Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  After tugging on the restraints like a volunteer from the audience would do, Max nodded his head at Lou, one of the backstage assistants. As Lou began to loosen the restraints, Max absently patted Laura's hip. In response, Laura blew Max an air kiss.

  Laura and Lou left the stage, but not before Laura shot a seductive backward glance at Max. Suddenly, the fact that the two of them had sauntered into practice half-an-hour late, their hair mussed and looking like they'd barely slept, took on new meaning. Rhys glowered at his brother. “Jesus, Max, you just couldn't keep your hands off, could you? Not even for a few weeks?”

  Max shrugged and held out his palms in a “what of it?” gesture.

  “What happens when you piss her off and she quits the night of a show? Are you trying to screw up everything we've worked for?”

  “You're not giving Laura enough credit. She's a big girl. Last night was fun, but she's still got a thing for her ex. She's driving up to see him this weekend. And her son, too, of course.”

  “That's not the point,” Rhys snapped. “I've had to double security since we caught Joey Salvador trying to sneak backstage. Seven Seas is insisting we come up with a G-rated proposal for their family-night performances. And let's not forget that after tonight's show, I'm going to have to get everything packed up and shipped to Reno on my own, while you jet to California for the weekend. Things are crazy enough around here without me having to worry about your sex life, too.”

  Grim-faced, Max opened his mouth to respond, but a voice offstage stopped him. It was their father. “Boys, your mother's about to have a stroke. Jillian insists we need to shake things up for the Seven Seas folks and replace your black ties and cummerbunds with something that matches the girls' outfits. I think they're getting ready to battle it out. Come quick!”

  Forgetting for a moment why he was so pissed, Rhys looked at Max. He was sure his face reflected the same horror that Max's did. Their stage assistants wore shimmery sequined costumes in colors ranging from rose to fuchsia. No matter what Jillian called it, it was still pink to Rhys.

  Max cursed. “Are you done flaying me? ’Cause I, for one, don't want to go on stage looking like a pansy.”

  Rhys swiped his hands over his face before shaking his head. What was the point? Max was just being Max. It wasn't his fault Rhys was wound so tight. Not really. “Fuck. Forget it. I'm just tired. I'll go deal with Jillian.” He paused, then muttered, “Tell Melina happy birthday for me.”

  Rhys hadn't taken more than four steps before Max clapped a hand on his shoulder, yanking him back a step. “Why don't you tell her yourself? I know I haven't been pulling my weight lately. I'll stay. You use my ticket and surprise Melina.” Max grinned. “See if she notices the switch this time.”

  Rhys managed to smile. When they'd been younger, he and Max had played the same stupid games with Melina that they'd played with everyone else. They'd taken turns pretending to be one twin while subtly urging their victims to say something derogatory about the other. Melina was the only one who'd never fallen for it. Not once. She had an uncanny ability to tell them apart, even from a distance. That was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place.

  It was also why, when he'd found her kissing Max on the night of her sixteenth birthday, there'd been no telling himself she'd really meant to kiss him.

  Rhys's smile vanished at the memory. That kiss had interfered with two friendships over the years: his friendship with Melina and his friendship with his brother. Max and Melina's kiss had apparently been a one-time deal, but it had still enflamed the sense of discomfort he'd already felt when they were all together. He'd fought that discomfort for close to ten years by trying to remain Melina's friend. All it had done was make it impossible for him to get over her.

  His plan had been working, though. By minimizing their contact over the past two years, he was finally beginning to miss her less. Hell, he could now go hours, days even, without thinking of her, and his focus was exactly where it should be: on his family, their act, and ensuring the continued success of both.

  Max gave him a shove. “My ticket's in my dressing room. If you pack now, you can leave right after the show and—”

  Shaking his head, Rhys couldn't quite meet his brother's eyes. “I can't,” he clipped out. “There's too much to do.”

  “What's to do? The crew knows how to pack up without us. The Salvador Brothers wouldn't dare show their faces around here again. And as far as Seven Seas’ ridiculous request for a kiddie show goes, they can shove it—”

  Rhys raised his brows pointedly, causing Max's words to trail off. He grimaced. “Too much?”

  “Just a little.”

  “I can tone it down. I know Melina would love to see you—”

  “No,” Rhys said, shaking his head again. “You're the one she feels comfortable around. She always has.”

  “Damn it, Rhys, she's not a kid anymore. And she's had a crush on you for years.”

  Rhys jerked back as if his brother had hauled off and punched him. He immediately narrowed his eyes in warning. “I'm not a substitute for you or anyone, Max. I never will be.”

  His brother flushed guiltily. “It was one kiss, and she didn't even initiate it—”

  “Yeah, so you told me, but we're talking ancient history. I got over her a long time ago.” The two of them, mirror images, stared at each other, and it was Rhys’s turn to flush. Unwilling to face his own dishonesty, he stared at the stage floor.

  “When did you turn into a liar?” Max asked quietly. “And more importantly, when did you start to think I was an idiot? We work together. We're brothers. You don't think I can read you?”

  Rhys's face jerked up. “Yeah, well, maybe that's the problem.”

  “Now we have a problem?”

  “You think you know me, but you don't. Just like you don't really know Melina. If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Even if she did want me for more than your stand-in, I can't give her what she wants any more than you can.”

  “Speak for yourself.” His gaze dropped to Rhys's groin. “Something happen I don't know about?”

  “Asshole,” Rhys gritted. He reached out and punched Max on the shoulder with a little more force than necessary. “I'm talking about stability. Roots.”

  His brother rubbed the spot where he'd hit him. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh. You know she's prime mother material. She's got a job she loves. She wants the white picket fence, two-point-two kids. I can't give that to her.”

  “Maybe she doesn't know what she wants. Maybe she wants to travel. Going on the road could be an adventure.”

  “She could travel. She chooses not to. Not even with her parents. Even if she'd consider it, it wouldn't be for the long term. You really think she'd do that to her kids? The childhood we had, Max—” He lifted his arms and encompassed the entire theater in one sweeping motion. “The life we have now isn't conventional. It's not what most people want.”

  “It sounds like maybe it's not what you want anymore. Is that it?”

  Unease tickled at his brain. He could feel it. They were about to become big—really big—and he was used to the lifestyle. Maybe at one time he'd wanted something different, but that had been a grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side moment. “Are you kidding? I've never liked traveling as much as you, but if we land this contract with Seven Seas, we'll at least have our own theater. No more moving from one place to another every two weeks. We're at the top of our game. It's what you've always wanted.”

  “You mean we.”

  “What?”

  Max stared at him. “You mean it's what we've always wanted.”

  “Sure. You. Mom and Dad. Me. We. That's what I meant.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Boys!” Their dad poked his head around the corner, his sparse hair sticking up in tufts as if he'd been pulling at it. “Fair warning. I'm not the one who's going to go on stage in sequins.”

  “I'm coming, Dad.” Shaking his head, Rhys beg
an walking backward. “Look, I don't know how we got on this ridiculous topic. Melina and I are friends. I'm happy with the act. Everything's cool.” Turning so he wouldn't have to see the doubt on his brother's face any longer, Rhys strode toward backstage. Over his shoulder, he called, “Take her out. Make her feel special. And tell her I'll see her…well, I'll see her sometime.”

  Rhys forced himself to keep walking despite the little voice in his head screaming that he was a coward. Hell, he wasn't a coward, he was just realistic.

  He had his life and Melina had hers. Plus, he'd told Max the truth: Their goals were so far apart they might as well live on opposite ends of the world. Still, he thought with a sigh after opening the door to the costume room, he'd been tempted by Max's offer more than he should have been. Especially because he'd wanted Melina to mistake him for Max.

  Just once, he'd have liked Melina to greet him the same way she did Max. With open arms and an open smile instead of a friendly but reserved detachment that always left him wanting more.

  Chapter Two

  Dalton's Magic Rule #3: Learn from those with more experience.

  “Teach me how to please a man.”

  Max, who'd just taken a gulp of his beer, choked on it and kept coughing until Melina rose from her chair and began slapping his back. Putting down the bottle, he raised his hands, wheezed, and gently nudged her away. “I'm fine. I just…I think I misunderstood—”

  Face flaming but trying to act nonchalant, Melina returned to the chair next to the sofa, crossed her legs, and smoothed her wool skirt so that it covered her knees. “You heard me right. I want you to teach me how to please a man.”

  He stared at her with rounded eyes that quickly narrowed. Making a big show of looking around her small, neat living room, he muttered, “Is this a joke? Did Rhys put you up to this?”

  She leaned forward and waved her hand in front of his face, knowing it would annoy him. “Focus, Max. I'm not joking.”

  Grinning now, Max swatted her hand away and wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Oh, really? So what, you're suddenly hot for my body? Not that I blame you, but—”

  “Will you stop?” she hissed. “I'm being serious here.” She yanked her wrist from his grip and stood, turning her back to him even as she hugged her arms close to her chest. Where were her friends and her Ben & Jerry's ice cream when she needed them? Knowing she had no choice, she forced herself to continue. “I-I suck in bed.”

  The stunned silence behind her was deafening. Embarrassment threatened to swallow her whole, and she had to forcibly stop herself from running into the next room.

  “Hey, that can be a good thing,” Max joked, but his attempt at humor was obviously strained.

  “I'm a lousy lover,” she clarified.

  Again, that moment of silence.

  “Says who?” Max growled.

  She studied her fingernails, frowning at how ragged they looked. She'd been chewing on them again. “Lots of people.”

  “Lots?”

  “Okay, not lots. Three. But they would know.”

  “Three? Hell, Melina, that's not enough to conclude anything. And who said it last? That bastard you broke up with six months ago? For a woman who studies bugs for a living, you sure have a problem recognizing the less evolved of the male species. That guy probably couldn't find a woman's G-spot if I drew him a map.”

  Melina sighed. Wasn't that the truth? But she had to stay focused. She had it on good authority that Brian's inability to find her G-spot was because she hadn't inspired the search. His new girlfriend had taken great delight in pointing that fact out to her.

  “Well, not all men are fortunate to be famous entertainers whose female fans want them to sign their underwear.”

  She heard Max rise and walk closer to her. “Yeah, it's a tough gig, but someone's gotta do it. And it's their naked bodies they want us to sign, not their underwear. I, of course, am always happy to oblige.”

  Sniffing, she raised her hand. “Of course. Forgive me.”

  His arms encircled her from behind. Resting his chin on her head, he just held her. As always, she felt protected in his arms. Sheltered. But there was no zing of desire. None of the heat or shivers that overtook her when Rhys was near. On the plus side, there was no feeling like a moron and running away, either.

  Not that it would have made a difference if Max did make her hot. Both Max and Rhys were way out of her league, and neither had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her anyway. Sure, Max had always flirted and teased. Told her to come see him when she wanted a real man. But she knew, as with everything else with him, it had all been a game.

  Unfortunately for him, she was calling his bluff.

  “If there were, uh, issues—” He cleared his throat. “They were his fault, Melina, not yours.”

  She snorted and pulled away. “I wish that were true, but he's not the only boyfriend to tell me I don't know what I'm doing. And according to his new girlfriend, he's the bomb.”

  He winced. “Please. Don't try to talk modern. It just doesn't work.”

  “See what I mean?” she pouted. “I can't even talk sexy.”

  “You don't need to talk sexy. Behind those god-awful glasses,” he tapped the top of her wire-rimmed glasses for emphasis “lab coats, and lumpy suits you wear, you are sexy. You just don't go around advertising it.”

  “Right.”

  “Melina,” he said warningly.

  “I'm not putting myself down. I'm not beautiful and don't have the best body in the world, I'm attractive, I dress well—”

  His snort was getting rather annoying now.

  “—and I'm smart. That counts for something, right?”

  “Melina—”

  “I'm kind. Loyal. I think I'd make a good mother.”

  Max's eyes bugged out. “Uh, Melina—”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Oh, hush. I'm not asking you to father my child. And you don't have to look so relieved, either. But we both know I'm not a femme fatale. I don't want to be. I just want to get married. Have a family.” A big one. She wanted lots of children, not an only child who would grow up lonely and longing for the type of sibling relationship that Max had with Rhys. “I don't want to wither up and die surrounded by a bunch of bugs.” She dropped gracelessly onto her coach and leaned her head back against the cushion.

  His expression grew suspicious. “Is this about your biological clock? Honey, you're still young. There's plenty of time for you to start a family.”

  When she didn't answer, he dropped down next to her and took her hands. “I thought you liked your bugs,” Max said quietly. “Are you that unhappy? Why didn't you tell me?”

  She shook her head. “I love my job, but I…but I want to be—” Her voice hitched. “I want to be loved. I want someone to love me.”

  “Your parents love you. Rhys and I, we love you, Melina.”

  “My parents and you, maybe. Rhys, I'm not so sure of anymore. And anyway, it's not enough. I want a partner.”

  “But you're talking sex. Mechanics. Not love.”

  “One leads to the other,” she insisted. “With guys, sex comes first, then emotion, right?”

  He looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. “Well, I guess. To some—”

  “To you, right?”

  “But I'm not the one you want to make fall in love with you.” He said it hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure what her answer would be.

  “No. But you'd certainly be demanding. In bed, I mean.”

  He raked a hand though his golden hair. “Jesus, Melina—”

  “I'm just saying…” she soothed.

  “What's causing all this? You got your eye on someone specific?”

  Her fingers plucked at the corded edge of one of the sofa cushions. Despite Lucy's fervent belief that she'd be settling with Jamie, there was something about the man that called to her. A sort of offbeat humor. A serious stare that pierced you and made you wonder what he was thinking. And whether he w
as thinking about you. The way Rhys's stare did. But unlike Rhys, he'd expressed interest in her. Asked her out for drinks after the conference next weekend. And she wasn't going to mess up her opportunity with him.

  Not this time. “Sort of.”

  “‘Sort of’ is a wimpy answer.”

  She pounded the sofa cushion with her fist. “Okay, I do.”

  “Let me guess. He's an academic?”

  “Well, of course. The sex thing is necessary in the beginning—”

  “And in the middle and end,” Max said drolly.

  “—but after that, we need commonality to build on. I mean, he's not just smart. He's sexy, too. And he's interested in me. There's a conference next week that we're going to be presenting at—”

  Max eyes widened in that expression of disbelief again. “You're presenting at a conference? Since when? The last time you tried speaking at a public event, you almost passed out.”

  “Thank you for that reminder,” she gritted out, but without much heat. He was right. She didn't do well in the spotlight. At the workshop Max was talking about, she'd stepped up to the podium only to become paralyzed with terror. She'd morphed from confident scientist into Cindy Brady, staring at a blinking red camera light despite the audience surrounding her. It wasn't an experience she'd ever sought to repeat again. That's why she'd chosen research in the safety and anonymity of her lab. That's what she was used to. That's what she was comfortable with. But with Jamie, things were different. He'd urged her to come out of her shell, and, surprisingly, she'd agreed, confident that he would step up if it was too much for her. That alone must mean something, shouldn't it? “Anyway, Jamie shouldn't be as hard to please as…say, you or Rhys would be. If you could just do me this favor…” Horror overcame her. “I mean, you kissed me once. I know it didn't mean anything but…well, the idea…it doesn't, well, gross you out, does it?”

  “What? Of course not.” But he was looking panicked now. His hand moved to rub the back of his neck. “It's just, I don't want you thinking there's anything wrong with you. You're just, you're just—”