by Shayla Black
Kellan’s gaze shot straight to the dance floor and he scowled.
Belle danced with some overgrown ape whose smile seemed way too friendly. She looked gorgeous in her emerald cocktail dress. Its V neck and body-fitting lines showed off her every curve. She wasn’t a tall woman, but those crazy-sexy black shoes she wore made her legs look deliciously long. Tate had no idea how women maintained their balance on those high, thin heels. He was pretty sure, however, they would look great wrapped around his neck.
The only thing he didn’t like about the way Belle looked was the animated expression she turned up at the lug hanging on her. Then she laughed—a sound that always did strange things to his insides.
Eric slapped a big hand across his back. “Chill, buddy. That’s Cole Lennox. He’s a PI here in Dallas. We’ve used his company before. He’s happily married. I don’t think he’s trying to mack on our girl.”
Tate still didn’t like it. “Why isn’t he dancing with his own wife?”
He was rational enough to know that jealousy was a completely illogical response in this situation. Technically, Belle wasn’t his. She’d never even gone on a real date with him. They’d had lunch exactly fifty-two times over the last year, but they’d mostly talked about work. He’d taken her to happy hour fifteen times, where she always ordered vodka tonics, Cîroc or Grey Goose with a half a twist of lime. They’d still talked about work. And the weather. None of that counted, though, because she’d treated him like a colleague, not a boyfriend. He hadn’t kissed her or made his intentions clear, so he had no right to be jealous that Belle danced with another man. For once, he didn’t care if he made less-than-perfect sense.
Kellan pointed to the other end of the floor. “He can’t. His brother is dancing with her. They’re twins and I’ve heard they share.”
“Really?” Tate sat up and sent a challenging glance to Kell and Eric. “I’m seeing a pattern here. The Lennox twins married the same girl. Those three oil tycoons over there have one wife, and we all saw the trio of royal princes walk in with their bride. Hell, the whole board of Anthony Anders decided to marry the same woman. But it can’t work for us? Explain that.”
That was the argument Tate had heard from Eric and especially Kellan for the past year, ever since the night they’d sat around the office and each admitted they were crazy about their new secretary. Administrative Assistant. Office Manager. Belle had changed her title more than once. She took exception to the term secretary, but Tate thought it was kind of hot.
Kellan sighed, turning toward him. “Just because it works for other people doesn’t mean it would work for the two of you.”
“The two of us? Really? You’re still going to play it that way?” Eric challenged. “Tell me you don’t want her, too.”
Kellan’s eyes hooded. Tate had made an almost scientific study of his friends in an attempt to really understand them. Kellan had four major expressions that he used like masks. This particular one Tate had named “stubborn asshole.” Kellan used it a lot.
“Of course I want her. I’ve never denied that. She’s a beautiful woman, not to mention lovely, kind, and very smart. If I was interested in getting married again, I would be all over her. But I’m not, and I doubt she’s the type of woman to have no-strings-attached sex.”
“I want strings.” Tate needed to make that brutally clear because his partners seemed to constantly forget. They should take notes during their conversations the way he often did. But again, no one asked his opinion. “I want to be tangled up in all her strings. She’s the one. I get that what we want is unusual, though it really doesn’t seem that way today. I swear the two dogs are the only non-ménage relationship here. Belle might be surprised that we all want her, but she’s not going to be shocked. She’s fine with Kinley’s marriage.”
Eric sighed. “Maybe, but we need to be careful. She hasn’t dated anyone since she started working with us.”
Tate knew that very well since he’d been keeping an eye on her. Hopefully she never knew the extent of his observation because what he’d done was somewhat illegal. And possibly a little stalkerish.
“There’s some reason for that,” Eric went on.
Didn’t they get it? “Because she’s waiting for us to make a move.”
“Or she’s just working hard and isn’t ready to settle down,” Kellan pointed out. “She’s young, man.”
“It’s not like we’re old.”
At least Tate didn’t feel old. He was thirty-two. Given that the average life expectancy of an American male was seventy-six, that didn’t sound old. Then he did the math and realized that he was forty-two percent of the way through his accepted life expectancy. Forty-two percent—closing in on half. When he looked at it that way, he did feel old. He refused to waste another second.
“That’s it.” Tate stood and straightened his tie. “I’m going in.”
God, he hoped he looked halfway decent because he often got rumpled and didn’t notice. He would probably still be wearing pocket protectors if he hadn’t become good friends with Eric in high school.
He’d tutored the jock through Algebra II, and Eric had taught him that jeans weren’t supposed to hit above the ankles. They’d been a weird duo, the jock and the nerd. But their relationship meant more to him than any other. His parents were cold intellectuals who had told him he’d failed by not going into academic pursuits—because yeah, Harvard law had been a breeze. His brothers cared more about their experiments than family. So Tate and Eric had stuck together like blood, and Kellan had joined them after college to form the tight-knit trio.
But Tate realized now that he needed more. He needed Belle. So did they, but if they had their heads too far up their asses… Well, she had to come first. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to offer her my penis.”
Eric’s head hit the table and he groaned. “Dude, how do you ever get laid?”
So he wasn’t smooth. At least he was honest. “She already has my heart. I would like for her to take my penis, too. Is that so much to ask?”
“If you ask her like that, she’ll smack you,” Kellan pointed out.
Frustration welled. He sat back down. “Damn it, that’s why we need to go after her as a pack. I’m not good at the smooth stuff.”
“By smooth stuff, he means any type of actual communication with a woman.” Eric rolled his eyes.
They were totally missing the point. “I communicate fine. She’ll know what I want and how I want it.”
“Which is precisely why she’ll know where she wants to slap you next.” Kellan shook his head. “This might be a bad idea, but it couldn’t hurt for you to dance with her. Can you do that without asking her to take your penis in marriage?”
He wasn’t completely sure. His cock had a mind of its own. “I’ll try to handle it.”
“Good. Go on, then. I’ll talk to Eric.” Kell sighed. “I guess we really do need to figure out how to handle her. I can’t stand the thought of another uncomfortable plane trip back. She didn’t talk to me the whole flight down. The hands-off approach isn’t working. I get the feeling she’s just about ready to throw in the towel and leave us all.” Kellan’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “And that asshole isn’t married. Go. Make sure he doesn’t get his hands on Belle.”
Tate’s stare zipped to her. Sure enough, a guy was cutting in on Lennox. He leered down at Annabelle, then stared directly at her boobs.
Those boobs were his, damn it. At least he fully intended for those boobs to belong to him. Well, a third of them anyway. “You two work it out because I’m making a move by the end of the night, and if you leave this up to me, it could all go to hell.”
He knew he was the social idiot of the group, but he was the only one completely honest with himself. Belle was the one for all three of them. She made him feel like the best version of himself, encouraged him to actually give a damn what other people thought, helped him put someone else above himself, and gave him no choice but to love her. Sure, the real world woul
d think he, Eric, and Kell were freaks for loving the same woman, but the real world sucked. According to them, he’d been a freak most of his life. So what? They’d have their circle of friends, all of whom had a similar relationship with their own wives, to make them feel normal.
Either way, he wasn’t going to let Belle slip through his fingers. He had a genius-level IQ, but he’d figured out something his parents and brothers hadn’t: His intellect meant nothing if he didn’t have people to care about, those who truly loved him in return. A Nobel Prize wouldn’t keep him warm at night, wouldn’t give him something to really live for.
But she could.
Tate stared at her for a moment, loving the way the light played on the coffee color of her skin. She smiled up at her dance partner, her expression lighting up the whole damn world.
She was his, and he was tired of waiting. It was time to really start his life and that meant it was time to claim her.
Fuck, he hoped he didn’t step on her feet.
Chapter Two
Kellan watched Tate awkwardly take Belle into his arms, trying to find his rhythm. He couldn’t dance for shit, but he sure tried. Belle didn’t seem to mind his lumbering moves. She gave him a glowing smile and followed him with the grace of a woman who moved her body easily and well.
She would move that way in bed, reacting to her partner’s every touch with sensual grace. She would follow him, letting him lead, allowing her Dom to take control of the situation to bring her maximum pleasure.
He would give just about anything to be that Dom.
“I can’t hold him back much longer,” Eric said, leaning over the table. “The truth is, I don’t want to. I’m with Tate on this. It’s time to figure out what’s between us.”
Kellan was pretty sure something strong connected them and Annabelle Wright. The invisible bond to her that tugged at him, even when he tried to sever the ties, was what he feared most.
He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her, not even his own ex-wife. That desire went far beyond the physical. He wanted the right to protect and own her, to be her best friend, lover, confidante, and rock. He wanted to know her inside and out. In short, he wanted to be her everything. Kell sighed. Dumbass. He knew his hard limits and marriage was one of them. He couldn’t go there again. The first time had been a disaster. No reason to think he’d gotten any better at it.
Belle deserved someone who could love her without hesitation and trust her with his whole heart. Kell had lost huge chunks of his over the years. She was sweet and brave, smart and funny. And loyal, he admitted. Everything he wanted in a woman. And he would never completely trust her through no fault of her own. She deserved better.
Eric watched his best friend dance. Kellan looked back at the big goof with a shake of his head. Tate towered over Belle by about a foot, his long arms wrapped around her petite frame. His size fourteen feet weren’t exactly the most nimble or light, but somehow he and Belle looked good together. They looked right. Kell knew he should be happy for Tate and Eric—and he was—but watching them create their happily ever after was going to hurt.
Still, he loved them, so he’d step aside. Kell owed them that. They’d saved him, after all.
The three of them had gone to law school together. By then, Eric and Tate had already become a team, managing to seduce women left and right.
After graduation, Kell had married and thought he’d found his future. Then it had all come crashing down. Next thing Kellan knew, he fled DC only to find himself sleeping on Eric and Tate’s craptastic couch in a bad part of Chicago. It hadn’t been long before he’d begun teaching them how to truly run an office, because while they were great lawyers, they’d turned out to be lousy businessmen.
Kell had been relieved that he had something to offer them. In return for their friendship, for being the only people in the world willing to take him in when he’d been down, he gave them his acumen—and his undying loyalty.
Was he really going to watch them settle down with Belle and not join them?
“He thought about claiming her two weeks after she came to work for us, you know.” Eric sat back, leaning negligently against his chair as he watched the dance floor. “He would have approached her with good intentions, but probably said something horrifically stupid that would have made her run. The only reason he didn’t try? He was worried about you. He knew you liked her too, but he didn’t want to do it wrong and embarrass you. He also knew you weren’t ready.”
“Oh, I doubt he waited for anyone but you.” Tate was Eric’s other half. Sometimes Kell worried he was just the extra guy, the one who refereed when necessary. Though seemingly opposites, Tate and Eric had an almost psychic connection Kell didn’t completely understand.
Eric frowned his way. “Me? I’ve been ready. And trust me, he didn’t put off going after Belle because he worried about embarrassing me. He does that all the time without caring how much I want to strangle him. But he looks up to you. He actually told me you were pretty smart.”
Kellan snorted. Tate didn’t think anyone was smart. “He was being sarcastic.”
“He wasn’t. Tate might be an ass sometimes, but he’s honest. He knows damn well that you saved us.”
Years ago, but Tate was a little like an elephant. He never forgot. “You put too much liquid cash in property. You didn’t have a good billing or accounts receivable system in place. I just came in and managed the money better.”
“You saved us. We thought we were the shit after we graduated. We were arrogant. You actually knew what to do.”
He’d just adjusted a few processes and made some calls to bankers he knew to renegotiate some loans. Then he’d joined their business. “I didn’t have a job and I wasn’t going to find one in DC. I fixed the business problems as much for myself as the two of you.”
“We’re a team.” Eric put a hand on his arm, a familiar gesture he’d come to view as actual affection. “We worked together then. We’ll work together now. I know you probably never thought you’d end up in a ménage relationship, but look around you. It can work. God, man, especially for you.”
“Why the fuck do you say that?”
Eric didn’t back down. It was one of the reasons they’d stayed friends. Eric saw through his bullshit and didn’t allow Kell to shove him away. “Because if you’re left alone, you’ll die that way. You might have sex but you’ll never really let a woman in.”
That was nothing he didn’t already know. “You guys want Belle. I respect that. But I don’t have any interest in settling down.”
He’d been there. Done that. Gotten his soul ripped out of his body and pissed on.
“I don’t think you’ll give any relationship enough time to grow without us. But if Tate and I handle the heavy lifting in the beginning, you might soften up enough to realize that not every woman is like your ex-wife. You don’t have to commit now. Tate and I will take care of her until you’re ready.”
Eric was offering him the keys to the kingdom. Sex with the woman he was crazy about—and without a shred of responsibility so he wouldn’t get too close. That way, she couldn’t break his heart. What more could he want?
He looked out over the dance floor in time to see her turn his way. She laughed at something Tate said. God, her vibrancy made her the most beautiful woman in the room. Her lips curled up and her eyes sparkled. Her goodness came from within. Everything about her compelled him to watch her. Belle enjoyed life in a way he never had. He might have grown up with every privilege imaginable, but he didn’t think he’d ever smiled in sheer joy the way she did.
Tate looked down at her and the fucker beamed. He was a first class, hard-core nerd who dissected every situation and never spared anyone’s feelings. But the man practically melted when Belle was near. Since she had walked into their lives, she’d suggested that Tate stop studying everything to death and just enjoy life. The transformation hadn’t been overnight, but after a little coaching from Belle and a whole lot of conscious thought, h
e had relaxed until he’d become almost human.
A year ago, Eric had worked every waking hour. Belle had urged him to jettison his father’s mentality that being anything less than number one simply made him a loser. She’d helped him forgive himself for almost failing shortly after he and Tate had opened the practice. After a few months of listening to her, the weight slowly lifted from his shoulders. Now, he even took an occasional vacation day.
They had every reason to love Annabelle.
She said something to Tate that had him laughing. Then he wrapped her hand in his and led her off the dance floor as the music faded. Someone gently tapped a fork against a wine glass to get the crowd’s attention.
As the pair approached, Eric leaned over to Kell with a whisper. “All I’m saying is you’re welcome to join us. You helped us out when we were in trouble, man. Let us help you. Tate and I will handle everything. We’ll move her into our place. All you have to do for now is be kind and show up for sex.”
Their place was a big two story that looked ready for kids and a wife and all that suburban shit Kell had given up on long ago. They’d invited him to stay in one of the empty bedrooms, but he needed his own space.
Hell, that was what he’d told himself. The reality was he didn’t want to rattle around that big house with all its silent
