Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

Dreaming.

  He pushed the thought aside, because he didn’t dream of Jake that often anymore, and he wanted to stay here. Back when everything in his life was okay. Hell, if he was really in Montana, everything was great. He craned his neck up, looking through the skylight in the roof at a sky too big and blue to be real—not seen through Plexiglas.

  “Funny way you got of showing it,” Jake said.

  Dane frowned, tilting his gaze down.

  His brother turned to look at him, and his face had been burned off.

  Dane awoke with a start, his throat raw with a scream as he jerked upright. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the— He snapped his jaw shut, fumbling to the side to get the light, only he couldn’t find it. He blinked. He wasn’t at home, wasn’t in his parents’ house or anywhere else he would recognize. Through the dimness, another, anonymous hotel room stared back at him.

  Focusing, he found the lamp and flicked it on. Too-bright light flooded the room, but that was all right. He dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, but all the light and all the scrubbing couldn’t make it disappear.

  Charred flesh and blisters and the place where a nose and eyes had been, all red and black, and—

  His stomach lurched, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. The funeral had been closed casket, so it was just a figment of his imagination, but he’d seen burns before. His father had had some doozies in his day, and there had been the guys from his squad. They’d gone to visit old Joey in the hospital that once, and he’d been one of the lucky ones. Ones of the ones who lived on to fight another blaze another day. Not like Jake.

  And not like Dane. The rear of his throat gave another spasm, and he clenched his eyes shut tight, but they watered all the same. Him, up in his ivory tower. Safe. His mom was so fucking proud.

  Funny way you got of showing it. His brother’s parting blow from the dream kept circling the drain of his thoughts, and he wanted to pull his own damn hair out. Yeah. Dane was doing an awesome job of honoring his brother’s legacy. The best.

  With an angry growl, he tossed the covers aside and threw himself out of bed. He had things to do. On his way to the bathroom, he glanced at the clock and cursed. Shit. He’d planned to doze for a couple of hours, but he’d conked out for a hell of a lot longer than that. Backtracking, he grabbed his phone, half expecting it to be all lit up with alerts, but there wasn’t a one. He squinted, checking again. Huh. Maybe Lexie had managed to get some shut-eye, too. At the very least, he could breathe one sigh of relief. No news was usually good news. Her brother Evan had looked like hell last night, and the nurses’ faces had made it clear exactly how serious it was. But he must have pulled through till morning, and if he’d managed that . . . he’d probably be all right.

  Satisfied with that line of argument, he made his way to the bathroom, where he took care of business and hopped in the shower. He should have done it last night. His skin smelled like airports and travel, but he’d been exhausted. His eyes had practically been shut before he’d hit the bed.

  For Lexie’s sake, he’d held it together. Hell, he’d been happy to do it. She was so strong, and she’d been coming apart. She’d leaned on him, and it was all he’d ever wanted for her in the world—to be able to let go like that. But deep down, he’d known this shit was stirring. Jake lived only so far beneath the surface of his skin, and rushing to a hospital in the middle of the night, halfway across the world for a brother in trouble . . . well. It’d been a little too familiar for his subconscious, clearly.

  He scrubbed himself down hard and fast, then turned off the water without taking the time to linger. As he dressed, he fired off a text to Lexie, asking if there was anything she needed, but he was already throwing open her suitcase and putting together a bag with the essentials.

  Closing the door behind him, he tried to shut the dream and everything it meant away behind it.

  But he couldn’t get the image—or his brother’s voice—out of his head.

  “So who’s the guy?”

  Not looking up from her screen, Lexie scrolled down to her next unread message. “Did you hit your head harder than the nurses thought? I introduced him to you about ten minutes ago.”

  Exceeding her expectations as usual, Dane had arrived with her full toiletry kit and a fresh outfit for her. Stilling her finger over her touch pad, she frowned. He’d sworn everything was fine, but he’d seemed a little off to her. Maybe just a crappy night’s sleep—though it couldn’t have been any crappier than her own. She’d have to keep an eye on it. Whatever mood he’d been in, he’d stayed with her in Evan’s room while she went and freshened up, and now he was running to the local business center to get some printouts made of the latest workup of the Escudo contract.

  And bedridden or not, she really didn’t think Evan had managed to forget him already.

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

  “That’s me, a barrel of laughs.”

  “You are. You just aren’t always in on the jokes.” He grunted in discomfort, finally prompting her to glance in his direction as he wrestled with one of his pillows.

  She rolled her eyes. “Here, let me do that.”

  Setting her laptop aside, she crossed the space and grabbed the offending pillow. After giving it a good fluff, she helped him get it arranged behind his head.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Yeah. A little.”

  She went to go back to her laptop, but his hand on her wrist stopped her.

  “Seriously, though.” Evan’s deep blue eyes, even bloodshot and dark-ringed as they were, had the ability to peer straight through her. “Dane’s not just your assistant.”

  She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat. “What makes you say that?”

  Dane had been here for all of a few minutes. It had made his jaw twitch, but she had introduced him only as a colleague. They hadn’t touched or done anything to give themselves away. And yet . . .

  “Lexie. I know you. You don’t look at your employees like that. You don’t stand that close to them.”

  Her face heated. “Maybe I do when they’re as ripped as he is.”

  He let out a hoarse ghost of a laugh, releasing her to press his palm to his sternum. “Please. Remember that summer we spent with Mom in the Maldives? I know what you look like when you just want to jump someone.”

  “Excuse you.”

  “Well, I do. So?”

  Fucking hell. She scrambled, trying to come up with a way to explain this all away. But really? What was the point? If there was anyone she could trust with this, it was Evan.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she glowered at him. “We were trying to be discreet.”

  “Which means there’s something to be discreet about.”

  “Maybe.” And it felt wrong, even denying it that much. She wanted to sing it from the rooftops. She wanted to hold Dane’s hand in front of everyone, show them that this man was hers, and she was his.

  And it was amazing.

  Evan tilted his head back, grinning wide in victory. “You dog, you. Sleeping with the help.”

  She would have slapped him if she could. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds vulgar.” It sounded scandalous and trite. “Dane is . . . He’s different.”

  He was more to her than that. More than Jordan—or anyone else—had ever been.

  Evan’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes narrowing. Lexie braced herself, waiting for something awful to come out of his mouth.

  He blinked a couple of times, but then all he said was, “Apparently so.” He flicked a finger toward the table at his side. “Pass me my phone, would you?”

  Okay, end of discussion, then. After handing it to him, she retreated to her laptop on the other side of the room. Plenty of work lay there waiting for her, but for a few minutes, all she could do was stare at her brother.

  The whole time in Barcelona, she’d hesitated to define what was developing between her and Dane. In the rush of getting here, she hadn’t had a chance to give it
any more thought—to the point of being completely unprepared for a simple, point-blank question. She had no idea when they’d be getting back to New York, but if she couldn’t fool Evan for an hour, she wasn’t going to fare much better with Rylan. Or with anyone else for that matter.

  All her reservations about the rumor mill and the looks she’d gotten when she’d been with Jordan came back to her. They didn’t scare her the way they used to, and that alone gave her pause. This was different. It was more.

  And she had a lot of thinking to do before she could even think about taking Dane home.

  chapter TWENTY-THREE

  “Ugh, I hate red Jell-O.”

  “Well, too bad. It’s what you’ve got.” Lexie tore the lid off the package and held out the spoon.

  Evan took it from her with narrowed eyes. For a second he fumbled it, and Lexie bit down hard on her tongue. Poor bastard had to go and fuck up his dominant arm. But in the three days they’d been here, she’d tried to help him more than once, and it never ended well.

  So goddamn proud. If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder where he’d gotten that from.

  One more attempt to get the thing gripped properly, and he gave an exasperated grunt as he tossed it on the table. She went to reach for it so he could give it another try, only for him to shake his head.

  “Don’t bother. Not worth it.”

  She gave him a look. “Doctor says you need to eat.”

  “Then tell him to send me something edible.”

  Undeterred, she moved for the spoon again, but before she could, he shoved the whole little tray out of the way. She flinched, and for a second, she was this fucking close to losing her composure.

  But she took a deep breath. With a tight smile, she grabbed the Jell-O and the spoon both and moved them out of his sight line. “Let me see what I can do.”

  She exited the room with her shoulders up by her ears and her back straight.

  Three days. The first night she’d arrived, she’d sat at her brother’s bedside, eyes blurry with unshed tears, desperate for him to wake up, and she’d said it even then. He was going to be such a pain in the ass while he was getting better. She hadn’t known the half of it.

  She’d spent these past three days in this wretched hospital, taking care of him and advocating for him, scarcely leaving except to respect his privacy or to sleep. Yes, he was in pain, and yes, it had to be frustrating. But did he really have to be such a little shit about everything?

  Slumping against the wall, she closed her eyes and breathed in and out to the count of four.

  Right. This was fine. She’d known his recovery would be difficult, and she could handle it. Just a few more days, and the doctors had said he’d probably be ready to be released. God knew what they were going to do then, of course. He was still going to need some help while he regained his strength, and she’d have to head home to New York eventually. But just getting out of this place should have him in better spirits. One thing at a time.

  She opened her eyes again. The nurse on duty was a softie, and she wasn’t worried about convincing him to give her a different flavor of stupid Jell-O. She could march down there right now and go ask, but she needed a minute to cool down. They both probably needed a little space.

  Glancing up and down the hall, she reached into her pocket for her phone. Hospital life was surprisingly boring, so she’d managed to stay more or less on top of things and even get some work done, but with the clusterfuck that had been lunchtime today, she hadn’t had a chance to check her messages in a bit.

  The very first one made her smile.

  Raspberry or caramel, it read, and it was accompanied by a selfie from Dane of him standing at the end of a long line at a coffee bar.

  Raspberry, if it’s not too late, she replied. It had been only a few minutes, but who knew how quickly that line would move. Either way, he’d get her latte just the way she liked it.

  Her phone buzzed immediately. Yes, ma’am.

  Her face just about hurt with her smile. Jeez. What a sap she was turning into. She and Dane had scarcely had a moment to themselves since they’d arrived. She spent most of her time here, and he spent a pretty decent amount of his by her side. Each night, when they returned to their hotel room, he’d been kind and patient. He hadn’t pressured her for sex or for her to tell him any more than she was inclined to. They certainly hadn’t played at any of his kinky sex games. He’d been the very model of a perfect boyfriend and assistant.

  And yet. There was that electric current humming through her bones. It was attraction and need, and even something as tiny as him referring to her by that deferential, as if she was the one in charge . . . It reminded her of all the times she wasn’t in charge.

  It made her hungry.

  “Down girl,” she mumbled under her breath. Flicking back to her alerts, she pulled up her text message chain with Rylan. There were a couple of updates on different accounts and a few questions about some of the loose ends she’d left hanging in Barcelona. Her chest gave a guilty little pang at that. She hated to have things unfinished there, but this was where she needed to be. She answered his questions the best she could. When she was done, she hesitated.

  Is he still not picking up? She bit her lip, waiting for a response.

  According to Rylan, he’d tried calling Evan, both on the line in his room and his cell half a dozen times by now. The one time he’d tried the room while Lexie had been there, she’d answered, but Evan had either been asleep or pretending to be. She’d poked him about it later, but it was hard to be stern with a guy covered in that many bruises and casts.

  After a minute, Rylan replied, I got a text message yesterday.

  That’s something? Not much, honestly, but still. I’ll work on him. Keep trying, okay?

  I will. But if he doesn’t want to talk to me, he doesn’t want to talk to me.

  The worst part was, she was pretty sure he did. Over Thanksgiving, the two of them had had a civil conversation and everything, and she’d thought whatever resentment Evan still had over things that happened a decade ago was finally waning.

  Be patient. He’s in a lot of pain, she tried. Cranky as hell.

  Well, that’s something new.

  She smiled. The two might not be close, but Rylan still knew their brother pretty well.

  Before she could reply, another message came through. He’s doing okay, though?

  She could hear the worry in it. Yeah, she assured him. Better than expected, even.

  Good. Keep me updated?

  Of course.

  Sighing, she shook her head. Despite their differences, those two were too much alike, was the problem. Stubborn, proud jerks who nursed their wounds in silence for years. Rylan was starting to act like a grown-up about it all, though, at least. Who knew—at this rate, maybe she could get them together for an occasion other than a major holiday sometime . . . say, before they were a hundred? A girl had to have goals.

  And the next one on her list was finding any kind of Jell-O but red and the patience to not shove a spoon down her younger brother’s throat. Blanking the screen of her phone, she shoved it in her pocket and steeled herself to head back in.

  But when she turned around, it was to find Dane at the end of the hall, striding forward.

  She hadn’t even realized how deeply her shoulders had hunched or how the exhaustion of wrangling everybody in her family into being decent human beings had started to weigh on her. Until just like that, out of nowhere, the weight lifted and . . . floated away.

  “Hey there,” she said, smile goofy as he approached.

  “Hey.” He had a cardboard drink carrier with two cups, but instead of passing one over, he reached his free hand into the messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. “Got you the latest quarterly reports.” He pulled out a stack of figures, the margins full of notes. “I think you’ll be interested in page six.”

  Accepting the printouts, she flipped through to where the page had been marked with a st
icky note. Her brows rose as she skimmed. Sure enough, he’d caught something no one else had. “Nice work.”

  “Well, that’s why I make the big bucks.”

  “Remind me to give you a raise.” She said it half-jokingly, but she meant it. Her heart gave a little tremble. God forbid he up and left tomorrow, she’d miss so many things about him. The companionship—definitely the sex. But she’d be lost without him at work. She’d never leaned on an employee so thoroughly.

  Who knew. Maybe the trust that had started in her office had been what paved the way for her to trust him everywhere else.

  Waiting until she’d tucked the papers under her arm, he grabbed one of the paper cups and held it out. Only, when she made to reach for it, he swung it out of the way, ducking in instead. “That coffee isn’t free, you know.”

  “Oh.” She offered up her lips, and he took them without hesitation. The kiss went hot entirely too fast, his mouth parting over hers and tongue sweeping just inside.

  God, it had been too long. When he gave her room to sneak a breath, she said, “Missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.” It seemed like he meant more than the hours they’d been apart or the handful of days since they’d had sex.

  “Sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

  He shook his head, pressing another softer, gentler kiss to her lips. “You’ve had bigger things to worry about.” He nodded toward Evan’s room. “How is he?”

  “A big baby, but other than that, fine.” As fine as a guy could be a few days out of surgery and covered in plaster head to toe. Fresh waves of guilt swept over her. For being difficult with Evan and inattentive to Dane and more behind on her work than she’d been in her life. She dug her teeth into her lip. “Really, though. I swear. Soon, we’ll find some time. Just the two of us.”

  For a second, his gaze flashed dark. With his hand at her side, he stroked at the strip of skin between the hem of her top and her jeans. “That sounds good. But really. I can be patient.”

  The heat in his voice made her shiver. She knew that well enough. “Yeah. But it doesn’t seem fair that you should always have to be.”