On instinct, he placed his hand on her waist, letting his thumb slip under the edge of her sweater to brush the soft skin just above her jeans. She shivered beneath his touch as a soft moan of pleasure rose in the back of her throat. It was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard, spurring him to take things to the next level.
Brody stepped forward until Rebecca’s back was against the counter, then with a subtle roll of his hips, pressed against her in a way that left no doubts about his intent. He wanted her. There, in the kitchen. It didn’t matter that a gathering of friends was taking place out on the terrace. He was beyond rational. All he could think about was lifting her onto that marble slab and dropping to his knees in front of her. He wanted to worship her with his lips and tongue until her thighs trembled and her fingers curled around the edge of the countertop. And he wouldn’t let up until she was panting and begging for him to take her. Only then would he rise up, keeping his eyes locked on hers as they came together in what he already knew would be a fast and frantic fuck.
The thought consumed him as he finally lifted his head. “Delicious,” he said, the deep tenor of his voice conveying what he hoped would be a welcome suggestion. “Like the rest of you, I’m sure.”
She looked up at him, her breathing shallow and her eyes hazed with an undeniable lust. A beat later, her gaze dropped to his mouth, and her soft tongue slipped out to wet her lips. Hell yes, he thought. But instead of moving in for more, she simply smiled. “Are you implying my lady parts taste like strawberries?” A giggle bubbled up from inside her. “That’s a new one. I’ve heard the honey comparison. Well, read it in books more than heard it, but strawberries? Really?”
His mouth fell open, and for a moment, Brody wasn’t sure if she’d cut him to the quick or turned him on more than ever. Probably both. Damn, she was a pistol. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have such a smart mouth while he was fucking her into next week. Probably, but hell if he wasn’t starting to think it’d be worth it.
“Here,” Rebecca said, pushing the two margarita glasses his direction. “Make yourself useful.”
Brody watched as she made her way to a glass-door refrigerator that held enough beer to stock a decent-size bar. She gathered a handful of Coronas by their long necks then pushed the door shut with her hip and grabbed a small bowl filled with lime wedges. “Ready?”
“You have no idea,” he said. But judging by the impish grin on her face, she more than had an idea. His sexy brunette knew exactly what their kiss had done to him, and what’s more, she was enjoying it.
He followed her down the hallway, struggling to keep the margaritas from spilling while keeping his gaze trained on her perfect little ass.
“Stop staring at my butt,” she said.
Damn, did the woman have eyes in the back of her head? “Stop shaking it.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, a come-hither look that was in direct contrast to the fact that she was currently walking away. Oh yeah, no doubt about it. This one was trouble with a capital T.
Chapter Six
Rebecca felt as though she’d been swept into the vortex of a tornado. Her head was spinning, and her stomach had that strange sensation of being suspended in midair. It was like she was on the American Eagle and couldn’t get off. Except she wasn’t on a ride at Six Flags, and she certainly hadn’t landed in Oz. She was in her brother’s penthouse, trying her best to walk a straight line with Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick tight on her heels.
She could practically feel his gaze searing her skin, making her feel too hot and yet chilled all at once. She tried to ignore it, but the temptation to call him out was just too great. And when she’d stolen a glance over her shoulder, the sight of him, trying not to spill the margaritas while checking out her ass, had brought a satisfied smile to her lips.
Not that it really mattered if he’d spilled the whole lot. No telling what that last batch of margaritas tasted like. She hadn’t even measured anything, just tossed it all in the blender and started jabbing random buttons. Even accomplishing that much was a bit of a miracle. She’d barely been able to keep her hands from trembling when she’d realized who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Not that he would have noticed, seeing as how she had already dumped over an entire cocktail. Although to be fair, that part at least had had nothing to do with him. Who sneaks up on someone like that anyway? And better question, who kisses a total stranger? The man who had occupied every dirty thought she’d indulged in since Sunday, that’s who.
Lately, after two years of treatments that followed what was a less-than-stellar love life to begin with, Rebecca had found herself as keyed up as a teenager. Hell, even that new commercial with the buff Mr. Clean had sparked a little tingle, and not just because he was mopping the floor. She was a live wire of hormones, just looking for a place to strike. And then along he came, like something straight out of a movie. Since then, he’d slipped into her mind countless times, sometimes even when she was sleeping. Just that morning, she’d woken with her heart racing and thoughts of the stranger from the park lingering in her sleep-fogged brain.
And now there he was, in the flesh, kissing her like he had every right to. The sane, rational part of her knew she should have been offended. Who does that? Normal people didn’t waltz into a kitchen, lay on the cheesy charm, and then swoop in for a lip-lock. But another part of her, the part that was currently letting her have it for breaking the mood with her nervous laughter, was ready to make a sharp U-turn and drag him back to the kitchen for more because she hadn’t been kissed like that since…well, ever. Which might explain why, instead of pushing him away, she’d reached for him, melting into the kiss while winding her fingers through his hair.
But what was even more surprising was the way she’d acted after the kiss.
When he’d finally pulled away, she hadn’t smacked him across the face. Instead, she’d gazed up at him like a lovesick dope only to then sashay across the kitchen like some sort of femme fatale. Either scenario couldn’t have been further from the truth. But for some reason, this guy brought out a completely different side of her. One who, if she was honest, wanted to be kissed senseless just as badly as she wanted to have her ass unapologetically ogled.
No doubt about it. She was a certified mess. She gave her head a hard shake, partly to push the stray hair from her eyes and partly to clear whatever it was that had taken hold of her. There had to be a logical explanation. Probably had something to do with the fact that for the last two years, aside from clients, the only men in her life had been either medical professionals or her brother. The mere thought of either one should have been enough to squash her overactive libido, but fat chance of that with Brody—what did he say his last name was?—right behind her.
“Finally,” Conor said as they came through the door. “A man could die from thirst waiting for the two of you.”
Rebecca handed Conor one of the beers then set the rest on the table along with the bowl of limes. “Shoot, I forgot the opener.”
“Never fear, Conor Lynch is here.” He slipped off his flip-flop and turned it over to reveal a bottle opener built into the sole.
“Who gets these?” Brody asked, holding up the two frozen drinks. Rebecca reached for one, and Cassie took the other. Both women took a sip and winced.
“Whoa, tequila much?” Cassie wiped a bit of the frozen strawberry concoction from the corner of her mouth.
“I might have overdone it a bit,” Rebecca confessed.
“Well, if you overdo it,” Hank said, walking up behind his fiancée and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be there to take advantage of you.”
“A few more of these and the only action you’ll be getting will be holding my hair back while I worship the porcelain god.”
Hank let out a small laugh that was laced with undeniable affection. “There’s my princess.”
Brody stepped forward and reached for one of the bottles of Corona. Instinctively, Rebecca looked down, studying the tiny row
s of seeds on the strawberry that garnished the rim her glass, the small chips of ice that had risen to the top, and the colorful stem. Anything and everything but the fine specimen of human currently offering her a bird’s-eye view of his perfectly toned backside. But then on impulse, she decided to indulge herself. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as her gaze traveled from the broad shoulders that tapered to lean, narrow hips before finally tracing the contours of his very fine, denim-clad ass. After all, a guy would never miss the chance to check out a woman who offered up such a nice view. Turnabout seemed more than fair.
Olivia cleared her throat, and Rebecca startled. At least that time she didn’t spill her drink.
“Now that everyone is here…” Olivia waited while Brody opened his bottle with Conor’s shoe. “And has a beverage for toasting.” She looked at her husband and grinned. “We have an announcement to make.”
The entire group smiled as one. Olivia’s gaze darted to each of her friends, and her mouth fell open. “You already know, don’t you?” She shot Cole a look. “Did you tell them?”
He held up his hands in innocence. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t tell anyone.” But she was looking at him, and judging by the expression on her face, she knew he was full of shit. Cole might have been able to rule the business world, but he’d met his match in his new bride.
“Liar,” she teased.
“Okay, okay, I may have let it slip to Brody,” Cole said. “But I swear I didn’t tell anyone else.”
Brody choked on his beer at the mention of his name. But fortunately for him, Olivia was far too focused on her husband to pay much attention to the man wiping beer off his chin. Rebecca, on the other hand, took advantage of the momentary distraction to admire his profile. He had a strong, square jaw covered with the slightest hint of stubble, impossibly long eyelashes, and full lips that only a few moments ago had left her breathless. And there’d certainly been no broken noses in his lifetime. The guy looked like a cross between a Greek god and the hot guy from the high school football team who was just the right amount of bad boy. Not that she had any firsthand knowledge of either. The odds that high school Rebecca would have caught the attention of a hottie on the football field ranked about the same as her running into an Adonis at the grocery store.
Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. “Then how do they all know?”
“Know what?” Conor’s head turned from one friend to another so quickly, he looked like a bobblehead on a dashboard.
“Well, I can’t speak for the others,” Cassie said. “But I started to get suspicious that day we went to lunch, and you ran from the table when the waiter brought the calamari.”
Beside her, Brody winced. Rebecca could totally relate. Didn’t need to have morning sickness to find squid repulsive.
“You said it was just because you were hungover,” Cassie added. “But then the next week, when we were watching Property Brothers, you made your lemonade without vodka.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
Cassie nodded. “That’s when I knew.”
Olivia turned to Rebecca. “Was that what tipped you off too?”
“It’s sort of a dead giveaway. I mean, since when do you drink water at a fiesta?” Rebecca nodded to the bottle in Olivia’s hand.
It was a damn good point, but Olivia still didn’t seem convinced. “Cole really didn’t tell you?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Nope. He didn’t say a word. Although I did notice he was a bit sappier than usual at lunch.”
Cole frowned at his sister, presumably for describing him as sappy, then turned to his wife with a satisfied grin. “See? It wasn’t me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe not for these two. But you’re still on the hook for the guys.”
Hank stopped drinking mid-sip. “Don’t look at me,” he said, nodding toward Cassie. “This one told me.”
Conor let out an exaggerated groan. “Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
The entire group laughed.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Cole asked.
Olivia wrinkled her nose at him. “Since he’s the only one left to tell, I guess so.” She straightened and placed her hand on her stomach. The weight of her palm caused the fabric to shift, revealing a small baby bump.
“Cole and I are having a baby.”
For a moment, Conor stood completely motionless, then a wide grin spread across his face. “Uncle Conor. I like the sound of that.”
“Fucking hell,” Cole mumbled.
The women rushed to Olivia’s side, hugging her and feeling her stomach, while the men congratulated Cole.
“When are you due?” Cassie asked.
“Right before Thanksgiving,” Olivia said.
Hank clapped a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Brilliant news, mate.”
“Yeah,” Conor agreed. “It’s freaking amazing. But as much as I’m looking forward to seeing you change a dirty diaper, you suck at hosting a boys’ night, dude.” He chuckled. “Remember when these were just for the guys, and we played poker and smoked stogies? Now, it’s all fruity drinks and cutesy napkins.”
Cole reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of what looked to be Cuban cigars. “Never fear,” he said. “I’ve got you covered.”
“Not that I’m complaining, mind. But aren’t you supposed to smoke cigars to celebrate the birth of the baby?” Hank asked.
Cole shrugged. “Consider it a practice run.”
“And consider this the first time pregnancy trumps Guylandia. Cigars on the terrace,” Olivia said. “And only after we eat. The smell makes me…” She made a gagging face.
“Doesn’t most everything make you…” Conor mimicked her dry heave.
Olivia laughed. “Not everything. Just cigar smoke and pickles.”
“I thought being preggo made you women crave pickles,” he said. “With ice cream.”
The color drained from Olivia’s face.
“Careful, Conor,” Cole chuckled. “You’ll end up with vomit on your shoes.”
He glanced down at his multipurpose flip-flops and shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman puked on my feet.”
“That’s because they usually have to be about four drinks in before they even start talking to you,” Cole shot back.
“All right, all right,” Conor said. “The stogies will be for later. How about poker, or has that gone the way of the single guy life too?”
“Who says you have to be a guy to play poker?” Rebecca asked. All eyes were now on her, prompting her to stand a little taller. If she really tried, she could manage at least five foot four.
The timer on Olivia’s phone began to chime. “Poker will have to wait too,” she said, pulling the device out of her pocket and silencing it as she headed back into the penthouse. “Dinner’s ready.”
In no time at all, she returned with a casserole of tofu burritos.
Conor looked at them and winced, then turned his attention to the grill where Cole was piling steak and chicken onto a platter covered with sliced peppers. “Thank God you’re a carnivore, Cole, or the rest of us might have ended up with morning sickness too.”
Cole cut Conor a look that had him putting his beer down and lending a hand, and before long, they were all gathered around a long table eating fajitas under the Chicago skyline.
“Gotta admit,” Conor said as the meal was winding down, “I was a bit skeptical with Ms. Healthy and Mr. Clueless doing the honors, but damn that was good.” He leaned back in his chair and pushed out his stomach. “A few more meals like this and I might need to borrow some of those maternity pants.”
“Keep talking like that, and you won’t be invited back,” Cole said.
Rebecca reached for her margarita. Normally, she had a strict two-drink limit, but for some reason she’d said yes when Cassie had offered her a third. She’d like to think it was the tequila that was making her feel all warm and light-headed, not the man with the
piercing green gaze, but even buzzed she knew better than that.
At first, she’d resisted the urge to meet his stare, if only to prove she could. But the tequila, not to mention his cologne, was weakening her resolve. He was seated across from her but when the wind blew just right, she was able to indulge her fantasies, letting her eyes drift closed as she inhaled his rich, masculine scent. Lord, what she wouldn’t give to press her lips to his neck if for no other reason than to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
“Rebecca?” Olivia’s voice broke through the fuzziness of her mind, and Rebecca’s eyes flew open.
“Hmm?”
“Cole asked if you were feeling okay. Not getting too tired, are you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said, sitting up in her seat. She knew her brother meant well, but honestly, the fragile sister routine was getting really old. Still, she couldn’t very well tell him she was simply fantasizing about dragging her tongue up his friend’s neck. “Just enjoying the night. Lovely breeze.”
“But with your eyes closed, you’re missing the best part,” Brody said from across the table.
If she’d been taking a sip, she would have choked. Surely he wasn’t referring to the glances she’d stolen when her resolve had weakened? Rebecca met his mischievous stare with raised brows.
A slow smile formed on his lips. “The stars,” he said before looking up at the night sky. It would have been a pretty decent line had it not been for one problem: hardly any stars were visible given the light reflecting off the surrounding high-rises. A frown creased Brody’s forehead.
“Bright lights, big city,” Olivia said. “I swear, I have to go downstate once a month just to remind myself that there’s life beyond this concrete jungle.”
“You’ll all have to join us at my family’s country estate,” Hank said. “There’s a telescope to rival the one at the planetarium.”
“You have a Cassegrain reflector?” Cole asked.
Hank nodded.
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