Curtis had done whatever he could to protect Logan from those fuckwit bullies, but that expression was ingrained in Logan’s personality now. His best mate wore it like a shield. Until this very moment, Curtis had never ever experienced it directed at him.
Ever.
Even when he’d told Logan the woman Logan was dating was a two-timing bitch who was only using him for his money, that mocking self-contemptuous smile hadn’t curled his lips.
Nor had it when Curtis had succumbed to Logan’s request for proof and had reluctantly informed his friend the two-timing bitch had climbed into Curtis’s bed one night while they were all on a skiing holiday in the Canadian Rockies and whispered in his ear he could do whatever he wanted to her.
Letting out a choppy laugh now, Curtis flung a dishcloth over his shoulder and placed the glass on the rack of fresh glassware beside him. “I’m not going to make a move on Bethany.” He gave Logan a look that said he thought he was bonkers. “I swore off women after the princess tore my heart out, remember?”
Logan chuckled at Curtis’s dry reference to his highly publicized fling the previous year with a member of the royal family. Despite the embarrassing topic, the buoyant sound made Curtis feel better. That chuckle was more in line with the successful—no, change that, stupendously successful—IT guru Logan was, not the self-hating and cowering nerd he’d once been.
“And you’ve been swearing off a different one every weekend since,” Logan pointed out without the slightest hint of malice.
Curtis couldn’t help his cheesy smirk. “Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s hard work sweating away a broken heart. Takes a lot of effort. But seriously, me making a move on Bethany would be…wrong.”
Logan regarded him, blue eyes unreadable. It was a disconcerting stare Curtis recognized. Like the self-deprecating smile, it had once been part of Logan’s defensive arsenal against the regular attacks he’d faced growing up in a sport-obsessed school. It hid a world of pain. Lonely pain. The kind of pain Curtis thought he’d banished from his friend’s life.
“So you’re not interested in her?”
Swallowing at the lump in his throat, Curtis shook his head. “Nope. She’s too feisty and direct for me. No pulling punches that one. Hanging out at the tourist spots with her is enough for me.” The lie tasted sour on his tongue.
In the two weeks since Bethany Sloan had entered their lives, Curtis had lived for the moments she would suggest they all go visit the art gallery, or head to the zoo, or spend a day at Bondi Beach. Not because they were doing tourist shit, but because he was in her company.
Her company and Logan’s company. The three of them. Together.
A tight throb pulsed in his cock, fed by the unexpected image suddenly filling his head of the three of them together…naked.
Fuck, Clarkson. Rein in that line of thought, mate, before you go somewhere with it you can’t recover from.
Clearing his throat, he fixed his unsettled attention on his friend, swallowing again when Logan turned to look at Bethany in her regular booth.
Open desire flickered over Logan’s face. Curtis wondered if Logan knew it was there. Logan was the smartest guy he knew, hell, probably the smartest guy in the country, but when it came to women…
Throat as tight as the tension in his groin, he leant his elbows on the bar and bent closer to the man he’d never hurt in a million years. “Go after her, Logan. Before some Yank hockey player gets his hands on her.”
Logan recoiled, as if physically struck by the words. His eyes widened, fear swimming in their blue depths. Fear, self-doubt and resignation. The cornered teenager trapped by his own dread, once again. “I…I don’t…”
Curtis wanted to shake him. Just as much as he wanted the woman who seemed to have made herself completely at home in their lives in such a short period of time. Just as much as he wanted take Bethany to sexual heaven and back. Three or four times at least. Minimum.
Jesus, if Logan didn’t make his move soon, Curtis was going to have a fucking hard time not—
“You two finished doing whatever it is you’re doing?”
At the sound of Bethany’s sexy New York accent, Curtis flinched. As did Logan.
Their stares locked, a second before Logan spun around to face her, his lips spreading in a wide smile.
Curtis watched his friend gaze at her, his heart far more rapid than it had a right to be. Fuck a bloody duck, the guy was completely gone for her. Done and dusted head over heels in love. It was as clear as the rimless glasses on Logan’s face.
Love. Not lust, which is what Curtis felt. Well, lust and desire and maybe something close to…affection. But not love. He didn’t do love. Not anymore.
“We are finished doing whatever it is we were doing,” Logan spoke, nodding at her. Curtis didn’t miss the way he straightened on the bar stool, squaring his shoulders as he pushed his glasses farther up his nose with his finger. “Why’s that?”
Bethany slid a slow sideways glance at Curtis. An enigmatic glint danced in her green eyes, naughty and promising at once.
Explosive heat ignited deep in his groin and he sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tight.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, he wasn’t going to let his brain take him to the place it wanted to go. To a place where three people did together what usually only occurred with two. He wasn’t. Not when Logan was so very clearly in love with Bethany. He wouldn’t do that to his—
“No offense to the Cricketer’s Cup, but I need to get out of here.” Bethany leant an elbow on Logan’s shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at him, her smile impish. “And I think you two should join me.”
Logan cleared his throat. He flicked Curtis an unreadable look before adjusting his glasses again and frowning at Bethany. “Aren’t you going out tonight?”
Curtis didn’t know whether to kick him, slap him, or…hug him.
Bethany shook her head. “No. Staying in, if that’s okay with you? In fact, I was hoping the jock would join us?” She flashed a wicked grin at Curtis. “What about it, Jock? Want to eat in with Logan and me? I’m cooking.”
Curtis’s already tight groin grew tighter. And heavier. Damned if her American vernacular didn’t give him a hard on.
He wanted to look at Logan. Wanted to see his friend’s face. Wanted to see if Bethany’s invitation was echoed there. Or if Logan was, in fact, going to finally act on his desire for the American. He needed to see if he, Curtis, was going to be a third wheel in Logan’s home.
But he couldn’t. Not when Bethany was teasing him with her mischievous smile and enigmatic eyes and his brain was painting erotic images of the three of them doing—
“I’d love to,” he burst out, pulse pounding in his ears fast. Faster than it ever had back in the day when he was facing down some of the world’s best speed bowlers on the cricket pitch.
Bethany’s answering smile detonated fresh heat in his balls and a thick spasm claimed his cock. An image of her riding his naked hips, not the unknown hockey player’s, filled his head. His hips. And this time, there was no sign of Logan in the scene playing out in his immoral mind.
None at all.
Some friend he was. Jesus, he was going to burn in fucking hell.
Money had made no difference to Logan. Nor had success—and his was phenomenal. Who would have thought all those years ago, gazing at posters of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates in his bedroom, he would have ended up being named among them as one of the world’s most important IT figures? He hadn’t. He’d been too lost in the world of code and data streaming through his head.
Now, with more billions under his belt than he could fathom, he couldn’t believe that a woman wanted to spend time with him for him.
Trapped by his own insecurities—imprisoned by the scars of a lifetime of bullying—he still couldn’t bring himself to let Bethany know what he felt for her.
The amazing American may have swept into his life like a gale-force tropical storm, but he didn’t have the genetic code to tell her he�
��d fallen for her.
Too many years of scoffed rejection and sneered ridicule had imprinted itself upon his psyche. His billions, his business success, his awards, his acumen all meant nothing. There wasn’t any chance an intelligent, beautiful woman could be interested in him. There wasn’t.
Even more so with Curtis on the scene.
He’d begrudge his best friend nothing though. Not after what Curtis had done for him all those years ago. So after this dinner, he’d quietly excuse himself and leave the two of them alone.
It didn’t take an IQ of 185 to know Curtis wanted Bethany. And even a man with glasses could see Bethany wanted Curtis.
Walking into his apartment with Bethany and Curtis trailing behind as they discussed the sci-fi film all three of them had watched two nights ago, he tossed his keys onto the hallways table and made his way to the kitchen.
He was angry. Not at Curtis. At himself.
Angry and disappointed.
“Maybe I need to sign up on eHarmony?” he muttered, grabbing a bottle of mineral water from the fridge’s icy innards. “Or buy a cat.”
“What?”
He jumped at Bethany’s voice.
Standing on his right, she let out a low chuckle, the impish light in her eyes making his cock throb. Damn, she flustered him. Almost as much as she turned him on. “Did I just hear you say you’re going to buy a cat?”
Twisting the lid from the bottle of water, he took a quick drink and then let out his own chuckle. “Thinking about it.”
Gaze holding his, Bethany reached out, plucked the bottle from his fingers and raised it to her lips. “Thinking about pussy, Logan Hill?”
From the living room, Curtis groaned. “That was a really bad pun, Beth.”
A fresh wave of prickling heat washed over the back of Logan’s neck. He really didn’t know if she was flirting with him or not. He figured she was, but then again, he’d figured the last woman he’d been involved with had been serious about him until Curtis had revealed she’d been after Logan’s money and just about every other guy’s dick she could get, including Curtis’s.
As always when confronted by the playfully salacious nature of his American guest, words failed him. Instead of fumbling out a woeful attempt at witticism, he retrieved another bottle of water from the fridge and let out a weird little chortle that made him internally cringe. Damn it, after so many years of being in Curtis’s company, why hadn’t any of the guy’s relaxed charm and easy poise rubbed off on him?
If Bethany was aware of his unsettled state, she didn’t show it. With a roguish grin, she pivoted on her heel and strutted across the living room toward the balcony where Curtis now stood.
Strutted. Bethany Sloan didn’t just walk. She strutted, swanned, sashayed and strode. She was that kind of woman.
Oh boy, he liked that about her. A lot.
Logan let out a shaky breath and then drained the bottle in his hand. For some stupid reason, his mouth was dry.
Closing the fridge, he followed Bethany’s path to the balcony, watching as she joined Curtis there.
They looked good together, Bethany and Curtis. The epitome of a perfect couple—him with his towering strength and healthy physique and her with her comfortable sensuality and lush curves. They were the kind of couple advertising agencies used to make people ache for whatever the agency was selling, whether it be insurance, cars, mortgages or condoms.
Two exquisitely beautiful, confident people. Side by side.
Yeah, as if he had any chance at all.
Damn it.
Stopping at Bethany’s side, he rested his elbows on the stainless-steel railing and drew a deep breath of the warm evening air. Oh well, at least he still had his fantasies, right? What hot-blooded nerd didn’t?
“So what are your plans for the rest of the week, Beth?”
At Curtis’s off-handed question—asked while still watching the yachts move across the darkening waters of Sydney Harbour below—Bethany shot Logan a sideways grin. “I don’t know. I’m waiting to see what comes up.”
Her answer made Curtis splutter out a choked laugh.
Logan smiled into the rim of his empty bottle. Seemed he wasn’t the only one with his head in the gutter tonight.
Bethany laughed, supporting her weight with one hand as she swung back from the railing and smirked at them both. “Okay,” she said, raising her mineral water to her lips, eyes dancing with mirth. “I do have plans. But they’re dependent on something else happening first.”
“What’s that?” Logan asked. Hell, she looked so beautiful with the dusk light bathing her in a golden pink glow. The setting sun picked up the copper in the wild curls of her strawberry-blonde hair. It threw shadows over the curves of her body, drawing his attention to the upward swell of her breasts beneath the snug black tank top she wore and to the long, smooth expanse of her legs left bare by denim cut-offs.
She swung side-to-side with gentle grace, her grin stretching. “Not telling. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go start dinner. It’s chicken-fried steak, mash potato and gravy tonight, guys. You’ve taught me Australia these last two weeks. Tonight I’m teaching you America.”
“In just one meal?” Curtis chuckled. To Logan’s ears, it sounded less relaxed than normal. Strained, in fact. “Impressive.”
Bethany preened a little, releasing her grip on the rail to skip backwards as she did so. “I hope so.”
And with that, she strode into the living room, leaving in her wake a tension in Logan’s gut and groin he doubted he’d ever escape. Not while she was still in the country, that was for sure.
“Fuck, Logan.” Curtis’s low mutter dragged Logan’s gaze from her back and her swaying hips. “I don’t know if I can…” His best mate trailed off, a twisted grimace on his face.
Logan frowned. “If you can what?”
Curtis let out a ragged sigh, turning to stare at the view beyond the railing again. Logan didn’t miss the muscles bunching in Curtis’s jaw. Nor the rapid movement of his Adam’s apple.
“Nothing,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “Nothing.”
He watched the yachts sailing over the water’s surface for a long moment, his body tense. Logan knew him well enough to recognize when he was dealing with internal turmoil, and right now, Curtis was neck high in it.
Neck high and struggling.
Logan hadn’t seen him this way since their high school principal had suspended him for a week two days before the high school national cricket finals.
The memory of that event and of the reason Curtis had been suspended rolled over Logan like a heavy blanket, bringing with it a sense of love and guilt so powerful it hurt.
Letting out a slow breath, Logan rested his elbows on the railing to mimic his friend’s stance. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, a slight waver in his voice. Was he seriously about to suggest what he thought he was? Was he truly that brave? Or foolish?
Curtis cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s that?”
Logan’s heart became an insane sledgehammer. Thank God, he wasn’t one of those nerds who reached for an inhaler whenever he was under stress and out of his league. As it was, he had to ball his hands into fists to stop himself shoving his glasses farther up his nose. “I’m going to walk back into the kitchen and ask Bethany on a date. Just me and her. When she says no, and she will, you have to walk in there and sweep her off her feet. Deal?”
Curtis stared at him. Silent.
“That way,” Logan went on, chest tight, gut a twisting knot, fingers inching to adjust his glasses, “you can go after the woman you want and I can stop feeling guilty about you not going after her.”
His friend’s jaw bunched. Again.
Surprised at his own masochistic mental state, Logan laughed. “I’m not stupid, Curtis. And I’ve got eyes. The chemistry between you two is phenomenal. I may ache to be with her—and I do—but you two were born to be together. It makes sense. So don’t argue with me.”
Curtis open
ed his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“Dinner is served.”
At Bethany’s low murmur laced with mirth and delight, Logan jumped. As did Curtis. It was the second time that evening she’d startled them in such a way.
And as before, they both swung to face her. Unlike their time at the Cricketer’s Cup however, Logan couldn’t find a single word to say.
Not when his gaze fell on Bethany standing but a few feet away.
Naked.
Completely and utterly naked.
Except for the blood-red stilettos on her feet.
She looked at them both, her eyes glinting with open delight. “So,” she said, smoothing her palms down over her hips. “Who’s hungry?”
Chapter 2
Standing there on Logan’s balcony with the humid summer air kissing her bare skin, and Logan’s and Curtis’s stunned stares roaming her body, Bethany had never ever been so turned on.
And nervous.
And excited.
And scared.
Fear had never gripped her before. She approached life without fear or hesitation, a lesson learnt the hard way after her brother had committed suicide due to the fear of living his life the way he wanted.
She swore she would never do that, never let her heart race with terror, her stomach knot with apprehension. But right now, she was scared.
Scared Logan and Curtis were going to reject what she so obviously presented.
Drawing a deep breath, aware it made her breasts rise and fall, she arched an eyebrow. “Questions?”
Logan didn’t move.
Curtis frowned.
Neither said a word.
Bethany’s tummy clenched. She licked her lip, her mouth suddenly dry. Okay, this wasn’t quite going the way she’d expected. She kind of assumed they’d be—
“What’s the tattoo say?” Logan’s low voice stroked her sanity.
The Gin Rickey Page 5
