Newmar, Lola - A Bride for Two Billionaires [Male Order, Texas] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by The Male Order, Texas Collection ]- A Bride for Two Billionaires (l

  Chapter 3

  Taylor woke up the next morning to the delicious faint smell of bacon coming from the kitchen. As she slowly opened her eyes, she could see that her window was wide open, letting in a pool of summer sunshine from the bright sky. She sat up and stretched, inhaling the fresh smell of the morning dew, and then she suddenly remembered her encounter with Brody and Jay.

  “Ugh, just what I need,” she mumbled as she slipped on her fuzzy marabou house slippers. Brody and Jay were the most beautiful men she had ever seen. But that was the problem. Their couture jeans, gelled hair, and over-priced T-shirts weren’t going to charm her into being a fool yet again.

  Before meeting Dillon, she had avoided those kinds of men like the plague. She grew up watching her friends drop like flies at the sight of any Dallas douche bag with a pretty face and flashy car, only to be thrown away like a sticky used tissue.

  The night she met Dillon at the annual HCM charity ball, he spent the night following her around the party, doing his best to charm his way to a date with “the most angelic beauty queen in Dallas.” She remembered rolling her eyes at his cheesy, one-size-fits-all lines.

  After leaving her office the next day, she found him sitting cross legged on the hood of her car. Before she’d had a chance to protest, he had begun to croon “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?” as he strummed his acoustic guitar like a shaggy-haired white knight. She had known Dillon was a playboy, but no man had ever sung for her, and his voice was so sweet, so innocent. She had completely fallen for it. Such a fool!

  When Taylor walked into the kitchen, she found a white china plate piled with thick-cut bacon, jalapeño cheese grits, and biscuits with country gravy. It was the same breakfast her father would make her on Sunday mornings, his only day off. Beside the plate was a note from Aunt Veronica.

  Good morning, Baby Girl!

  Enjoy your breakfast, and then meet me and the girls at Luscious for mani-pedis.

  Xoxo,

  Auntie Veronica

  Taylor looked up at the clock. 9:33 AM. If she didn’t get her ass up and out, she’d likely just sit around pathetically daydreaming about the ménage that could never be. Sighing inwardly, Taylor reminded herself it was better safe than sorry.

  After finishing her breakfast and morning shower, Taylor stood in her closet, staring at her clothes in frustration. She silently wished for a day when she could actually be overwhelmed by her closet. After a few moments, she settled on a sleeveless, white cotton eyelet sundress with thick straps, a scoop neck, and a corseted bodice, and for shoes she decided on her yellow Kate Spade cork wedges. She wanted to be sexy but didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard or expecting too much. In fact, she promised herself right then to not expect anything at all. “They’re just two local gentlemen looking to show the new girl around town, that’s all.”

  Taylor worked fast on her hair and makeup, so she was out the door and on her way to Luscious Beauty Spa in less than an hour.

  Luscious was her aunt’s everyday hangout. Any day of the week, before The Boom Boom Room opened at 9 p.m., Aunt Veronica could be found there with her three closest friends, Aurora Compton-Blanc, Greta McCall, and Beverly Cullen.

  The beauty shop was owned by Aurora who received the spa as a wedding gift when she married Robert Compton and his best friend, Frederick Blanc, twenty-five years ago. Although she was only twenty at the time, Aurora had insisted on her own business to keep her busy while her husbands operated Stephanie & Co. Stephanie was the two-story jewelry boutique located downtown. It sold high-end jewelry while the adjoining outdoor café, Breakfast at Stephanie’s, overlooked the square and was a legendary Sunday brunch favorite with the locals. Taylor thought they served the best vanilla French toast she’d ever tried.

  “Mornin’, baby girl!” Taylor was greeted by Aunt Veronica’s booming voice as she walked into Luscious. The other four women occupying the salon followed with their own enthusiastic good mornings. The salon was set up like an elegant, vintage beauty shop. It had soft pink walls adorned with framed silhouettes of girls with up-dos, and it was encircled with white mod swivel chairs for the clients.

  “Why, clutch the pearls! Aren’t you a vision?” Aurora dramatically brought her hand to her throat as she looked over Taylor. She was adorned with her signature fur-collared robe. Her chin-length, blond hair still had a few hot rollers scattered throughout.

  Suddenly, Beverly threw down her copy of the day’s Dallas Times and scurried across the salon floor to get within a few inches of Taylor’s face as though she were examining a squashed bug. “Oh, my Lord! Veronica, she’s met a man.”

  Taylor’s cheeks grew hot at Beverly’s incredible intuition. Beverly was a pit-bull in a skirt, holding a parasol. As a single mother of four grown sons, Beverly was a straight-shooter with eyes in the back of her head and the instincts of a mama grizzly.

  “Aaaaahhhh!” Taylor flinched from the ear-piercing squeal as Aunt Veronica hopped up from her salon chair and ran to embrace Taylor. Taylor couldn’t help but laugh at her aunt’s endearing excitement. She reached up to embrace the back of Aunt Veronica’s head, but she still had scattered foils hanging throughout her dark brown hair.

  “So, who’s the lucky gentleman, baby?” asked Aunt Veronica when she released Taylor from her death-grip of a hug.

  “Brody Bartlett,” said Taylor, then she continued despite the wide-eyes staring back at her, “and Jay Stephens.” The room filled with dramatic, feminine gasps and whispers.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, girl.” Beverly cocked up an eyebrow as she rested her hands on her full hips, failing to hide the smirk forming on her scarlet lips.

  “You know, sugar,” began Greta, who was still staring at her reflection in the back of the room as she teased her short red hair, “if you plan to keep up with those two, you better put in some time with a little yoga.”

  Greta quickly spun in her salon chair to face the women and effortlessly pulled both legs behind her head in a flash. “Trust me, sugar, you’ll thank me.” Her face beamed with pride.

  Aurora began to eagerly clap as Veronica and Beverly just rolled their eyes and groaned. When Aurora didn’t stop clapping after a few short seconds, Beverly slapped Aurora’s hands and snapped, “Aurora, please! It’s the same damn trick she shows off to everyone.”

  “But it never fails to impress me,” Aurora remarked sweetly.

  Greta was the quintessential cougar. Despite being the oldest of the bunch at fifty-five, she was still built like a Coke bottle and radiated more confidence than any of the twenty-something club rats Taylor knew in Dallas.

  Greta owned the yoga studio, Wet Lotus, down the street. She specialized in Bikram yoga which involved heating a room to over a hundred degrees to encourage clients to sweat as they practiced their moves. Greta was also the wife of the wealthy McCall triplets. Naturally, they were fifteen years her junior.

  Clearing her throat, Taylor remarked, “Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I just have a tiny crush on a couple of local boys, is all. There’s nothing more to it, and I’m set on making sure it stays that way.”

  Aunt Veronica’s eyes widened with shock. “Oh, baby girl, just a couple of local boys?” Taylor looked around the salon in confusion when all the women started to giggle. “That’s the last thing Brody Bartlett and Jay Stephens are.”

  “What do you mean?” This was all getting a little too weird for Taylor. Her eyes bounced around the room as the women randomly took turns giving her a piece of the men’s history.

  “Baby girl, you don’t recognize them? Brody Bartlett is the heir to the Bartlett family fortune. The Bartletts were one of Male Order’s five founding families.”

  “Their ancestors moved to Texas after strikin’ gold in California in the early 1900s then invested in the railroad industry.”

  “Jay and Brody have been inseparable since they were knee-high to a grasshopper.”

  “They sold their own social networking Web site for twelve
billion dollars just this past year.”

  “Twelve billion dollars.” Taylor gasped.

  “They’re billionaires, sugar.”

  “Only, Brody was already a billionaire before the Web site.”

  Her brain tried to grasp the concept of what they were feeding her. “Billionaires?” She thought their names sounded familiar when she met them, but Taylor was always too caught up in the mix of Dallas drama and charity events to be concerned with West Coast gossip.

  “Yes, honey, billionaires.” Aunt Veronica’s stare suddenly swayed from Taylor’s eyes to behind her back. “Why, good mornin’, gentlemen.”

  “Good morning, ladies,” both men chimed in at the same time. The smooth, melodious unity in Jay’s and Brody’s voices immediately made Taylor’s nipples harden against the soft cotton of her sundress before she could even turn around to face them. She waited for the eager greetings from the beauty shop patrons to end and for the belligerent butterflies in her stomach to calm down.

  Using a moment to take a nervous breath, she then turned to face the men she hadn’t stopped thinking about since they’d interrupted her sunbathing. And goddamn it, they were even more gorgeous and taller than she remembered. She’d spent the last day imagining the breathtaking beauty of their faces and the sexy contours of their bodies over and over again, but her memory gave no justice to the gods of perfection she now looked at.

  Jay wore a dark gray, short-sleeved, button-down shirt made of a cotton fabric so light Taylor could see his black under-tank showing through. His army-green cargo shorts hit just below his knees, and he wore leather boat shoes that were the same shade as his shirt.

  Brody’s shirt looked like it was made of the same thin fabric as Jay’s, but Brody’s was white with long sleeves that were rolled up just above his elbows, just enough for his incredible biceps to show. He wore long, powder-blue cotton shorts with navy leather flip-flops.

  Although she stood several feet away, Taylor could smell the freshness and enticing men’s scented bodywash that still clung to their skin from the showers they must had just taken, judging from their damp hair. Their clean scent had Taylor aching to sniff and taste every inch of their powerful bodies.

  “Brody and I came to have a word with Miss Ewing,” Jay said, directing it more toward Veronica, out of respect, Taylor assumed.

  “Well, I declare, my niece sure is a lucky young lady. What did y’all have planned for my gorgeous, smart, talented, caring baby girl?”

  “Auntie!” Taylor scolded in embarrassment. She wanted to crawl under a rock. Aunt Veronica continued to stare at the men as though she hadn’t heard Taylor.

  Jay and Brody laughed at Aunt Veronica’s shameless plug. “We want to talk a little business with Miss Ewing,” said Brody. “Our families have been looking for a new foundation to sponsor, and from what we heard, Miss Ewing’s lecture made quite an impact on our football players. In fact, they’ve all scheduled doctor appointments for heart checkups.”

  Taylor smiled proudly. To hear it resonated with just one of the students would have meant success, but knowing the entire team scheduled checkups gave Taylor a thrill of victory. It was moments like these that made pageantry worth every moment of the time and effort.

  “Shall we?” the men asked together. They both bowed their heads toward her as they asked before splitting apart and making a walkway for Taylor between them. Taylor watched in fascination as the women in the salon all swooned dramatically. At least she wasn’t the only woman that became a smitten kitten around them.

  After saying their goodbyes, Taylor slightly lifted her dress, and she made her way down the steps of Luscious, nonchalantly using her southern belle mannerisms to mask the fact she was actually clenching her dress to dry her clammy palms on the cotton. She followed Jay and Brody into the gorgeous, bright summer day.

  She did her best to calm her nerves by taking deep, slow breaths in and out of her nose without being too obvious about it. But just standing next to the men again, smelling them as the breeze spread their scent, feeling their sensual body heat when they would casually brush past her as they walked, was more than enough to take her breath away.

  Standing at the bottom of the salon entrance steps, Taylor turned to the men, cocked a brow, and put her hands on her hips in her best effort to appear sassy and confident. “So what’s for lunch?” She attempted to use her best sexy bedroom voice, but it cracked on

  “-unch.” So much for pageant queen poise.

  The men exchanged a quick glance and smiled, then Brody replied, “Nothing nearly as decadent as you probably taste, but we’ll give our best effort.” His friendly voice and the playful wink that followed candy-coated the innuendo, and Taylor didn’t try to hold back the smile he inspired.

  She’d never thought she would fall for such blatant charm. When the guys at the Dallas dance clubs would approach her, they were as sincere as a used-car salesman looking to pay off a Mafia debt.

  Daaaaamn, baby, you look so good, I could put you on a plate and sop you up with a biscuit.

  I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by your beauty.

  Taylor could vomit her country breakfast right there at the thought of their degrading, chauvinistic approaches. But as smooth as he was, there was something about Brody that made everything he said sound extra genuine.

  Maybe she could trust them.

  Oh, c’mon, Taylor. These men are billionaires! They probably have every six-foot-tall Brazilian lingerie supermodel on speed dial. Do you really think you could ever actually mean something special to these two?

  When Taylor stopped in her tracks in the parking lot, the men immediately stopped, as well. Brody took a step toward her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you all right, Taylor? You look like you’ve just seen a damn ghost, honey.”

  “I’m sorry, gentleman.” Taylor hung her head in embarrassment.

  She couldn’t go on a date with these men. Taylor couldn’t deny it. She was wildly attracted to both of them, and she hated herself for being put under their spell.

  Just looking at them, from the refined beauty of their faces down their long forms and to their Italian leather Tod’s, Taylor doubted these men ever had to know what loneliness or rejection was, and she couldn’t imagine they ever would. Taylor could only imagine the number of women that threw themselves at the men on a daily basis. She couldn’t allow herself to become just another insecure, self-destructive groupie who was willing to bow at their feet. But she’d better get rid of them soon, then, because she was about to toss her pride and fall to her knees at any moment. “Forgive me, but I can’t go to lunch with you.”

  Taylor watched Jay give a brief nod to Brody, then he turned to look in her eyes. As he slowly walked over to her, she could feel the pulse in her neck beating frantically against her flesh. He reached down and used both of his large hands to envelop her left one. He felt warm and masculine against her cool skin, and she felt the heat spread over her body and pool in her silk thong. Damn their witchery.

  “Can I be frank?” she asked before he had a chance to say anything.

  “Please.” Jay’s eyes were focused only on hers.

  Taylor broke the eye contact and looked away as she tried to think of the best way to explain herself without coming off as too pathetic. “When I look at you two,” she sighed and shook her head as she struggled to find the words, “when you look at me—”

  “Look at me, Taylor,” Jay commanded, and she obediently gazed into the captivating emeralds. “How about we just worry about the charity today? Maybe we can talk about all the other stuff later, but for now, we want nothing more than to just sit down and get to know you a little better.”

  He ever so slowly grazed the mound of flesh that covered her heart, forcing her to suck in a sharp breath of pleasure. She felt the goose bumps form across her skin, sending an electric wave of sensation straight to her peaked nipples. He smiled as if he knew what kind of effect he had on her. “What do you say?”


  With a little bit off the pressure lifted off her shoulders, Taylor took a deep breath, nodded, and followed them to their white truck.

  Taylor marveled at the modern extravagance that breathed through Hester’s Steakhouse. They walked in to a curtain of lovely music coming from the piano man playing in the back of the restaurant. As they walked toward the hostess stand to the right of the room, Taylor took a moment to glance around. In front of them was a large layout of intimate round tables with a lit tea light in the center of each one. In the back of the room was the rounded bar, shelves of hundreds of bottles of liquors displayed right behind it. When she looked up, she saw an enormous, ritzy chandelier hung down from the second floor ceiling. The second floor was an open loft that surrounded the hanging chandelier, enabling the customers to view one floor from the other. As she dropped her gaze back down, she noticed the large booths against the side walls. Every booth and table seemed to be the home of a lively conversation.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stephens,” the pretty young hostess nodded her welcome at him then turned to Brody and gave another nod as she continued, “Mr. Bartlett. Would you like your private room?”

  “No thank you, Claudine,” Brody replied politely. “This is Miss Ewing’s first time at Hester’s, and we would like her to experience it fully,” he indicated the bottom floor with a wave of his hand, “down here.”

  Claudine smiled. “Yes, sir. Come with me, please.”

  They were led to a booth in the back with one long bench that rounded the far corner. Taylor slid in first, then the men slid in on either side of her. As Taylor looked around, she saw elegant couples on dates, co-workers on lunch meetings, business men celebrating their latest victories, pretty much anyone who was anyone in Male Order.

  The hostess handed them a leather-framed single-page menu before walking off.