The Bachelor Pact Box Set

by Rita Herron

  Maddie shoved the paper toward him. "This."

  "I don't see the humor." Lance paced across the floor. "What were you doing at this weirdo's house like that? And what does this mean—you're his latest conquest?"

  She couldn't argue with the weirdo part. But his conquest?

  "I wasn't his conquest."

  Chase snarled. "Well, hell you're all over each other—"

  "We were just dancing."

  "How did you meet him?"

  Maddie felt the first embers of her temper flare, but ignored them, reminding herself she'd extricate herself from the situation faster if she offered a quick explanation. They didn't have to know everything. "Sophie introduced us. She works with him at the station."

  Lance cursed. "I should have known that woman had something to do with this."

  "That woman?" Maddie's control snapped. "That woman has a name—Sophie Lane. She's my friend, Lance. I don't know what you have against her, but I expect you to be nice to her." She swung her hand toward the door. "Now, if you can't respect me and my friends, get out."

  Lance's eyes widened in alarm and shock. Chase sat stoically, his one-eyed gaze level with the sofa. Maddie glanced down in horror and realized the black belt was dangling from the cushion like a snake, almost touching the floor.

  She raised her head a notch, pleading with Chase to help her out. "Chase, can't you make my macho, pigheaded brother understand that I'm a grown woman now?"

  "She's a grown woman now," Chase said in a curt voice, his gaze locked to that black belt. "Besides, we have work to do, Lance."

  Lance and Chase exchanged looks Maddie didn't quite understand, but Maddie was grateful when Lance conceded to Chase.

  Chase sipped his coffee, staring at her over the rim of his mug. "It's raining, so I thought maybe we could look over the designs you've done so far." His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "I want to make sure we're on the same track."

  Maddie's temper deflated. "You're really interested?"

  "Of course." He snatched a bagel, bit into it and gave Lance a pointed look. "This project's got to be the most important thing to all of us right now. More important than our personal lives."

  Maddie nodded. "At least we agree on something."

  "Mad, listen, I'm just worried." Lance's withered expression tore at Maddie. "It can't look good for your business to be associated with this character, Pugh. Do you know what his show is about?"

  Maddie refused to tell him she knew a lot more about Greg Pugh than he did. "Yes, I know."

  He frowned, but lowered his voice to that concerned, protective tone that always mellowed her anger. How could she stay mad at him for loving her? Heck, she was mad at Chase, because he didn't love her.

  "So, are you serious about him?"

  Laughter swelled in her chest, but she bottled it. Let them think the guy was a catch and that he was interested in her. "It was just a party, Lance." Lance stood to get more coffee, and she quickly stuffed the robe belt under the cushion, then placed her coffee cup on the counter. "Now, I'm going to shower and dress so Chase and I can get to work."

  She felt Chase's eyes watching her as she left the room. And she couldn't help but wonder what he had thought of the picture.

  * * *

  Three hours later, Chase had reviewed all the mock-up boards Maddie had made and somehow let her talk him into accompanying her on a buying trip. Just to make sure he approved of things for the model homes, she'd said. Plus, she wanted to get an idea of his tastes and maybe select a few items for his house. Heck, there wasn't much he didn't approve of—except the fact that the night before while he'd been lying in bed alone, she'd had some other man's hands crawling up her skirt.

  But her work had really poleaxed him—while he'd expected outlandish or eclectic, she had practically reproduced the original furnishings of some of the antebellum homes. He nodded as she pointed to a painting of a Roman goddess she wanted for the dining room of the Italian Renaissance house, barely cognizant of her chattering away about furniture and accessories and color choices. Not her choice in men. She'd been treating him like a big brother ever since that pirate comment. And she hadn't ventured onto the topic of the photo or the robe. He hadn't dared to mention them either for fear she'd think he cared.

  And he didn't. Did he?

  Ever since he'd seen that damn picture, he'd been battling the oddest feeling. A twinge that kept nagging at him like a bad headache coming on, but it pressed against his heart and burned up through his throat, then sank back down to his gut and made his stomach feel like it was on fire.

  A feeling he thought might be jealousy.

  But how could a man be jealous of something he'd never had? Or never had the right to have. Or didn't even really want.

  Or did he—did he really want Maddie?

  Ye—hell, no.

  He was glad she'd suddenly started treating him like a friend again. That was exactly what he wanted. An uncomplicated personal life so he could concentrate on business. He would not wind up ruining his life for a woman like his old man had, especially if Maddie only wanted to date him as a rebellious act against her brothers.

  He wanted to be successful, to show the folks of Savannah he wasn't just a poor white trash, orphan little boy. Nothing else mattered. So, he'd never had family, well, except for Lance and Reid. They were all he needed. The Terrible Three—bachelors forever.

  "Chase, what do you think about this vase? It's imported—"

  "It's fine."

  Maddie planted her small fists on her hips. "But you didn't even look at it."

  "I guess you convinced me you know what you're talking about."

  A pleased, almost grateful smile spread on her face. "Really?"

  He made a gallant effort to avoid her gaze. Something magnetic about her eyes... "Yeah, really."

  "Oh, Chase, I'm so glad." She blushed. "For some reason I was afraid you were actually coming along because you didn't trust me. I even..."

  "Even what?"

  "Even wondered if my brothers put you up to it, you know, made you baby-sit me in case I screwed up. But even they wouldn't do something so devious, now would they?"

  He winced inwardly, a mountain of guilt welling in his chest.

  She indicated her briefcase. "Thank heavens I'm wrong."

  But she wasn't. And she would be crushed if she discovered the truth.

  "Now, follow me. There's this divine four-poster bed I want to show you."

  A bed? Had Maddie just said she wanted to take him to bed?

  "Come on, old man. See if you can keep up."

  Old man?

  She talked nonstop about furniture and bedding and vases and crystal while they walked, the earlier intimate flirting vacant from her eyes and voice. So, she was going to treat him like a pal. Great.

  Good. Fine. That was exactly what he wanted.

  She grabbed his hand and led him out of the store, down two blocks to a small antique mart. When he walked inside, he felt as if he'd stepped back in time.

  Antiques and period pieces filled the store along with collector's items, French tapestries and a corner full of Revolutionary War paraphernalia. Maddie dragged him upstairs past Belgium lace canopies and ornate antique mirrors to a section of period bedroom furniture. When Maddie explained she was a decorator and planned to make several purchases but wanted time alone to study the merchandise, the saleslady excused herself to let them browse.

  Suddenly, Maddie sprawled on top of the white lace-draped mattress, waving a hand at the ornately carved headboard and explaining the time period. "It's a replica of the bed Duncan Phyfe made for his daughter. It'll be perfect in the Georgian estate, don't you think?"

  Chase nodded, his gaze glued to Maddie's body stretched seductively on the pristine comforter, her long legs beckoning from beneath that slinky black skirt. As she reached above her to point to the carving, the satin fabric of her sleeveless blouse hugged her breasts and slid over the generous mounds, tightening across
the peaks with every breath she took.

  His own breath collected in his lungs.

  She seemed oblivious.

  "Just imagine how romantic this will look by that circular fireplace you designed, Chase. Whoever buys the house will love it." She propped on one elbow, her gorgeous hair tumbling around her shoulders. "With firelight glowing all around, the golden grain of the wood will sparkle."

  Just like her eyes.

  "I'd put an antique clawfoot tub in the master suite."

  For a nice warm bath in the evening. He'd dribble water over her breasts, then lick the moisture away with his tongue.

  "And a Victorian dressing table for the lady with decorative perfume bottles arranged on a silver tray," she murmured.

  He'd squirt the bottled fragrance behind her delicate earlobe, then nibble at the soft, sensitive column of her neck.

  She continued, not bothering to wait for his reply. "A gentleman's wardrobe in the corner, a lady's lacy chemise and garter scattered at the foot of the bed."

  The garter he'd just removed from her long legs. He'd trail kisses all the way up her thighs.

  "So, what do you think? You think I should buy it?"

  God, she was killing him.

  "Chase?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "What kind of bed would you like in your house?"

  Any bed with her on it. "I don't know, I can't really think right now."

  "Well, let's pick some other things first then." Maddie sprang up and pointed to a bearskin rug in the corner. The rug seemed decadent, out of place with the antique furnishings.

  "You want to put that rug beside the Duncan Phyfe bed?" Chase's voice squeaked.

  Maddie shook her head. "No, the owner bought this at a flea market and planned to take it home for himself, but I thought it might go in your house, Chase. I figured you might want to buy a little more contemporary furniture. Wouldn't it look great next to the Jacuzzi, especially with the black-and-white tiles?"

  The guys would laugh themselves silly if he put that bearskin rug in his house.

  "Chase?"

  "Uh, yeah." But he would love it.

  She lay her hand on the soft white fur and began to stroke it up and down with her long red fingernails, eliciting tempting mental pictures of her stroking his back, his chest, his... "You could also put it in the bedroom. It would be nice for long, cozy nights by the fire. You could stretch out after a hard day's work."

  And let her massage his aching muscles.

  She ran her fingers over the white pile, stroking the fur so it fluffed up and down. "You should try it out. It's so soft and thick and plush, it feels wonderful next to your skin."

  Just like she would.

  "Go ahead, take off your shoes and walk on it."

  He shrugged off his boots, and tested the rug with his feet, smiling at how his toes sank into the thick pile.

  "What do you think? You want me to ask the lady to put it on hold?"

  Oh, yeah. And, if she'd just sprawl out there naked with him on top of it, everything would be perfect.

  * * *

  "So, what do you think, Lance?"

  "It's nice." Lance tried to concentrate on the house Sophie had just shown him, but it was damn difficult when she was standing in front of him looking as sexy as a centerfold—and she was completely dressed. Sophie tucked a strand of her short, spiked hair behind an earlobe, her silver earrings dangling with the movement.

  Why did she have to have those jet-black eyelashes and those emerald-green eyes, which sparkled like stones covered in soft raindrops? And that innocent little look that wasn't innocent at all?

  "Nice?" Sophie laughed, a soft musical sound that stirred his nether regions. "It's in pretty bad shape, Lance, but I bought this house for a bargain, and I figure you can help me restore it."

  Lance ran his hand along the paint-peeled walls. "You've talked to Mrs. Howard at the historical society?"

  "Yes, she's a doll. I've gotten information on the original owners and photos of the woodwork, flooring, moldings, even the tapestries that covered the walls. I'm going to copy as much as I can." She sashayed toward him and placed one clunky heel on the bottom step of the staircase. He couldn't help but notice the way her short maroon skirt hugged her butt and rose to reveal the sexiest little knees he'd ever seen. And he could span her waist with both his hands.

  "I just love the Victorian era," Sophie said. "All the attention to detail, the fretwork, all the curved windows and doorways."

  Lance shifted onto the balls of his feet, forcing himself to study the grainy wood of the stairwell. "You know they say this house is haunted?"

  Sophie glanced at the banister and ran her finger along the slick surface. "I've heard the stories." A dreamy look settled in her eyes. "Something about star-crossed lovers never being able to be with each other because of the war."

  Lance nodded. "A British soldier was wounded. When he was injured, the young woman who lived here took him in and hid him, but once he recovered, he had to return to battle. He probably went back to England or died in the war."

  "They say her spirit lingers here, waiting for him to return," Sophie said in a low voice. "It's so incredibly sad."

  Lance jammed his hands in his pockets. "You don't really believe in that nonsense, do you?"

  Sophie quirked an eyebrow. "You mean in true love?"

  He would not discuss the L word with this woman. Why, she'd already started corrupting his little sister. He certainly wouldn't let her sink her claws into him. "I mean in ghosts."

  Sophie leaned against the weathered paneling. "Yes, I believe in ghosts."

  This time he raised a brow.

  "I think we all have things in our past we want to keep quiet. Issues unsettled, problems that haunt us." Her gaze became hooded, those long eyelashes curling along her ivory skin. She continued in a soft, husky voice, "Secrets that we don't want anyone to know. Wouldn't you agree, Lance?"

  Lance's heart thudded to a painful halt, then resumed double-time. He wanted to trust her, but the person he'd trusted the most, his own dad, had deceived him and his family. His dad hadn't been the loyal husband they'd thought; he'd had habits that would have shocked his patients and Reid and Maddie. Had his mother known?

  Sophie was still smiling at him, waiting expectantly, hoping to lure him into her trap. She loved hot topics for her show, he still remembered the one about the transvestite Methodist ministers, and then he'd seen the tail end of a volatile episode where several wives had announced on the air they were lesbians.

  No, he couldn't get close to Sophie, he couldn't trust her.

  In fact, after learning about his father, how could he trust anyone again? Why, he barely trusted Reid and Chase. But they were his blood brothers—they would never let him down or keep anything from him. Thank God.

  The serious tone of her voice, the way she kept watching him with those intense liquid eyes—what had she meant? Did Sophie Lane have secrets of her own? Or was she trying to get him to reveal his family secrets?

  Or maybe she was hinting that she already knew them.

  Chapter 14

  Maddie sipped her cappuccino, trying to decide why Chase had been looking at her so oddly while they'd been shopping. At first, she thought he'd been bored to death, but he'd perked up when they'd toured that last antique shop. He'd really liked that four-poster bed and the bearskin rug. What other kinds of things did he like?

  She gazed across the river, enjoying their view from the outdoor cafe where they'd stopped for lunch. She had to do something to avoid watching Chase. Sightseers and locals strolled the riverfront edge, lingering to taste the Savannah delicacies or bask in the beautiful spring weather. Tulips sprang up along the shore edge and colorful pansies lined the flower boxes along the storefronts while the breeze from the river fluttered the budding new leaves.

  Chase cut into the piece of chocolate pie he'd ordered, lifted the fork to his mouth and made a soft little moan of pleasure, drawing her gaze t
o his lips, which of course, made her remember their last mouth-watering kiss on her porch. His gaze caught hers, and she instantly glanced at the table, wiping at the perspiration beading on her forehead. Springtime temperatures were always comfortable, ranging from the low sixties to the seventies. But working in close quarters with Chase seemed to jack the heat index up to the hundreds.

  Think of him as that other big brother. Focus on work.

  "Chase, if I'm going to decorate your house, I really need to know your tastes. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

  Like her stretched across that bearskin rug? Sex and sin and a night full of passion they'd both always remember.

  There went that odd look again.

  He let the pie slide into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "Not really."

  Maddie licked a dollop of foam off her coffee, her gaze riveted to Chase's when she noticed him follow the movement. "What? Do I have cream on my nose?"

  He swallowed audibly. "No."

  "Then what? Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

  This time he looked away, focusing on a ship docking at the harbor. "No reason."

  Maddie sighed. He really didn't want to get personal with her, did he? Oh, well, two could play that game. "I'm simply interested in knowing what kind of furniture you want, Chase, so when I'm shopping, if I spot something you want, I can make a deal."

  He ate another bite of the dark-chocolate pie, licking his lips at the rich, sweet taste, making Maddie almost groan. She'd always believed chocolate was a sexual experience when she ate it, but she'd never imagined watching someone else consume a slice of pie could be so titillating. Of course, she'd never watched Chase eat before. He might not be the flower-sending kind of guy, but he devoured the dessert slowly, seeming to savor each bite, the rich, delicate flavor, the fluffy almost erotic texture, as if he wanted the pleasurable sensation to last. Would he treat a woman the same way in bed?

  She forked a spoonful of her own chocolate sundae, licking the dark syrup with her tongue.

  "I just want some basic stuff," Chase finally said.

  Basic, as in him on top, her on the bottom?

  "Not antiques or anything fancy or impractical. I want to be able to sit on the couch, not show it off."