The Winston Brothers

by Lori Foster

  He pulled her up over his chest and framed her face with his hands. “Come to think of it, no. But I didn’t need to read your mind when your little moans told me everything I needed to know.”

  She swallowed hard. “Chase? Do you really like my old-fashioned dresses? I mean, there’s trunks full of them, left over from one of the spinsters, and I like wearing them and—”

  He placed a hand over her mouth. “Hell yes, I like them. They’re the type that inspire fantasies, sweetheart. At least, they do when you’re wearing them.”

  She pulled his hand away and asked, “Do you like my house? Because I don’t ever want to leave here. I know it needs some work, but—”

  Again, he covered her mouth, this time grinning. “I like your house. A lot. I think it’d be fun to do some repairs, without changing the looks of things.”

  With her words muffled against his palm, she asked boldly, “Do you like me?”

  Very slowly he shook his head. “No. I don’t like you.” Her heart nearly punched out of her chest, and it was all she could do not to wail. The disappointment seemed like a live thing inside her. Then he lowered his hand and kissed her and he whispered, “I love you. All of you.”

  “You love me?”

  “I’ve never known a woman like you, Allison. How the hell could I not fall in love with you? You casually converse with ghosts, defending them, fighting for them. Befriending them. You burn me up in bed, taking everything I have and giving it back tenfold. But you make the rest of the world think you’re such a good little girl. You even turned down Zane, and that makes you unique as hell.” He grinned, tangling his fingers in her hair. “You’re smart and independent and brave, and best of all, you love me, too.”

  With tears threatening, she whispered, “Did you read my mind to know all that?”

  He very slowly shook his head. “No. It’s right there, in your pretty blue eyes for me to see. You do love me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Yes. I have, almost from the first time I saw you.”

  “Will you continue to indulge me in the bedroom?”

  She bobbed her head. “Oh yes.”

  This time he laughed out loud. “You sounded awfully eager when you said that.”

  She pressed her forehead to his rock-hard shoulder. “I’m so glad Rose tangled up my dreams and sent them to you.”

  “I’m so glad you had the good sense to dream about me in the first place.”

  They both grinned, and then Chase rolled her beneath him. They neither one noticed, but there was one last, happy flicker of a light—and then it was gone.

  Tangled Images

  Chapter One

  Mack Winston was minding his own business, as usual. His thoughts were focused inward, mostly on career choices and disappointments, but he whistled carelessly, unwilling to let anyone witness his concern. The day was snowy and cold, getting colder by the moment, and his nose felt frozen. He was distracted enough not to care.

  But the second he entered the family-owned bar he saw them, all three of his damned older brothers and his two sexy sisters-in-law, huddled together at a single tiny table. They looked…conniving.

  They’d been working on him lately, trying to cheer him when he didn’t want them to know he needed cheering. It irritated him. He liked being known as the carefree brother, the fun brother. It suited him.

  Since it was early and the bar was not yet open, they all glanced up at him when they heard the door close. Then they did a double take. The women suddenly smiled, and their smiles were enough to make the slowest man suspicious. And despite his brothers’ ribbing, he wasn’t slow.

  Mack’s whistling dwindled. He thought about making a strategic retreat, but then Zane, only three years his senior, called out, “Ha! A lamb for the slaughter! What perfect timing you have, Mack.”

  Cole, the oldest brother and the most protective, shook his head, looking somewhat chagrined that Mack had shown himself at this precise moment. Chase, the second oldest and the quietest, glanced at Mack and snorted. Both their wives looked as if an enormous problem had just been solved. Whatever the problem, Mack knew he didn’t want to be the solution.

  Zane grinned. “I tried to save you, honestly, but I’ll be out of town.”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “You’re too damn willing, Zane. It unnerves me.”

  Chase merely snorted again. His wife, Allison, patted his arm. “You were never even considered, honey, so relax. There’s no way I want the female masses of Thomasville ogling your perfect body. You’re a married man now, and that means I’m the only one allowed to ogle.”

  Mack backed up two steps.

  Sophie, Cole’s wife, now seven months pregnant, ran over to Mack and latched on to his arm. “You understand, I couldn’t let Cole do it. Not that he would have, anyway. You know how reserved he is. But my God, it would have started a riot! Can you just imagine how the women would react to Cole?”

  Mack didn’t know what she was rambling on about, but he almost smiled anyway. Sweet Sophie harbored this absurd notion that Cole was perfect, and that every female he met wanted him in the most lascivious manner imaginable.

  Mack had to agree that in many ways, his oldest brother did border on perfection. Cole had pretty much raised him and Zane, with Chase’s adolescent help, after their parents’ deaths, and he’d done a great job of it. But Cole was so over the top in love with his wife that he no longer even noticed other women. They could riot all they wanted, and Cole wouldn’t care.

  Both Cole and Chase had only recently married, and Zane swore Mack would be next, that the Winstons had somehow been either cursed or blessed, the two remaining bachelors still uncertain which it was. Oh, their brothers felt blessed, and the sisters-in-law were wonderful. It was just that Zane didn’t ever want to marry, and Mack didn’t want to marry anytime soon.

  He’d been very cautious around women ever since Chase had unexpectedly succumbed, proving the virus to be very real. Of course, Mack had been shunning the dating scene for other reasons as well. While he was in college, his studies had taken precedence over everything else. Well, everything except one very sexy, very enticing woman—who hadn’t wanted a damn thing to do with him. There were still times when he dreamed of her, and someday he hoped to meet a woman like her, one that could turn him on with just a look. But until then…

  Sophie’s hand tightened on his arm, and Mack tried to step away. He didn’t get very far. Though she looked small and delicate, Sophie had a grip like a junkyard dog hanging on to a prized bone.

  Zane sauntered over, his eyes glinting with humor. “I still think I’d have been the best choice. But you know I’m going out of town for that convention, so that leaves you, little brother.”

  Mack swallowed, eyeing each relative in turn. “What exactly does that leave me to do?”

  Sophie squeezed a little closer, and her tone became cajoling. “Why, just a little modeling.”

  His brows shot up. “Modeling?”

  “Yes.”

  Chase snorted again.

  “All right.” Mack decided enough was enough. “Sophie, turn me loose, I promise not to bolt. Zane, I’m going to flatten you if you don’t stop grinning. And no, Chase, there’s no need to snort again. I already gather this isn’t something I’m going to enjoy.”

  “Nonsense!” Allison, his other meddling sister-in-law, whom he adored to distraction, leapt to her feet to join Sophie. Mack felt sandwiched between their combined feminine resolve. He assessed their wide-eyed, innocent stares warily.

  With a sigh Cole came to his feet too. “Sophie has some harebrained idea of offering a new line of male lingerie at her boutique.”

  Male lingerie! Mack stiffened and again tried to back up. The sisters-in-law weren’t allowing it.

  “It’s not lingerie, Cole,” Sophie insisted in a huff. Since her pregnancy had gotten under way, she huffed more often. “It’s loungewear. And it’s very popular.”

  Mack’s head throbbed the tiniest bit. “Lou
ngewear?”

  “Yes, you know, like silk boxers and robes and—”

  Zane leaned forward. “And thongs and lace-up leopard-print briefs and leather skivvies and—”

  Allison slapped her hand over Zane’s mouth. “Women appreciate those nice things on a man.”

  Zane, Mack, and Cole all stared at Chase, who immediately started to bluster, while frowning at his wife. “Oh, no. You can forget those thoughts right now! That’s just an assumption on Allison’s part. You wouldn’t catch me dead in any of that goofy stuff.”

  Disappointed, they all returned their attention to Mack. He looked around at their expressions, which varied from amused to resigned to hopeful, and he shook his head. “Hell, no.”

  Sophie glared at him. “You don’t even know what it is that I want yet.”

  “Honey, I don’t need to know. If it involves this…this…male loungewear, I want no part of it.”

  Her eyes narrowed in a calculating way. “All I need you to do—”

  “No.”

  “—is to let the photographer get a few pictures of you in the clothing to advertise it in a new catalogue.”

  “No!”

  “Because there’s no way I can afford to hire a real model, who would probably have to come all the way from New York or Chicago, and I have the feeling you’d look better anyway.”

  Well, that was a nice compliment, but…he shook his head. “No.”

  Zane pried Allison’s hand away. “Not as good as I’d look, but as I said—”

  Three voices yelled in unison, “Shut up, Zane!”

  Zane only chuckled.

  Sophie continued, her voice coercing, her eyes wide. “This is a great opportunity for me, Mack. The photographer is a friend of mine, willing to do this cheap for the exposure it’ll bring the studio. I’m getting a special deal here. It’ll only take two or three days—”

  “No.”

  “—so it won’t really interfere with your schedule or anything—”

  “Damn it, Sophie—”

  “—and Valentine’s Day would be the perfect time to advertise the new line.”

  Mack groaned.

  “So it’s all set, then. And Mack, I really appreciate it.” She gave him a sideways, very calculating glance. “You can consider this payback for all those study sessions with me for your college science classes.”

  He felt doomed. He could only mumble, “Unfair, Sophie.”

  She batted her pretty blue eyes at him and said, “You’d never have passed anatomy without me.”

  Cole’s mouth fell open. “All those late nights she helped you study, it was for anatomy?”

  Mack rolled his eyes. “Just female reproduction. That stuff’s confusing.”

  Zane roared with laughter, and this time Chase and Allison joined him. Cole, still huffing, pulled his wife possessively to his side while Mack groped for a chair and fell into it.

  “Well, hell.” He looked to the heavens, but all he saw was the ceiling of the bar. He supposed there was no help for it at all.

  He tilted his head toward Zane. “You’d actually have done this if you weren’t going out of town?”

  “Are you kidding? The women will love it. You’ll have so many new dates, you won’t have time to be in a funk.”

  “I’m not in a funk.”

  Chase snorted.

  Rubbing his brow, Mack tried to ignore them all. He knew Zane probably would like to flaunt himself a little. He was a born exhibitionist and wallowed in the female attention heaped upon him. But Mack wasn’t that way—at least, not as much so as Zane. There’d been only that one woman he’d ever wanted to wallow with.

  He glared at Sophie and said, “I’m not wearing anything stupid.”

  She glared right back. “I wouldn’t carry anything stupid at my boutique!” Then she softened. “But don’t worry. There’ll be a selection available, and you and the photographer can decide together which things to photograph. Other than a few definites that have to be in the catalogue, you can pick and choose.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Sophie handed him a card that read “Wells Photography,” and listed a downtown address. She gave him a huge hug and kissed his cheek. “Be there Friday at two o’clock, okay?”

  At least that gave him two days to get used to the idea. Or rather, two days to dread it.

  Mack parked in the small lot to the side of Wells Photography, as directed by a hanging wooden sign. He’d checked his mail before leaving his apartment, but still no word from the board of education. He’d been a good teacher, damn it. The best. The kids had loved him, the parents respected him. His class had scored much higher than past averages, much higher than expected.

  But the principal still hadn’t recommended him.

  His hands fisted in his coat pockets as he walked across the broken-concrete lot. He stared at his feet, ignoring the blustering wind, the beginning of wet, icy snow as it pelted the back of his neck. The sky was a dark gray, matching his mood. He’d never felt so helpless in his life, and he hated it. The principal’s judgment of him, as well as her decision not to recommend, were beyond unfair, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Finally, after Mack had crossed the nearly empty lot to the front of the building, he focused his thoughts enough to realize that the studio wasn’t a studio at all but rather an older home. The redbrick two-story house was stately in a sort of worn-out way. It was hemmed in by the empty lot to the right and another older home advertising apartments for rent on the left.

  Squinting against the freezing January wind, Mack bounded up the salted concrete steps to the front door and knocked briskly.

  A thin, freckle-faced girl of about thirteen answered. She grinned, flashing a shiny set of braces. Mack grinned back. “Hello.”

  “Hi.”

  “Ah…I’m looking for the photographer?”

  She nodded. “Are you here for the two o’clock shoot?”

  “Yep. I’m Mack Winston.”

  The girl opened the door and let him in. “You can follow me. My mom is just finishing up another session, so you won’t need to wait long. We had two cancellations because of the storm. Our receptionist is sick, so I’m sorta filling in.”

  She closed the door behind Mack, then started down a short hardwood-floored hall. To the right was an open set of curtained glass doors, revealing an office of sorts inside, though the outside wall was mostly used up by an enormous fireplace. To the left of the hall was a flight of stairs leading to a closed door that separated the upper story. Mack continued to look around. “You say your mother is the photographer?”

  The girl tucked long brown hair behind her ear and nodded, while stealing quick peeks at Mack. “Yeah. She’s real good.”

  They entered a room that had a utilitarian beige couch and a single chair in it, a table full of magazines, and a coffee machine. To Mack, it looked to be converted from a kitchen, judging by the placement of the window and a few exposed pipes.

  The walls were decorated with dozens of incredible photographs, ranging from babies to brides to entire families. There were outdoor scenes with animals in them, indoor scenes around a Christmas tree. Babies in booties, men in suits, children in their Sunday best.

  All of the photographs were beautiful, proof of very real talent.

  Another set of glass double doors, these closed with opaque curtains, apparently separated the studio. Mack shrugged off his coat, hung it on the coat tree, and then chose the chair in the far corner.

  The girl smiled shyly at him. “You want some coffee or something?”

  “No, thanks.” He returned her smile. “What did you do? Skip school today?”

  “We had a half day for teacher in-service.”

  “Ah. Lucky for your mom, huh? I bet she really appreciates your help with the receptionist missing.” He grinned his most engaging grin. The girl blushed and again tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Before she could say anything, the phone rang, a
nd she dashed off to answer it. Mack chuckled. He just adored kids, which was one reason why he was determined to get a teaching position.

  Of course, at the moment, his teaching possibilities looked grim. That thought had him scowling again, ready to sink into despair. God, he hated brooding—it didn’t suit him at all.

  Fortunately the photographer chose that moment to open the door. Mack heard two sets of feminine voices and his senses prickled. Something about one of those voices was familiar, sending a wave of heat up his spine. There’d been only one woman who had ever affected him that way, but it couldn’t possibly be her. Still, he leaned forward to peer around the coffee machine.

  A young woman holding a squirming baby faced him, while the photographer had her back to Mack, displaying a very long, very thick braid hanging all the way down to her bottom. Oh, damn, he knew that braid! He leaned a little more, feeling ridiculously anxious, holding his breath. Then she turned slightly, giving him her profile, and Mack felt like a mule had kicked him in the ribs.

  Jessica Wells.

  His heart slowed, then picked up speed. It was a reaction very familiar to him. Just like the last time he’d seen her, he felt his muscles tremble, his stomach knot, his body go simultaneously hard and hot.

  He hadn’t seen her since college, almost two years ago, and hadn’t suffered such an extreme reaction to a woman since then. But Jessica had always been unaware of the turmoil she caused him regardless of how he’d tried his best to be friendly with her, to get her attention. She was maybe six, eight years older than he was, quiet and very serious. Even a little withdrawn. He’d always thought her adorable with her standoffish ways and reserved manner.

  She had beautiful chocolate-brown eyes that made him think of soft, warm things—like the way a woman looked after making love. She had a narrow nose slightly tilted up on the end, high cheekbones, and a small, rounded chin.

  She also had the most impressive breasts he’d ever laid eyes on. They made his mouth go dry and his palms sweat. Not that he was hung up on physical attributes…except that he’d dreamed about her at night, about getting her out of her conservative sweaters and her no doubt sturdy brassiere so he could see her naked, touch her lush flesh and taste her nipples…