Causing Havoc

by Lori Foster

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. And that being the case…” She crossed the two-foot space separating them and reached for him.

  Shamefully practiced, he scooped her in to full body contact and without missing a single beat his mouth was on hers. This kiss had no similarity to the first. Bold, hot, devouring, he kissed the strength right out of her bones and left her pulsing pleasurably in too many places to count.

  Dazed, wishing with all her heart that she had the time and the demeanor to indulge in a quick fling, Eve said, “Wow again.”

  His big hand cupped her face, his thumb brushed her jaw. “About not seeing me again?”

  Please, please, ask for my phone number. Eve said hopefully, “Yes?”

  He grinned, and that grin did indeed cause havoc. “Don’t count on it.”

  Confused, utterly mute, Eve stood there while he walked away. And damned if he didn’t look as good from the back as he had from the front.

  CHAPTER 2

  DEAN drove slowly down the street. Memories seeped in, unpleasant, stirring, bombarding him with mixed emotions. So many things looked different—and yet still the same. Twenty years should have obliterated any remembrance of his former life. But he saw the manhole cover in the street and remembered getting caught under it. He saw the tree at the corner of the block and winced, remembering a fall that had knocked the wind out of him.

  And he remembered his mother, beautiful, distracted, teasing. Busy with things other than her children. She would laugh at nothing, or at least, nothing that he understood. They had a variety of babysitters-slash-housekeepers around full time, and whenever possible, his mother delegated to them.

  He remembered that his father was usually gone. He worked a lot, and when he got home, he wanted to relax. That meant soaking in the pool without kids to bother him or golfing with his buddies. Whenever his mother and father were near each other, they argued.

  Day in and day out, the routine hadn’t varied much. Even after Camille and Jacqueline were born, his mother and father hadn’t slowed down or become more domestic. They were unhappy together, but not apart.

  Then they’d died in a car wreck, and Dean’s routine world had shattered.

  Pulling past the driveway, he parked at the curb and turned off the engine. For a few minutes, he just sat there, looking at the house he’d lived in for nine years. It looked the same. White wood siding. Green shutters. Gray roof. Red front door.

  The landscaping was out of date but well kept. Some trees had matured, others were gone. Nothing much had changed.

  Then he took a closer look. The shingles on the roof looked a little shabby. The painted wood siding peeled in places. Cracks marred the driveway and sidewalk. The gutters showed patches of rust. Maybe it was his expertise in home repairs, but he saw every small flaw, every indication of neglected upkeep.

  Before Dean even realized it, he was outside his rented car. Arms crossed atop the roof, he soaked in the sight of the house and yard and the sensation of seeing it all as an adult.

  Damn, but it felt funny to be “home.”

  He’d played ball in that front yard with other neighborhood kids. He’d damn near drowned in the pool out back when he’d slipped on his way in. Once he’d chased Jimmy Barker around the house, until Jimmy tripped and knocked out a front tooth. Beyond the backyard pool were woods where he’d often hung out when he wanted to be alone.

  Some things hadn’t changed; others had changed irrevocably.

  What would his sisters look like now?

  Would they appear as deteriorated and run-down as the house? Did he even care?

  He pushed away from the rental, locked the doors with the remote, and pocketed the keys in his jeans. Reflective sunglasses shielded his eyes as he strode up the walkway to the front door. Lead rested in his chest and an invisible fist squeezed his throat, but he didn’t hesitate. He was many things, but not a coward.

  He knocked and waited.

  And waited some more.

  Had he come all this way only to find an empty house? Should he hang around for a while or come back later?

  After a minute, Dean thought he heard a splash from the backyard. Maybe everyone was out back, enjoying the summer day by the pool. With his fingers tucked in his front pockets, he left the porch and wandered around the side of the house. There were a lot of weeds in the yard, but the mowed lawn kept them mostly hidden.

  Halfway around the house, he detected feminine chitchat.

  More specifically, he detected Eve’s husky voice.

  The lead started to burn, and the fist opened on his windpipe to allow deeper breaths.

  Ripe with curiosity, he rounded the corner—and found two women lounging poolside. They were perpendicular to him, facing the sun, and very distracted.

  One woman wore a big floppy hat and sunglasses, with a blue, one-piece tank-style suit. Somehow he knew it was Camille in that conservative swimsuit. He felt it like a great gnawing ache, and for a few seconds, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her.

  His sister—all grown up, slim, tall, and obviously modest given her choice of swimwear.

  An unfamiliar ache, similar to longing, tried to expand. Dean ruthlessly tamped it down and transferred his gaze to the other woman.

  Eve.

  She wore a skimpy black bikini, showing off a lot of cleavage, sun-kissed skin, and a tantalizing belly button ring that glinted in the bright summer sunshine.

  “You won’t believe what I did last night.”

  As Dean watched, she slicked back her dark hair. She was still wet, thin water rivulets trickling along her throat, her belly, and her thighs.

  Predatory instincts kicked hard, curling Dean’s mouth into a smile. This feeling he understood. It was lust. The love of the chase. Carnal excitement.

  Meeting his sisters alone would be awkward. Having Eve around would blunt the impact. He couldn’t have planned this better.

  “With you,” Camille said, “I’ll believe it. Now give.”

  “I met a man.”

  With her hat pulled low over her eyes, Cam laughed. “Yeah, so?” She stirred just a little, shifting one long leg. “You tend to meet men everywhere you go. Nothing new in that. You’re like a magnet.”

  “You get your own share of looks.”

  “Maybe. But not the same kind of looks you get.”

  Dean could believe that. Eve had a sensual charisma that he hadn’t encountered with too many women. Last night she’d drawn him on every level. If only that ass Roger hadn’t interrupted.

  Eve’s toes curled. “Yeah, well, this time…I looked back.”

  “So?”

  “And…I did more than look.”

  Cam became more alert. “Like?”

  For one moment, Eve covered her face, then with a groan she dropped her arms wide. “I was bad.”

  “Um hmm. How bad?”

  Not bad enough, Dean thought. But he stayed silent, listening. Putting off the inevitable meeting with Cam.

  Grinning, Eve turned her head toward his sister. “Outright scandalous.”

  As Dean moseyed closer, his feet made no noise on the lush lawn and the women didn’t notice him. Given he was the topic of their chatter, that suited him just fine. He parked himself against a warped railing around the back deck and settled in to listen.

  Cam laughed again—not the little-girl giggle that Dean remembered from long ago days, but a woman’s laugh. “Scandalous, huh? Did you sleep with him?”

  “No! Of course not. I’d just met him.” Eve hesitated before admitting, “But I wanted to. If Roger hadn’t butted in, I think I might have.”

  Dean knew she would have. Hell, she’d given off signals that a blind man couldn’t have missed. And when he kissed her…He still felt scorched, remembering it. They would have ended up in bed. He knew it. She knew it. But maybe she didn’t want to tell Cam that.

  “Then you should be glad Roger butted in, huh?”

  “Maybe.” She closed her eyes ag
ain. “But Cam, he was the most gorgeous hunk of man I’ve ever seen. And it wasn’t just his looks.”

  “Keep talking.”

  “I don’t know. There was just something about him. He was so macho, without throwing it around, ya know? And ohmigod, he smelled so good.”

  Dean puzzled over that. He smelled good?

  “I just…I wanted to eat him up.”

  Shit. Much more talk like that and he’d have a boner. Maybe now was a good time to announce himself. He started to do just that, when Cam spoke again.

  “Tell me you got his number.”

  Eve groaned. “I was hoping he’d ask for mine, but he didn’t, and even though I’m ballsy, and even though he was the hunkiest hunk I’ve ever seen, I’m kind of glad I won’t ever run into him again.”

  “Why? You sound totally smitten.”

  “I was totally in lust. I flirted. I kissed him.” She bit her lip. “I made it clear that I was interested. And that’s just it. I behaved like a…a shameless hoochie.” Eve covered her face again. “That’s a tough act to back away from.”

  Seeing his intro, Dean smiled and asked, “Was it an act?”

  The resulting female screeches could have peeled paint off the house. Both women scrambled fast to their feet. Cam pulled on a terry cover-up.

  Eve didn’t have a cover-up, thank God.

  She stared at him, her eyes an even more startling blue beneath the hot afternoon sun. Her cheeks flushed; her breasts heaved.

  Yeah, he could eat her up, too. Just not yet. But soon.

  Dean turned to his sister. “Camille, right?”

  “Who are you?”

  Eve gasped. “He’s the guy….” She floundered, gulped, and went all breathless. “The guy from last night. The one I was just telling you about.”

  Immediately Cam stepped in front of her friend. “What are you doing here? You’re on private property.” She’d gone from sweet to Amazonian in a heartbeat. Even with the big-framed sunglasses concealing a good portion of her face, Dean could see her frown warning him away. “How did you know where to find her?”

  So she felt protective of Eve? Nice, not that Eve needed her protection. But he liked it that his sister had a backbone.

  “Actually I was looking for you, not her.” And to Eve, Dean said, “You’re just a very nice bonus.”

  Both women stared at him, mute.

  Sighing, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter. “You wrote me. Back some months ago, I know, but I was traveling and it took a while for my mail to catch up to me.”

  Cam pushed her glasses to the top of her head. “I wrote you?”

  Rather than try to explain, he stepped forward and extended her the letter. She stood about five-eight. Tall, like him, though he still topped her by more than half a foot.

  Shaking, Cam accepted the wrinkled pieces of paper. She held them in both hands and stared at them, eyes blinking, lips caught in her teeth. When she looked up at Dean, her eyes were liquid with tears and that twice cursed hope.

  Shit, shit, shit. Dean prepared himself. Or at least he thought he did. But how the hell did a man prepare for a long-lost sister?

  “Dean?” Her voice went all high and silly. “It’s…it’s really you?”

  He didn’t get a chance to reply. The next thing he knew, she had him clutched in a ferocious, unbreakable bear hug. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had plastered herself to him in a platonic way. Even before his mother died, she hadn’t been a demonstrative woman. A pat on the head, a tickle beneath his chin…but not this full-body contact warm with emotion.

  Their housekeepers had been kind, but not forward enough to show so much affection. He’d had a few caring schoolteachers, known women while working construction, met his buddies’ wives, his uncle’s one-nighters. But…none of them had treated him like a treasure, like something more than a friend.

  None of them had held him like a lifeline.

  Even through his numbness, Dean made note of so many things. The chirping of birds. A gentle breeze. Eve’s acute attention and Cam’s softness, the pleasure of her scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

  His emotions rioted, but in a wholly unfamiliar way. Cam wasn’t a frail girl, but her strength was puny in comparison to his. Her embrace felt…good.

  Really fucking good.

  Deliberately Dean kept his arms at his sides and struggled to block the sensations of comfort. As one of the most celebrated mixed martial-arts fighters in the world, he sure as hell didn’t need comfort. Not like this.

  Not from her.

  Looking for a quick distraction, he turned his gaze on Eve.

  Mirrored sunglasses shielded his expression from her, but Eve didn’t have the same advantage. He saw her shock, her embarrassment, and something more. Red faced and wide eyed, she stared at him.

  Her lips parted, her breathing came fast. Taking his time, Dean looked her over. Compared to Cam, Eve was downright petite, at least in height. But she had curves galore, and in all the right places. She’d spoken as if her brazenness of the night before might have been an anomaly. She wasn’t a shy woman, but she’d reacted to him differently.

  He wouldn’t let her forget the chemistry between them. He wouldn’t let her retrench. One way or another, he’d have her—on his terms.

  Finally Cam pushed back from him, but only a little, enough to look at his face and smile as if the world had just solved all its problems.

  Sniffling and laughing at the same time, she attempted to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I don’t mean to cry all over you.” She absently smoothed her hands over his chest, sort of feeling him, absorbing him. “In my mind, I rehearsed this moment a thousand times. I prayed that my letter would find you and that you’d come home, but I just didn’t…” Her voice broke and she had to clear her throat. Twice. “Ohmigod, it’s really you.” And she started laughing again.

  Feeling like a dope, Dean said, “Yeah,” because he had no idea what else to say. He’d rather fight three undefeated maniacs, for free, than deal with this sentimental crap.

  Cam clasped his shoulders. “Eve’s right. You’re so very handsome. And big. I thought Jacki was tall, but…look at you.”

  Jacki, his youngest sister. Was she taller than Cam? When would he see her?

  Inside Dean’s instincts rioted. Outside he felt rigid enough to break. He locked his teeth and let Cam chatter.

  She went on tiptoe to run a hand through his hair. “We have the same color hair.” She sounded delighted by that fact. “Eve, did you see?”

  Still mute, Eve nodded.

  “Oh, Dean, it is so good to have you here.” And Cam squeezed him again.

  Dean didn’t know what to think. Cam was so damned familiar with him, touching and hugging as if she knew him or something. As if they’d actually grown up together. As if he were the typical big brother, instead of an absent stranger.

  “Where are my manners?” she asked no one in particular in a voice still high and a little too excited. “Let’s go inside and I’ll get us something to drink. There’s so much catching up to do.” She hooked her arm through his and started dragging him toward the house. “Did you have to travel far to get here? Where were you when you got the letter? Where do you live?”

  So many questions at once. Dean looked over his shoulder at Eve. She appeared planted to the spot, but with his attention on her, she suddenly unglued her feet and darted past them, mumbling, “I’ll just go inside and dress.”

  As she went past in that perky little half-run, he watched with interest. He was an ass man through and through, and though Eve was slender, she had a generously rounded behind that balanced a nice C-cup up front. Before he left Harmony, he’d know that killer body intimately. That reality helped to soften the others as he faced his past.

  “I’m sorry,” Cam said again. “I’m attacking you with questions. You must think I’m nuts.”

  He didn’t know her well enough to pass judgment on her me
ntal state. “It’s okay.”

  “One at a time, I promise. So…where were you before coming here?”

  Dean shook off his reserve. If Cam could be so at ease, then so could he. “When I got your letter I was in Vegas. Before that, I’d been out of the country.”

  “Where?” she demanded playfully. “Someplace exotic?”

  “Europe mostly.”

  She pretended a half-swoon. “Europe. I’m so jealous.”

  “I travel a lot. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is to me. I’ve never even been out of Kentucky.”

  “Never?” Eve had gone in so fast, she’d left the sliding doors open, and Cam urged him into a cool breakfast and family room combination that opened into the kitchen. He glanced around, reacquainting himself with his childhood home. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He’d watched morning cartoons in this room, stretched out on the sofa in his pajamas. He’d played with two-year-old Cam on the carpeted floor. Things were different—pieces of the furniture, the window treatments, even the wall colors. But it was also the same.

  “Nope. After school I attended a local college for awhile, but…” She rushed past that topic with nervous haste, as if embarrassed that she hadn’t gotten a degree. “What would you like to drink? Soda, tea, coffee?”

  Dean eyed her. “Got a beer?”

  She blanched. “Sorry, no.” After a quick glimpse at the clock on the wall, her fingers tangled in a fretful way.

  Did she consider two in the afternoon too early to drink? “Is there a problem, Cam?”

  “No, it’s just…” Her shoulders lifted. “I’m sorry, but Aunt Lorna doesn’t believe in drinking. She forbids alcohol in the house.”

  Grover had told him a lot about Lorna, including what a pious, judgmental bitch she could be. Because of her, he didn’t know his sisters. Lorna had forbidden any contact.

  Was she due home soon? Is that why Cam checked the clock?

  Unwilling to make an issue of it so soon, Dean shrugged. He trailed her into the kitchen area. “Unsweetened ice tea then, if you have it.”

  “Of course.” Cam pulled out a chair like a gallant knight. “Please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich.”