Michael snorted at the dueling dance of their gazes doing surveillance of each other’s body language. He didn’t need Shane to point out the obvious interest they had for each other. They looked ready for some sort of action—the question was what. Because he was interested in finding out, he wickedly smiled at both of them in warning before firing off the first verbal shot over their heads.
“Hey, sis,” Michael said casually. “How’d the bikini waxing go for Mom?”
Brooke spurted a greeting and laughed, not dignifying the horrible question with an acknowledgement.
To Michael’s consternation, Drake flushed again at his teasing question. He wanted to laugh harder at the man’s lack of ability to deal with his bohemian family, but didn’t want to risk emasculating him more in front of Brooke. It was just surprising that a man who painted nudes as well Barrymore did, could be so prudish in reality.
“Mom wondered if you could go by the house later and pick up the two glass vaginas she made for the opening,” Brooke said, directing the statement to Michael. “I’d do it myself, but I have to take Mom for her final fitting and to pick up her dress. Her MOH is on her way back from her honeymoon today, but the return flight got changed. I cancelled my classes to step in for Susan.”
“Is Dad too busy to bring them by the gallery?” Michael asked on a laugh. “I know how he possessive he feels about Jessica’s vaginas.”
“Will is over at the café helping plan the reception tomorrow,” Brooke said on a sigh. “We could bring the pieces in next week, but Carrie—your organizing fiend of a wife—wants everything in place before the weekend. She said she needs a few days to script out her walk-through, and practice her sales pitches. She’s already ticked that Shane hasn’t come by yet to bless the collage prints she stole from him. She has twenty prints picked out, but still has to frame and hang the work. She says his collage piece will take two days to complete.”
Michael’s affectionate gaze went to his wife, who had finally slipped down into a guest chair and motioned Jessica onto a bench near her. “I’m afraid to leave Carrie alone when she’s this sick.”
“I can help. Where are the vagin—the art pieces that need to be picked up?” Drake said, correcting himself. There was no need to be crass. “I can probably collect the pieces and bring them back here today, if someone can meet me at the location to let me in.”
“Has it been so long since you saw a real vagina that you can’t even bring yourself to say the proper name?” Brooke demanded, sending a smiling challenge in Drake’s direction.
At her rebuke, Drake’s face flooded with even more color than Michael’s comments had put there. His discomfort only lasted for the three seconds it took him to decide he’d had enough of Brooke Daniels’ harassment. She had barely had two civil words of any sort for him in all the time he’d known her. That had been blatantly obvious the day they’d gone to retrieve Shane’s car from the impound lot and she’d treated him like he had the plague. He would be damned if he let her embarrass him with sexual innuendo.
“Yes—it’s been awhile since I saw a real vagina. Are you offering to refresh my memory, Dr. Daniels?” he challenged, holding her gaze and enjoying the shock blooming there.
Drake let his gaze travel the entire length of Brooke only to come back and linger on her crotch a lot longer than was comfortable for either of them. If he kept this sparring up, Drake thought, everything else was going to be up as well.
“If that was your true intent, I assure you it is quite unnecessary. Being an artist, I have a great imagination. So if the harassment is over, I ask again, where do I need to go to pick up Jessica’s art?”
Brooke blinked several times at the seriousness in Drake’s face. Had he really just suggested she show him—no, that was unlikely. He wouldn’t have said such a thing in front of Michael. But when she looked at her soon-to-be stepbrother, his shoulders were shaking as he fought not to laugh. Her temper fuse lit instantly to know she’d be wrong.
“Trust me,” Brooke purred, leaning over the counter in Drake’s direction, her breasts resting on it. “You’ve never seen anything as amazing as what I’m going to show you this afternoon.”
Brooke turned before she got even angrier at him, and started walking away, barking out an address and time over her shoulder without turning around to watch Drake acknowledge what she was saying. With her heart hammering in her chest and visions of being nude with him filling her head again, it wouldn’t have been wise.
Drake let out the breath he’d drawn in when Brooke had leaned toward him, glaring at her back as she stormed away. “That angry woman irritates the hell out of me.”
“Yes, I can see that. Tell you what Barrymore, I’ll buy a portrait of yours for full price if you really get Brooke to show you a significant body part this afternoon,” Michael said, grinning hard. “It can’t be an extremity—has to be something between shoulder and hip. Some major article of clothing has to be removed—no hands, arms, feet, or legs.”
“Like I would ever tell you anything that you could broadcast to the damn world. I don’t know how Carrie puts up with you,” Drake said stiffly, ignoring Michael’s taunt to return to his jewelry work, astonished to see his hands slightly shaking.
The idea of seeing the nubile redhead without clothes was zinging through his fertile mind, and damn—it was thrilling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had those kinds of thoughts about a woman.
“Evidently your stepsister has been taking lessons from you in harassment. Did Shane get all the manners in your family?” Drake asked.
“You are a pretty quick learner for a man of your advanced age,” Michael answered. “Tomorrow I’m going to ask you if you’ve changed your mind, and I expect to hear the truth.”
“Changed my mind? About what?” Drake demanded, hearing his huffy tone, but unable to change it.
“About whether or not women are still necessary at your age,” Michael explained quietly, returning as nonchalantly as possible to his task, mostly to keep him smile hidden.
Drake snorted. “Make sure you match up the tags, Larson. Your wife might be tolerant of your smart mouth, but I wouldn’t want her to kill you over screwing up her display.”
Michael just laughed as Drake walked stiffly away, no doubt needing some private time to recover from his latest verbal skirmish with Brooke.
Sure wouldn’t take much to push those two over the edge into each other’s arms, Michael thought, grinning as he wondered how best to help do it.
***
When Drake pulled up to Jessica’s new house, Brooke was just climbing out of her car. Drake noticed Jessica wasn’t with her. He cut the engine, climbing out to join her as she waited in the driveway.
“They’re on the kitchen table I hear,” Brooke said without preamble as she walked to the door.
“Are you still living with Jessica?” Drake asked.
“No. I recently moved into Shane’s vacated condo,” she said, unlocking the door.
Half a room of boxes greeted them as they entered, and Brooke smiled at all the work they’d obviously done to get this far. The room had been full last week. She led the way to the kitchen, and sure enough, two fist-size glass vaginas sat on the table. Bubble wrap and a box was nearby.
Drake walked around her and picked up the first piece. Brooke watched as he palmed it, tilted it, and then stroked it with his fingers. She could practically see his artistic mind working.
“If you need some time alone with it, I can step out for a few minutes,” Brooke said snidely.
“Sorry—I’ve never seen anything like this,” Drake said honestly. “It’s quite magnificent.”
Brooke snorted.
“My admiration amuses you?” Drake asked, heat rising in him at her rudeness.
“The artist is my mother. Lucky for you, my future stepfather isn’t here to see the lust on your face,” Brooke said stiffly, crossing her arms.
Drake set the piece down on the bubble wr
ap, folded it gently into it, and put it into the box. Then he walked to Brooke, put his arms around her, and pulled her hard up against him, matching their hips. He went instantly rock hard against her. It was actually painful after not happening for several years.
“What you saw was admiration of art,” Drake said firmly, staring into Brooke’s shocked gaze. “This is lust.” He rocked his hips against hers and held tightly.
“Hey—what the hell are you doing?” Brooke demanded.
“Reacting to your rudeness probably, or maybe this is generic lust engendered by incredible art,” he said. “Or maybe—just maybe—I am as damn deprived as you seem to think I am. Whatever the case is, if you’re going to insult me in the future, at least make up your damn mind which part of my ego you want to slaughter. I’m tired of you misunderstanding every word I utter.”
“I don’t even understand what you’re saying now. You’re talking like a crazy man, Drake. Why the hell don’t you date?” Brooke demanded, staring at his mouth moving ever closer to hers.
“Is that your snide, but probably typical, way of asking a man out?” Drake demanded back.
Brooke was silent while she thought about what to say next, but in the couple of seconds her mouth was closed in thought, Drake’s lips landed roughly on hers. Then her brain short-circuited.
His fingers sliding over her hips and backside had her quivering. When they dug into the back of her thighs and lifted her crotch to fit it expertly against his, her mouth opened on a groan. The man was fully aroused and knew exactly where to press, and it had been a long time since she’d felt anything remotely so wonderful.
God, the man could kiss, Brooke decided, and her mother had been right. Repressed. He’d been repressed. Just not in her arms. In her arms, he seemed to let all the emotion out. It made her unreasonably happy to know she had cracked the icy shell Drake walked around in all the time.
“Brooke,” Drake whispered hoarsely, her name singing in the air between their mouths, his tongue sweeping as he nibbled his way across her bottom lip and back.
He wanted to thrust his tongue into her depths, see what the vitriol so easily rolling off her tongue about him all the time tasted like. But how could he take it further when her shocked heartbeat pounded against his own equally shocked one, and her body vibrated against his like a tuning fork as they held each other. The more Brooke shook in his arms, the harder Drake gripped her, and the more he wanted to drag her to the floor and ease the ache she alone had managed to cause.
“Why are you kissing me like this?” Brooke demanded, hands moving over him, trembling as they reached his face. She had meant to push him away, but instead pulled him closer, finally holding his face captive in her hands as she kissed him back until they were both weaving. Her hands had a mind of their own as they swept over Drake’s back and down to pull his hips equally tight against hers.
Likely encouraged by her actions, Brooke felt Drake pressing even closer, his insistent erection signaling the truth their brains were still resisting. Both of them groaned, conceding to the erupted passion. Brooke felt the shock of wanting him all the way to her toes.
“Drake,” she whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happening between us.”
Hearing his name said so breathlessly finally snapped Drake out of the lust haze that had dropped over him after so many years of—nothing, he decided—feeling absolutely nothing like this for any woman. With an abruptness that felt like someone cutting off an arm, Drake made himself let go of Brooke Daniels and move away.
He went back to the table. Keeping his gaze only on Jessica’s art, he picked up the second piece, wrapped and stowed it in the box. Still not looking at Brooke, and still not saying anything about what happened, he carried the box past her—and simply—left. An apology wasn’t possible when he only wanted to kiss her again. It might not ever be possible.
Would she understand that? Probably not, Drake decided. She would just make more snarky comments and God only knew what the woman was thinking about him.
So he got into his car and drove away. It was either that or go back and seduce her for real. He’d come damn close even knowing full well that Brooke Daniels detested him. That was probably more true now, he thought. How could she not be more put off?
Drake sought the numbness inside himself that had kept him company for the last seven years, but it was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a rising heat in its place, a nearly forgotten ache in his groin, and a vision in his head of exactly how to have what his body had decided so abruptly that it wanted from her.
Maybe it had been Michael’s teasing that caused it. Maybe it had been because it was the first time he’d been truly alone with Brooke. Whatever the reason, it definitely had happened, and the resulting erection hadn’t gone down yet.
“Damn it, I shouldn’t have kissed her that way,” Drake whispered harshly, voice echoing in the car.
He also shouldn’t have looked back either. In the rear-view mirror, Drake saw Brooke standing in Jessica’s doorway watching him leave, arms crossed. He knew better than to hope she would just forget today. No, there would undoubtedly be a price for giving in to his lust for her.
Drake just hoped it didn’t cost him his professional relationship at the gallery.
Chapter 6
The day of Will and Jessica’s wedding had finally arrived, and they had all poured into the van to make the trip. Because the pedals were adjusted to fit her, Reesa had to drive. It had been a strange sensation to have Shane sitting in the passenger’s seat while the kids tortured each other behind them.
When they got to the church, Chelsea, Zack, and Brian opted to sit at the back, but Reesa insisted Sara sit up front in the groom’s section with Shane and her. It took her all of three minutes to regret not letting Jillian babysit Sara after all.
Reesa didn’t blame the five-year-old for being enchanted with her surroundings. Sara had touched the flowers on every seat as they moved to the front, irrepressible in her enthusiasm. But if she had to keep explaining the bridal party to Sara over and over, looping in an endless argument that could not be changed, Reesa knew she would go quietly nuts.
“I don’t understand why everyone else gets to wear a princess dress and I don’t,” Sara said, mutinous because she wasn’t being allowed to dress as she pleased.
“Well, I’m not wearing a princess dress either,” Reesa answered calmly, motioning to her teal colored suit. “The only people wearing princess dresses are the women in the wedding. When Aunt Jillian or Chelsea gets married, you can be in their wedding and wear a princess dress then.”
“Promise?” Sara demanded.
“Yes,” Reesa said, hoping that at least one of them would want Sara to be a part of the ceremony. It was unlikely the girl would forget the reluctantly offered promise, but Reesa was desperate to end Sara’s nagging before the actual ceremony began.
Shane slid into the seat next to Michael and Carrie, letting Reesa and Sara sit nearer the end of the pew so they could see better.
Moments later, Shane’s mother came tearing down the aisle in a pale pink suit, and slid in quickly next to Sara. They had seen Luke outside the church happily working over Will’s truck when they had arrived.
“Queen Melon,” Sara said happily, throwing her arms around her. “Did you see the princess dresses?”
“Yes, I did,” Ellen whispered back, just as excited as Sara. “They’re beautiful. I helped picked them out. Wait until you see the bride.”
Reesa listened to the chattering females, breathing a sigh of relief that Ellen was there to handle Sara’s questions for a while. For whatever reasons, Sara adored Shane’s mother, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. Reesa had some reservations about the woman, but was glad her niece didn’t.
She looked up just as a very nervous, serious-looking Will walked out of a side room with a snickering best man grinning idiotically behind him. Another much younger, good-looking man Reesa didn’t know followed as a second
groomsman. They all took their places in front of the minister. The best man took hold of Will’s broad shoulders in his charcoal suit and turned him slightly to face the aisle and door where the bride would come in.
Reesa laughed and reached for one of Shane’s hands to hold. “Your father looks scared to death.”
Shane put his free arm around the back of the pew and leaned down to talk quietly to his wife. “Just wait. Dad is always a bit nervous at first, but he will surprise you when the pressure mounts. The man is the captain of cool when he has to be.”
Reesa laughed because the “captain of cool” was even then patting his pockets looking for rings that the best man obviously had. The best man grabbed Will’s shoulders again, this time leaning forward and whispering urgently. Whatever he’d said must have worked because Will settled down immediately.
The music began and a smiling young woman walked down the aisle in a flowing blue dress that made a slight swishing sound against the floor when she walked. Sara made a tiny squealing noise of delight, and Reesa was grateful when Ellen gently shushed her.
The next attendant was obviously the maid of honor, an older blonde somewhere near Jessica’s age, smiling sweetly as she moved down the aisle, wearing an identical blue dress to the first bridal attendant, but offset with a gleaming white pearls at her throat. Reesa watched the maid of honor wink at the best man, who winked back and smooched the air. They were obviously a couple, and their silent communication made Reesa smile.
Then the music rose and all the occupants in the church stood as the very tall, majestic bride filled the doorway in a dazzling white dress that was blinding in all its sparkling glory. Standing next to the vision in white, Brooke looked calm and conservative in her black, tuxedo cut silk pant suit.
No doubt about it, Reesa decided, Jessica with her hair curled and pinned back with pearl clips looked like she’d stepped off the pages of a bridal magazine. The beaded lace dress closely draped her tall, lithe body, maximizing her curves and showing just how very female she was. A long train of lace flowed out behind her as she and Brooke made their way slowly down the aisle to the front.
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