by Jane Jamison
“Do you have a lot of women visit you?” She cringed and wished she could take back the words. “I’m sorry. I’m being too personal.”
“It’s okay.” Anthony had foregone the chairs to sit on the steps with his back against one of the columns. He looked like a Southern gentleman at home on his plantation. “You can ask us anything.”
“And no to your question.” Montana’s long legs seemed even longer as he hooked his ankle on top of his knee. He sat in the chair next to hers. “The clothes are for guests, but so far, we haven’t invited any women to our home. At least, not without it being a clan meeting.”
The closeness of him swamped her with heat. The weather was warm, but why did the air always seem to grow warmer whenever one of the men was around? “A clan meeting?”
Her gaze shifted to Anthony, the Southern gentleman. “You guys aren’t a part of the KKK, are you?”
“Aw, hell no.” Branson caught the bee when it landed on his shoulder. Gently, he threw the bee away, sending it back toward the garden. “The clan is a group we belong to. Like the Shriners and that kind of thing. Nothing sick like the KKK.”
“Good to know.”
“Actually”—Anthony’s gaze slipped from her to his friends then back again—“Branson and I belong to one clan, and Montana belongs to another. We use a place like this one to bring those two groups and two others together to discuss important matters like politics, the stock market, and other things.”
Branson made a face. “And, yes, it’s as boring as it sounds.”
She giggled, loving Branson’s way of joking. Anthony was the serious one, almost as though he was more than a friend and a cousin. Montana’s personality wavered between being funny and being serious, a blend of the other men’s personalities.
She was having a great time for a person who’d just fallen off a cruise ship. Even her bruises and bumps were feeling better. How could she not feel better? She was on a secluded island with three super-sexy men who were paying attention to her every word, her every wish.
It was what she’d always imagined. That great-looking men tended to hang together. But there was something else that drew these men together in something more than a friendship. They were like a close-knit family, one that they had formed on their own. Although Branson and Anthony were related, Montana was just as much a part of them. Even Branson and Anthony were more than cousins. The three of them were as close as brothers.
Hot, amazing brothers.
They were men who were truly men. Not only because of their age but because of a confidence that radiated from them. Their toned, hard bodies were the things personal trainers would’ve envied, yet they didn’t act as though their physiques were anything but natural. The house didn’t have a gym, and she would’ve bet they didn’t work the land. No, they were the way they were simply because they’d been born that way.
As much as she tried to warn herself not to be drawn to them, she couldn’t help herself. It was as though she picked up an energy from them that seared through her body, igniting a burn deep inside her. Her clit throbbed just being near them.
Touch me, damn it. Why won’t you just fucking touch me?
The answer was heartbreakingly clear. Obviously, they weren’t interested in her. At least not sexually.
“Arielle, are you sure you don’t remember how you got to our island?” Anthony’s strange silver eyes fixed to hers. “Nothing at all?”
She jerked out of her trance, forcing her mind away from how much she wanted them. Doing so was becoming harder and harder.
“Nothing?” repeated Anthony when she didn’t respond right away.
“No. Just what I told you about the life preserver.” But she wasn’t telling them the whole truth. Every time she didn’t tell them about the dragon, her stomach would tighten a little more. She couldn’t hold back any longer. “Um, although there is one thing I haven’t mentioned.”
“What’s that?” Branson’s smile died.
She chuckled. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“No, we won’t.” Montana hooked his thumbs in his jeans.
“You might.” She took a moment to steady herself. “I saw a dragon.”
Chapter Four
Arielle waited for them to start laughing. When they didn’t, when they remained silent, she repeated what she’d said. “I saw a dragon.”
Montana’s brow knitted. “You mean you saw one of the dragon statues, right? So you went outside and explored in that small time we were gone?”
“No. I spent most of that time getting cleaned up then eating.” She gripped the arms of the chair, determined to continue. “When I came to on the beach, I was covered up.”
Branson dropped his gaze to the floor. “By seaweed?”
“No. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I touched it.”
“And?” Anthony’s expression didn’t tell her anything about what he was thinking.
“It felt like scales.”
“Like fish scales?” Still, Branson didn’t look at her.
Their reactions were unnerving. Branson acted guilty while Montana seemed irritated next to Anthony’s stone-faced look.
“Not really.” She dragged in a breath. “Just let me get through this, okay?”
“No one’s stopping you, bella,” said Anthony.
Bella. Wasn’t that the Italian word for pretty? Maybe telling them wouldn’t be so bad. Not that she could stop now.
“Suddenly, the thing covering me pulled away. When I dared to look up”—she paused, sure they would start laughing once she finished the sentence—“I saw the dragon.”
They didn’t laugh. In fact, they didn’t say anything at all.
“Babe, you’d just gone through a major ordeal. You were probably hallucinating.”
She stared at Montana. She’d expected disbelief but not the placating tone he’d used. As though he were talking to a child who’d made up an imaginary friend. “I know what I saw was real.”
“Come on, sugar.” Branson’s smile wasn’t like all the ones before. This one held a hint of sadness. Maybe even pity. “You know dragons aren’t real, don’t you?”
“I’m telling you the truth.” She’d known they wouldn’t believe her, yet now that they were actually saying so, she couldn’t help but get angry.
“Babe”—Montana put his hand on top of hers—“maybe you should lie down and rest.”
Even as the heat from his hand warmed her, sending a fresh wave of desire rushing into her, she couldn’t keep from getting even angrier. Jerking her hand away, she stood up and glared at them. “Fine. Don’t believe me, but don’t try and make me doubt what I saw.”
“Bella.”
No matter what wonderful term of endearment they called her—bella, sugar, or babe—she had to get away. Ignoring them as they tried to call her back, she tugged open the back door of the house and stormed inside.
* * * *
Arielle snuck her way down the stairs. After her tirade, she didn’t want to run into the men. She was embarrassed by her anger, yet she wasn’t ready to apologize.
The sun was starting to slide beneath the horizon as she made her way back down to the beach. Another thirty minutes and the sun would be gone, giving way to the night. Perhaps being on the beach after sunset wasn’t the brightest idea, but she needed time to think and the fresh sea air to breathe. Taking off her shoes—chosen out of many pairs in the closet—she walked along the beach, staying just out of the surf.
She didn’t blame them for not believing her. If they’d told her the same thing, she would’ve laughed first then called the nearest psychiatric clinic. She should’ve been prepared for what they’d said. Yet, at the time, even though they’d treated her nicely, the frustration had gotten the better of her.
I’ll have to apologize soon.
Right after I hunt for a phone.
Were they lying to her about not having a phone? Who didn’t own a cell phone nowadays? Even if t
hey went that far to keep the seclusion of the island, wouldn’t they have a radio or a satellite phone for emergencies? Were they really so confident in their ability to face anything that might happen?
Yeah, they are.
If any men could handle a crisis situation, it was these men. She could easily see them as heroes in any movie. They were the type of men who ran into a burning building instead of out of it. What other kind of man could build a home on an unknown island and think nothing of it? Granted, being good-looking, hell, hot as all get out, didn’t make a hero, but they had that extra quality that said they could handle earthquakes, wars, and much more.
She came to a rock outcropping and decided to sit and enjoy the ocean. Setting her shoes on top of the rock, she leaned back onto her elbows and watched the waves roll in.
What were the jewel thieves doing now? Would they assume she’d drowned? Or would they search for her and, hopefully, find the gems?
And what about the cruise ship staff? Didn’t anyone miss her? If so, they’d probably done a quick search and then assumed she was lost at sea.
No one would find her on the island. How could they ever know where she’d gone? She felt safe here, but would that feeling last?
Where is that damn dragon, anyway?
Her gaze lifted to the sky. She was certain she’d seen a dragon. Hell, she’d felt its warm breath on her skin and seen the smoke flowing out of the sides of its mouth.
Could she have imagined it? She guessed that was the logical explanation. Yet the scales she’d felt had been all too real.
No. The dragon is real.
She stopped and thought about that.
Yeah. The dragon is real.
Suddenly, she saw herself as the dragon might if it was flying high above her. Would it see her as a human? Or as food? Maybe both? Yet she hadn’t been afraid when she’d faced it earlier. Had, in fact, been fascinated. She’d wanted to stroke its neck and skim her fingers along its long back all the way down to the arrow-like tip of its tail.
Her gaze slid across the sky, searching. Where would the dragon hide? Was there a cave on the island? A hidden nest for the dragon? Were there more dragons?
Dragon Island. That was what the men had called it. She didn’t think for one second that the island had been named for a bunch of stone statues. And why would there be statues if there weren’t any dragons?
They’re not telling me the truth.
She was suddenly sure that the men were hiding something from her. Yet she couldn’t exactly climb on her high horse and accuse them of lying. Not when she hadn’t told them about the jewels.
She squinted at the sky. Other than a few white clouds drifting by, the sky was clear. So where were those strange shimmers coming from? She sat up and studied the shimmers. If they’d been lower and right above pavement, she might have assumed they were coming from heat radiating off the hot blacktop. But these were hanging directly over the cool ocean.
She pushed off the rock and, leaving her shoes behind, walked toward the water. The closer she came to the shimmers, the more confused she was.
What was making the strange things in the sky?
Blinking, she then rubbed her eyes and tried again. If she looked really hard, maybe she could see.
She blinked again, this time in confusion. Was it her imagination going wild again as the men had suggested? Or was she really seeing what she thought she was seeing? She wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or frightened.
“Dragons.”
When she studied the shimmers, she could make out outlines against the blue sky. Outlines that formed the shape of not one but three dragons.
All at once, the shimmers grew more distinct, filling in the space between them. She stared, too stunned to do anything else. As she watched, the forms became more and more solid until, at last, she found herself staring at three very real dragons.
Their wings flapped against the sea breeze, yet they remained stationary, hovering above the lapping waves. They were huge, their wings spanning the width of an airplane’s wings. Red eyes stared back at her while smoke trailed out of their nostrils and gigantic mouths. Vicious fangs glistened in their mouths, the purple rays of the setting sun sliding over their scaled bodies.
Holy crap.
“You’re real. All three of you.”
As though it had heard her, one of the dragons—was it the one she’d seen before?—opened its mouth wider. Flames burst from its mouth, sending a blast of heat over her.
Suddenly, they were all too real. She let out a frightened squeak and ran.
She didn’t dare look back. If they wanted to catch her, to lift her into the air with their great claws, they could. Her breath hitched in her throat as she dashed as fast as she could toward the path leading back to the house. Sand slowed her down as it sucked at her feet, but she pushed on. Any moment could be her last.
She stumbled, going to her knees. Twisting around, she looked back toward the place in the sky, but nothing was there. Not even the shimmers.
Where’d they go?
After getting back on her feet, she searched the night sky. Without the setting sun’s rays, with only the glow of the moon for light, she gave up. Turning around, she hurried up the path back to the house.
By the time she’d made it into the house again, she was breathing heavily. Her heart pounded from the exertion as well as from excitement.
“Guys?” Were they still on the back porch? She rushed through the house then out the back door, but they weren’t there. What was she planning on telling them anyway? They hadn’t believed her the first time, so why would they believe her now?
Damn. If only I’d had a phone to snap a photo.
Disappointed, she went back inside and headed to her bedroom. She was halfway up the stairs when the sound of them coming through the dining room brought her up short. “Guys?”
“Yeah. We’re in here,” answered Branson.
The three men who were sexier than any men she’d ever seen, in person or on a screen, strolled out of the dining room and over to her.
“Where were you guys?”
“Around.” Anthony tilted his head at her. “Why? Did something happen?”
“Yeah.” She stalled, remembering how they’d reacted when she’d told them earlier. She was right. They wouldn’t believe her now any more than they had before. As much as she wanted to tell them, she wanted to convince them even more. But without any real evidence, they wouldn’t believe her. “No. Never mind. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? You looked like you wanted to tell us something important.” Montana put his foot on the first step. “Plus, you’ve been running. What’s going on, babe? Are you in trouble?”
Babe. What would it be like to hear him call her that while in bed? Or, hell, on top of the kitchen counter? But she couldn’t risk telling them. Not when she had nothing to prove what she’d seen.
“Seriously, it’s nothing.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Branson studied her, obviously not believing her. His expression soon brightened. “Come with us. We’ve got dinner waiting.”
“Dinner?”
“You bet. Besides, you didn’t eat much earlier.” He hooked his arm in hers and led her into the beautiful dining room. The lights were dim, casting a sweet hue over the room. Candles flickered on the table, where china and sparkling crystal glasses set the ambience.
“Do you have a chef?”
“Nope. Just us.” Anthony made his way across the room to the door leading into the kitchen from the dining room. “Montana makes a mean salad, and Branson’s not too shabby with a pot roast.”
The setting looked like the dinner should’ve consisted of a more elaborate meal with names and ingredients she couldn’t pronounce, but she was happy to have a more “normal” dinner. Although she wasn’t all that hungry, she wouldn’t let them know. Not after all the trouble they’d gone to.
“Here. Have a seat.” Branson pulled out the chair at the
head of the table. “Would you like some wine, my lady?”
She went along with the pretense. “Yes, please, my lord.”
“You’re definitely a lady, but he’s no lord. Trust me on that,” quipped Montana.
“This looks beautiful. You really didn’t need to do this for me. Or is this how you dine every night?”
“Us?” Although Branson had offered the wine, Montana beat him to the chance to pour it. “Shoot, no. We’re more of the PB&J kind of guys.”
“Yeah, I can’t think of the last time we used this room.” Branson fingered one of the plates. “Much less these fancy dinner plates.”
“Then why do it tonight?” She studied the forks, knives, and spoons. Which one was she supposed to use first?
“Because tonight’s a special night.”
She tried to gather more from Montana’s expression but couldn’t. “Why is it special?”
He seemed thrown that she’d had to ask. “Because you’re special.” He moved on to fill the next person’s wine.
Anthony stalked into the room. “Uh, I hate to say this, but we messed up.”
The three of them shifted to face him. “What’s wrong, man?” asked Montana.
Anthony seemed flustered, not liking what he had to say. “We forgot to turn on the oven.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Montana grinned.
Although he hadn’t bothered to hide his humor, she smothered a smile and forced herself to grow serious. “You did?”
“Which means we’ve got squat for dinner. Damn it, Anthony.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one in charge of the pot roast.” His gaze shifted to Branson.
“Why are you looking at me?” Branson snagged the nearest wine glass and downed the red liquid. “Fine. I fucked up. I guess in our hurry to get things ready, I must’ve forgotten. And then when we went flying…” He stalled, looking for all the world as though he’d said too much.
“You guys went flying? So you do have a plane?” Could she convince them to take her to an inhabited island? To authorities who could take the jewels from her and catch the thieves? Yet she found herself not wanting to go anywhere at all.