Protecting His Brother's Bride

by Jan Schliesman

  What Josh had done was unforgivable.

  Kira was feisty and proud and determined to prove her self-worth to the world. Her reaction to finding Lauren’s journal proved she was caring and understanding, and because of her, Dalton had found closure in the truth.

  He flipped the laptop closed and made his way to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, Dalton swallowed the painful memories associated with this room. Nothing would ever erase Lauren from his mind, but it was his choice which memories he would cherish and which he would discard.

  * * *

  Kira hid in the bedroom until the afternoon turned to night. She passed the time alternately berating herself for dredging up more pain for Dalton, and congratulating herself for her computer-savvy abilities, which had led to the discovery of Lauren’s journal.

  Eventually Kira took a bath. She could stay in the tub until her skin resembled a prune, and it wouldn’t matter to anyone. It also meant she was a bigger chicken than she’d ever imagined herself to be.

  Dalton needed more time to himself. He had every right to grieve for the beautiful and talented wife he’d lost. He also had every right to be angry with Kira for trespassing in Lauren’s room.

  Enough wallowing in regret. Kira dried herself off and unlocked the door leading to the bedroom. Her mood would improve if only there was something to sleep in besides bright orange Buckshot’s T-shirts in size XXL.

  No luck. She grudgingly yanked one of the ugly shirts over her head, then pulled open a dresser drawer, retrieved a pair of socks and put them on before her feet could get chilly.

  Her reflection in the mirror above the dresser was a disaster. She’d shoved her hair into a very messy bun on top of her head and her face was flushed from the heat of the bathroom. A myriad of scratches and bruises covered her arms.

  Her stomach grumbled again. If she didn’t eat something, she’d certainly wake up with a headache. Unlocking the bedroom door, she peeked out into the hallway and listened for any activity in the rest of the house. All was quiet.

  She really wasn’t up for another confrontation with Dalton. A quick in and out and she’d be in bed. Her plan went straight to hell as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

  Only a few night-lights lit the room and Kira made out Dalton’s dark figure seated at the dining table with a bottle of liquor. Vodka, Scotch or bourbon; she’d never taken the time to learn the difference. What she did notice was the bottle was less than half full.

  He poured another glass and gave her a mock salute as she entered the room. “To cheating brothers everywhere.” He was drinking because of her, because of what she’d discovered and dredged to the surface for him. Her feet were frozen to the floor, but her heart was melting inside her chest.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be out of your sight in a minute.” She forced her legs to move, taking one step, then another, stopping when she reached the refrigerator. She yanked on the handle, scanned the shelves and retrieved a small block of cheese and an open bottle of wine. It really didn’t matter what kind, because she probably wasn’t going to taste it, anyway. She set the items on the counter and dug through the box of rations from the plane until she located a sleeve of crackers.

  “What is it about you?” Dalton asked.

  Kira laughed. “I’m a magnet for trouble. I have horrible judgment and my expectations are too high.” She stared at the wine, debating whether or not to search for a glass or drink straight from the bottle.

  “I see something else entirely.” The chair legs scraped across the tile.

  She didn’t want to converse with him and absolutely didn’t want to see the loathing in his eyes.

  He continued talking. “I see a woman who fights to protect her name.”

  She felt Dalton’s eyes on her as she pulled a wineglass from the cupboard, yanked the cork out with her teeth and poured.

  She gulped half the contents, refilled her glass and finally met his gaze. One part of him appeared shattered and needy, the other half brooding and sexy. He could reach right through her armor and capture her emotions before she could hide them. She stood transfixed, wineglass in hand and refusing to break the silence.

  “Desperate enough for clothing you’d wear one of these ugly-ass orange shirts?” Dalton plucked at the material covering his chest and laughed before taking another hefty swallow from the glass in his hand. His voice was slightly brittle, his actions unmeasured.

  She should say something, anything, to deplete the tension in the air.

  When he absently peeled the label from the bottle while keeping his attention focused on her, she swallowed another gulp of wine for fortification. It wasn’t enough, so she finished the glass and poured herself another, wondering why she felt the need to continue the charade of not wanting him.

  Was the wine supposed to give her the strength to resist him or a reason not to?

  They had more in common than he appreciated. Both of them were touched by tragedy and betrayal, both of them wanted to get beyond it and both of them were failing miserably. He finished the liquor in his glass and shoved the bottle to the center of the table.

  The wine was slowly warming her body and loosening her mind. Kira needed to eat something. Her eyes darted to his and she couldn’t move a muscle. He was giving her a chance to retreat, to lock herself in her room, and she should take it. But there was something about this man and this moment keeping her in place.

  She carefully set the glass on the counter, and when she glanced up again, he’d already eliminated the distance between them. Stark need reflected in the depths of his eyes.

  When his heated hands framed her face, she shivered. And then he kissed her as if he meant it. The taste of malted liquor clung to his lips and when his tongue invaded her mouth, she slipped her arms underneath his shirt. His skin was warm to the touch as her fingernails skated up his rib cage, eliciting a growl of desire from him.

  Dalton lifted her onto the counter, and her legs circled his waist when he reached beneath her shirt, humming his approval when he comprehended she was naked underneath. Their mouths separated long enough for him to yank the shirt from her body, causing a shiver when her bare bottom connected with the cold granite counter. She groaned and reached for the drawstring on his pants. At some point she lost the power to form sentences, every thought became fractured and the sensations washing over her became an incessant wave.

  The wine loosened her beyond her normal boundaries. Sex on a kitchen counter? Add it to the list of things she’d never pictured herself doing. Somehow she’d become a woman with the courage to let it all go.

  Words were few in their exchange. It was a melding of desire and emotion. Kira’s head drifted back as her legs tightened around his waist. His mouth was at the base of her throat, sinking lower with each kiss he planted on her skin.

  She slipped her hands to the waistband of his pants and slid one inside, to run her fingers along his shaft. He groaned in response and then dropped his mouth and captured her breast. Kira arched, pulling his head firmly against her and moaning in appreciation of his efforts.

  He stopped long enough to yank the shirt over his head, then pulled her face to his. She dived inside his mouth and was excited when he met her kiss for kiss. His mouth was warm and drugging, the kind where you could get lost and forget about anything else.

  Soon his pants joined the orange shirts at his feet. He pressed his lips against the inside of her knee and kissed his way up her thigh. She stiffened beneath his touch, feeling more than a little out of her element. She couldn’t let him, could she? Then his eyes sought hers, the minutest of pauses. This had quickly gone from a mere coupling of bodies to an unspoken request for her to trust him.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the belief he would have stopped that was giving her the courage to continue, or finally understanding what it meant to make love with a man w
ho was putting her needs above his own.

  “Don’t stop.”

  His breath skated across the most sensitive part of her body and a shiver raced through her. He paused before starting with her other knee, giving the same treatment to every inch of her skin. By the time he reached the apex of her thighs, every nerve felt centered on her core.

  When his tongue finally touched her she pulled away from his mouth. He tugged her forward again with one strong arm and continued the decimation of any remaining defenses. She squirmed on the countertop, unconsciously moving her hips toward him as she fell back on her elbows.

  Had she known he was capable of wringing so much pleasure from her body, she might have sat naked on the counter all night. His wicked tongue glided up and down in a lazy effort, keeping her right on the brink of ecstasy.

  Somebody was doing a lot of moaning, and when she realized it was her, she quickly bit her tongue to silence the sounds. Dalton’s assault moved to high gear and she was lost in a high-pitched climax of epic proportions.

  The heavy breathing was all her. Flat on her back against the cold granite? Her again. It couldn’t get any better than this, could it?

  Dalton replied, “Sounds like a challenge,” before scooping her up and striding to the bedroom.

  She’d said that aloud. But who was she to complain?

  The room was blessedly warm and he quickly deposited her between the sheets and tossed a blanket over her. “Don’t move.”

  Oh, sweet mercy, she sure hoped he was planning to finish what he’d started. Admiring his naked butt was a bonus, and Kira took an extra second to scoot to the middle of the bed so he could slide right in when he returned.

  She heard him swearing a blue streak and then it sounded as if he was dumping out drawers in another room. What in the world was he doing? “Dalton? Is everything okay?”

  She switched on the bedside lamp and turned to her side, straining her neck to see down the hallway. He came barreling through the doorway.

  “Remind me to thank Tate for being the condom king.” Dalton ripped a single packet from the box in his hand. “And scoot over.”

  “Only because you said please.”

  “I think you said it enough for both of us.”

  Kira blushed all the way to her toes. There was no way to argue against the truth, and he’d probably never let her live it down.

  “We could try everything all over again,” he offered, placing the packet in her hand and then kissing her soundly. “Lady’s choice.”

  He was way too smug. Kira intentionally crawled over him to turn off the lamp and then planted her naked body on top of his as she slowly tore the package open with her teeth. She straddled him, relishing his quick intake of breath. She sat up long enough to roll the condom into place. Slowly.

  When the task was complete, he gripped her buttocks and flipped her beneath him, sliding one knee between her thighs and stealing her breath with an endless kiss. She bucked underneath his weight, trying to reposition him where she needed him the most. His lips trailed across her collarbone and she shivered in anticipation. He was going to make her say it again.

  “Dalton.”

  “Hmm?” He murmured against her breast before pulling her nipple into his mouth.

  “Please, now,” she begged.

  He moved again and filled her with one slow thrust after another, until her rocking hips forced him to pick up the pace, and the tremors turned to joint release.

  Chapter 14

  Daring, demanding, sexy, sinful and surprising. Dalton had taken everything Kira offered, humbled by the newfound pleasure she’d experienced, evidently for the first time.

  “What do you like?” he’d whispered against the shell of her ear.

  “Everything.”

  “Narrow that down a little for me.” He’d nibbled the column of her neck earnestly, awaiting a reply. When she’d remained silent, he’d asked, “What were you doing before?”

  “I have no idea, but it wasn’t anything like that.” Her voice had wobbled over the statement, growing breathy on the last word.

  Dalton must admit the black marks against his brother were entering the triple digits. The only way Kira wouldn’t know what she liked was if his brother had done more taking than giving.

  Last night had started out fast and a little daring and had ended with the realization it wasn’t just sex between them. Dalton had lain in bed for the past hour, staring at the ceiling and listening as Kira purred against his shoulder.

  He heard a high-pitched beep and briefly thought it was the security alarm. A moment later he recognized the phone’s ring. Must be the disposable cell he’d held on to, and Tate was the only one with the number. Dalton shoved his legs into his jeans and raced to find the phone.

  “Hey.” He shuffled to the kitchen counter to start a pot of coffee, clutching the phone to his ear.

  “I reached out to a couple of mutual friends and they’re headed your way with some supplies and manpower. Despite what you think about no one knowing your location, your friend has given plenty of motivation for her to be found.”

  “How soon?” During the night, the wind had picked up, and from the window over the sink it was hard to tell if more snow was falling or if what had already fallen was being tossed around by Mother Nature.

  “By tonight. Promised Atkins he could fly the jet sometime, and offered him double, since you chose his least favorite climate.”

  “Driving up here is out of the question.”

  “Yeah, he knows. Even stressed the fact that he’s the expert.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “I kept your secret and everyone thinks you died in a fire Kira started.”

  “Officially or unofficially?”

  “CNN says it’s a foregone conclusion.”

  “I’ll mark them off the Christmas-card list.” Dalton dumped a pot of water into the coffeemaker and turned it on.

  “Oh, it gets better.” Tate paused for some sort of dramatic effect. A high-pitched giggle on his end interrupted the update and Dalton dropped onto one of the stools in the kitchen.

  When the sexual squeals continued, Dalton interjected, “Is your flavor of the week by chance a phone sex operator?”

  He heard a few more bursts of laughter and then silence.

  “As I was saying,” Tate continued, “there was an emergency meeting of the Buckshot’s board of directors and a decision was made to offer a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to Kira’s arrest.”

  Dalton whistled and pulled a mug from the cupboard.

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t turn her in for anything less than a million.”

  “Glad to know your loyalty is on the auction block.”

  “And since I’m in charge, what’s another million?”

  Dalton almost caught the mug before it fell against the granite and broke into pieces. “Excuse me? Who the hell put you in charge?”

  “Our esteemed board felt I was best suited to manage the day-to-day activities until the crisis is resolved.”

  “Haven’t you slept with half the board?”

  “I was assured that fact didn’t affect their vote.”

  “Bullshit.” Dalton tossed the broken pieces into the trash and reached for another mug. “Enjoy the power while it lasts, and remember, I’m still capable of kicking your sorry ass.”

  Tate snickered. “From your ski chalet high in the Rockies? You’ve got me quaking in my boots.”

  It took an extreme amount of self-control for Dalton to keep from trading more barbs. Silence on his end of the line should have ended the conversation.

  “Think on this,” Tate stated. “By failing to kill Kira, whoever died in the house fire back in Wyoming crossed the wro
ng person, someone powerful enough to frame her for the fire and your death. My guess is he’s biding his time until she reappears.” There was another dramatic pause. “Or, with resources like that, maybe he already knows where she is and he’s headed your way.”

  Dalton scoffed. “The only way anyone knows where we are is if you told them.”

  “I wouldn’t betray Kira.” Tate’s intentional omission of Dalton’s name meant the conversation was over.

  * * *

  Stacie Jo Ripley ignored the horns of several annoyed drivers and sauntered across the street in her four-inch-heeled go-go boots. Her little red dress worked its magic once again and she was about to collect a tidy sum for her troubles.

  She adjusted her store-bought breasts before stepping onto the opposite curb and digging a fresh stick of gum from the depths of her purse. October in Denver was a crapshoot. A day of sun. A day of rain. Maybe another snowstorm like they’d experienced the past two days.

  No matter. After today, she’d have the means to relocate to a warmer climate. But definitely not to Florida. It was full of old people and she drew the line at sexing anyone over the age of forty-five.

  Maybe South America. Didn’t they love blondes down there? Hell, what was she thinking? She didn’t have to be a whore for hire anymore. Starting tonight, she could buy some respectability. Land herself a wealthy boyfriend and maybe even go from a C to a D cup. She liked the sound of that.

  “Nice ass.”

  She turned and parted her lips in a glossy smile. “No flattery necessary, honey. Just show me the money.”

  He pulled a wad of cash from his coat pocket, peeled off a couple bills and shoved them between her breasts. “Show me what I’m paying for.”

  “Of course, baby.” He was hot enough she’d have done him for free in a heartbeat. But he’d come to her seeking information on her latest John. She pulled out her rhinestone-encrusted cell and scrolled to the newest number.