Love Under Three Titans

by Cara Covington

  There’s Mother’s voice again. Maggie pushed the thought away and replaced it with a more plain-speaking voice that sounded like her own.

  Julia likely knows I’ve had sex with her brothers.

  And certainly if she hadn’t before arriving minutes ago, those yummy kisses Richard just laid on her would have been a big clue.

  The younger woman sat in the extra chair that Maggie had begun to keep in her office—since she so often found herself with at least one visitor.

  “So”—she stretched her legs out—“you’re having sex with my brothers.”

  “Not all of them. Just the triplets.”

  This time Julia laughed so hard Maggie wondered if she would need the bathroom.

  Maggie simply sat and smiled and waited her out. When the younger woman came up for air, she said, “Okay, that was really well done. I just realized that I have no right to ask even a single question, since all my life I’d get pissed when my brothers would butt into my personal life.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Of course you have a right to ask and to butt in. Love gives you not only the right but the responsibility to do so.” Maggie sighed and folded her hands over her stomach. “I’ve never had a brother—obviously—let alone six. I’ve had friends who’ve had to deal with unruly siblings. I used to pretend to sympathize with them when actually I was envious as hell.”

  “And I guess you never really had a sister, either.” Julia frowned. “I had Tracy. Even though she was actually my cousin, and so much younger than I was, we just kind of clicked.”

  “You were lucky, then. I barely remember Earline. I was only about four when she left our mother’s house.” Maggie never dwelled on the things is life she hadn’t had. Her father had died before she’d truly known him. It had always been just her and her mother, and while there had been times when she’d secretly longed for a different kind of mother, she’d dealt with her reality—and fairly well, too, even if she did say so herself.

  “I’m just trying to picture Richard as your, or anyone’s boyfriend.” Julia shivered. “Sorry, the picture just won’t form.”

  Maggie tilted her head as she considered Julia Benedict. “You’re far too clever a woman to think that just because your oldest brother is awkward in expressing his emotions, that he doesn’t have any.”

  Julia’s face colored slightly. “I’ve had it pointed out to me on more than one occasion recently that I’m likely as much to blame for the friction between Rick and me as he is.”

  “Hello, the inn!”

  From the sound of the unfamiliar male voice, someone was at the front door and not content to simply knock or ring the bell.

  Julia sighed. “That’s one of mine.”

  “Baby doll, where are you?”

  “And there’s the other one.” Julia said.

  “I think you better answer them. They sound substantial enough to tear the place apart until they find you. I’d rather not have to make any further renovations at this time, if you don’t mind.”

  Maggie followed Julia out to the front entrance. The heavy wooden inside door was wide open, although the screen was closed, but of course, not latched. There on her porch stood two minor mountains impersonating men—the buff studs she’d seen with Julia a time or two in the last week.

  Each man held two large boxes of books in his hands as easily as if they’d been cake boxes.

  “There you are, kitten. We wondered where you’d gotten to. Hello, ma’am. May we come in?”

  Julia turned to Maggie. “These two Navy SEALs don’t seem able to let me out of their sight for more than a few minutes at a time.” She pointed to the one on the right. “That’s Dev Wakefield, and this one is Drew James.”

  Maggie grinned. “From what I’ve heard about the events of a month or so ago, I can’t say that I blame them for wanting to keep you close. Please come in, gentlemen. If you help me sort those books and shelve them, there’ll be cookies in it for you. I just baked them fresh this morning.”

  “Chocolate chip?” Drew had such a hopeful look on his face that Maggie had to control the urge to laugh.

  Julia just shook her head.

  Maggie nodded. “Yes, I made chocolate chip and also peanut-butter cookies.” She opened the door so the men could enter.

  “Just point us toward your bookshelves. We’ll have them shipshape in no time.” Drew said.

  “You mean you will, bro. I’m just muscle,” Dev said. Then he turned to Maggie. “He’ll probably end up making a chart that will rival the filing system of the Library of Congress. You should see the one he’s building to figure out the Benedict family tree.”

  Maggie beamed. “Now that, I would like to see. I’m more than a little confused by the family connections myself. This way.”

  Maggie didn’t really know why Richard had set her up with his sister and her men, but she was just practical enough to make use of the help while she had it.

  And while she worked on the bookshelves, she’d try to figure out what to serve those three titans for dinner—other than steak and herself, of course.

  Chapter 13

  Kevin’s instincts went on high alert the moment he set eyes on the woman.

  Marcus, the maître d’ on duty at Sorrento’s, had given them one of the special dining alcoves for their luncheon—not one of the private rooms, because he and his brothers didn’t care for those. The alcoves afforded a modicum of privacy, which was all they ever really needed, anyway.

  As Marcus escorted the reporter and cameraman to their table, Kevin caught an aura of something intangible yet alarming in the woman’s demeanor.

  She looked loaded for bear.

  The writer-reporter introduced herself as J. Jones—no first name given—and shook hands with only himself and Trey.

  To Rick, she simply nodded, but Kevin thought he detected a slight sneer in her expression—something she hid quickly when she realized she was under close scrutiny.

  Since this was Trey’s gig—he was, after all, in charge of communications and PR—Kevin sat back, next to Rick, and waited to see what happened next.

  “I hope you enjoy Italian food.” Trey beamed his best host smile for the reporter and the photographer who had accompanied her.

  They’d met photographer, Ian Lucas, a couple of times before. Ian nodded in response to Trey’s comment, his smile just barely there. Kevin would have thought the man would be more loquacious, as he recalled him being in the past. The fact that Lucas remained silent and sent the reporter wary glances spoke volumes.

  The waiter proved very efficient in delivering plates of antipasto to their table and then asked for drink orders. Since this was work, Kevin and his brothers each ordered sweet tea. It did surprise him when the reporter asked for a sparkling water. He would have thought she’d want a shot of bourbon, or some other “don’t mess with me I can run with the big dogs” kind of drink, because he thought those were the vibes she was giving off. Ian also ordered sweet tea, then got up and took a couple of photos. The first was of him and his brothers, and the second included the reporter.

  Kevin wondered why Ms. Jones seemed unhappy with being photographed with them. All his life, they’d had people fawning over them. That more or less came with the territory of being born into the Benedict family. They were used to it and never let it go to their heads. Ms. Jones didn’t seem inclined to fawn, which personally, Kevin appreciated. But it was more than her being disinclined to treat them special.

  If he didn’t know better he’d say the woman loathed them—particularly Rick.

  “I do like Italian food, thank you.” She barely looked at the menu before setting it aside. “I thought we could get right down to business, if you gentlemen don’t mind.”

  “That suits me.” Rick did his best to smile, but Kevin thought he needed to work on the gesture just a little more. His effort looked like a grimace instead of a genuine smile. Then his oldest brother took a deep breath, and Kevin sensed Rick was girding his loins.

/>   “I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize your name.” Rick’s tone smoothed out. “Are you new to Style and Substance?” Rick sat back, his napkin on his lap.

  Kevin grinned. Trey caught his eye and nodded just slightly then smiled, obviously pleased with Rick’s attempt at small talk.

  “I moved here from Philadelphia about a year ago.” Ms. Jones sounded as if she was participating in a cop’s interrogation, with her playing the role of uncooperative witness. “I’m much more interested in the three of you, of course. I understand you’ve recently relocated your company from New York City to Houston. That seems like an unlikely move, even to me. Is Benedict International in financial trouble? Perhaps you had difficulty ‘making’ it in the more cosmopolitan environs of such a large city as New York.”

  Rick shot straight up in his chair, and Kevin wondered if his eldest brother was about to have a meltdown.

  “Certainly not.” Rick seemed to find a reservoir of charm, because he looked straight at the woman and actually smiled this time. “While growth hasn’t been as robust as in boom years since the collapse of the markets in 2008, we’re extremely proud that we’ve managed a modest, steady increase in the bottom line over the past few years. We’ve weathered the recession well without anyone at Benedict International losing their job. We’re very proud of that, and we plan to continue with that policy.”

  “We moved back home, is all.” Kevin smiled. “We wanted to be closer to our family. In fact, we’ve taken over our grandparents’ former house in Lusty and are currently working on renovating it.”

  “So you’ve come back home, literally. Isn’t that kind of awkward, especially for you, Richard?” The woman sat forward and pinned Rick with a sharp stare. “I understand that Lusty isn’t a very large town. It must be very uncomfortable for you, running into all your, shall we say, jilted and abused paramours.”

  “Me?” Rick looked from him to Trevor then looked back at the reporter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have no jilted or abused paramours in Lusty—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

  The woman nodded, and this time the sneer was there for all to see. “Of course not. You likely saw to it they all had to leave town. Maybe you thought your family paid them off well enough to keep their collective mouths shut. Tell me, how many women have you forced into having abortions? How many lives have you ruined, you bastard?”

  “I don’t know where you got such an outlandish idea, Ms. Jones.” Trey looked as pissed as Kevin had ever seen him. “I can assure you, that Richard—”

  Richard put a hand on Trevor’s arm. “Someone has given you false information, Ms. Jones. I can tell you without hesitation that I would never encourage a woman to abort a child I had conceived. That’s simply not the Benedict way.”

  “You’re a liar and a cheat, and the world will soon know the truth about you, you dirty rotten son of a bitch!” J. Jones picked up the antipasto tray and heaved its contents toward Richard.

  Fortunately it was a heavy enough tray that she couldn’t heft the contents far, and Rick was able to duck most of the flying olives and pieces of meat.

  Kevin and Trevor both shot to their feet, but the woman was faster. She’d tossed down her napkin and marched off, her posture one of righteous indignation and vengeance rolled into one.

  Ian had caught the moment of her attack on film. He looked at it now on his digital display and shook his head.

  “I didn’t think she’d last long with the magazine, as she doesn’t seem to have any respect for anyone or anything Texan. I never would have guessed she’d go out in such a blaze of glory.” Ian shrugged. “I apologize. I thought something was off with her a few minutes ago when I met her outside the restaurant. But I had no idea she’d do something like this.” He looked down at the table. “I’d like to stay for lunch, but under the circumstances…”

  Trey waived his hand. “Call my office, Ian. We’ll set a time to get together next week, just the four of us. Our treat.”

  Ian grinned. “You’re on. See you later, guys. Right now, the boss is going to need to know about this. ”

  The photographer walked off just as Marcus and his staff rushed over to assist. “You Benedicts seem to be attracting the crazy women lately,” he said as he helped Rick clean up. “Just a few months ago some woman nailed your cousin Alex with a glass of Chablis.”

  “Thank God it wasn’t red wine.” Rick took one of the proffered towels and tried to blot the bit of oil from his sports coat and shirt.

  Marcus grinned. “From what Maria told me, I believe that is what Alex said at the time.”

  “This just pisses me off.” Trey threw down his napkin as his gaze followed where the woman had disappeared. “I’m calling Williams at Style and Substance. This was not only unprofessional, it was totally uncalled for.”

  Kevin knew there was no way that Rick had somehow been leading a secret, double life. He frowned. “Ms. Jones took on the mantle of avenging angel, which means—”

  “Someone deliberately misled her about me.” Rick shook his head. “Whoever did so doesn’t know us very well at all. If they’d wanted to accuse someone of rabid womanizing they’d have accused you, Kevin.”

  Trey frowned. “I was going to say me. I’m the ladies’ man in the family.” Then he sighed. “But you’re right. Choosing you, Rick—and I mean no offense when I say this—just doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”

  Rick nodded. “Trust me when I say I’m not offended.”

  Kevin nodded to Trey. “Why don’t you call Williams now, and then we can have lunch.”

  “Good plan. And now that I don’t have to play nice for the reporter, I’ve almost got an appetite.” Then Rick grinned. “We’re having dinner with Maggie tonight, by the way. She’s going to grill steaks.”

  “We are?” Kevin looked up to encounter the hopeful face of their waiter. He’d nearly suggested ditching the restaurant so they could go back to Lusty right now.

  This was their first trip away from Lusty since they’d decided on Maggie. Kevin had very recently discovered that he didn’t like being so far away from her, even for an afternoon.

  Then he took his seat and picked up his menu. They had lots of time. If he knew his brothers, it would be a quick lunch, a swing past the office, and then home.

  They’d be with Maggie soon enough.

  Kevin mentally rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Maybe their woman was done trying to pretend what they had among them was just a passing fling, and they could move on to the next level.

  * * * *

  The doorbell rang at exactly seven o’clock, and it was all Maggie could do not to rush to answer it.

  She didn’t need to hand those three Benedicts any more fuel for their egos or give them any more of herself than they already owned.

  Who are you kidding, Maggie? They’ve got you, body and soul.

  Maggie rarely lied to herself, so she could admit that truth. However, admitting something to herself and admitting it to those three men were two different things entirely.

  She’d keep her emotions to herself for the time being.

  She resisted the urge to check her appearance in the mirror, just as she’d resisted the urge to dress herself to the nines. They were having an outdoor grill, and while they’d eat indoors, it was still a casual occasion. Just friends getting together over a couple of steaks, maybe a glass of wine…

  She opened the door and her heart felt as if it turned over in her chest. There they stood, three men more sexy than any three men had a right to be. Dressed as casually as she, they wore jeans and tees and identical, nearly sly smiles. Richard held two bottles of wine, Trevor had a bouquet of flowers, and Kevin a box of chocolates.

  “This way we cover all the bases,” Richard said. Instead of handing the wine to her he held one out to each of his brothers.

  The moment his hands were free he reached out and pulled her close. The heat of him penetrated her body, the scent of all three of them�
�an aroma more arousing than anything she’d ever known—went straight to her female bits, making her nipples peak and her pussy leak.

  “Hello, Maggie.” Richard didn’t make any other move. He just held her close and smiled.

  Oh, to hell with it. She wasn’t fooling them one bit. “Hello, yourself. Kiss me, please.”

  “Of course, love. Where are the steaks?”

  Maggie blinked. Steaks? She hadn’t known how deeply ingrained that newly discovered vein of female coquetry ran in her until that very moment. Her bottom lip protruded, her body went all soft and pliant against his, and she wrapped her arms around Richard’s neck and used her fingers to seductively toy with the hair at his nape.

  “Steaks?” She felt pleased with the pouty sound of that one word.

  Richard grinned even wider, pulled her hips closer—likely so that she could feel that his cock was, indeed, hard—and planted a tiny kiss on her nose.

  “Yes, steaks. If they’re not in the fridge then Trey is going to go and put them there, as we wouldn’t want good Texas beef to spoil. We won’t be getting to dinner for quite some time, you see.”

  Maggie grinned right back at him. “They’re already in the fridge, as is the salad, and the grill is not yet even lit. I hadn’t planned on jumping right in to having dinner, myself. I was planning on jumping elsewhere.”

  Oh Maggie, do you have no shame? She grinned at the men and at herself as she mentally answered her own question.

  None at all.

  “Good. So there’s no reason why we can’t just scoop you up and take you to your bed, then?” Kevin stepped close on her right and nuzzled her ear.

  Trevor pressed in close on her left, tucked the wine bottle under his right arm to free his left hand, and began to stroke her back in that blatantly sexy way he had.