Who's Been Sleeping in My Bed?

by Jami Davenport

  Chapter 4—Thorns in His Side

  Brad Reynolds, Jake’s brother, peeked around the corner of Jake’s office door. “Mind if I come in?”

  “No, not at all. I could use a break. Haven’t seen you in a while. Where ya been?” Jake straightened in his chair and reached back to rub the kinks from his neck.

  “Working, if you can believe that. Dad gave me a lecture on absenteeism; now I have to toe the line for a while till he forgets about it.” Brad laughed, but then Brad always laughed about everything. Life was one big game to be played but not taken too seriously. Sometimes Jake wondered how things had worked out as they had. His two brothers were exact opposites with him in the middle and Bridget in left field.

  “He will. You have the touch when it comes to him.”

  “I can’t help it if I’m a charmer. Want some pointers?”

  “I think it’s too late for that, fifteen years too late.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Still, ever since he’s had that heart attack, he’s been—well—weird, ya know? Carson says he doesn’t work more than eight hours a day, five days a week. I guess he and Mom are taking a cruise to the Caribbean on some chartered yacht.”

  “Our dad? And with Mom? No way. I can’t remember a time when Dad took a vacation that wasn’t tied to business.” Jake studied Brad, trying to decide if Brad was full of it, as usual, or being straight with him. The father Jake knew believed in all work and no play, regardless of the situation.

  “It’s true. I swear. It’s as if Dad is getting younger and more carefree, and Carson is turning into Dad.”

  “Carson has always been Dad’s clone.”

  “Yeah, I know. Poor guy.”

  “He doesn’t seem to mind. He lives for that role.”

  Shrugging, Brad leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if anyone was eavesdropping. “I haven’t had a chance to catch up. How’d things go in Seattle with Jill?”

  Jake growled at the mention of that woman’s name. “Great. If you call being led around by your dick for three weeks, great.”

  “I see. I take it she’s not going to be the future Mrs. Reynolds?”

  “Not unless you or Carson marry her.”

  Brad threw back his head and laughed. “No, thanks, she’s about as much fun as a nun in a brothel. And Carson—” Brad rubbed his chin then his eyes lit up. “Hell, they’d make an excellent pair. I’ll put Bridget to work on that one right away.”

  Siccing Bridget, the family matchmaker, on Carson, the family fun spoiler, definitely appealed to Jake. “Yeah, the tight ass and the tight—never mind.”

  Brad grinned then glanced toward the closed door. “Speaking of ass, little brother, who’s the hot little cocktail waitress hunting and pecking on your keyboard?”

  “You mean Goldilocks?” Jake leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. Now, there was a subject he could warm up to, probably a little too much. Jake’s mind conjured up some fascinating visuals but then it’d had a lot of practice during the past couple weeks. Harlee could stroke his keyboard and click his mouse anytime. Damn. He shook his head and smothered those carnal images.

  Leave it to Brad, the reluctant techie of the family, to notice she couldn’t type.

  Brad’s eyes narrowed as he studied his brother. “Uh, yeah. Goldilocks. What’re you? Baby Bear?”

  “Huh?”

  “You are the baby of the family so that would make you Baby Bear.”

  “Not hardly.” Horny Bear would be more like it, but he didn’t dare tell his brother. And being the baby of the family had gotten old years ago. His family’s continued hazing regarding his place in the birth order touched a sore spot and pissed him off.

  “Sure. I bet Goldie’s been sleeping in your bed.”

  “No. Not my type.” Liar. Liar. Liar. Just his type. That was the problem. He didn’t want her to be his type.

  Brad studied the closed door as if he could see through it then swung back around to face Jake. “She reminds me of a diamond-in-the-rough Marilyn Monroe with a makeup fetish. Great bod, though.”

  Jake could vouch for that, and so could his demented brain that had sunk in that gutter and refused to come out.

  “So how’d you end up with her?”

  “It’s a long story.” He leaned forward to snag his coffee cup and took a sip.

  “What’s she doing hanging out with Bridget?”

  Jake’s feet hit the floor with a thud. His coffee sloshed all over his desk, but he ignored it. “Bridget’s out there? Oh, shit. I left Bridget at the farmhouse reading some New Age book. She’s into that crap now.”

  Brad nodded. “Yeah, that’s her latest obsession.” Brad’s twin sister was famous—infamous—for switching from one interest, cause, or crusade to the next at the change of a stoplight. The only constants in her life were riding horses and spending money by the bale full.

  “I’ve been trying to keep those two apart. What were they discussing?”

  “No clue.” Brad chuckled. “I told Bridge I’d meet her here, and she could buy me lunch. I guess she showed up early.”

  “Oh, man. You know Bridget’s on a mission regarding saving Rosehill Camp. She beat that dead horse all night last night. Wouldn’t let up. On and on and on and on.”

  Brad threw up his hands in self-defense. “Okay, I get the picture. Bridget’s always on a mission. She’ll get bored with it. Wait her out. Better her focusing on you than me.”

  “Easy for you to say. I like the ‘sic her on Carson’ idea myself.”

  Brad nodded. “So what’s the problem with her talking to Goldilocks?”

  “Goldilocks wants to save the camp, too. It appears she attended it in her teens, came back as a counselor, and then moved in with Rose Maguire and managed her horse barn for a few years.” Jake had done a little research on Harlee, strictly for business reasons, of course.

  “Hmmm. I see. And Bridget, what’re her latest demands?”

  “She wants me to sell Rosehill Farm back to Rose’s niece, Mariah Baker. She told me it’s bad karma to destroy its natural beauty and cosmic aura.”

  “What does she care?” Brad yawned. “They weren’t exactly friends. They used to compete against each other at horse shows. Bridget, if I recall, was a poor sport when she lost and was a real bitch to Mariah.”

  “She’s a bitch to everyone. They could be the best of friends now. All I know is that someone’s been bending Bridget’s ear about that camp. It sure as hell isn’t me.”

  “You’re in big trouble, little brother. She can raise a pretty big stink, especially if she gets Mom on her side.”

  “That can’t happen.”

  “It could.” Brad smiled at him in pity.

  “I’ve got to get rid of her. It’s like she’s stalking me. It’s driving me nuts.”

  “You can’t stalk your own brother.”

  “She can and is.” A shriek of female laughter penetrated the thin walls. Jake rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Man, that’s just what I need.”

  “What? For Bridget to be arrested for stalking her own brother?”

  “No, for Bridget and Harlee to become friends. It’s too much for any one man to take.”

  “Harley? As in motorcycles?” Brad shook his head in disbelief. “Man, only you, Jake. I leave you alone for two weeks, and you hire a polyester siren with a biker babe name, who chooses our sister for her sidekick.”

  “They hated each other last night.”

  Brad ignored Jake’s skirting of the issue. “I wonder what Harlee would look like in leathers and nothing else.”

  Jake wasn’t letting his imagination play on that field, nor Brad’s. “Shut up,” he warned his brother.

  Brad raised his eyebrows; amusement shone in his dark eyes.

  Jake felt a roaring headache coming on. If Harlee and Bridget compared notes and realized they had the same mission, he was toast. As if he didn’t have enough problems, which brought up his number one problem. “Have you seen
Carson around?”

  “Yeah, he’s on his way here.”

  “What is this? A fucking family reunion?”

  “Just checking on baby brother.”

  “I don’t need all of you butting into my business.”

  “You do now that we’re all in this together.”

  “This? As in Rosehill?”

  “Yep. Wait until Carson gets a load of Goldilocks. He’ll shit a brick.”

  “She’s my assistant. Nothing more. Look beyond appearances. She’s very competent.”

  “Yeah, but at what?”

  “Brad, I’m warning you. I won’t have you disrespecting my employee.”

  “Yes, sir.” Brad executed a snappy salute. “Got any beer?”

  “Nope, not here at work.”

  “You’re no fun anymore.”

  “Tough. Bridget tells me she ran into Patricia a few days ago.” Jake patted himself on the back for that brilliant move. He’d refocus this conversation onto Brad’s love life. Those fertile fields could be sowed for hours.

  “We’re through.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “She’s not my type.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I discovered she was the marrying-for-love type. That type is never my type. You’ll be on marriage number two before I ever consider number one.”

  “Not me. I’m a bachelor for life. I’ve seen enough of marriage to know what a sham it is. Been there, done that.”

  “You did take a crash course in matrimony,” Brad agreed. “But you were young and stupid.”

  “And horny. Perpetually.”

  “So what’s changed?” Brad grinned his cocky grin.

  “Have I ever told you what an asshole you are?” So much for clever maneuvering. His brother had steered the conversation right back to Jake’s front door.

  Brad stared at the wall as if he had X-ray vision, but he held his tongue. Jake bristled.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Harlee does not look anything like my ex.”

  “Suit yourself. I bet she isn’t the marrying type.”

  “I have no clue what type she is.” He’d only lusted after her since the second he’d straddled her in his bed. So much for having outgrown women like her in his college days.

  “Maybe I’ll find out. Buy her dinner, see where the evening goes. She reminds me of this little number I met at an outdoor concert one time. We did the hot-and-nasty in the back of Mom and Dad’s Mercedes…”

  “Stop.” Jake ground out through gritted teeth. “Don’t even consider it.” The words escaped from his mouth before he had time to stuff them back inside.

  “What?” Brad narrowed his eyes in a shrewd assessment of his brother. “What did you say?” Brad asked again in a slow, lazy drawl.

  “Uh. Nothing.” Jake slumped in his chair.

  “I heard you. Would that be ‘no, I can’t ask her out’?”

  “Leave her alone.” Jake studied a pencil on the desk.

  “A little territorial, aren’t we, little bro? You sure you’re not scorching the sheets with her?”

  “I’m not.” Jake looked away. “The only thing that happens to be scorched is my patience.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “She’s my employee. This needs to stay on a professional level. I don’t need you muddying the waters.”

  “Yeah, right. You can’t be protecting her honor. I doubt she has any left to protect.”

  “Don’t be rude. She’s doing her best, just ’cause she wasn’t born with a generous bank account and her makeup is a little overdone.”

  One of Brad’s dark brows crept up his forehead.

  “Okay, way overdone,” Jake corrected, still supremely annoyed.

  “Man, don’t get so defensive.” Brad’s eyes narrowed. “Now I understand. You really aren’t getting any, which explains your surly behavior.”

  “I’m not surly.”

  “Nope, you’re as pleasant as a grizzly bear that just sat his butt on a hornet’s nest.” Brad grinned. “I’ll leave her alone. She’s all yours. I’d hate to see you lose your reputation as the family bad boy.”

  Jake grunted. His rebuilt reputation was hanging in tatters, and he was digging himself in deeper. Better to keep his big mouth shut and his brother out of his business.

  * * * *

  Bridget sat in the corner reading Cosmo and waiting for Brad, which suited Harlee just fine. Harlee was a plastic cup compared to Bridget’s crystal goblet, not a flattering comparison that instilled confidence.

  Harlee glanced up from her computer monitor when the outside door opened. “May I help you?”

  Tall with dark hair, she didn’t doubt for a moment that he was a Reynolds. He didn’t have the other brothers’ warm, dark eyes though. His eyes were a pale blue, like a picture she’d seen once of an iceberg in the Arctic and just as cold. He was dressed in dark slacks and a white polo, everything immaculate and perfectly pressed. Harlee tugged on her worn skirt and straightened her wrinkled blouse.

  For a brief moment, he stared at her in shock, taken aback. Then he blinked and stared again.

  “May I help you?” Harlee repeated in her best professional tone.

  “I—I’m looking for Jake.”

  “He’s in his office with Brad. And you are—”

  “Carson. Carson Reynolds.” With politeness born of habit, he shook her hand in a firm grip.

  “I’m Harlee Davis.” She gave the guy credit. His expression never changed when she said her name.

  “Carson’s the oldest,” Bridget interjected. “We call him the Tight Ass because he has to do everything by the book. He’s also as close to perfect as you’ll get in this family.”

  “Bridget, would you—”

  “Shut up?”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “I don’t know why I bother.” He moved closer to his sister and lowered his voice. “For a moment, I thought…”

  “I know. So did I.”

  “Well, thank God it isn’t her.”

  “Nope, but you gotta wonder where he finds them.” She looked pointedly at Carson. “But then at least he finds them. You don’t even try—”

  “I thought you had some appointments on this island.”

  “I do, but later today.” Bridget smiled sweetly, but Harlee sensed some kind of battle brewing between the two. “I’m waiting for my brothers to buy me lunch.”

  “We’re having a business lunch. You’d be bored. Don’t you have anything else to do?”

  “I’m learning to read tarot cards. Want me to tell your fortune?” Much to Harlee’s surprise, Bridget whipped out a deck of tarot cards and laid them out on the desk. “Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  “You’d have to cast a spell on me first.”

  “I’m not a practicing witch.”

  “Really? Did your license get revoked?”

  “Carson.” Bridget feigned shock. “That was actually funny. I never knew you had it in you.”

  “I’m just a laugh a minute.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, bro.”

  “I’d love to stay out here and trade insults with you, but I have to earn money so that you can spend it.” Carson turned back to Harlee. “Do you mind if I go in?”

  “Not at all. I imagine they’re expecting you.”

  “They should be. It was, uh—nice to meet you.” Carson escaped into Jake’s small office and closed the door behind him.

  Harlee turned to find Bridget studying her. “You really read tarot cards?”

  “Not really. I just did it to get his goat. I’m a thorn in his side, especially lately.”

  “I’m not sure he was happy to see me here.”

  “Probably not.” Dismissing Harlee, Bridget stuffed the cards in her purse and picked up her magazine.

  Obviously, it wasn’t just poor people who had dysfunctional families. Harlee sighed and turned back to her work.

  * * *
*

  “Jake, where did you find that assistant?” Carson studied his brother with those critical eyes that saw absolutely everything and didn’t like what they saw.

  The truth wouldn’t be a good idea. Shucks, Carson, I found her in my bed on a dark and stormy night. She had great tits so I let her stay. Somehow that didn’t seem like a wise response.

  “I interviewed several candidates. She was by far the best.” He stared Carson straight in the eyes.

  “The best?” Carson frowned, his brow furrowing into several lines of disapproval. No one did disapproval like Carson, except their father.

  “Choices are limited on this island.”

  “I don’t need you getting distracted by someone like her.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know you, Jake. I know your tastes.”

  “No.” Jake willed his voice to stay calm. “You know the young, wild Jake, not the responsible, mature version.”

  “I didn’t realize there was a difference.”

  “Then open your eyes.”

  “The three of you need to grow up.” Carson’s gaze shifted to Brad and then to the doorway, as if seeing through it to Bridget beyond.

  “Hey, don’t drag me into this. I’m sitting here minding my own business.” Brad tipped his coffee mug to his lips and guzzled his coffee like he guzzled beer.

  “That’s all you ever do. You never take responsibility for anything.”

  “Why should I when you do such a good job of it? None of us could ever meet your lofty standards. Could we, Jake?”

  Jake kept his mouth shut. The all-for-one-and-one-for-all thing didn’t apply when it came to bickering brothers. He preferred every man for himself when Carson was on a roll.

  “Do you—either of you—understand what’s at stake here?”

  “Yes, you tell us every chance you get.” Brad yawned.

  “Dad invested in Rosehill because he believed in you, Jake.”

  “I didn’t ask him. Warren did. He bailed Warren out of his gambling debts and paid pennies on the dollar for his share of that land.”

  “He didn’t do it for the money or Warren. He did it for you.”