Bad

by Nicola Marsh

  Wyatt winced and glanced at his groin. "Got a cold shower with my name on it around here?"

  Ashlin smiled and pointed at her desk. "Take a seat behind it, she won't know what we've been up to."

  After Wyatt shielded his lower half from view, Ashlin opened the door. Miranda took one look at their faces and halted.

  "Uh-oh. I interrupted the horizontal shimmy, didn't I?"

  Ashlin didn't risk glancing at Wyatt. Her scorching hot cheeks would spontaneously combust if she did. "Come in."

  Miranda smirked and shook her head. "We can chat later."

  "Stay." Wyatt stood and Ashlin knew if she glanced at his groin she'd giggle. "I just popped by to confirm you're all coming to Kurt's party tonight."

  "Wouldn't miss it," Miranda said, her knowing smile waning a little. "Though tell that Australian brother of yours if he criticizes my jewelry again I'll knee him in the balls."

  Wyatt guffawed. "Fiery."

  Eager to deflect Miranda's attention, Ashlin said, "Sure you haven't got a crush on Steele? Because you only fire up for the ones you like."

  To her surprise, Miranda blushed. "Wyatt, your girlfriend's full of BS."

  Ashlin waited for Wyatt to correct Miranda, to say she wasn't his girlfriend. Instead, he grinned, his bemused gaze swinging between the two of them.

  "I'll see you both tonight," he said.

  He brushed a brief kiss on Ashlin's cheek before bolting out the door, leaving her to face an inevitable interrogation, when all she felt like doing was running after Wyatt so they could finish what they'd started.

  "Nice flowers." Miranda strolled into the office and touched a petal. "That guy's in love and you're just as much of a smitten kitten."

  "Don't be silly." Ashlin left the door open deliberately, hoping her friend would get the hint.

  Miranda pursed her lips and made mock smoochy sounds. "Considering you've never brought a guy here, let alone done him on your desk, means you're so into him."

  "It's a physical thing." Ashlin shrugged, wondering if the lie sounded as hollow to Miranda. As if Wyatt accepting her labeled as his girlfriend hadn't freaked her out enough.

  "Yeah, right." Her friend wolf-whistled. "Deets, please. Length? Width? Endurance?"

  Ashlin made a zipping motion over her lips. "I need to head home and get ready for this party."

  "Me too, honey, but we've got time." Miranda glanced at her watch and stood so fast she wobbled a little on her precarious heels. "Maybe not. I want to look ravishing tonight."

  "You always do."

  Miranda blew her a kiss. "Thanks, but I've never been invited to a party thrown by a star footballer. Imagine the wall to wall hotties." She fanned herself. "Not that you care, what with Wyatt being there and all."

  Ashlin wished they didn't have to attend the party tonight. She'd rather be getting it on with Wyatt so she could prove to herself—and him—that the physical connection between them was all that mattered.

  In fact, once they got the sexual tension out of their systems, it would prove that they had little in common beyond it. The yearning made them both a little crazy. Once they'd done the deed, she could ignore all those funny feelings inside and focus on the important stuff: getting a new job, in a new city, far from good guys whose expectations would fall far short with her.

  "Sure it's the hotties you're going all out for and not Steele?"

  Miranda rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. The sooner that egotistical jerk heads back to the outback or wherever he came from, the happier I'll be."

  "Protesting much?" Ashlin grinned. Oh yeah, her friend had a major crush on Wyatt's dishy Aussie brother.

  Miranda muttered something derogatory in Italian under her breath as she made a beeline for the door. "I'll see you later."

  Miranda raised her hand in a wave as she tottered down the corridor, in a great hurry to escape further teasing.

  Tonight would be fun. Yet as Ashlin's gaze landed on the orchids, she couldn't help but wonder if she was the one protesting too much about not liking a guy.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "Who's the stunning redhead with bad taste?" Kurt elbowed Wyatt as he handed him a beer. "Appalling taste, considering the way she's been draped all over you the last fifteen minutes."

  "Ashlin," Wyatt said, through gritted teeth. "And that's fifteen minutes too long that we've been here."

  "Don't go getting defensive, bro." Kurt slugged him on the arm in the same way he'd done countless times growing up. Now, like then, Wyatt resisted the urge to punch him back. In the nose. "It's great seeing you so happy."

  Wyatt didn't need his brother's validation but it felt good that Kurt actually noticed someone else for once. "Careful there. You're showing your metro side."

  "I can be metro-sexual." Kurt winked. "The girls love it when I'm in touch with my feminine side."

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. "There's always an angle with you. Anything to get some skirt."

  To Wyatt's surprise, hurt replaced amusement in Kurt's gaze. "You make me sound like a heartless bastard."

  Wyatt bit back the natural response, "That's because you are."

  Kurt jerked his head at Ashlin. "Is it serious?"

  "I want it to be." The answer tumbled from Wyatt's lips quickly, surprising them both if Kurt's comical eyebrow rising was any indication.

  "Wow." Kurt's curious gaze swung between the two of them. "She doesn't look the nerdy type but hey, if you're happy, I'm happy."

  Wyatt stifled a snort. Since when had Kurt's approval meant anything?

  "You're full of shit," Wyatt said, relieved when he spied Steele making a beeline for them. He couldn't wait to see Kurt off-guard for once. "Here comes Steele."

  Kurt stiffened, his expression cautious. "Fuck. He looks like a blond version of you."

  "Lucky guy." Wyatt grinned, enjoying Kurt's discomfort and feeling a heel because of it. "So if Steele, Zane and I got the looks and the brains, what happened to you?"

  "Bastard." Kurt slugged him on the arm again. "God, why does this feel so weird?"

  "Because it is." Wyatt had been stunned to learn he had two Australian half-brothers yet thankfully, both Zane and Steele had been laid-back and accepting. "But we're lucky. They're good guys. Like me."

  "Not a prick like me, you mean?"

  Wyatt shrugged. "You said it, man."

  Kurt didn't have time to respond as Steele stopped in front of them. He nodded at Wyatt, his gaze guarded as it swung to Kurt.

  Neither of his older siblings spoke as they sized each other up and Wyatt felt compelled to fill the awkward silence.

  "Steele, this is Kurt."

  If Wyatt relegating Kurt to secondary status annoyed him, he didn't show it.

  Kurt stuck out his hand. "Great to meet you."

  Steele shook it. "Likewise."

  But their handshake didn't last long and Wyatt wondered what would happen if he left the two alpha Harrisons alone. He'd pay to see Kurt taken down a peg or two. The golden boy hadn't had to battle for anything in his life.

  "You staying in town long?" Kurt said, gripping his beer bottle tight, a sure sign he was rattled.

  "Another few weeks." Steele pointed to where Zane chatted with Chantal. "Wanted to catch up with the little guy, make sure he was staying out of trouble."

  Their chuckles didn’t sound forced. Zane towered over Steele by a good four inches.

  "Don't blame you," Kurt said, smirking. "We need to make sure our younger bros behave."

  "Like I'm the one prone to trouble," Wyatt muttered, somewhat buoyed to see Kurt and Steele exchange conspiratorial big-brother grins. "The only reason you haven't been locked up is because people revere bozos who play football."

  Kurt's mock outrage as he flipped his middle finger made Steele laugh.

  "Yeah, what's with that, Wyatt?" Steele said. "I make the tough decisions, Zane's toughest decision is what sneakers to wear to training, and people fall at his feet?"

  "Beats me," Wyatt said, pleased it w
as his turn to side with Steele. "Speaking of Zane, let’s get him over here…" Wyatt trailed off, horrified when he glimpsed Christopher striding into the room.

  "What's wrong?" Steele glanced over his shoulder and froze.

  Furious, Wyatt turned to Kurt. "I told you not to invite him."

  "I didn't." Kurt appeared suitably surprised but Wyatt had no idea if he faked it. "Since when has Dad not done exactly as he pleased?"

  "Asshole," Wyatt muttered, not sure if he referred to his father or brother. "Come on, Steele, let's go join the ladies."

  Kurt held up his hands. "Hey, look, I'm sorry."

  "You've got nothing to apologize for." Steele's flinty gaze made Wyatt want to rub his arms it was that cold. "Unlike that old bastard." He nodded at Kurt. "Good meeting you, but I'm not hanging around to confront him here."

  "Understood." Kurt hesitated a second before slinging an arm over their shoulders. "I want us to be friends so let's all have dinner before I fly back to LA, okay?"

  Touched by his brother's rare show of emotion, Wyatt nodded. "Okay. We'll catch you later."

  Leaving Kurt to deal with Christopher, Wyatt fell into step with Steele, all but running for the opposite end of the massive ballroom Kurt had hired for the party.

  "Can't believe he had the gall to show up here," Steele muttered, fury making his words sound forced and staccato. "Gutless bastard. Probably thought confronting me in front of a room full of people would make our first meeting in thirty-three years easier."

  "That’s his MO," Wyatt said. "Taking the easy way out."

  Steele’s jaw clenched tight, making his neck muscles stand out, before he blew out a long breath. "Zane never should've opened the door to any kind of contact with him."

  "You can't blame him for wanting a relationship with his father."

  Wyatt should know. He’d craved it growing up, until finally realizing at graduation that nothing he said or did or achieved would make a mark with his narcissistic father.

  "No, I guess not." Steele huffed out a breath. "It's just seeing him again, after all this time…" He rubbed at his chest. "Didn't think he had the power to affect me anymore but he has."

  Wishing they knew each other well enough for Wyatt to give Steele a bear hug, he settled for a hand on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it. We all deal with stuff in our own way."

  "Thanks, mate." Steele took a few deep breaths and straightened. "But I need to get out of here."

  "Sure, let me say bye to Ashlin and I'll come with you."

  "You don't have to do that."

  "I want to." Wyatt shrugged, Steele's palpable gratefulness making his throat tighten. "We're brothers. We need to stick together."

  Steele glanced away and blinked. Wyatt knew the feeling.

  He'd never cried, even as a kid. Tears were wasted. Emotions futile. Kurt had been the one to throw tantrums to get his way. It had worked. Their mom had doted on her eldest and Christopher thought the sun shone out of his ass. Wyatt had learned early in life that being quiet and introspective served him better. Avoid conflict. Do his own thing. Fuck the world.

  But as he reached Ashlin and she smiled at him with warmth and admiration, he knew he'd met the one person to rock his previously staid, stable, comfortable world.

  "What's wrong?" She touched his arm. "You look shell-shocked."

  "Christopher has shown up uninvited," he said, his voice low. "Steele can't hang around so is it okay if I leave with him and come back for you later?"

  "Sure." She kissed his cheek, making him feel ten foot tall. "I'll try to stay away from the hot footballers in the meantime."

  "I won't." Miranda piped up, not ashamed to be eavesdropping. "My eyes are hurting with all this candy on show."

  Steele sniggered, masking it behind a cough when Miranda glared.

  "Uh-oh," Ashlin murmured. "Miranda's got this thing for your brother and it’s making her a little crazy."

  "Gotcha. We'll make our escape now," he said. "Steele, let's hit the road—"

  "What's your problem?" Miranda eyeballed Steele, almost standing toe to toe with him. "You don't want to stick around and party so don't judge those of us who do."

  "Hey, I didn't say a word." Steele held up his hands in surrender, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

  "You didn't have to." Miranda pointed at his face. "That smug expression says it all."

  Wyatt glanced at Ashlin, who was smiling, enjoying the show as much as him.

  Steele shrugged. "Maybe I've got something to be smug about?"

  "Like what?" Miranda frowned; it did little to detract from the brunette's beauty. She might be small and feisty, but Wyatt guessed she'd have guys falling at her feet.

  By his brother's mutinous expression, Steele wouldn’t be one of them.

  Steele leaned in close. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  To Wyatt's surprise, Miranda blushed. With her fieriness, he didn't expect her to embarrass easily.

  "I think you're all talk." Miranda folded her arms, giving her cleavage a nice boost in the process. And by Steele's sharp intake of breath, he'd noticed.

  "And I think you're full of it, but hey, I'm not going to hold that against you," Steele said, doffing an imaginary cap. "Now if you'll excuse me, my lady, I've got more important things to do than trade meaningless banter."

  Miranda puffed up like an outraged bullfrog. "You rude assho—"

  "Come on, Miranda, there's a cocktail over there with our name on it," Ashlin said, dragging Miranda away, mouthing 'sorry' to Steele and Wyatt over her shoulder.

  "See you soon, sweetheart," Steele called out to Miranda's retreating back.

  Miranda flipped him the bird without looking back.

  "What is it with you two?" Wyatt pointed at Miranda. "You barely know each other yet you carry on like an old married couple."

  "She’s got the hots for me." A bashful grin stole across Steele's face. "What's a guy to do?"

  Wyatt laughed. "Come on. Let's go get a beer."

  They'd made it as far as the door when Christopher stepped in front of them, effectively barring their exit.

  "Hey, Son."

  Wyatt felt his jaw almost hit the floor. Christopher never called him ‘Son’. Ever. The fact he did it for the first time in front of Steele, his firstborn? Huge gaff. Massive.

  "Christopher." Wyatt managed a curt nod, not daring to glance at Steele, considering he could feel the tension radiating off him. "Kurt said you weren't invited so what are you doing here?"

  "I came to see my sons. All of them." Christopher wasn't looking at him, his somber gaze fixed on Steele. "Good to see you, Son."

  "Don't you dare call me that," Steele said, his tone a low hiss as he stepped forward, in Christopher's face. "Don't you fucking dare."

  Taken aback, Christopher glanced at Wyatt for help. Yeah, like that would happen.

  Christopher refocused on Steele and cleared his throat. "Look, Son, I'm sorry—"

  "Stick your lousy apology up your arse." Steele leaned in even closer, his nose almost touching Christopher's. "You've had years to apologize to me and Zane. Yet you choose our first meeting to be at a fucking party?" He sneered, tension making his body vibrate. "You have no right to call me your son and you never will. So don't come near me again. Got it?"

  Steele shoved passed a gaping Christopher and half jogged down the hall leading to the ballroom's foyer.

  "You shouldn't have come," Wyatt said, almost feeling sorry for his father. Almost. "Steele's right. This wasn't the time or place."

  "I needed to see him." Christopher blinked rapidly, his voice a husky croak. "It's been so long…"

  "Why is that?" Wyatt quashed his momentary sympathy. Christopher was a master manipulator and his current show of emotion could be just that: a show.

  "I made a mistake." Christopher gazed at Steele, a blip in the distance as he pushed through the building's front double doors.

  "Which you've had years to rectify."

  Christopher's gaze swung ba
ck to him, accusatory. "Why do you always do that? Make me out to be the bad guy."

  "Maybe because you are," Wyatt said, disappointed that even now, his father couldn't take responsibility for the dog act of abandoning his first two sons. "The thing is, you left your family behind to start a new one. And you weren't much chop with our family either. That makes you a deadbeat dad."

  Christopher's brows drew together. "You little punk—"

  "Yeah, that's me. The punk who's a self-made millionaire by using initiative and brains. The punk whose Aussie brothers are happy to hang around with. The punk who never lived up to your expectations because I couldn't throw a football like your golden boy Kurt."

  Unaware his voice had risen, Wyatt lowered it when a waiter glanced their way. "The punk who has some advice for you. If you want Steele and Zane to have anything to do with you, you better be a damned better father to them than you were to me."

  With that, Wyatt headed in the same direction as Steele.

  He'd wanted to say that shit to his father for years and it should feel good to get it off his chest. It didn't. Instead, tears stung his eyes and he dashed his hand across them, determined not to cry over Christopher.

  He’d learned the hard way his father wasn't worth it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ashlin saw the confrontation between Christopher Harrison and his sons, Wyatt and Steele, from twenty feet away. It didn't look pretty. And the devastation on Wyatt's face as he left made her chest ache in a way she knew wouldn't be soothed by partying with Miranda.

  She needed to go after him.

  "Sweetie, I have to go." She pecked Miranda's cheek. "You going to be okay?"

  Thankfully, Miranda's bluster over Steele had petered out once she'd slurped half a Mojito. There were some major sparks between those two and Ashlin couldn't wait to see what developed while the commanding Aussie stayed in town for the next few weeks.

  Miranda raised her cocktail glass. "Sure. I see a footballer over there with my name tattooed on his forehead."

  "Have fun." Ashlin gave her a gentle nudge in the direction of the footballer. "Fill me in on the details tomorrow."