Taste for Trouble (Blake Brothers Trilogy)

by Sey, Susan

  His other hand slipped under her t-shirt, swept up the ladder of her ribs and closed hot and possessive on her breast. A gasp rushed up in her throat, died there as he cupped her in his palm, his fingers both gentle and tense. As if he were torn between asking permission and giving warning.

  One finger dipped slowly into the lacy cup of her bra, brushed past her nipple. An exquisite tremor shimmered into her center and she clapped a hand over his, stilling his touch. It was so strange and new to her. She’d never felt anything like it—this odd, lazy hunger that compelled her to both squirm and rush and pant, but also to taste and linger and savor. Little shocks of pleasure still rippled away from his finger, that simple and amazing touch, and her breathing hitched as they moved away, bounced back and echoed. God. What else could he do to her, she wondered? If he could do that with one finger?

  He pulled back far enough to look at her face. Far enough for her to see the question there. The uncertainty. The crazy reflection of her own desire in his eyes and just a hint of smug self-satisfaction at having caused it.

  Something sharp and broken twisted in Bel, cooling the fever in her blood, allowing shame and fear the foothold it had been seeking. God, what was she doing?

  Way to teach him a lesson, Bel, she thought bitterly. Way to keep your head and make your point. Way to protect yourself.

  But all wasn’t lost. Maybe he wasn’t deep, but James was kind. And generous. She’d give him that. How else to explain this pause, this question, this seeking of tacit approval before pressing his advantage?

  And it was his advantage. Much as Bel would love to deny that, honesty compelled to her admit otherwise. He’d done exactly what he’d set out to do—spark a fire inside her. A fire that had nothing to do with furthering her goals. A dangerous fire that snapped and roared and threatened to devour everything she held sacred.

  But Bel was no amateur when it came to Plan B. To protecting oneself at any cost. Because God knew nobody else out there was lining up to do it for her.

  Even so, she hated herself for what she was about to do. But she’d spent the last twelve years of her life pursuing one goal and one goal only—to be Kate Davis, 2.0. And she was close. She was so close. The only thing standing between her and achieving that goal was James Blake and his laissez-faire attitude toward...well, everything. Which would be his own business except that Bel’s own career had somehow fallen under James’ everything heading. And there was only one way to get it out.

  “Bel?” Very definitely a question this time, heavily laced with want. His hand was still warm and heavy on her breast, his arousal stark and unmistakable against her belly. “Is this okay?”

  She peeped through her lashes at him, forced her lips to curve into a knowing smile. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not you’re planning to give me what I want.”

  “Which is?” His smile was powerfully carnal and had lust rippling through her belly.

  For the second time that day, the animal inside her surfaced. It slid through the lust in her belly, the fear in her heart. It prowled into her head and whispered hide. And for the second time that day, Bel did. She stripped everything from her face, from her eyes, from her body. She pulled it all back into a tiny, safe kernel deep inside her and left a husk in James’ arms.

  “I want my career back,” she said tonelessly. “And I need your help.”

  His entire body tensed as if she’d struck him. Then he eased her to the floor, stepped back carefully. The desire vanished, leaving in its wake only a cool, shuttered regard. “I see. So you’ll sleep with me if I perform like a trained dog every time Kate Davis jingles her little bell?”

  She was conscious of a shameful disappointment, a vague loneliness as he stepped back, but it was distant. Separate. She was untouched and untouchable. She was safe.

  “Of course.” She lied with perfect sincerity. It wasn’t a gift she was proud of, but the ability to feel one thing and project another had often been all that lay between her and utter doom. She wouldn’t apologize for doing it well.

  “And that doesn’t make you feel cheap?”

  She absorbed the lash of his anger objectively. Considered her answer. “Not really, no. I’ve sweated blood for this job. I want it more than anything and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”

  He stared at her.

  “It wouldn’t be a hardship,” she offered. “Sleeping with you. After what just went on here, surely you know that.” At his continued silence, she forced a light shrug. “At least I don’t want your money, James. There’s got to be some comfort in that. But I do want something. And if you’d be honest, you’d admit that you do, too. Your wants just happen to be a little less complex than mine. Now do you want to deal or don’t you?”

  Say no, she thought as the moment stretched out. As he considered her, that unexpected and thoughtful light in his eye. Please God, say no.

  She reached out with a hand that she prayed wouldn’t tremble and smoothed a wrinkle in his t-shirt. A wrinkle her greedy hands had surely put there. She forced herself to linger over the touch, to make it a temptation.

  He reached up, took her hand in his. The shock of his skin against hers sent a pulse of awareness clear up to her shoulder and she closed her eyes against it. She didn’t want to feel that anymore. Didn’t want to feel anything.

  Then he gently removed her hand from his shirt and stepped away from her. “Ah, no,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

  She tipped her head. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He regarded her with still green eyes until the urge to squirm was almost unbearable. “I think I’ll turn in,” he said, hooking a thumb toward the stairs. “It’s been...quite a day.”

  She nodded, relief and gratitude a vague pang in the vicinity of her heart. She didn’t look forward to unpacking all the feelings she’d shoved down these past few minutes. “Yeah. Well. See you in the morning?”

  “Sure.”

  He ambled toward the stairs, lazy and loose, as if lust hadn’t just exploded between them like a land mine. Bel sagged against the door of the freezer, exhausted. Then he turned back.

  “Bel?”

  She jerked herself straight. “Yes?”

  “I’ll behave for Kate. You don’t need to screw me into submission.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Just so you know.”

  She couldn’t think of a thing to say. He turned and disappeared.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  James forced himself to walk into the foyer and up the stairs. It wouldn’t do to have Bel come winging out of the kitchen only to find him propped against the wall like a shell-shocked accident victim.

  But he damn sure felt like one.

  He walked down the upper hall and slipped through the door to the suite of rooms he shared with his brothers. He sank into the huge leather couch—God, was he glad he’d ponied up for the biggest one available—and closed his eyes. Drew didn’t look over. He was deep into a Wii tennis match and kicking ass, but Will dropped the sports section and lifted a brow.

  “How was reform school?”

  “Yeah, how was it?” Drew drilled a backhand down the line. “Did they exhaust you with their endless sexual demands?”

  James didn’t open his eyes. “You have no idea,” he said. And they didn’t. Hell, he didn’t even know quite what he’d been through. Bel had laid it all out for him in frosty, precise syllables, but then she’d kissed him until his eyes were rolling around in his head like loose marbles. And then she’d capped it all off with a monstrous lie. Which meant there was only one thing a self respecting guy could do.

  “Hey,” James said. “Throw me a beer, would you?”

  “Hell, no,” Drew said. “I’m—ah, shit, look what you made me do.” He glared at the screen and James knew that unless the TV actually fell off the wall his pleas for alcoholic refreshment would go unheeded.

  “You look like hell,�
�� Will said.

  “Yeah, thanks.” James frowned at the coved ceiling. “I feel like it.”

  “Oh, come on. Time was, you could spend the entire day servicing reform school girls and still go out and ogle strippers that night.”

  “Bel kissed me,” he said slowly.

  Will stared at him, his clever face for once blank with surprise. “At reform school?”

  James scowled at him. “No, Will. In the kitchen just now.”

  “Oh.” The surprise faded and consideration took its place. “Bel kissed you. Huh.”

  “Damn it, James,” Drew said, reaching for a volley. “I saw her first. I called her.”

  “What are we, ten?” James rolled his eyes. “You don’t call women.”

  “Whatever.” Drew gave James a quick once-over then smirked. “Wow. You do look like hell.” He pulverized an overhead with a grunt of effort. “Like Wile E. Coyote after he rides that rocket off the cliff.”

  James thought for a moment. “That about sums it up.”

  Will winced on his behalf. “It was that bad a kiss?”

  “No,” James said. “That good.”

  “Oh,” Will said. “Uh oh.”

  “Damn skippy,” James said.

  Drew sighed as his opponent dribbled a drop shot over the net. “Crap.” He tossed aside the controller in disgust and flopped onto the couch next to James. “So. It was good, huh?”

  “Great,” James said. “Better than.”

  “I knew it.” Drew slapped his knee, delighted. “That mouth.”

  “That mouth,” James agreed mournfully.

  “Shit,” Will said.

  “Exactly,” James said.

  Drew looked back and forth between them. “I do not understand you two. A girl James really likes just laid an epic kiss on him unprovoked. That’s a good thing.”

  “I provoked her.”

  “Irrelevant.” Drew laced his hands over his belly. “It’s still good.”

  “Usually, sure. But not this time.” Will shook his head. “Not with Bel.”

  “What’s wrong with Bel?”

  Will and James exchanged a look.

  “Bel’s...complicated,” James finally said.

  “So?”

  “So I don’t do complicated.”

  “Why not?”

  Why not, indeed? James didn’t believe for one minute that Bel was prepared to follow through on that ridiculous exchange she’d demanded. But he did believe she’d enjoyed kissing him as much as he’d enjoyed kissed her. And he’d enjoyed the ever-loving shit out of it. He could have spent all day exploring that long, elegant body of hers. And those lips—God, her lips—full and soft and curved in wicked knowledge. Her fingers, tangled in his hair, roving under his shirt and across his skin, pulling him closer. He was getting hot just thinking about it.

  So why hadn’t he called her bluff?

  “Because sex is nothing to mess with,” he said finally.

  The look Drew gave him was palpably skeptical. “That’s a new one coming from you.”

  “I’m serious,” James said. “When it comes to women, you either understand what you’re getting yourself into or you end up in a heap of trouble. And I don’t understand Bel. At all. She’s too—”

  “Smart? Pretty? Talented? Successful?”

  “I was going to say complicated.”

  “So you only sleep with the simple ones.” Drew nodded sagely. “That sounds like fun. No missed opportunities there.”

  “Hey, I’m a simple man,” James said. “I live by simple rules. I work at family and I work at soccer. Everything else—sex included—is either easy and casual, or skipped altogether. Because between my career—which as you both know is perilously close to the crapper—and my family—chock full of troublesome bastards—I’m already up to my ass. I don’t have the time or the energy for complicated, okay?”

  “Not even the kind of complicated that kisses you stupid?” Drew asked.

  “Hey, plenty of girls have kissed me stupid,” James said. “I don’t have Will’s great big brain. It’s not that hard to do.”

  “But not like this,” Drew said. “Bel’s different.”

  “She didn’t used to be.” James frowned.

  “No?” Drew leaned forward.

  “No. She used to be...I don’t know. She was just Bel, you know? All that snippy attitude coming out of that fallen-angel mouth?”

  Drew nodded in perfect understanding. “Entertainment in its finest form.”

  Will shook his head. “Will you two listen to yourselves? Fallen-angel mouth? Jesus.”

  James scowled at him but Drew kicked his ankle. “So? What’s so different now?”

  “Something...happened.”

  “The kiss?”

  “Maybe.” Images swamped him. That trim, elegant body twisting with desire against his, that cool, alabaster skin flushed and plump in his hands. That bullet-proof composure of hers reduced to a ragged gasp he could feel against his lips.

  He shook free of the memory and willed his blood to cool off a few degrees. Jesus. “Before she was just cute, you know? Fun. Handy. Now just looking at her lights my fuse. Every damn time. And I don’t particularly want to look away.”

  Drew laughed. “You are so screwed.”

  “I know,” James said. “But it gets worse.”

  “How could it possibly get worse?” Will asked.

  “I don’t want her to look away, either.”

  Drew and Will exchanged a baffled look. “What does that mean?”

  James shifted, uncomfortable. But, hell, he needed help, and these were his brothers. The Blake family credo had been designed with just such miserable situations in mind. His fight was their fight, damn it. If there was a way to shake clear of this, Will’s big brain and Drew’s sensitive heart were going to find it for him. Whether they liked it or not.

  “She disappeared on me today. Twice.”

  “She ditched you?” Will’s brows shot up. “At reform school?”

  “Not physically, no. But she was gone all the same. It happened once at the school, and once just now in the kitchen.”

  “What does that mean?” Will asked. “Not physically?”

  James shrugged and studiously avoided eye contact. “She was there. Her body was, anyway. But I swear to God, there was nobody home. It was like she’d just, I don’t know, vanished.”

  “Vanished.” Drew frowned at the blank TV screen. “Huh.”

  James lifted empty hands. How could he possibly explain it? Twice today he’d looked to Bel for a reality check, for guidance. And both times, he’d found nothing there. He’d gone looking for the essence of her, the heart, the soul, the endless, seeking drive that defined her and found nothing but her empty eyes.

  And he’d been startled to discover how much he missed her.

  “And that bothered you?” Will asked. “Because you don’t want her, how did you put it? Looking away?”

  “No, I don’t. I want her right here with me.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t consider. The words just popped out of his mouth, from the same dark slice of his unconscious that he relied on to predict which way a defender was going to zig so he could zag. “She’s—” This one didn’t come so easily. “—necessary, I guess.”

  “Necessary,” Will repeated, his tone flat.

  “Not in any unhealthy, co-dependent sort of way,” James said quickly.

  Drew laughed. “Somebody’s been watching his Dr. Phil.”

  James glared at him. “Okay, maybe necessary is the wrong word. But I like her. She takes shots at me. She makes me think. It’s like she expects my A game and if I don’t bring it, she’s not disappointed so much as disgusted. Because she thinks I’m better than that.” He frowned into the middle distance, talking more to himself than his brothers now. “And I like the way she laughs, all rich and free and earthy. Girl who loves to iron like Bel shouldn’t laugh like that. But she does, and I like how it feels when I’m the one who makes her do it.
I like the way she never lets herself cry and how she’s ruthless and hard and vulnerable all at the same time.”

  “James.” Will dipped his chin and gave him a look from under beetled brows. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  James shrugged, a little baffled himself. “Well, just now, for instance. She said she’d sleep with me if I’d butter up to Kate and get her job back.”

  “What?”

  “But it was such a lie. She had to disappear just to get through telling it. But I’m not going to press her on it. Not right now, anyway. I have bigger problems.”

  “Damn straight,” Will said.

  “You don’t have problems,” Drew said.

  James considered the condition of his career and his unexpected predicament with Bel. “I don’t?”

  “Yes,” Will said. “You do.” He glared at Drew. “He does.”

  “He doesn’t,” Drew said to Will. He turned to James. “It’s not a problem,” he said, grinning. “It’s love.”

  James stared at him while the ring of truth reverberated through his entire body. “Oh, Christ.”

  Drew laughed. “This is awesome.”

  Will smiled grimly. “Awesome. Right.”

  Bel was in the kitchen studying her latest attempt at a whole-grain braided bread wreath when the doorbell rang. She jumped as Hank Williams’ “Lovesick Blues” yodeled through the house. What on earth? She glanced at the skylight. It was fully dark, and had been for the several broody hours Bel had spent trying to bake her way out of the aftermath of that kiss. Who could possibly be ringing the bell?

  Some friend of the Blake brothers’, she imagined. Maybe they’d dialed Strippers R Us. Well, they could just get off their lazy duffs and answer it themselves. She was busy. Plus she was still pissed. At them. At James. At herself.

  Mostly herself. She could admit that now. God, she’d been so smug. She thought she’d been so ready for it this time, all the heat and skill and attention James poured into kissing. Maybe the first one had rocked her world a little, but she’d been prepared for this one. And forewarned was forearmed and all that, right?