by Lori Foster
Just to irritate Bruce, Bryan shrugged in nonchalance, blew on the top of his coffee, and sipped. “If I’d known you were coming, I could have pulled on jeans.” Carefully carrying the steaming mug, he headed into the bedroom to do just that.
Bruce followed. With awe in his tone, he said, “It just never occurred to me to leave the bedroom naked.” And then, more thoughtfully, “No wonder you’re so popular with the ladies. You’re rock solid with muscle.”
A laugh caught Bryan by surprise. He set the coffee aside to open a drawer and pull out boxers. “I have to stay in shape.”
“I’m in shape. You’re a brute.”
“Now don’t make me blush.”
It was such a ridiculous comment that Bruce snorted. Bryan hadn’t suffered a blush since he was a green kid, ogling his first naked female. He’d been sixteen at the time, and the female in question had been nineteen. Of course she’d thought he was nineteen, too.
That wasn’t the first example of how he differed from his brother and father, but it was certainly one of the more memorable ones.
Making himself at home, Bruce stretched out on the unmade bed, crossed his ankles and folded his arms behind his head. “I miss this bed,” he said with a groan of pleasure. “The one I’m using at the motel is lumpy and has some suspicious smells.”
“So go stay with Dad.” Shuffling through a drawer, Bryan located a snowy white T-shirt and tugged it on over his head. “No one said you need to hang around here, watching my every move.”
“Right. No reason at all.”
His tone held a wealth of insinuation, and Bryan couldn’t resist teasing him. Holding his jeans loosely in his hand, he faced his brother with a raised brow. “You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do. You’re my brother.”
Bruce’s naivete never ceased to astound him. “And that means I have unplumbed scruples?” He laughed. “You’re smarter than that.”
“I see.” Unconcerned, Bruce sighed and closed his eyes. “So you’ve done something heinous and that’s why you’re avoiding the safe house?”
Bryan froze. If wanting Shay was heinous—and considering he was supposed to be a preacher, it very well might be—then he couldn’t be more guilty. “Who says I’m avoiding it?” Bryan eyed his brother’s stretched-out form while threading a thick black leather belt through his belt loops.
Bruce was solid, but a bit leaner than Bryan. With his blond hair so long and unkempt, and his whiskers more disreputable by the day, they shared little resemblance to the unsuspecting citizens in the area. No one who saw Bruce now would realize he was the preacher. Their ruse was safe.
“You’ve avoided it enough that you haven’t noticed some of the changes.”
“Such as?”
Bruce cracked one eye open. “How the women are dressing. Their makeup. Mealtime.”
With his big feet now shoved into low boots, Bryan was fully dressed. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Bruce. He already knew about the makeup, and he supposed new clothes seemed like a natural procession to the changes Shay had instigated. But…“Mealtime?”
“It’s now a formal affair. Proper place settings, linens, etiquette, the whole nine yards. You’d think the safe house was a finishing school for privileged young ladies, rather than a haven for prostitutes.”
“No shit?” Shay was more ambitious than he’d figured. But why? By the minute, she became more interesting and more mysterious.
Bruce glared at his language, then sat up. “Ever since you dropped Leigh off at the clinic five days ago, you’ve barely visited.”
“I’ve been busy scoping out the streets.”
“And finding nothing?”
Bryan shrugged. “No more young ladies, and no sign of your attacker. Mostly I just run into Chili everywhere I go. Does that fool ever sleep?”
“He’s not around as much during the day, because believe it or not, he holds down a job. But he and his kind keep the area thriving with their drinking, whoring and gambling.” Bruce’s disgust showed through. “With fewer women working the corners, he probably spends more time drinking.”
“Since he’s around so much, I figure he ought to be good for some info now and then. I might have a little chat with him, see if he knows anything useful.”
“I don’t want to talk about Chili.” Bruce shoved up to one elbow. “Tell me what’s going on. Why haven’t you been back to the house?”
“I’ve been there.”
“Yeah, in and out like the hounds of hell were on your heels. Is Barb driving you nuts with her bossiness?”
Bryan shook his head. “Barb’s easy enough to understand.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. She’s bossy to cover up her insecurity. Even though you’ve given her a job and responsibility, she’s distrustful of it. She’s not sure it’ll last, and that scares her.”
His brother looked surprised that he’d realized so much, as if he had no sensitivities at all. And for the most part, Bryan admitted, he didn’t. But Barb was so obvious he couldn’t have missed it.
“All right, you and Barb related on a higher plane. I’m glad to hear it.”
His brother was always so dramatic. Bryan dropped down to sit on the edge of the mattress.
“So,” Bruce continued, “is it Morganna’s crude jokes that are getting to you? I admit, she’s embarrassed me plenty of times and she always has a new one to tell, worse than the one before it.”
“I think her jokes are funny.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “You would.” Then, with false concern, “So, is Patti too grabby? She’s like an octopus sometimes. It’s hard to believe she only has two hands. But I think it’s just that she—”
“She wants attention, yeah, I know. So I give it to her.” Bryan winked. “While dodging her hands.”
A slow smile turned up the corners of Bruce’s mouth. “Wow, you’ve got a handle on all of them, don’t you?”
Bryan shrugged. Not all. He didn’t understand Shay, but he wanted to.
“Maybe,” Bruce teased, looking decidedly evil for a preacher, “it’s just that Shay is too irresistible?”
Judging by his brother’s expression, there’d be no point in denying it. “Bingo.”
Bruce laughed. “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s hardly funny.” Frustrating, certainly. Maddening even. But not funny.
“Not to you, maybe.” Bruce stared off in the distance as if lost in thought. “She really is a beauty.”
Bryan shoved himself up from the bed. “Hell, if that’s all it was, it’d be no big deal. But it’s more than that.”
Bruce put on his best preacher face. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” Bryan snatched up his cup and stalked into the kitchen. The bed squeaked, and a second later, Bruce was right on his heels. Without even meaning to, Bryan heard himself say, “She’s different from any woman I’ve ever met.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance. “More open, honest.” And feeling sheepish, “Beautiful on the inside, not just the outside.”
“Ah.” Bruce took a chair. “You’re falling in love with her.”
“No! Jesus, Bruce. I barely know her.” He threw himself into the seat opposite his brother. “Don’t talk stupid.”
“Love is not stupid, but it is unexpected. Hits you broadside sometimes. You’re walking along, minding your own business, and boom, you’re on your butt, reeling.”
“Oh for the love of…”
Bruce laughed again, then leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “So obviously you’ve done something you think you shouldn’t have, right?” No answer was answer enough. “Have you slept with her?”
Bryan stared at him, feeling mean and put upon. “No. I have not slept with her.”
“I’m glad. You shouldn’t until you come to grips with how you really feel.” His head tilted. “So what have you done with he
r? Something you’re regretting?”
Bryan felt like a kid again, called on the carpet with his dad frowning down on him with so much disappointment. Only his father and brother could make him feel that way. He looked away. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
“But you feel tempted?” Bruce nodded. “I can tell you that she seems to be making great strides with the ladies. Even from a distance, I see how they react to her. No one leaves the house without Shay standing on the front stoop with a wave. She welcomes them when they return. She hugs them.” A new depth of gratitude shadowed his brother’s features. “She accepts them. To my knowledge, more so than anyone else ever has, even their families. Of course, I wouldn’t have to tell you this if you’d spend more than fifteen minutes there.”
“I go over every morning.”
“Right.” Bruce quirked his mouth. “When the women are still asleep. You creep in, take a tally of groceries, see that everything is secure, then sneak back out.”
“I do not sneak.”
“Do too.”
Exasperated, Bryan snapped, “I check in every damn night.”
“Zip in, zip out, no time for personal contact.” His smile was back. “No time for touching.”
Bryan narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I need to remind you of our little deception. I’m playing you. And you wouldn’t be touching any of them.”
“I would if I were in love.”
Bryan’s head felt ready to explode. “I am not in love, damn it.”
“Thou protesteth too much.”
“Shut up, Bruce.”
“Okay, okay.” Sensing he’d pushed enough, Bruce held up both hands. “But don’t blame a brother for being happy at the signs of resurgent emotion. After Megan, I thought you’d never really care about a woman again.”
Every speck of tolerance drained away, leaving Bryan rigid on the outside, raw on the inside. “Don’t bring her up, Bruce.”
His brother had no sense of self-preservation, not around Bryan. “Why not? You were married to the woman. You loved her. Despite the awful things that happened, she’s an important part of—”
Unwilling to discuss it, Bryan scraped back his chair and stormed out of the kitchen. But that didn’t deter Bruce. He just followed, as determined and adamant as only a brother could be.
“What happened to her wasn’t your fault.”
Bryan rounded on him in a fury. “The hell it wasn’t.”
Unmoved by the show of rage, Bruce flattened his mouth. “Save it, Bryan. That red-eyed evil look doesn’t work on me. I’m your brother.” He landed one heavy hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “I love you and I know you love me.”
Hearing those solemn, sincere words took the wind right out of Bryan. “What is it with you and love this morning?”
Bruce’s arms spread wide. “It’s a beautiful day,” he intoned in his best preacher voice. “We’ve been blessed with lots of sunshine and an incredible blue sky. It’s a good day for talking about love.”
With theatrical exaggeration, Bryan held his head. “You sound more like Dad every damn day.”
“Thank you.”
“It was not a compliment.”
Bruce grinned. “If you don’t want to hear me, then go to the house. See how the women are doing. Encourage them. Encourage Shay. Talk to her. If it makes you feel better, I give you permission to kiss her. God would like for you to kiss her, I promise. I think you both could use a little more affection.”
The way Bruce said that set off warning signals popping and zinging through Bryan’s already overwrought nervous system. His eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you know of Shay?”
“More than you, maybe. But then, I’m not blinded by emotion.”
Bryan took two steps forward until he stared his brother in the eyes. “What the hell does that mean, Bruce?”
“It means that you’re not paying attention, and that’s unlike you, especially in a circumstance where you should be noticing every little thing. That’s why you insisted I play this ridiculous game, remember? Because you’re more observant.”
“And meaner.”
“There’s that,” Bruce agreed.
“And tougher.”
“Tough as nails,” he conceded.
His brother was definitely up to something, maybe hiding a few things as well. “Has there been another threat, Bruce? Do you know something about the bastard that jumped you?”
Bruce shook his head. “Only that he’s laying low, because I haven’t seen him. But if he doesn’t do something soon, I’m ready to call it quits. I’m tired of skulking around and playing the coward.”
“You are not a coward. You’re just not a tough guy.”
Teasing, Bruce flexed his arm, making his biceps bulge. “Oh ye of little faith.”
Bryan had to laugh. His brother was about the corniest person he knew, and he had the biggest heart. Today there was no stopping him. “Okay, so you could maybe hold your own if you had to. In a one-on-one, face-to-face fight, you’d do okay. But you’re not used to criminals the way I am. They don’t fight fair.”
“I know. I got the lump on the back of my head to prove it.” As if the ache remained, Bruce rubbed his head. “Hard to fight someone who sneaks up behind you.”
“True enough. Just give me a little more time. I’ll ferret him out.”
“By dodging the safe house?” Bruce caught Bryan and dragged him to the couch to sit. “Be reasonable, Bryan. You need to be seen there, not just seen on the street. Everyone who knows me, knows my routine. That was the whole point, remember?”
“All right, quit nagging. It just so happens I was heading for the safe house this morning anyway.”
That surprised Bruce. He reared back, then asked, “You’ll stay awhile?”
“Yeah, sure,” Bryan said, as if it were no big deal, while inside he cringed. If he hung around, he’d see Shay, have to talk to her, smell her, listen to her soft voice….
Remembering that kiss and the feel of her breast and the way she moaned had his hands shaking.
Bruce took the chair across from him. “And you’ll go back tonight? Maybe hang around and have dinner with them?”
He was not a masochist. “You’re pushing.”
“Actually, I’m manipulating. But hanging around is what I’d do, so that’s what you have to do, too.”
Bruce looked far too satisfied by that conclusion.
“I’ll stay,” Bryan said through his teeth. “But you’ll have to be responsible for the consequences.”
“As a man of God, I spend my life dealing with consequences. Yours won’t add to my burden.”
On that bit of nonsense, Bryan shoved up from the couch and escaped the apartment, but behind him, he could hear Bruce laughing. His brother had developed a warped sense of humor.
Bryan only prayed Bruce wasn’t starting to get more like him. That would really make dealing with him impossible.
Shay jumped up from the table when she heard the front door opening. All the ladies were present and accounted for, so it had to be Bryan. He was the only one, other than the women staying at the house, who had keys.
Her heart immediately sped up and her stomach tightened. She’d missed him so much. The quick, casual encounters she’d had with him recently had been far from satisfying. Had she scared him off? Probably. She just hadn’t suspected that he’d avoid the safe house.
“Go on,” Morganna told her with a grin. “We can manage without you.”
Shay caught herself. She’d been on the verge of racing for the door like a lovesick teenager. Dashing after Bryan was totally inappropriate on many levels. She was trying, subtly, to teach the women some manners and decorum. What kind of an example would she set by leaving the table unexcused and chasing after a man who, by his absences, had made his disinterest clear?
But then he stepped into the kitchen doorway, filling up the space with his tall, muscular body and his sheer male presence. He had his hands propped on his lean, denim
-clad hips, his feet braced apart in a confrontational stance. The pose pulled his T-shirt tight, showing off impressive biceps and a hard, wide chest.
He emanated power and dominance. He was so masculine, so strong and self-assured.
His dark eyes seemed fathomless, his sun-streaked hair hanging smooth to his shoulders.
Everything around her came to a throbbing halt, leaving the air charged and her body humming with awareness. His eyes moved all over her, then settled on her mouth. Shay burned from the heat of his interest. She remembered his kiss, the way he’d touched her, as if it had happened moments ago instead of days ago.
He wanted her. He just felt compelled to fight it.
Barb slapped a hand to the table. “Now that we’ve got this fancy table set, are we gonna eat or ogle each other? I’m starving.”
Morganna laughed. “You are so bad, Barb.” Then, to Bryan, “Come on in, Preacher. We’re getting ready to dine in hoity-toity style. Patti, keep your hands to yourself. The preacher won’t eat with us if you start pawing at him.”
Patti scowled, but drew back the hand she’d extended toward Bryan’s rear.
Bryan pulled his gaze off Shay and looked around. As Shay watched him, his eyes widened in disbelief. “Barb?”
She fluffed her newly styled hair. “It’s me. Shay just gave me a new do. You like?”
Bryan cleared his throat. “Yeah. It—I mean you—look…nice.”
“Don’t choke saying it.”
“Sorry.”
She stood and thrust out her chest. “What do you think of these clothes?” Her sour expression made it clear what she thought. “Shay says it looks nice, but I feel like a nun. You can’t even see that I have boobs, can you?”
Bryan’s mouth opened twice, but nothing came out. His eyes seemed to be glued to her face, unwilling to venture down near her “boobs” to give an opinion. Shay grinned.
Barb had an overblown figure that no amount of classy clothing would hide, but with the right outfit—a loose, button-up blouse and straight blue skirt that just skimmed her knees—she looked sexy instead of sexual. Her long brown hair had new highlights and had been blow-dried into a silky curtain to fall down her back.
“Well?” Barb demanded.
