Winston Brothers 04 Wild

by Lori Foster

  She caught his face, kissing his chin, his jaw, biting at his throat. "Just touch me again. Please."

  "Jesus." He panted as he reached for his belt, jerking at it, frenzied—and someone called his name.

  They both froze.

  "No," Zane groaned, the word slurred. His face pressed into her neck, his body held rigid as he struggled for control. Their frantic heartbeats mingled, matched. His shoulders looked like sleek steel as he braced himself away from her. "No, goddammit, no."

  Mack Winston gave a start of surprise, then whistled. Zane," he asked, "what have you been up to?"

  Chase Winston just grinned, a cocky, crooked grin that showed he had accurately guessed the answer to Mack's

  question. He knew exactly what his brother had been doing.

  Zane whirled to face her, his scowl dark and deadly, expression black. She bit her lip.

  Busted.

  Eight

  Zane couldn't believe it. He had a boner that would have made Superman proud, and Tamara had gone up like a flame the second he'd touched her. She'd been ready, damn it, so ready.

  But now he was stuck with his brothers. Oh, he knew good and well they wouldn't just back out politely, regardless of the fact they knew what they'd interrupted. If anything, they'd be more determined to hang around now than ever. Curiosity, and the perverse need to drive him crazy, would guarantee they extended their visit.

  He wanted to kick himself. Hard. He'd been caught romping during business hours, his store unattended, his door unlocked. He'd taken total leave of his senses, no doubt about that. His own disbelief was extreme, but he knew his brothers would love ribbing him till doomsday over his lack of discretion. Damn.

  Tamara, her face flushed and her lips swollen, stared at the three of them with wide, dark eyes. Zane wanted to erupt in frustration, but he wouldn't give his brothers the satisfaction. With women, he was always controlled. Now would be no different.

  He drew a deep breath that didn't do a damn thing to relax him, and said, "Tamara, you might, as well come on out."

  Looking horrified by that prospect, she ducked back behind the door.

  Mack turned to Zane. "You were hiding her?"

  "No, of course not."

  Unconvinced, Mack said, "She looks like she's hiding."

  Zane knew that'd be enough to bring her out. His independent little Gypsy wouldn't want anyone to think her a coward.

  Chase crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "Who is she?"

  Waving toward the adjacent building, Zane went for the easiest explanation. "She's the Gypsy next door." Mack, who had seen her several times in the past, whistled again.

  "Will you stop that!" Zane no sooner barked at Mack, than he again drew a breath, reaching for that damn elusive control. But it was too late, both Mack and Chase eyed him with satisfied curiosity.

  "A Gypsy, huh?"

  Chase was having a fine time of it. Zane reigned in his temper with an effort. "Not a real Gypsy, of course. But she looks the part."

  At that moment, the jingling of her bell-laden ankle bracelets drew everyone's attention, and Tamara stepped out. All three of them turned toward her. Zane immediately wanted to hide her again.

  She was a wreck.

  Her wig was sodden, looking blacker than usual, coarser. It hung in crooked clumps, probably because of his hands when he'd been holding her still for his kiss. He could still taste her, how sweet and hot her mouth had been, how stiff her nipple had gotten when he'd drawn on her. His head had nearly erupted with the pleasure of it. He wanted to taste her everywhere—but now he'd have to wait.

  Her nose was red, and her makeup was everywhere except where it should have been. Her clothes had been rearranged and overlapped in an awkward way that at least had her decently covered. But it made her look .. . clumpy.

  She stood there, narrow shoulders hunched, shivering, the rain dripping off her to form an expanding puddle around her beringed toes.

  Looking beyond miserable, she attempted a smile. Like mute fools, his damn brothers looked at him in disbelief.

  Struggling with himself, Zane tried to figure out how to throw his brothers off the scent. At the moment, Tamara looked more like a drowned urchin than a woman who could make a man mad with lust to the point he'd leave his store unattended. They'd never understand why he had lost his head enough to seduce her in his storage room while his business was still open. Hell, he barely understood it.

  Then suddenly Tamara's embarrassment hit him. It was such a heavy wave of awareness, pushing at him, smothering him, that he nearly lost his breath. She was mortified, more by his reaction than anything else, and he knew it bone deep.

  He looked at her, and saw that she was ready to excuse herself, to claim to be no more than a friend. Her turmoil shamed him, proving his shallowness. He'd dragged her inside, stripped her blouse away from her breasts and 1 touched her and tasted her, and now he was ready to deny it all. He felt like the biggest bastard alive.

  Without giving it another thought, he strode forward and threw his arm possessively, protectively, around her shoulders.

  She appeared floored that he'd done so, and that gave him a small measure of gratification. It was nice to be able to take her by surprise now and then. It helped to balance the constant state of shock she kept him in.

  "Chase, Mack, this is Tamara Tremayne, my neighbor next door." The bold way he edged her into his side proved she was much more than a neighbor; he didn't need to say the words.

  Her shivers were so severe, they rattled Zane's ribs where she pressed against him. He needed to get her to her place so she could change. Some hot coffee wouldn't , either. "Tamara, these are my pain-in-the-ass brothers."

  Mack and Chase's replies were automatic, without their usual charm.

  "Hello, there."

  "Nice to meet you."

  Zane understood; Tamara had that effect on him, too. But it was nothing compared to how she reacted to them. He'd never seen her tongue-tied before. She'd been deliberately, mysteriously silent plenty of times. But she'd never been speechless. Curving his hand over her shoulder, Zane urged her a step closer and, with a grin, prompted her, "Say `hi' to my brothers, honey."

  "Hi."

  Chase recovered first. "I take it you two were caught out in the storm?"

  Nodding, Zane said, "Someone was following her--ooaf."

  Tamara's sharp little elbow surely broke something. Zane glared down at her while he rubbed his midsection, but she just smiled at him.

  Then patted him.

  Chase and Mack watched with fascination.

  "Zane," she said, all sweetness, as if she hadn't just tried to stove in his ribs, "don't bore your brothers with that stuff." Her teeth gleamed briefly in a parody of a smile, and she added, "It doesn't concern them."

  Disbelief filled him. "Would you rather they think we were playing in the rain?" She didn't answer, but she looked ready to inflict more harm on his person. Zane narrowed his eyes. He held her elbow this time as a pre-

  caution, then said to Chase, "She has this problem with sharing."

  "So I see." Amusement flickered across Chase's face.

  Mack tugged at his ear. "I have a suggestion. Why don't we take her home and let her change out of those wet clothes before she turns blue? She's shivering so much, her bells are ringing."

  Zane looked at her feet and saw Mack was right. Her ankle bracelets quivered, making music even though she tried to hold herself still.

  "Her blouse is ripped too," Chase pointed out.

  "What the hell?" How could he have missed that? Zane wondered. Then a thought occurred to him. "Damn, I didn't rip it, did I?"

  Slapping her hand over his mouth, her face scalded with color, Tamara said, "It was already ripped."

  He circled his fingers around her slender wrist and lowered her hand to her side. He had that awful feeling she was being evasive again. "How?"

  Casting a worried look at his brothers' rapt express
ions, she lowered her voice. "When I was running, I accidentally ripped it."

  "Were you hurt?"

  "I'm fine." She stressed that in a way that let him know she wanted him to drop it.

  Like hell. "Let me see, honey."

  She twisted away from him. "It's not a big deal, Zane."

  He didn't believe her, but he knew he'd have a battle on his hands if he tried to force the issue in front of his brothers. Nodding, he said, "All right. Then let's get you home."

  Tamara slipped away from Zane before he could stop her. "No, really, that's not necessary."

  "Course it is," Chase assured her.

  "My apartment is right above my shop. You two came to visit Zane, and I don't want to interrupt. I'll just be on my way—alone, of course, which is how it should be and you can all have a nice chat." She smiled as if that was that and turned away.

  Zane snagged her by the back of the blouse and pulled her up short. "Nice try."

  "Zane!" She slapped her hands over her breasts to cover herself as the wet blouse was pulled tight to her front.

  He'd forgotten her clothes were transparent. She'd pulled them away from her skin and rearranged herself some before coming out to meet his brothers, but once the blouse touched her skin again, it didn't want to let go. Every fine edge of her lace bra was clearly visible, as well as her puckered nipples beneath.

  Mack had his coat off in a flash. "Here you go." He stared at the ceiling as he handed it to her. Chase pretended to be busy examining some new computers on display.

  When Tamara didn't take the coat quickly enough, Zane did the gentlemanly thing and stuffed her into it. The sleeves fell almost to her knees. He buttoned the top two buttons, then smiled. Tamara was swallowed up by the dark brown coat, her slim legs barely showing beneath, and the neckline fell almost to her breasts. It was all Zane could do not to laugh, despite her angry expression.

  Addressing his brothers, he said, "Come on. We'll walk her over, and we can talk while she changes."

  "Zane....

  "Quit growling at me, honey. You'll make a bad impression on my brothers."

  She glared at him for that comment, and again started to turn away.

  "Mack."

  "Got it." Mack stationed himself in front of the door, barring the way while Zane found his umbrella and Chase opened his own. Tamara looked ready to spit, she was so angry at being thwarted, and Zane decided it was just as well that she get used to it. He assumed he'd be thwarting her a lot, as long as she continued to try to shut him out.

  Once through the door, they sandwiched her between them, making certain she didn't get any wetter—though how she could get wetter, he didn't know. She was already drenched. But Zane also wanted her protected just in case the man who'd followed her was still hanging around.

  He no longer had any doubts that she was, indeed, in danger. Hell, he'd felt the menace himself, as dumb as that seemed. And now that he knew the menace was real, he'd find a way to protect her—whether she wanted his protection or not.

  His heart pounded so hard he felt bruised. He was wet, shivering, his teeth chattering from both cold and nerves. He clamped his jaws together hard, trying to keep from making any noise at all.

  One second he'd been alone, well hidden by the shadows and the storm, ready to do what he must, what he had no choice but to do, and then suddenly she was there, that damn bright green umbrella announcing her like a beacon.

  He didn't think she saw him today, but he wasn't sure. She'd just . .. taken off so suddenly. Running fast, like her life was in danger. He'd immediately changed his plans, of course, unwilling to take any more risks.

  It made him nearly nauseous, each and every time he went in there. He hadn't had a chance to get into her place today; he hadn't had the time before she'd shown up, and he'd been too rattled after to do more than hide.

  That was sheer luck on his part, because not long after she'd run into the computer store, a man had stormed outside, looking around. It was a good thing he'd stayed hidden. Even when the rain soaked past his coat and ran in an icy river down his backbone, he hadn't moved from his hidey-hole. He'd stay tucked away until they were all gone, until he knew without a single doubt that it was clear.

  But damn, it was hard. He wasn't cut out for this, and he needed to search again—before it was too late.

  Zane locked up quickly while his brothers protected her from the storm. Then they dashed across the lot and went, en masse, up the outside metal stairs to her apartment door. Zane and Chase held her elbows. Because Mack had given her his coat, he held the umbrella, making sure they stayed as dry as possible.

  The landing was jam-packed with all four of them there, and for a brief moment Zane wondered if it would hold up under their combined weight. He and his brothers each went over two hundred pounds. Add Tamara's one hundred pounds or so to that, and the stairs felt beyond rickety, creaking and groaning with their weight.

  "Do you have your key?" Zane asked her.

  She tried to dig in her skirt pocket, but the chore proved difficult, given the size of Mack's coat on her and how wet her skirt was. Finally, Zane reached into her pocket for her. He could feel the sleek firmness of her thigh through the material, and it inflamed him all over again. Damn, but he wanted her, and he wasn't used to holding back, to pulling away after getting so close.

  He needed to get her alone, naked. Under him. He wanted to ride her so gently she melted around him, and then not so gently until she screamed out her climax. When he'd cupped her through her panties, he'd felt how soft and warm and wet she was.

  He shook, he wanted her so much.

  He didn't, however, want to take her against the wall in his storage room. Talk about a lack of finesse. Later, he might even be grateful that his brothers had interrupted. For now, he was still quietly seething, his lust barely banked.

  Tamara flipped on the light as soon as they stepped inside. She faced Zane with her hands on her hips. The coat sleeves covered her arms and beyond, so she looked more comical than angry.

  He said easily, "Don't start complaining again."

  "I'll complain if I want to!"

  He unbuttoned the coat, easily dodging her flapping hands, then turned her and wrested the garment off her shoulders.

  "Damn it, Zane, if you don't—"

  He leaned close to her ear, so close he could brush her lobe with his mouth as he spoke. "You're giving my brothers another peep show, babe."

  She whirled, turning her back to them. Over her shoulder, she speared Zane with a smoldering look, and said through gritted teeth, "I'll be right back. Don't you dare say a thing while I'm gone."

  Tenderness warmed him. She was so damn cute, so determined to refuse any and all concern. For some reason, she was threatened by the idea that he might actually start to care about her. Zane didn't know why, but he intended to find out.

  Her eyes, resembling those of a raccoon with the smudged makeup, narrowed on him, waiting. Zane saluted her. "Yes ma'am."

  Her bossy disposition, which had once seemed both annoying and intolerable, now struck him as adorable. She marched away, slim derriere swaying, and Zane stared after her, his mind conjuring wonderful, intimate, carnal images of letting her be bossy in bed—until Chase clapped him on the back.

  "You're not being very subtle, Zane."

  Mack laughed. "Hell, I'm embarrassed to even witness this. I feel like a voyeur."

  "Go to hell, both of you."

  His brothers thought that was hysterical. When they finally stopped laughing, Zane told them, "You might as well sit down. I'll fill you in while she showers."

  "I thought she told you to be quiet," Chase commented helpfully. He looked around her apartment with interest.

  "Yeah," Mack said, piping in, "and you looked like you took her warning to heart."

  Oddly enough, their taunting didn't bother him. Tamara was different, and what he felt about her was different. He hadn't quite pinpointed his feelings for her yet—there was curiosi
ty because she was different, lust certainly, amusement and concern and protectiveness. What those things all meant collectively, he had no idea. For the moment, he could only make plans to get her alone and in his bed. Or her bed. Or hell, the couch would do. And he wanted to make certain she'd be safe. Once those were both taken care of, maybe he'd be able to stop thinking about her. Maybe.

  But he preferred that his brothers not see her as just another woman he wanted to bed. He wanted them to know she was ... special.

  "She'll learn," Zane told them thoughtfully, "that I do things my own way."

  "If you say so." Mack sprawled out with a groan on the striped sofa, his arms stretched out along the back, his long legs stuck out in front of him.

  Chase walked around looking at the photographs on the walls. Zane hadn't noticed them on his first visit, what with her aunt jumping on his back and her uncle threatening to kill him. Then there had been the ghost who wasn't a ghost at all... .

  "Are these her parents?" Chase asked.

  Zane moved closer to examine the old black-and-white photograph in an antique-looking, ornate oval frame of gold and silver. "I don't know. They died when she was young. She was pretty much raised by two aunts and this enormous uncle who could rival Bigfoot."

  "No kidding? Sounds like an interesting family."

  "You don't know the half of it." The couple in the photo could have been Tamara's parents. The woman had the same features as Tamara and the aunts: exotically shaped cat eyes, high cheekbones. But the photo was so old he couldn't tell if she had dark or light hair. The man was big, long hair to his shoulders, mustache, an indulgent smile directed at his wife. It was a nice photo—Zane decided to ask her about it. Later.

  Mack clasped his hands behind his head, and his eyes looked drowsy. "She's not your usual type."

  The shower started, and Zane moved to the doorway so he could stare down the hall. He pictured Tamara tossing aside the hideous wig, removing her rings one by one, peeling the wet clothes off her body. His heart gave a lurch at the image of her soft skin exposed, those small, plump breasts completely bare. He throbbed.