by A. C. Arthur
“No!” she all but screamed. “What kind of woman do you think I am? If I was involved with somebody, you can bet your shiny new truck I wouldn’t have hopped in the bed with you so fast.
“This is about me, Brock. So, yeah, I guess you could say there’s somebody else. Not another man, just me. For years I’ve been with men who only saw the outside of me, who were attracted to the physical, and when they grew tired of it, they kept walking. Well, I’m tired of that. I’ve changed and I’m ready for my relationships to change, as well. So this time around I’m putting me first just as I expect the next man I become involved with to do.” Because she was speaking the absolute truth on this subject for the first time to a man, Noelle’s heart was racing. She wanted him to understand exactly what she was saying, wanted him to know that there was no gray area here. So she’d stood and was now pacing the living room. He’d remained seated but was following her movements with his dark eyes.
He looked so good and so serious sitting there with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped. “If that’s the way your past relationships went down, you weren’t dealing with men and that was your first mistake.”
She gave a shrill chuckle. “Oh, I’ve made plenty of mistakes, Brock. You don’t even have to sit there and count them for me. I know where I’ve been, but now it’s time to think about where I’m going.” She stopped in front of him and inhaled. With a voice as steady as she could manage she finished with, “And it’s not to bed with you again.”
He didn’t blink, he didn’t stand up and puff his chest out like a man with a bruised ego. He only stared at her. “You make that sound so final.”
Now she was the one clasping her hands. Then she thought that made her look foolish so she pulled her hands apart and stopped moving. “It is.”
Brock nodded. “I’m not a man that’s easily put off, Noelle.”
“That’s good to know because I’m not a woman that’s easily taken on, not anymore. So if you really think there’s something between us, something more than the hot sex we had a few weeks ago, then I suggest you figure out how to convince me.”
She was out of the room before he could reply. Running again. She did that a lot. Whenever they had a heated discussion or a discussion that made her uncomfortable she bolted.
Normally that would bother him, but tonight it was probably for the best. A good gambler never revealed his hand too soon. And with Noelle, Brock thought pensively, one would have to be the best gambler to win.
Walking over to the window and looking out at the dark sky, the tall trees and the spreading acreage around his house, Brock began to think.
He’d thought he’d known what he wanted for his life and from a woman. Then Noelle appeared and all those thoughts shifted. Now, she’d told him what she wanted. And he understood. One too many of those bums Linc had mentioned had hurt her and now he was left to pick up the pieces. Could he rise to the challenge and did he really want to?
More importantly, was she worth what he would have to sacrifice to get it?
The answer to each of those questions was even clearer than Brock would have ever imagined. So, yes, he’d let her stew tonight, but tomorrow they’d both be dealt a different hand. And as with poker and blackjack, Noelle would either have to play or fold. Brock Remington didn’t lose often, if ever, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Chapter 16
Heading back to his bedroom from getting the late-night snack designed to take his mind off this unquenched desire for Noelle, Brock paused when he heard her voice. It was well after midnight and hours had passed since she’d left him in the living room alone. He’d just assumed that by now she would be asleep. Obviously not.
Her door was ajar and he stood just outside of it, listening. Yes, it was rude, but her tone hadn’t seemed leisurely and it was late. He wondered who she was talking to since it was obvious she had to be on the phone with someone. Brock prayed it wasn’t a man.
“Luther, it’s past time for the games to stop. I’m sure your wife won’t appreciate you calling me.”
So, that was another one of Brock’s prayers that had gone unanswered. She was talking to a man, a married one at that. With a frown he turned to leave but was stopped by her gasp.
“What? How did she get them?”
Something in the room fell to the floor. Peeking inside he saw that Noelle had ignored it as she was pacing back and forth with her cell phone pressed to her ear.
“This can’t be happening to me. Not now. Please not now,” she said. “What are you going to do? How do you plan to stop her?”
Forgetting the rude factor, Brock stepped completely into the room and stood by the dresser. He openly listened to the one-sided conversation, wondering what the hell was going on.
“No. They can’t get out. Luther, this is all your fault. You take care of it or, so help me, I don’t know what I’ll do to you!” she yelled. “Do you hear me, Luther? You better fix this—”
Her words were cut short as she turned to see Brock leaning against the dresser. His chest was bare, but he’d had enough foresight to slip on sweatpants. Usually he slept au naturel, but since he had company in the house he’d donned the pants as a precaution. Good thing he’d been thinking ahead because he doubted he would have been willing to leave Noelle or her suspicious conversation long enough to go back to his room and make himself decent.
“I’ve gotta go, Luther. Just take care of it and do it fast.” She clapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the bed.
“What are you doing here? It’s late,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her.
“I know what time it is. That’s why the sound of you yelling on the phone caught my attention. Who were you talking to?”
“Nobody,” she answered quickly.
“Nobody named Luther?”
With a deep sigh, she turned away from him. A half hour ago, hell, ten minutes ago, the sight of her long legs bared beneath the thigh-length lilac silk nightie would have had him harder than bricks. Now, in the wake of the conversation and at the disturbing look of worry in her eyes, he almost ignored it…almost.
“Just someone back in Vegas.” She moved toward the bed and took a seat on the end of it. “It’s no big deal. I apologize if I got too loud.”
She sat with her back facing him. Her shoulders were straight, rigid, and her voice, just a hint away from losing it. Just as he’d told her before, Brock was tired of the front she put on all the time. She wasn’t all right and there was no use in her pretending for him.
“What did he do to you, Noelle?”
“Nothing.”
Brock’s teeth gritted so hard he thought his jaw would crack. “Don’t lie to me. He did something to you, something you expect him to fix. Now, either you tell me willingly or I’ll be on the next plane to Vegas to find this Luther and beat the answer out of him.”
She turned to him then, no doubt because of the edgy tone to his voice. Brock heard it himself but wasn’t surprised. He was growing angrier. Each second that she held on to her composure, held whatever this problem was to herself, pushed him closer to the brink.
“It’s none of your business.”
“I say it is.”
“Then you’re wrong. I can take care of myself and my own problems,” she argued.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. However, I still want to know what this Luther did to you. Who is he?”
She grabbed the pillow, then dropped it into her lap and punched her fists into its sides. Good. She was finally showing some real reaction.
“He’s an old friend.”
“Friends don’t upset you like this. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time, Noelle, and, I swear, if you lie to me…”
“He’s my ex, all right!” She yelled, jumping off the bed and attempting to push past him to get to the door.
But Brock simply extended his arm, stopping her progress by clasping his hand at her waist. “Your ex is married?”
She mo
ved her head so that she was no longer looking at him and admitted quietly, “Yes. I was involved with a married man.”
Brock was silent, but he didn’t let her go. He didn’t know what to say at that moment because his emotions were roiling out of control. What kind of man with a wife got involved with another woman? It was a naive question, Brock knew, still the scenario pissed him off. The fact that the man was obviously still attempting to stay connected to Noelle made it even worse.
“Go ahead and say it,” she began.
“What is it you expect me to say?”
“Tell me I’m a terrible person for getting involved with a married man. Call me a home wrecker, an idiot, a sl-slut.”
She stammered over the last word. Brock moved quickly so that they were now face-to-face. “I can think of a lot of words to describe you but that one—” his lips closed tightly as he reigned in his temper “—that one would never cross my mind.”
“But I am. I should have known. I shouldn’t have disrespected his marriage. I’m always making foolish decisions, always messing up.”
Her head was moving from side to side so fast her hair, which had been pulled back, fell in heavy strands until her face was mostly covered. She whimpered, and Brock pulled her closer, cradling her in his arms.
“He’s the one who’s married. It’s his responsibility not to disrespect his marriage.”
“But I should have known better.”
Her voice cracked, guilt that had been stored tightly inside threatening to break free.
“Did he tell you up front that he was married?”
“No.”
“Did he wear a ring?”
“No.”
“Are you a mind reader?”
She paused, tilted her head and looked up at him. “No.”
“Then how the hell were you supposed to know that jerk was married? You’re smarter than that, Noelle. Don’t blame yourself for something that you couldn’t have prevented.”
She was still looking up at him when one lone tear escaped, rolling down her cheek moments before her eyes closed and she put her head down onto his chest once again.
His body stirred, but it wasn’t with lust or desire—it was with compassion and something else all together. Something more intense than he’d realized before.
Chapter 17
Noelle couldn’t believe what she was about to do. This was her problem and she’d vowed to handle it on her own. But here, right now, in Brock’s arms, she felt so protected, so safe that the words were rolling off her tongue before she had a moment to second-guess them.
“When I found out Luther was married, I cut things off with him. Immediately. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I even thought about going to his wife to apologize but figured that would be a waste of time.”
They were both sitting on her bed now, Brock’s arm still protectively wrapped around her shoulders.
“How did you find out he was married?”
“I was at work one day and this woman came up to me. She looked angry so I instantly thought she’d lost some money and wanted to rant about cheating slot machines or something like that. Turns out she’d been involved with Luther, as well, and wanted to rant about cheating men instead.”
“How long had you been seeing him?”
“A little over three months. We met in the casino. I never even thought to ask if he was married. And I’m not normally inclined to believe the ravings of a scorned woman, but everything she said just seemed to fall into place. She knew Luther’s cell-phone number, his schedule, everything. She also knew his wife’s name and number and dared me to call her. But by that time I didn’t need to.”
Brock seemed so serious in his questioning, like he was the law and she was a victim. He had questions and only she could provide the answers, that’s how their conversation went.
“What did he say when you confronted him?”
“He didn’t deny it if that’s what you mean. He said the woman from the casino was jealous and that his was a marriage of convenience. He was so calm and cool, as if it was no big deal. I hated myself then. Right at that moment I’ve never hated myself more. Of all the things I’ve done in my life nothing, absolutely nothing, made me feel as low as finding out I was sleeping with another woman’s husband.”
Suddenly things became more clear to Brock. He and Noelle had jumped right into the physical relationship, then she’d backed off. For weeks now he’d been trying to figure out why. Now, he knew. She blamed herself for this fiasco with the married man and so probably believed that any intimate decision she made was a mistake. He could go along with the fact that their intimacy had been too soon after they’d met. But he knew her better now and she knew him. Brock knew what she wanted and wondered for a split second if he could possibly be the man to give it to her.
“So what does Luther want with you now?” he asked, leaving those other surprising thoughts alone for the moment.
“His wife—” she began, and stopped. How could she tell this man that she’d known only a month about the most painful time in her life? She hadn’t been lying—the things she’d done with Luther would forever go down in the history of her life as the worst. Unfortunately, they were now a very prominent part of her future if she didn’t do something and quickly.
“Go ahead, Noelle. You can tell me. I won’t judge you,” Brock offered, taking one of her hands in his and rubbing it.
She took a deep breath and figured what the hell, she’d come this far. “It seems that his wife knew about Luther’s affairs all along. And because I’m so damned lucky in life and love, she had us followed. Now there are pictures of us together in I’ll say a compromising position that she’s threatening to take to the press if Luther doesn’t pay her off.”
“So Luther needs to pay her to get the pictures and she’ll leave you two alone?” Brock asked skeptically.
“Luther doesn’t have the type of money she’s asking for. She’s using the fact that I’m Jade’s sister to try and tap into the Donovans for the money.” She looked at him directly then. “If Luther doesn’t get the money from me, she’ll go to the papers and smear the Donovans right along with me. After all they’ve done for me this is how I repay them.”
The tears came full force then. Noelle’s entire body seemed to convulse with them. Never had she felt so weakened, so defeated. After all they’d done, she’d be letting Jade down again. Only now there was more to it—there were the twins and Linc and the rest of the Donovan family to consider. She wasn’t in this by herself, which meant she wouldn’t go down alone. It was humiliating and crushing to even think of what was about to happen.
So she wasn’t thinking when Brock scooped her up in his arms. The next thing she knew she was cradled against his chest as he held her like a baby. His lips touched her forehead as he shushed her.
“We all make mistakes,” he said. “Weren’t you the one telling me that just a few days ago?”
“Not like this,” she stammered.
“No, but mistakes come in all forms and fashions.”
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t let this touch the Donovans. Jade is so happy and she has the girls. I have to do something. I’ve saved some money,” she said as she was trying to lift up off his lap. “I’ll give her that and then I’ll have to see if she’ll hold off for a few months until I can get the rest.”
Brock was shaking his head. “Like I said, you’re a lot of things, Noelle, but stupid is not one of them. What’s the first thing you know about blackmailers?”
Noelle took a deep breath and wanted to roll her eyes at him but refrained. “Pay them once and they’ll never stop.”
“Exactly. So we’re not paying her one red cent.”
“‘We’?”
With a finger to her chin, Brock lifted her face to his. “We. You, me or the Donovans. None of us are giving Luther or his wife a dime.”
“But—” she began, stopping as his lips lightly touched hers.
“I’ll take care of it,” he whispered.
“It’s not your problem.”
“If it involves you, it involves me,” he said, then kissed her lips once more.
“Please don’t tell me to stop again, Noelle. I’m not trying to push you. I just need to be close to you right now.” Because if she pushed him away, if he walked out of that room, he was definitely liable to get on a plane and head straight for Vegas. There was no doubt in Brock’s mind that this Luther character and his wife were trying to make a fortune off his affair with Noelle, and Brock would be damned if he let that happen.
Instead of running again, as he’d half expected her to, Noelle fell into his embrace, letting his lips move sweetly over hers.
So many thoughts flitted through Noelle’s mind as he lifted her into his arms, moving his lips from her mouth to her forehead and carrying her to his room. When he lay her in the center of his bed, she felt safe. It was foolish, she knew—this was just a bed, much like the one in the room she’d been calling her own. And yet, it was different. Keeping his sweatpants on, Brock lifted the comforter and slid under, holding up one end for her to follow suit.
Wordlessly, she did. He held an arm out to her and she went to him, willingly. The safeness engulfed her like a warm blanket, and when he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tightly against his chest she sighed, wondering how she’d come to be here. No, not in this state and not necessarily in this predicament, but in his arms. In Brock’s arms.
Time seemed to drift away as her words, the conversation she’d had on the phone and the conversation they’d had earlier filtered through Brock’s mind. Some idiot had threatened her. That, Brock would not tolerate. She was strong and stoic and determined to deal with the situation herself, but he’d handle it once and for all.
She’d quivered when he drew her in his arms. For just a second she’d shaken, then settled against him as if finally releasing the battle going on within herself to him. Brock wasn’t arrogant enough to think that his stance against her blackmailer was going to make the issues Noelle had with the two of them getting together go away. But the fact that she was now lying in his bed, her thigh cradled warmly between his, her head resting on his chest, her breathing finally coming in steady intervals, was definitely progress.