aloud and roved her eyes over the enormous space.

  Margaret chortled. “I'm glad to see I'm not the only one to drop my mouth open when I enter this room. Jeremy and I lived here when we first came to Arrington, then when our third child was born, we moved to the east wing because there were more rooms.”

  “It's— bigger than my apartment was.”

  “Indeed. Anything you need? Hungry?”

  “No, we'll be fine. I just need to put her down for a nap.”

  “All right. I'll leave you alone then. I want you to know that my husband, he's really a very nice man.”

  “I'm sure he is.”

  “He's just very overprotective of his father. Sir Rawley nearly didn’t recover when Jeremy’s mother died last year. He’ll get used to all of this soon. Really.”

  “Of course.” Hope smiled and nodded, trying not to show her astonishment to the title “Sir” before James Rawley’s name.

  “And I'm glad to have another woman in the family, Sealla.”

  “Thank you, Meg.” The other woman left, and Hope found herself sighing with relief. Just to her left she located the small anteroom nursery. It was decorated in pale colors of both blue and pink, obviously suitable for a babe of either sex. Some of the tension in her body dissolved as she set a blanket out on the floor for Michelle to play on while she mixed some formula. The baby whimpered a bit at first, but soon became occupied with one of her toys.

  When she finished feeding Michelle, and the little one was asleep, she laid her carefully down in the nursery's crib. Kissing her softly, she rubbed the sign of a cross on the child's forehead with her thumb, then turned out the lights and went to explore the adjoining room.

  She found a bathroom that was about the size of the living area at the cottage. The tub was so large, she imagined she and Bren could fit in it nicely together. Her cheeks flamed when she followed her thoughts along that train, imaging Brennan’s soap covered hands slipping along her body. She closed her eyes, trembled and wrapped her arms around herself.

  ***

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Brennan finished packing up their things as he listened to the voice-mail message on his cell. It was Hope, wondering where he was. He had been gone several hours on the errand to pick up their things at the bed and breakfast. Even though his uncle had insisted on having Marvin deliver their bags, Brennan didn’t like the idea of anyone rummaging through their things. He should have been back some time ago, but he had detoured to the cottage to think.

  He didn’t know how many times he could go round and round in his mind with the questions chattering there. Why hadn’t his mother and father married? Why did the old man leave them? Why didn’t his mother want him to know about her family? Why hadn’t she come back here to her brother instead of working two jobs just to keep them afloat?

  He had a feeling his uncle wouldn’t be able to shed much light on those questions either. The only person who could had been dead for years now. He cringed. He hadn’t thought about her like this in a long time. Usually Agnes was just a fuzzy shadow, appearing when some situation reminded him of her, then disappearing just as quickly.

  He had seen a bar not far from the B&B. His head throbbed, and he shook it away. He didn’t need a drink. That would only leave him more confused, and he was tired of being off balance.

  Hope. Her effervescent smile sprang up in his mind and he felt guilt creep under his skin. He shouldn’t have worried her like this. She had enough on her plate as it was without him adding to it. He dialed the number, and when a woman answered he asked for her.

  “Just a moment, sir.” A huff escaped his lips, and he shook his head when he realized it had been one of the maids to answer the phone. He could never have guessed he might be a part of a well-to-do family.

  “Bren?” Her voice was tinged with anxiety. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I just needed a little time, and I didn’t realize how long I’d been gone. I didn’t know the number you called on so I didn’t answer. Sorry.”

  Her relieved chuckle made him smile. “It’s okay. We’ll see you soon then?”

  “Yep, on my way.”

  When he got back to the manor, he was surprised when he was motioned into what appeared to be a game room. There was a billiards table and a huge flat screen television that appeared to be connected to multiple video game consoles. One corner held a chess set and in the other was a card table. At that table sat Hope, his uncle and the woman Margaret.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not a word, Daddy,” the plump lady insisted, thumbing through a book that was likely a dictionary.

  “’Maziest’ is a word, Meg. I assure you.” The old man nodded for effect as he pointed his fingers at the Scrabble board and counted to himself.

  “But I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  His uncle flashed a knowing grin at Hope, then winked at Michelle who was babbling on her lap. He chucked the little girl on the chin and wrote down his score.

  Meg slammed the dictionary shut with harrumph. “It is a word!”

  Hope’s laughter caught him off guard. He stopped his approach to their table and watched her. She dropped her head back as she laughed, exposing the creamy skin of her neck. A fetching rose color crept into her cheeks, then she licked her lips, still grinning. He found his gaze lingering on those lips a moment.

  It was Michelle’s squealing outburst that broke the moment when the little girl saw him. She reached her arms to him and grunted to get away from Hope’s grasp.

  “Bren! We’re playing Scrabble. I think your uncle intentionally chooses weird words just to perturb poor Meg.”

  Brennan nodded, shoving aside the heated thoughts he’d been having and forced a smile. The light in her eyes flickered, and he could tell she could sense his discomfort. Her brows drew together in question.

  Bren shook his head just a bit and reached out to caress Michelle’s cheek. “I’m just tired. Finish your game. I think I need to get cleaned up.”

  “You hav
en’t eaten, son.” The elder man motioned him to sit in the empty seat. “There was a pot roast for dinner. If you don’t want a full meal, Lenore could make a sandwich of it.”

  “Nah, I had a bite a few moments ago.” He lied, shaking his head again. “I’m good.” He turned to leave, then stopped and scratched his head a moment before pivoting back to them. “I don’t actually know where our room is.”

  Hope hefted Michelle against her chest and stood. “I’ll show you. She needs to go down anyway. It’s been an exciting afternoon.”

  Meg giggled. “We have two boys and they took an instant liking to her. Nichole had the best time.”

  He nodded, a plastic grin still on his face. Once upstairs, he allowed Hope to see to Michelle while he took a long, hot shower. Before stepping into the tub, he scarfed down two candy bars to stave off his hunger.

  When he came out of the bathroom suite some time later, he saw a small nightlight on in the connecting nursery and presumed the baby was asleep. Hope was stretched out on her back on the bed.

  The king-sized bed looked huge, covered with lots of pillows and a fluffy comforter. Hope’s body was embedded into the thick down, and he thought she looked like a nymph floating on air. She bent an arm and brought it up over her eyes and he marveled at how relaxed she suddenly looked.

  He realized his mistake in taking a hot shower. His blood was pounding in his veins, rekindling the earlier desire he’d felt for her. She seemed oblivious to his presence, and he stepped close to the bed, padding softly on the carpeted floor. Her t-shirt had inched up so that a sliver of skin at her belly showed. His hand reached out, hovering just above her. He’d made her a promise; he needed to keep it.

  She rolled her forearm from her face, and her eyes widened when she saw him above her. A bright smile immediately curled her lips, then the corners dropped a bit and her expression faltered.

  “I tried to explain to Meg that we’re just friends, but she insisted on giving us this room. Your family seems to have its own ideas—Bren?”