by Leslie Kelly
Obviously Leo had taken the day off, too. One of these days, Troy really did have to find out what the man did to earn his six-figure salary. Other than hover over Max, pushing pills in his hand and taking him to doctor’s appointments.
As he exited the building and flicked the alarm button on his key chain, he glanced appraisingly at his car. The memory of Venus’s words from this morning made him chuckle. “Sorry she doesn’t like you, sweetheart.”
A woman who flat-out told him she didn’t like his car—that was a first. And almost as bad, in Troy’s opinion, as telling a man he wasn’t good in bed, or had a little…He shuddered.
Troy had certainly never been told either of those things. Uh-uh. Never in a million years. But the car comment had definitely stung, almost as much as it had amused him. Particularly because of the adorable way she’d looked wrapped up in the silky sheets, all rumpled and warm from her bed when she’d said it. And the way she’d looked flat on her face on the floor, bare-ass naked when he’d entered her room.
“That was pretty good too,” he said with a nod as he unlocked the car.
He wondered where Max and Venus had spent their day. Last night, before the unfortunate choking incident, Max had offered to take Venus to one of the premier shopping complexes nearby. The center was filled with exclusive stores including Sak’s and Cartier, that should, ideally, make any con woman’s eyes light up with anticipation.
She’d instead told Max she preferred to visit Margaret Mitchell’s house.
He wouldn’t have pegged Venus for a big southern romance nut. Then again, maybe she saw something of herself in Scarlett O’Hara. He had the feeling Venus fancied herself a man-eater, a hard, ruthless seductress. Maybe some other people pictured her that way, too.
“Wrong.” Troy shook his head ruefully as he started the car and drove out of the parking lot.
As far as he was concerned, Venus was as ruthless as a kitten. Sure, she exuded confidence and brazen sex appeal. Yeah, she had guts. Certainly she’d done something most women wouldn’t have had the nerve to do…dropping that towel yesterday.
He took a moment to appreciate the mental picture.
Still, underneath it all was a sensitive woman who, he believed, wouldn’t hurt anybody intentionally. How he could be so sure, he couldn’t say. Intuition? Years of experience with so many women he’d come to understand the sex? Maybe even a little wishful thinking? All of the above?
He didn’t know for sure, but he truly believed it.
Troy wasn’t fool enough to completely rule out the possibility of Venus being involved in some kind of scheme with Leo Gallagher. But he would bet that if it came down to actually hurting somebody, she would never go through with it.
He just hoped she didn’t prove him wrong.
When he arrived back at the house, he immediately looked around for Max and Venus. Following the sound of laughter into the entertainment room, as Max called it, he stopped in the doorway to look at them.
Venus and Max were sitting opposite one another over a huge coffee table, trying to bounce coins into a mug of beer. Max’s face was tight with concentration as he focused on flipping his wrist just so to get the quarter to land in the mug. “Ah-ha!” the man cried when he was successful.
“See?” Venus said with a triumphant grin. “It’s all in the angle of your fingers.”
“Drink,” Max ordered.
Shaking his head ruefully, Troy entered the room. “I haven’t played quarters since my frat house days.”
Venus glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, do they play such low drinking games at the University for the Uptight and Pretentious?”
Max snickered.
“Nice to see you too,” Troy replied. “Have a good time on your shopping trip?” He cast a long, studying glance over her tight jeans and tank top. “I see you didn’t shop for clothes.”
She stood and struck a provocative pose, fisting her hand and putting it on one jean-clad hip. The jeans fit her like a second skin, drawing attention to her long, slim legs and the curve of her rear. The cotton top was also wickedly tight and was low cut enough for him to see the tops of her lush breasts and a tempting hint of cleavage. “You don’t like my clothes, Troy? Aww, that hurts my feelings.”
As she intended, her exaggerated pout looked sultry and inviting, reminding him of the way they’d kissed. He swallowed, trying not to let her see how she so easily affected him. The look of triumph in her eyes told him he’d failed. This was definitely not a woman to whom he wanted to give the upper hand. She was quite used to walking all over men—but, Troy wasn’t like most other men. He’d done some walking of his own.
“We didn’t go shopping,” Max explained, the twinkle in his eye negating his grudging tone. “Venus dragged me to that writer’s house, then we went to have lunch at a terribly touristy restaurant called Melissa’s Tap Room.”
“‘That writer,”’ Venus muttered in disgust. “And it was Melanie’s Tea Room.” She turned to Troy. “Can you believe this man has lived in Atlanta for seventy years and has never seen or read Gone With The Wind?”
“Sacrilege,” Troy mumbled as he loosened his tie.
Venus nodded, not acknowledging his sarcasm. “I mean, imagine, living in Atlanta where it all took place—while you were living here—and not seeing it!”
Max tilted his head and raised a brow, obviously trying to look insulted. “I know you told me this morning I’m…how did you put it? Older than dirt? But I must say I’m offended you think I’m old enough to have been around for the war between the states.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean the actual war. I meant the movie release, the big premiere, all that stuff.”
“Older than dirt?” Troy asked, again amazed at the easy camaraderie between the pair.
Venus grimaced. “The man has Liberace CDs in his car.”
“Oh, that certainly explains it,” Troy said. “Two strikes, Max. Liberace and a Gone With The Wind virgin.”
“But not for long,” Venus replied with a Cheshire cat smile as she sat back down.
Almost afraid to ask, Troy glanced at Max. The older man let out an exaggerated sigh. “We stopped and bought a copy.”
“We waited to order the pizza until you got here.”
“Pizza?” Troy asked, hearing her merriment.
Venus grinned. “If Max is going to drag me into his club tomorrow night and a fancy party Friday, he can do something I want to do tonight.”
Pizza, beer and a video. Sounded good to Troy, especially after his long day, though he would never have chosen the mother of all chick flicks. “All right, do I have time to change?”
She nodded. “Grab a box of tissues before you come back.” She told Max, “This is a real tearjerker, with a killer ending.”
“If you ruin the ending of the movie, young lady, you can forget this idea right now,” Max replied tartly. “That’s as bad as people who read the end of a book first.”
Venus looked at her own hands. “Uh, guilty.”
Max’s eyes widened in horror. “No.”
“Well, what’s the point of reading a whole book if it’s going to have a sucky ending?”
“There’s such a thing as the journey,” Max said. “Oh, dear, I see I’m going to have to introduce you to some books worth reading simply for the sake of the words.”
Venus snorted. “Great words can’t make me like a book.” She glanced at Troy through lowered lashes. “Though if it’s got some great sex or some bloody bodies or, better still, a bit of both, I might be interested.”
Max shook his head in amusement. Tapping his finger on his cheek, he said, “I think I might have a few that would meet your requirements. And they might even have an ending you’d approve of.” He gestured toward the DVD case. “Though the ending to this is so awful, I can’t imagine why you insist we see it.”
Troy hid a smile, liking the liveliness in Max’s eye and his obvious good mood. The man looked ten years
younger than he had last week. He had to give Venus credit for that—she could breathe life into any house.
“Ignore her, Max,” he said as he turned to leave the room. “It’s got a great ending.”
“What do you mean, great?” Venus asked, looking highly annoyed. “It’s tragic.”
Max covered his ears and glared. “I’m not listening.”
Troy grinned. “As far as I’m concerned,” he said in a loud whisper, “it’s a happily ever after. Any man who stayed with her would be completely insane within a month.” Her eyes narrowed. Before she could reply, Troy said, “Back in a minute…Scarlett.”
7
VENUS GLANCED at the clock yet again, noting it was nearly 1:00 a.m. Though she’d gone to bed over an hour before, she still felt wide-awake. She told herself her insomnia was a product of the pizza. She knew better, however.
Men, she decided, were usually the best reason to remain awake late into the night. But the man ruining her sleep this night wasn’t in her bed, keeping her up with long, slow, erotic lovemaking that would curl her toes and leave her limp and sated. He was on the other side of the wall, probably sleeping peacefully, as comfortable and relaxed as a baby. Probably naked and warm, rumpled and ready.
She groaned.
Venus had wanted him terribly when they first met, and even more when she saw him naked—whoa, mama, had she wanted him when he was naked! But somehow it was the Troy she’d sat next to on the sofa tonight, drinking beer, licking cheesy pizza off his fingers, teasing her mercilessly about the schmaltzy sentimentality of the movie they were watching, who really had her too confused to sleep.
Damn. She enjoyed being with the man. How bizarre was that? Lust was one thing—she knew lust, she trusted lust. It was reliable and instinctive, easily assuaged. Or usually easily assuaged—just not in this case.
But liking? A man she enjoyed being around for the sheer pleasure of seeing the sparkle in his eyes when she baited him? For the sheer joy of exchanging sassy barbs? She’d only ever liked one other man with whom she’d been involved. Raul, and that hadn’t ended well. She’d pulled back as soon as she started liking him too much, knowing they had no future and she could get hurt if they continued.
There was even less of a chance of anything lasting happening between her and Troy Langtree. Sure, he wanted her. Sure, she amused him. But as for anything long-term? Impossible. He was not only in a different social stratosphere, he’d also readily admitted to being a dog when it came to women. Temporarily reformed or not, she didn’t imagine he was ever going to be the type to settle down to just one.
Besides, with Troy, having to pull back wasn’t even an issue, since they weren’t really involved. Well, unless she counted their few kisses, and the shattering orgasm he’d given her. “Don’t start thinking about that,” she told herself.
She glared at the clock, trying to push the picture of Troy Langtree out of her mind, desperate to think of something else.
Unfortunately, her thoughts easily segued to someone equally troubling to her peace of mind. Max—another man she’d never expected to like. But she did. She really liked the old guy, with his keen sense of humor—almost as wicked as her own. During the hours they’d spent together today, he’d teased her, instructed her, even joined her in pure cattiness on occasion, particularly when it came to anyone he deemed “too big for their britches.”
Max really had a dislike for condescending people. Probably explained why Leo made his teeth hurt. It was funny that he liked Troy so much. Troy, however, wasn’t so much arrogant as he was confident. And in spite of his occasional haughtiness, he’d never been condescending toward her—even when he’d practically accused her of being a con artist.
He hadn’t mentioned it once today, and she wondered if he’d let go of his suspicions. She hoped so. For some reason she really didn’t want the man to think badly of her. And she hoped he never found out she’d taken money from Leo to come on this trip, no matter how good her reasons had been.
Now, having spent some time with Max, she had to wonder if those reasons had been good enough. “Hell, yes, they were good enough,” she muttered, tamping down any uncertainty and aiming for practicality instead. Max would be the first one to say keeping a roof over her own head and helping her foster family out were good enough reasons to take money from a weasel.
She didn’t, however, know that Troy would agree. Max was a much more pragmatic man than Troy. Perhaps because he’d suffered a lot of loss in his life. That made as much sense as anything, mainly because Venus felt pretty much the same way about herself.
In any case, it hadn’t made him bitter, and it hadn’t made him self-pitying. Instead it had made him understanding. He’d also proven to be very interested in the people around him.
Today, he’d asked her about her childhood, seeming to enjoy hearing about what an unholy terror she’d been as a kid. He’d demanded to know her favorite foods, and whether she liked roller coasters. He’d asked her about her first date…and said he was going to put a hit out on Tony Cabrini for never calling her again after relieving her of her virginity in the laundry room.
She still couldn’t believe she’d told that story to a seventy-something-year-old man. Max, she had to admit, was incredibly easy to talk to, and completely nonjudgmental.
Most importantly, he seemed to respect her unspoken desire to avoid talking about his late son. It was as if Max knew Venus was poised to bail, ready to head back to Baltimore if things got too hairy. Confronting her about the man who could be her father might be enough to put her feet in motion.
Max had somehow understood without being told. He’d been content to spend the day with her, getting to know her, enjoying her company like any two people who’d just met and believed they might have a few things in common worth exploring. Aside from that little bit of reminiscing the first evening, he hadn’t brought up his son at all.
She looked at the clock again. A whopping three minutes since the last time she’d checked. Finally realizing there was no way she was going to be able to fall asleep, she decided to go for the swim she hadn’t taken that morning. Sure it was late—one in the morning—but Max had said the pool was heated. And he’d said she was welcome to use it at any time.
Not turning on a light in her room, she pulled her swimsuit out of her suitcase and quickly donned it. She grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and silently made her way through the house, pausing only briefly outside Troy’s bedroom door.
Silence. He was probably happily dreaming about boatloads of money and lots of willing women. She wondered what he’d think if one slipped into his room right now.
Enough.
She made her way through the big house, finding her way through the downstairs with the low lighting left on by the housekeeper, who’d watched the last hour of the movie with them.
She grinned when she remembered it. Max and Troy had applauded Rhett, while Venus and Mrs. Harris had haughtily informed them that he would be back.
“He should have married the other one,” Max had said. “The nice one.”
Venus had been unable to prevent a snort. “Oh, please. That’s such a crock. Just like those old-fashioned romance novels.”
Troy had smiled. “I’m sorry to admit I haven’t read one lately. Do enlighten us.”
“There was always a wicked hero reformed by the love of a sweet, virginal ingenue who wouldn’t say crap if she stepped in it.”
Max had grabbed his handkerchief to cover his laughter. Troy had simply waited.
“And he always chose the sweet nitwit over the evil wicked other woman who was horrible enough to admit she liked sex and had a brain in her head.”
Troy had given her a knowing look. “You’re saying opposites might attract, but they don’t stay together?”
“Exactly.”
“So two wicked people are a better match?” Max had interjected, looking back and forth between Venus and Troy as if aware of the undercurrents flowing between
them.
“Absolutely.” Venus had practically dared Troy to deny it.
“Even if she—how did I hear Troy put it when I didn’t cover my ears enough?—drives him completely insane within a month?”
This time Troy had answered, his eyes never leaving Venus’s, holding her stare until she’d felt a little dizzy. “But, Max, I didn’t mean it. They were perfect together. Because insanity is better than boredom any day.”
Now, slipping quietly through the sun room to the French doors, Venus though about Troy’s comment. She agreed. Insanity was way better than boredom. But she suspected Troy had simply been flirting with her and hadn’t really meant what he’d said.
As she walked out the back door, her eyes quickly adjusted to the near darkness. Small garden lanterns illuminated the shrub-lined patio surrounding the huge free-form-shaped pool. The bright moon added its glow to light her way.
Still, it was almost dark enough that she didn’t see the man in the water until she’d reached the steps.
She heard the splash first. Freezing where she stood, Venus scanned the pool and was finally able to make out the body slicing through the water. Strong arms and shoulders lifted in a steady rhythm. Thickly muscled legs kicked efficiently as the swimmer steadily traversed the length of the pool and back. Even before she recognized the wet, dark hair and the unmistakable body, she knew who it was. Troy.
A quick burst of doubt urged her to go back inside, knowing this might well be a very dangerous situation. Every time the two of them were together, sparks flew. Even clothed, in public, in daylight, they couldn’t resist any opportunity to dance around the attraction so thick between them it could be spread on toast.
Now, late at night, half clothed, completely alone…it would be pure temptation. Definite danger.
