Taste for Trouble (Blake Brothers Trilogy)

by Sey, Susan

  He turned to Drew, slung an arm around his brother’s neck with a heartiness he didn’t feel.

  “Hang on, now. That waitress lied to you?”

  “Yeah.” Drew didn’t look at him. He was still tracking the not-into-him hottie as she wove expertly through the crowd with a tray.

  “That, my brother, is an insult we can’t be expected to bear.”

  Drew finally looked at him, those big brown eyes suddenly wary. Maybe the boy wasn’t purely stupid after all. “What? No! Will, don’t—”

  “Oh, but it’s my pleasure.” He smiled and Drew actually took a step back. “Pay attention, now, son. Justice is about to be served.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bel frowned critically at James’ backside and nodded. “It’ll do,” she said.

  “As long as I don’t try to sit, stand, run, walk or move.”

  “Right.” She smiled and it felt deliciously evil. Goodness, where was this coming from? Why was she having so much fun torturing the poor man? What had he ever done to her?

  Oh, right. Now she remembered. He’d torpedoed her life-long dream with his thoughtless mouth and his stupid brothers, and hadn’t had the good grace to even remember her face later. She’d made him eggs and pressed his tuxedo and he’d accused her of being bossy. Then he’d split his stupid pants and rather than let photos of his underwear turn up on the front page of tomorrow’s sports section, she’d thrown herself into the breach. Smashed through several personal-space boundaries in the process, but she was a good sport and a dedicated worker. She did the job, no matter what.

  And how had he repaid her? By threatening to kiss her in front of hundreds of people with cameras? By insinuating that she was begging for it? He deserved to squirm a little, and the extra two inches she’d taken out of the crotch of his pants would ensure he did.

  “You’re enjoying this,” he said.

  “Nooooo.” Then she gave up resisting and sank into her pettiness with a happy sigh. “Just doing my job.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you the wedding thing wasn’t my fault?”

  “You think I’m paying you back for ruining my wedding and derailing my career?” She gave him big, innocent eyes. “How insulting.”

  He studied her. “There’s only one other reason for you to hate me so.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Well, that’s it right there.” He beamed at her as if she were a particularly bright and amusing companion and the sudden bounce back to easy camaraderie had her head spinning. He’s like a golden retriever, she thought. Happy by default. She found herself caught between a pang of envy and the urge to throw her purse across the room to see if he’d fetch.

  “That’s what right where?” she asked instead.

  “That’s why you’re so mean to me.”

  “Because I don’t hate you?”

  “Exactly.” He took her elbow and they strolled into the crowd. “If you hated me, you’d have just let me kiss you.”

  “Um, no. I wouldn’t have.”

  He patted her arm. “Sure you would. And then you’d have had yourself a good, long laugh at my moves. Then you’d have called my brothers over so they could laugh at my moves, too.” He shot her a sidelong look. “But you didn’t do that, did you? There’s something interesting snapping away between us and you’re curious, too. You wanted me to kiss you but shouldn’t is getting all tangled up with wanna and it’s causing you some grief.” He smiled at her, a potent combination of understanding and temptation. “And that’s why you’re so mean to me. You’re into me and it’s got you downright pissy.”

  She stared at him. “That’s a ridiculous suggestion.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. Yes, she told herself.

  “Suit yourself,” he said cheerfully. “But don’t blame me when you finally erupt in a massive explosion of repressed lust and beg me to satisfy your sexual urges. Because I’m only a man, Bel. I’ll have to say yes.”

  An unwilling smile tugged at her lips. “I won’t blame you in the event that I erupt like a sexual volcano, okay? Now can we please go find your brothers?”

  “Sure, okay. I need to talk to Will anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to find out who I’m supposed to say hello to tonight. Be nice to ask after their wives and kids by name, too.”

  “And Will has this information?”

  “Boy’s got this crazy memory. Remembers every little thing he’s ever read and most of what he’s heard or seen. Damn handy in a manager.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “He can do mental math, too. Huge numbers. Fun stuff at a party.”

  “Huh.” She let James tow her through the crowd while she chewed on that interesting bit of information. “What does Drew do?”

  “Drew?”

  “Yeah. What’s his superpower? I mean, you’re an elite athlete—your current out-of-shapeness notwithstanding—Will’s some sort of brainiac. What does Drew do?”

  James thought for a moment then smiled. “Drew’s a two-fer.”

  “A two-fer? How’s that?”

  “Well, on one hand, he can charm the circuits off any e-thing you’ve got. Jacked our first Wii so that Will double faulted at deuce every time he got to the finals at Wimbledon. It took weeks for Will to figure it out and deliver the beat down.” He smiled fondly, the memory of his brothers pounding one another to a pulp evidently warming his heart. “Kid was all of fifteen.”

  “And on the other hand?” Bel asked, amused. “What’s Drew’s other superpower?”

  “He falls in love.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “With whom?”

  “Everybody. He’s our heart and soul. Our conscience.”

  “Some conscience.” She sniffed. “If I remember correctly, he sat by like a beer-swilling lump while you talked my fiancé into abandoning me on live TV.”

  He gave her a look of mild exasperation. “Setting aside the fact that the wedding thing wasn’t my fault, why would Drew squawk about a guy deciding to follow his heart?”

  “Setting aside the fact that it was too your fault, a decent conscience doesn’t let you shame, humiliate or otherwise harm somebody like that. Following your bliss is no excuse to damage other people.”

  “So you should go ahead and marry somebody you don’t love to keep them from getting hurt?”

  “No. But you should keep your promises.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Then the burden’s on you to make it right.”

  “To whose satisfaction?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Who gets to call when it’s tit for tat? When you’ve paid enough? What happens when you have the bad luck to owe somebody who’s never going to be satisfied?”

  “Everybody’s satisfied eventually.”

  He snorted out a laugh, then swallowed it when she cut him a razor sharp look.

  “There is nothing funny about living up to your obligations,” she told him.

  “No, ma’am,” he said, suddenly sober. “There surely isn’t.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments then arrived at the bar. James looked around, nonplussed. “Well, this is unusual.”

  “What?”

  “This here’s an open bar. And Will and Drew aren’t glued to it.” He peered into the milling crowd. “I reckon we’ll just have to wait for it then.” He turned to the bartender. “You don’t happen to stock Shiner Bock, do you?”

  The bartender popped the cap from a beer bottle and passed it over. James dropped a twenty in the brandy glass posing as a tip jar on the counter and glanced at Bel.

  “Don’t tell me. White wine spritzer?”

  Bel studied him. “No, thanks. Wait for what?”

  James took a pull on the bottle. “What?”

  “You said we’d have to wait for it. Because Drew and Will aren’t here. Wait for what?”

  “Oh.” James leaned an elbow on the bar. “You
’ll know it when you hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  Will’s voice rose above the din of a hundred conversations. “Hey, why so unfriendly? You wiggled your ass for tips last night and now you won’t even talk to us?”

  Bel froze and James set aside his beer.

  “That,” he said. A grim resignation replaced the perpetual cheery optimism in his face and he said, “Excuse me.”

  Bel jerked out of her wide-eyed paralysis and scurried after him. “Hey, wait!”

  She caught up with him just as he broke through the crowd that had gathered around his two brothers and a waitress.

  “Will, for God’s sake.” Drew shoved his shoulder between the waitress and his brother, backed Will up with the force of his body and held out placating hands to the woman. “I’m so sorry,” he told her. “My brother’s drunk.”

  “Not really, but wouldn’t that be nice?” Will side-stepped Drew and smiled down at the waitress. It was anything but nice.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” the woman said, her cheeks pale, her tray flattened against her chest like a shield.

  “We won’t give you any.” Drew shot Will a stern look and hooked him by the bicep. “We’ll just be on our—”

  “Screw that.” Will shook off Drew’s hand and leaned down toward the woman’s bent head. “Listen, sweetheart. You work at a strip club, all right? You show off your goodies for tips. We probably ponied up a car payment last night alone. And now you won’t even acknowledge us? What kind of customer service is that?”

  Bel glanced at James. “Your favorite stripper?”

  “Just a waitress, I think.”

  She gave him a hard look and he gave her a roguish grin in return. “At our favorite strip club, yes.”

  She sighed. Had she really imagined they didn’t frequent strip clubs? That they didn’t pay to ogle naked breasts and drink themselves stupid? Good lord, what had she gotten herself into?

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Drew shoved Will. Hard. “You’re speaking to a lady, Will. Dig up some respect.”

  Will took a stumbling step, then caught his balance. His hands curled into fists and his lips curved into a glittering, violent smile. “Or what, baby brother?”

  “What, you want me to make you?” Drew’s hands—his very big hands, Bel thought wildly—clenched into fists at his sides. Oh dear God.

  “Oh, please,” Will sneered. “Like you’re going to swing on your own brother over some stripper.”

  “Well, shit.” James sighed. “That’ll do it.”

  Panic fluttered weak wings in Bel’s chest. “Do what?”

  James shook his head. “Drew’s real protective of women.”

  “He’s—” Bel’s tried to digest that one but her logic couldn’t keep it down. “He goes to strip clubs,” she said blankly. “You can’t be both protective of women and patronize strip clubs.”

  “He’s especially protective of strippers.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  James rolled up each cuff one more turn. “Better get in there before Drew takes that swing.”

  “Before Drew—” Bel couldn’t breathe.

  “Hmmm.” James squinted. “Or Will.”

  “They’re going to fight?”

  “Definitely. At this point it’s just a question of here or at home.”

  She stared, open-mouthed. He returned the stare as if awaiting instructions. She slapped his arm, hard. “At home, James!”

  “You got it.”

  He jogged forward and caught Will’s elbow which was—dear God—cocked back for the first punch. Then he tapped the back of Will’s knee with the front of his own and suddenly Will was hopping for balance instead of swinging on his baby brother. James inserted himself neatly between his brothers and addressed the waitress.

  “Pardon us, ma’am,” he said. Drew scowled at Will across the breadth of James’ shoulders, his jaw tight and hard. In return, Will gave him a sick parody of a grin that showed all his teeth and made Bel shudder. “My brother’s an ass.” James paused to give Drew a speaking look. “They both are, actually.” Drew, at least, had the grace to flush and look down. Will’s smile just got uglier. “We won’t bother you anymore.”

  “Fine. Good. Excuse me.” The waitress shouldered her tray and Bel finally got a look at the curves that had earned the woman a car payment’s worth of tips last night. Impressive, even in the demure black skirt and white blouse of her uniform. But she also saw tendons standing out on alarmingly thin wrists as she gripped her tray. Noted the bloodless press of her lips and the doggedly down-cast eyes. The woman hustled toward escape, giving Will the kind of wide berth you’d give a growling dog.

  His hand flashed out like lightning, faster than a drunk guy could be expected to move. He snagged her elbow and hauled her back.

  “No, no. Come on, wait,” Will said. “I’m an idiot, right? Of course. How could I forget?” He pulled a thick fold of cash from his pocket, peeled off a couple of bills, tossed them on her tray. “Women like you don’t do anything for free.”

  “Oh my God.” Drew moaned more than said it. “Shut up, Will. Now.”

  Will ignored him. “How much, ah, friendliness will that get me?”

  “Enough,” James said, and the single word cracked like a whip, freezing all the players like actors on a stage. That slow drawl, the easy slouch and the sunny grin disappeared like smoke leaving behind a man Bel hardly recognized. A man whose closed face, knotted fists, and set shoulders spoke of economical, effective violence.

  A soldier, Bel realized on a slap of shock. A warrior. This was a man who’d made his fortune being faster, tougher, stronger than the world’s most talented athletes. And she’d mistaken him for a golden retriever? Her powers of observation really were crap these days. She needed to work on that.

  “That’s enough, Will,” he said again, his voice quiet and hard. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  He seized Will’s elbow with one of those uncompromising fists and pointed him toward the exit, but the woman slapped a hand in the center of Will’s chest. James paused with grave courtesy while she stared at the money on her tray as if she’d never seen anything like it.

  “Thank you,” she said to James. “It’s been a while since anybody defended my honor. I appreciate it. But I’d like to say something.”

  James nodded and released Will’s elbow. He stepped back, giving Bel her first good look at the woman’s face. God, she was young. Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, tops. But that wasn’t what had Bel staring. It was the girl’s face. Good lord, she was gorgeous. No, not gorgeous, Bel corrected herself. Beautiful. The classic sort of beautiful that inspired sculptors to sculpt, painters to paint and overgrown frat boys with too much money to drop hundreds of dollars on tips. She’d kept herself so contained, head bent, eyes down, voice quiet. But now with twin spots of color raging along her milk-pale cheekbones, with her crystal blue eyes spitting fury under that golden chop of hair she was magnificent.

  And she was going to shred Will.

  Bel melted back into the crowd, gave the girl some space.

  “Forty bucks,” the woman said, still fingering the money. “Wow. Forty whole dollars.” She tucked her tray under her arm and propped a hand on her hip with a calculated slink. “For this kind of money, I might bend over nice and low when I set down your drink. I might laugh at your stupid jokes and smile at your tired, lame-ass pick up lines. As if I haven’t heard them all a million times already from every other asshole in the room. I might even ignore it if your hand happens to land on my ass once or twice. Because, hey, I’m not proud. I do what it takes to survive, and that means putting on the uniform—however much or little of it there may be on any given night—and doing the job. Because unlike you, I don’t have a filthy rich brother to finance my life of leisure.”

  Will cocked a brow with a weary mix of disdain and calm curiosity. But the skin stretched taut over his cheekbones and Bel wondered if the little waitress knew how a
ccurately she’d aimed that last arrow.

  “But let me be clear on this,” she went on, “because I am sick and tired of jerks like you mistaking what’s for sale here. Forty bucks does not buy you my interest. It doesn’t buy you my respect and it doesn’t buy you even an ounce of my honesty.”

  A man with a careful comb-over, a starter paunch and an air of anxious authority appeared at the edge of the silent circle of spectators. “Audrey,” he said, a warning edge in his tone. “Is there a problem here?”

  “No, Jeff,” Audrey said, her fierce gaze still pinned to Will. “There’s been a slight misunderstanding about what’s on the menu, but I’m clearing it up.”

  “Now Audrey, is that any way to treat our guests of honor?” Jeff sent the Blake brothers a worried smile. “I apologize, gentlemen. Our staff is well-trained to accommodate special requests. I’m sure we can provide whatever you need.” He turned a pointed look on his waitress. “Why don’t you take a break, Audrey? I’ll see to these gentlemen.”

  She snapped her mouth shut, struggling visibly to reel in her temper and save her job. Bel bit her own tongue against the desire to defend the poor girl. Will was being an ass and nobody, regardless of their station in life, deserved to take crap served up from a faulty sense of entitlement. But her job was to improve James’ public image and getting entangled in a high profile kerfuffle with the wait staff her first night on duty wasn’t going to help matters.

  She glanced at James, made a get us out of here, pronto face at him. But his gaze was glued to Audrey, waiting like the good soldier he was for the lady’s instruction.

  “But I want Audrey to help us,” Will said, a sly triumph sliding through his voice. “No other waitress will do.” He turned away from the manager and sent Audrey that awful smile. “Come on, honey. Be nice and there could be another twenty in it for you. As you’ve surely noticed, I’m pretty free with my brother’s money.”