by BETH KERY
“Thanks,” he said.
He was regarding her so solemnly. Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart jump erratically.
“Why the Russian food? Briggs isn’t a Russian name, is it?” he asked gruffly after a moment.
She laughed, mostly at herself, for thinking he was about to say something else . . . something meaningful. Of course he’d try to keep things casual. He’d made it clear what he wanted from their fling. She had to admit, however, that if this was light with him, she couldn’t even imagine what the depths would be like.
She really was playing way out of her league.
“No, Briggs is English. My dad’s ancestors were mostly from England and Scotland. But my mom is one hundred percent Russian: brilliant, imperious, always right and a fabulous cook. We call her Catherine the Great, or just ‘The G’ for short. Instead of being insulted, she loves it. She probably wishes we weren’t kidding, and that was her official title,” Eleanor told him, grinning. She loved his easy smile and the sound of his gruff laughter. “Do you want to try some of it? Her cooking, I mean? She loaded me down after Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah,” he said, sitting up on the mattress. “I do. But how about we have it for breakfast?”
“What?” she asked, confused. “You aren’t hungry now?”
“Let’s go out for a walk,” he said, standing. Her eyes widened at the too-brief view of the top half of his bare ass before the tail of his shirt fell down over it. “It’s still early,” he said, shifting his underwear and jeans. “I’ll take you out to dinner somewhere.”
“Really?” she asked, sitting partially up on the bed.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder. His brow creased.
“I know I’ve been honest with you about my lousy relationships with women, but you don’t have to look so shocked, Eleanor. I’m not that much of a louse. I like you. I want to spend more time with you, have dinner. Breakfast too, if I’m invited.”
“But I thought you said—and I agreed—that this was just going to be about . . .” She waved lamely at the discarded feather fans on the floor and the place where he’d just spanked her and then screwed her brains out.
“I thought we’d already established I don’t know what I’m talking about half the time,” he muttered under his breath. “If you don’t want to go out, that’s fine. Is that the bathroom?” he nodded toward a door on the right.
“Yes,” she said, her heart plummeting down to her navel. You’re blowing it again, Eleanor. But how was she supposed to know how not to lose when she didn’t understand the rules of the game . . . a game of her own making?
He made a movement with his hand at his crotch and she realized he was removing the condom. He started to walk toward the bathroom.
“Trey,” she called, made anxious at the vision of his retreating back.
He paused and glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly.
“I don’t know what I’m talking about half the time either. And I do want to go for a walk with you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
His forbidding expression melted slowly. She saw his small smile before he turned. She was still experiencing a rush of euphoria from his sexy grin when she heard a buzzing noise. It was his phone in his pocket, she realized. His focus on her fractured. He started toward the bathroom.
“I’ll be back in a second,” he said.
For a few seconds, she just lay there, basking in the unexpected turn of events, disbelieving at her luck in being able to spend more time with him. Nonsexual time, even. That had been far more than she’d allowed herself to hope for, let alone expect.
Suddenly energized, she jumped up and grabbed an afghan at the foot of the bed, wrapping it around her naked body. She heard the sound of running water in the bathroom. She waited, thinking she’d tell Trey she planned to jump in the shower for a minute before their walk and dinner.
He walked out of the bathroom a few seconds later, his pants fastened and his phone in his hand. He looked up at her. Her ebullient bubble popped, just like that. There was something in his expression—
“I’m really sorry, but can I take a rain check on dinner?” he asked.
“Of course. Is everything all right?”
He glanced down at his phone, appearing both distracted and vaguely stunned. “I’m fine. It’s my brother,” he said.
“What about him?” Eleanor asked, holding the afghan around her breasts and walking toward him.
“That’s just it, I don’t know. I knew something was bugging him at Mom and Dad’s over Thanksgiving, but he wouldn’t open up about it. But he texted that he’s just a few miles outside of Chicago and needs to talk to me. He asked if we could meet over at my place.”
“Do you think it’s something serious?” Eleanor asked quietly.
Trey shook his head and slid his phone into his back pocket. He began buttoning up his shirt. She watched his fleet fingers covering up his cut, powerful torso with a sinking feeling. That simple action on his part, more than his words, brought it home to her that he was really leaving.
“I’m guessing it is serious,” he stated dryly.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because even though my brother and I are close, he’s never actually been to my place. I’m talking never once, not since I’ve been an adult. He’s ten years older than me. I came a lot later than him and my sister, Kacy. Kevin’s a pilot. When he has a layover in Chicago, or when I’m in New York, we meet up at a restaurant or bar if we’re both free. But he’s been flying to Europe for the past few years, so I’ve seen him less and less. Usually, we just see each other on holidays at Mom and Dad’s. He’s a pretty independent guy. Some people would call him a loner.” Trey paused, frowning. “He’s certainly never driven to Chicago just to talk to me.”
His flashing glance landed on her standing there clutching the heavy afghan above her breasts. Something darkened his features. He took two long strides over to her and delved his fingers into her hair. His head dipped. He cut off her soft gasp with his mouth.
His kiss told her he regretted having to leave. Or at least that was her impression when he stood close and his taste and scent filled her.
When Trey was next to you, and his mouth was moving on yours, there wasn’t much room for doubt.
Once he was gone . . .
Well, that was a different story altogether.
TWELVE
Kevin Riordan carried his forty-three years extremely well. Most people guessed he and Trey were five years apart instead of almost eleven. Both of the Riordan boys had gotten their father’s height and their mother’s blue eyes, but Kevin was darker than Trey.
He’d always looked up to Kevin. As a kid, he’d worshipped him like a hero. As he’d gotten older, he’d grown to genuinely respect his brother’s skill and courage as a Navy pilot, his easy confidence with other men—who also seemed to immediately admire him—and his even easier confidence with women, who typically adored him.
As Trey entered his living room that night, however, and saw the back of Kevin’s shadowed form staring broodingly down onto Lake Shore Drive, the unusual thought struck him for the first time in his life that Kevin Riordan wasn’t just a loner. He was lonely.
He cleared this throat and his brother turned. Trey held out the glass of bourbon Kevin had requested.
“Thanks,” Kevin rasped, immediately taking a sip. He closed his eyes and sighed. “God, that’s good. Heaven compared to that crap Mom keeps at the farm.”
Trey chuckled and sat down on the couch, placing his glass of ice water on the coffee table.
“If you think that, you should bring her the good stuff,” Trey said.
Kevin dropped into a chair. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a shit guest. Dad and Kacy were certainly making that clear by the time I left Rockford a few ho
urs ago.”
“Everyone knew something was bugging you,” Trey said honestly.
“You weren’t in the best of moods either.”
Trey shrugged his acknowledgment. Thinking about why he’d been so restless over Thanksgiving brought up the image of Eleanor standing there a half hour ago, that afghan wrapped around her breasts, her hair wild and sexy, her golden green eyes glistening. Why had she looked so somber as she regarded him?
Damn, I wish I could figure her out.
Kevin grimaced and rubbed his eyes. There were lines of tension around his brother’s mouth and eyes that Trey had never seen before this Thanksgiving.
“I know I was an ass. I apologized to Mom and Dad before I left. Kacy, Mike and Jason had already left, so I didn’t get a chance to apologize to them yet.” He winced. “Christ, my eyes burn. I haven’t been able to sleep lately.”
“You’re starting to freak me out. Are you sick or something?”
Kevin gave him an incredulous glance. “Do I look sick?”
“Uh . . . yeah, a little. Mom was all worried because you hardly ate any of her stuffing or pumpkin pie.”
Kevin suddenly broke out into harsh laughter and leaned back in the chair. “No, I’m not sick. Not in the way you’re thinking, at least. Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head as if he were going over some morbidly funny joke in his head. He took another drink of his bourbon, still grinning like a madman.
“What?” Trey demanded. “What the hell is going on with you?”
Kevin looked around his penthouse, his grin fading. “Jesus, will you look at this fucking place? My little brother, the billionaire.”
“I’m not a billionaire,” Trey said, frowning because his brother had changed the subject.
Kevin gave another bark of incredulous laughter. “You’re a hell of a lot closer to it than I’ll ever be. It’s funny. Kacy and I always had the big sibling rivalry, but it’s you we should have been jealous of all along.”
“What purpose would that serve?” Trey asked wryly.
“It would have given me a break from Kacy, and Kacy a break from me.”
Trey laughed. His brother joined him. Again, Kevin’s narrowed gaze traveled around the penthouse. “It’s huge, isn’t it? It’s not much of a place for a family, though, is it?”
“Since when would something like that have bothered you?”
“Maybe for about a month now.”
Trey paused in the action of reaching for his water, stunned. Kevin was quite the playboy. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“Are you serious?” he asked quietly.
Kevin just nodded, his dazed expression making it clear he couldn’t quite believe it either.
“You’ve fallen for someone?” Trey clarified. “That’s what your pissy mood and the lack of sleep and—”
“The fact that I look so sick are all about?” Kevin finished darkly. “Yeah. That’s what they’re all about.” He took a drink and swallowed. “I’m worried I’m terminal too.”
Trey snorted. Kevin gave him a sharp, annoyed glance. “What are you griping about?” Trey wondered. “It’s a good thing, isn’t it? You’re in love with someone.”
He shook his head in amazement when Kevin didn’t argue.
“What’s she like?” Trey asked.
“It’s no good,” Kevin said bitterly, tossing his glass down on a table.
“What’s no good? She’s no good?”
“She’s fantastic,” Kevin corrected, blue eyes blazing.
Trey threw up his hands in a surrender gesture. “Okay, okay. So . . . spell it for the feebleminded. Why are you so upset?”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Kevin said, sitting forward restlessly in his chair. Trey saw a wildness in his eyes he’d never seen before. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve traveled all over the world for most of my adult life, and never thought twice about the distance. Now all of a sudden, I hate every single fucking mile, because it’s taking me farther away from her. And the thing of it is, she’s all wrong for me.”
“In what way?”
“She’s too young, for one thing. Twenty-seven.”
“A mature twenty-seven?”
Kevin scoffed. “Elizabeth was born more mature than me.”
Trey smiled. It was weird seeing his brother like this, so discombobulated over a woman. “Good. You need someone to keep you under control . . . balance you out.”
Kevin gave him a dirty look. “Like you should talk, Mr. Viral Sex Video.”
“Elizabeth,” Trey mused, pointedly ignoring Kevin’s barb about that infuriating video with the stupid Scarpetti sisters. No, he’d been the stupid one on that occasion. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t been, that was the whole problem. He still cringed inwardly in regret and embarrassment every time he thought of his mother hearing about it. Plus, his dad had bought her a computer recently. He’d told his mom point-blank about the rumors regarding the video a couple years back, wanting to prevent her hearing about it from one of her girlfriends or a cousin or something. But what if she’d actually watched it?
“I like that name,” Trey decided. “It’s got substance. Like Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice.”
Eleanor was a name of substance too.
Kevin gave him a look like he was losing his mind, scattering Trey’s weird, out-of-nowhere thought. “That’s Elizabeth, all right,” Kevin said, obviously too distracted to notice Trey’s momentary oddness for long. “She’s got so much substance, sometimes I feel like I’ll learn something new about her every day.”
“So she’ll keep you on your toes for the rest of your worthless life, then. What are you so worried about?”
Kevin hesitated. It was beyond strange, seeing his cocky brother so unsure.
“But . . . what if one day, I learn something about her I don’t like?”
“Like, if you discover she’s not perfect?” Trey asked, frowning.
Kevin gave him a startled glance. “No, it’s not that. I don’t think she’s perfect.”
“Sounds to me like you do.”
“Like you don’t demand perfection of the women you date,” Kevin muttered, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t,” Trey defended. “I demand honesty.”
“Yeah, honesty about all their faults. How many people do you know who want to spill all their ugly secrets on the first date?”
“Did you come here to talk about my love life, or yours?” Trey countered.
Kevin seemed to deflate. He struck Trey as seeming hopeless in that moment, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen him. It worried Trey. Is that what love did to you?
“Do you actually love her?” Trey asked, thinking it’d be best to start at the basics.
Kevin looked him straight in the eye. “Like crazy.”
“Well there you go. Look, you know I’m no expert at this. Recently, I’ve kind of been struggling with what it all means too.”
“Of course I know you’re no expert. Maybe that’s why you’re the only person I felt comfortable talking to about it,” Kevin said glumly. “Everyone else would have just patronized me.”
Trey exhaled heavily and sunk back in his chair. He was glad his brother felt okay talking to him about this, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel it was a bit of a backhanded compliment. They just sat there gloomily in silence. It was like they’d just attended a funeral and were wrestling with the heaviness of their thoughts. Death made you feel all alone with your insecurities and doubts. Maybe that’s what love did too. The Riordan brothers’ reaction to their first encounter with true love would have struck Trey as both pitiful and funny if it didn’t feel so damn serious.
“That’s what you’re worried about the most?” he asked Kevin eventually. “That you’ll find out something about her
you don’t like?”
“I guess. Or maybe worse, she’ll find out something about me she doesn’t like and can’t live with.”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Trey agreed, understanding that angle completely. For a few seconds, they didn’t speak, each of them lost in their thoughts. Something occurred to him.
“You know how Dad makes that disgusting, weird noise in his throat all the time while he’s watching TV at night? Because his sinuses start to drain once he’s settled down from all the activity of the day?”
Kevin blinked. “Yeah.”
“I heard Mom say once that you know it’s real when you encounter another person’s phlegm on a regular basis, and you’re still in love with them.”
A grin slowly broke over Kevin’s face. “That sounds like Mom.”
Trey chuckled in agreement.
“So you’re telling me that I have to expect phlegm along with all the brilliant, sweet, incredibly sexy things about Elizabeth?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t be afraid of the phlegm.” Kevin’s eyebrows went up. “Because it’s Elizabeth’s phlegm. As for your phlegm, well . . . let’s just hope Elizabeth is a hell of lot more generous than you.”
Kevin just stared at him with a blank, stunned look.
Trey gave a helpless shrug. “Hey man, you came to me. What the hell do I know?”
Kevin laughed gruffly, some of the tension leaving his body. He reached for his glass.
“Maybe you know more than either one of us thought you did,” he said before he stood and walked over to the windows again, this time wearing a small smile.
—
On Saturday morning, Eleanor got up early and showered. She was determined to get out of the condo and do something purposeful. It’d been a long, restless night. She didn’t want to prolong the unpleasantness into the daytime by bingeing on Netflix and Russian dumplings all day, thinking about Trey’s abrupt departure, or wondering when she might see him again. One thing was certain: her mental conversations would drive her stark raving mad if she let them.
