Taste for Trouble (Blake Brothers Trilogy)

by Sey, Susan

  Will didn’t have an answer for that one, nor did he want one.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “As James’ manager, I’m required to sit in on all negotiations concerning terms of employment.”

  Audrey looked to James, who shrugged easily. “It’s true,” he said. “I know you and Will haven’t exactly gotten along in the past, but you’re both part of Team Blake now, so we’re going to have to put all that behind us. Time to cowboy up.”

  Audrey cut her eyes back to Will, a clear yeah, right in her face. Will smiled at her.

  James finally stopped stretching. “Damn. I’m going to be one sorry son of a bitch tomorrow morning when my muscles figure out what just happened.” He spotted the basket on the island counter and his eyes lit up. “Are those Bel’s cinnamon rolls? Hot damn and don’t mind if I do. Because I ran six miles today. Did I mention that?”

  He pulled out a stool and applied himself to a sweet roll. “Now,” he said. “Audrey. What’s going on?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  James watched an epic struggle play out over Audrey Bing’s pretty face while he chewed thoughtfully on a big hunk of Bel’s incredible cinnamon roll.

  “Can I take five minutes to get dressed?” she finally asked.

  “Not going to help,” James said. “Take it from a master procrastinator. Better to just get it out.” He glanced at his brother, who stood glowering at the poor girl. What on earth did Will have against this woman? He’d have to press him on that later. In the meantime, he didn’t mind evening the playing field a little.

  “Will,” he said, “give Audrey your robe, would you?”

  Will frowned at him. “What?”

  “Your robe,” he said. “Give it to her. She’s clearly got a lot at stake here and is feeling vulnerable in her nightie. You’ve got flannels on, I can see them from here. Give the girl your robe.”

  Will set his jaw and peeled off his robe. Audrey stared at it like it might bite her.

  “Go on,” James said. “It ought to cover you straight down to your ankles. Then we can talk.”

  Audrey grabbed the robe and stuffed her arms into it, like a kid bolting down a dreaded mouthful of peas. Will watched her, his arms folded across his bare chest, something between distaste and fascination in his eyes. James suppressed a smile. Wasn’t that interesting? Will, eternally cool, urbane and self-possessed Will, with that kind of confused emotion kicking around inside over a pretty little waitress?

  Audrey cinched the belt tight around her waist and stuffed her hands deep into the pockets. “I need to change the terms of my employment,” she said.

  “You’re not happy?” Will arched a sardonic brow.

  She glared at him. “Working here was, as you well know, a last resort. One I was forced into by you and your spoiled, selfish behavior.”

  “Point taken,” James said.

  Will smiled. “I’ll rephrase. You’re not happy with the terms we worked out to our mutual satisfaction just last week?”

  Audrey fixed her eyes on James, ignored Will completely. “Circumstances have changed,” she said. “I’m requesting room and board for me and Jillian. With a correspondingly adjusted salary, of course.”

  “Of course,” James murmured. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  “My previous living arrangements recently became...untenable,” she said.

  “Untenable how?” Will asked. Damn, James thought. With the bare chest and the air of command, his brother was coming perilously close to the territory Yul Brenner had staked out in The King and I. But it was a fair question, so when Audrey looked to him, he let it stand.

  “We were staying with a woman I worked with at the strip club you guys like so much, but her boyfriend...didn’t care for the arrangement.”

  Interesting, James thought. “Didn’t care for your not sleeping with him?” he asked.

  Audrey gave him a grim smile. “Something like that.”

  “I know what James is paying you, Audrey,” Will said. “Don’t tell me you can’t afford not to shack up with strippers and their scumbag boyfriends.”

  She cast him a disdainful look. “There are extenuating circumstances.”

  “Such as?” There Will went with the eyebrow again. Audrey looked like she wanted to tear it off with her bare hands. But again, it was a good question so he let it go.

  “Jillian has...special needs,” she finally said.

  James tipped his head. “Looked bright enough to me.”

  “She is. More than enough. Way more. Her IQ is in the 180s, which in case you were wondering is about 40 points north of genius.”

  “But?”

  “But she doesn’t talk.”

  “At all?”

  Audrey shook her head. “She used to. She still writes and reads, though. Lord, does she read. She blew through the entire Harry Potter series in about an hour last week.” She hunched her shoulders. “But she doesn’t talk.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How could you not know?” Will asked. James looked up, surprised at the harshness of his tone. “I mean seriously,” he went on. “An eight-year-old kid with a genius IQ suddenly stops talking and you don’t know why? You don’t know what happened? You were too busy slinging drinks to notice?”

  “Jesus, Will,” James put a hand out toward Audrey. “I’m so sorry, Audrey. I don’t know what gets into him sometimes. You’d never know it to look at my brother here but we were raised better than that. Will, I think you owe the lady an apology.”

  “Hell, no,” Will said. “I’m on the kid’s side on this one. If anybody’s getting an apology, it ought to be her.” He fixed Audrey with a hard look. “And it ought to come from her mother.”

  “You’re damn straight,” Audrey said, her eyes bright and burning. “The minute I find her, I’ll demand one. Until then, do you think you could keep your judgment to yourself for ten stinking minutes so I can deal with your brother on getting the child a more stable home life?”

  “I think,” James said into the vibrating silence that followed, “we’d best start at the beginning.”

  The following Sunday evening Will watched Bel carry a roasted chicken into the formal dining room where Team Blake/West would receive its weekly judgment. She set it on the table with an air of reverence, as if a well laid table and a platter full of meat was something sacred.

  Which, okay, it probably was. Especially a chicken like this one. Dark and glossy with some sort of maple glaze, giving off a smell that was hospitality itself, it practically demanded that a guy sit down, give thanks and dig in. It was invitation, welcome and generosity, all wrapped up in one delicious, oven-roasted package.

  A package Will would have accepted quite happily had it not been for the palpable disdain being laser beamed across the table toward him by Audrey Bing. A disdain that should have completely and mercifully erased the awful want this woman had stirred up in his gut. Should have, but didn’t.

  At all.

  Evidently, she was still pissed about his assumption that she was not only a mother but a crappy one at that. And unfortunately for Will, she was turning out to be a world-champion grudge holder.

  Well, screw that. Given the evidence at hand, any rational, thinking person would have jumped to the same conclusion.

  Except James, said a little voice in his head. James didn’t.

  James. Will mentally rolled his eyes. Of course James didn’t draw conclusions or make assumptions. He didn’t have to. All James had to do was put the ball in the goal and he was a goddamn hero. At least you’d think so, judging from the way Audrey gazed at him, all limpid-eyed and grateful.

  Will gazed at his empty wine glass and wished like hell Bel would just hurry up and serve the bird so he could have a damn drink.

  Jillian walked into the dining room after Bel, her tiny face grave with the responsibility of transporting a heaping bowl of golden mashed potatoes. She slid them onto the table next to Kate, who blinked
at the child in mild astonishment.

  See? Will thought. The kid’s surprising when you’re not expecting her. He hoped Kate would say something inappropriate, just so he could feel better about his own trip down foot-in-mouth lane.

  Bel glanced at Kate’s face and said quickly, “Oh, darn it, I forgot the rolls. They’re in a basket on the counter. Could you grab them, please, Jillian?”

  The girl returned to the kitchen and Kate lifted her brows at Bel. “When did you resort to child labor?”

  “I didn’t,” Bel said.

  Kate turned to James. “Have you been hit with a paternity suit, then?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “Though you aren’t the first one to mistake the girl’s parentage.” He smirked at Will, pushing the rage and shame that had been simmering in his chest for days up to a rolling boil.

  Will picked up the wine bottle and the cork screw. “I’ll just let this breathe,” he said to nobody in particular. Nerves danced in his blood, hummed in his veins. His glass was empty and his chest was full and one of those two situations needed changing. Since leaking off some of that frustration and regret and that stupid unwanted want wasn’t really a viable option, he was going to open the damn wine. Then drink it all.

  “Jillian’s mine.” Audrey folded her hands in her lap and gave Kate a cool gaze.

  “Mmm hmm,” Kate said. “Your what, dear? Because while I can certainly see the resemblance, I’m not prepared to believe that you gave birth in elementary school.”

  “No,” Audrey said. Will didn’t have to look up to know her eyes were on him, hard with dislike. “I didn’t. Thank you for the benefit of the doubt.”

  The cork popped free of the bottle, sending a surge of relief through Will. Salvation was at hand. Or at least oblivion.

  “Jillian is my niece,” she said. “My sister’s daughter.”

  “I see.” Kate smiled politely. “And she’s visiting you?”

  “No. She lives with me. My sister isn’t what you’d call—” Audrey indulged in a brief, speaking pause. “—stable.”

  Kate’s eyebrows headed for her hairline. “I see,” she murmured again, her tone making it clear that Jillian’s mother must be some kind of unholy mess if a twenty-two-year-old cocktail waitress was more stable.

  Exactly, Will thought. And I’m the bad guy for saying it out loud?

  But he hadn’t just said it out loud. He’d said it out loud to Audrey. And he hadn’t stopped there. He’d gone on to lay the blame for Jillian’s current emotional crisis at her feet. Pile that on top of his earlier determination to fuck up her job prospects just because he was feeling bitter, and he had to admit it. He’d earned it. He’d earned every bit of the hate that blazed in her eyes every time she looked at him. Which wasn’t often. She avoided it when she could.

  “I asked Audrey if she’d consider a live-in position,” James said to Kate. “I didn’t think I’d care for live-in help but then Bel moved in and I decided I liked having round-the-clock access to her.”

  “That’s true,” Will said. “He speaks quite, ah, warmly about their midnight meetings in the kitchen.” He gave Bel a toothy smile. She glared at him, but a flush crept up her cheeks.

  James shrugged easily. “And with Audrey, I got a bonus.” He beamed at Jillian as she returned with the bread basket. “Two handy girls for the price of one.”

  Jillian ducked her head, shyly pleased, and put her basket on the table. She took the chair between Bel and Audrey, who sent James a grateful glance. A sliver of jealousy wedged itself deep into Will’s chest. James the hero. Again.

  “Let’s be grateful,” Bel said and heads bowed all around the table for grace.

  Definitely time to pour the wine.

  “I have to admit,” Kate said after Bel had cleared the table and filled her coffee cup. “You two have stepped up your game considerably since last week.”

  Her approval didn’t ease the tension in Bel’s stomach but James said, “Thanks. We can’t take all the credit, though. The girls really outdid themselves on the cakes, didn’t they, Bel?”

  Bel gave him a wooden smile. “You bet.” Because they had. Right after they’d stopped trying to kill each other and/or trap James into a compromising position behind the mixer. “The new Mr. and Mrs. Hartford were extremely happy with their work.”

  “Who would have guessed it?” Kate said, a light smile on her lips, something faint and displeased in her eyes. “That a team that fell apart serving cake to society matrons would hit its stride at reform school?”

  Bel’s stomach clenched even tighter. Kate hated it when reality failed to conform to her expectations, whether for better or worse. She’d clearly expected Bel and James to flame out with even greater drama at the reform school than at the wedding hall and was not at all pleased to find that she’d failed to accurately predict an outcome.

  Which meant, Bel feared, that they’d won the battle only to have it cost them the war. Or at least set them up for an epic battle from which they would never recover. Her mouth went dry and she twisted her fingers together in her lap as she waited for Kate to just drop the bomb already. What on earth could she have waiting for them that would top spending a week in reform school?

  Audrey stood up abruptly. “If you’ll excuse us?” she said. “Jillian really ought to be in bed.”

  “Of course,” Kate said. “Good night, dear.”

  Bel breathed a sigh of relief as Audrey disappeared up the stairs with Jillian. Not that Bel didn’t like Audrey, but having her and Will at the same table was like trying to eat a nice supper around a downed electrical wire. Between their silent hostility, waiting for Kate to render a verdict, and Will’s customary headfirst dive into the wine bottle, Bel’s nerves were about shot.

  “So,” Kate said, setting down her coffee and folding her hands. “You’ve pulled it off. Passing marks for you both. Bravo.”

  “Thank you,” Bel said. She lifted her coffee cup to her lips, though she couldn’t force a single bitter swallow down her throat.

  “Thanks,” James said. “But again, those girls were something else. Really brave and strong and determined to do whatever it took to better themselves.”

  “Or whoever,” Will mumbled.

  “Exactly,” James said. “Those girls would do anything—or yes, anybody, Will—to improve their circumstances, no matter how unpleasant. It was a privilege to help them redirect that determination into healthier channels.”

  Kate gazed at him in surprise. “That’s very insightful, James.”

  “Not my insight.” He patted Bel’s knee under the table, sending an unwelcome shock straight up her thigh. She gave him a tight smile and shifted away from his hand. “Bel’s. We had a pretty heated exchange after that first day at the school and it really gave me a—”

  “Hard on,” Will said.

  “Oh my God,” Bel said, closing her eyes while shock and humiliation piled onto her already strained system.

  “Fresh perspective,” James said to Kate. He ignored Will with the ease of long practice. “I was going to say fresh perspective.”

  “Of course,” Kate murmured.

  “Right.” Will slouched in his chair, his wine glass cupped in a protective hand, his smile hard and bright. “Didn’t I say that?”

  “You can shut up now,” James told him mildly.

  Will held up a hand in surrender. “Sorry. Bad habit, telling the truth all the time. I’m working on it.”

  “Work harder.” James turned back to Kate. “As I was saying, Bel really opened my eyes. She has such an empathy, an honest and personal connection with those girls. Almost like she felt what they felt, had been where they are. Seeing them together was a real revelation.”

  James’ thoughtful green gaze rested on her and the knots in Bel’s stomach twisted unbearably as she finally admitted it—she’d been suckered. That happily shallow vibe he cultivated? A total sham. Granted, he’d raised it to an art form—those pulled-taffy vowels, that lazy amble, t
hat wicked smile—but still. Bel had clawed her way out of chaos and neglect through hard work and attention to detail. Seeing what other people didn’t was practically her religion. So how on earth had she failed to notice a dangerously perceptive man playing dumb?

  “I can’t take credit for James’ work,” Bel said, giving him a small, grim smile. She switched her gaze to Kate and amped up the wattage. “He’s really taking his responsibility as an adult and a role model seriously. He demonstrated an unexpected and remarkable ability to downplay his celebrity and put the focus on the skills. I think everybody was really enriched by the experience.”

  She forced the words out, barely managing not to gag on them. Because while she believed this past week actually had enriched James, forcing him to behave like the man she suspected he really was, it hadn’t enriched Bel. Just the opposite, in fact. All her reserves of strength and self-control had been used up just walking into and out of that place every day. She had nothing left to pour into the effort it took to resist this uncontrollable fire James had set within her.

  Because the kiss she’d been stupid enough to ask for had ignited something inside her. Something awful and dangerously hungry. Something that lit her up like a lightning strike on the rain-starved prairie, a brilliant slash of light and color, and then the raging, consuming flame. She’d exhausted herself digging trenches and firebreaks all week, but the fire just kept leaping ahead of her defenses.

  But lust wasn’t the big problem here. Bel knew that. It was more that the lust was all tangled up with this odd, restless yearning she’d never experienced before. A hunger, maybe. No, a craving. An intense and unbearable craving that she had to satisfy or lose her mind.

  A craving for James. Not for his body, either. No, it was worse than that. She didn’t just want his touch, his kiss. She wanted his company. His companionship. His friendship. His...affection? Oh lord. A cold sweep of knowledge rushed through her.