by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue
At the moment, the only female I could pinpoint their pulling out all the blatant charm and urbane behavior around—was me.
So what did I want to do with that recognition?
I had no idea.
The truth of it thrilled me.
But really, it terrified me.
* * *
We were airborne and on our way in short order. The stress of the project’s culmination, as well as the importance of the task ahead of us this weekend, was catching up with me in the form of a tension headache. Luckily this smaller of the two Stone Global jets was as luxuriously appointed as the large one, allowing me to rest my head on a plush cushion in the sofa while we climbed to our cruising altitude.
The men were bent together over some documents at the galley table across the aisle, engrossed in a debate over whatever they were reading. Both Drake and Fletcher were passionate about everything they did, a fact I’d quickly learned over the months we’d been working together, although each man expressed his drive so differently.
Drake Newland was quiet and somewhat brooding, but if an issue came to a head, he turned into an erupting volcano. He’d simmer beneath the surface for a long period, not giving anyone any indication of his thoughts, until he finally blew—often with catastrophic results. But that also translated to his unadulterated enjoyment of life, which he grabbed with the same gusto. He loved his family with a fervor that matched my affection for my own. On a number of occasions, I’d been guilty of eavesdropping on his phone calls to his sister, brother and even his mom. It made me happy to hear people who still valued family the way I did.
Fletcher Ford was a huge contrast. He always and immediately voiced every single thought running through his head, telling you what he thought, whether good, bad, or indifferent. He laughed a lot more than Drake, but it was deceiving. He had a distinct pit of sadness in him, just under the surface. I wasn’t sure where that stemmed from, but he dipped into it on a regular basis. Fortunately, he bounced back from the darkness easily. At least most times.
“Tolly?” I recognized Drake’s deep voice, even with my eyes closed. Great. He was in on the nickname now too.
“Hmmm?” I kept my head back, not opening my eyes.
“Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?” Fletcher chimed in now.
“Why are you two playing mother hen?” I chuckled, but still didn’t open my eyes.
“You’re quiet,” Fletcher explained. “You haven’t talked to us. Or even opened your eyes.”
“What’s wrong?”
I sighed. There was no point in blurting out how I was so stressed about the cosmetics division launch being a gigantic failure, thereby dragging my career down the pipes right behind it, not to mention the hot man sandwich I was closed into this tiny tube of a plane with. No point, and no method. There simply wasn’t a tactful way to broach either subject.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just a little tense and I’m working on a headache. No worries.”
Suddenly, the sofa dipped on both sides of me. My eyes shot open and I bolted upright, all notion of relaxing gone. Drake sat to my left, Fletcher to my right. Both their chairs had been pushed out and left in a flurry. And I hadn’t heard one damn second of their movements. Well, that settled it. The bastards had to be part ninja and part cat.
Without a word of warning, Fletcher grabbed my hands between his large, warm ones. “Why are you tense? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, sheez.” My ire was gawky and fake, even to me. “I already told you—”
“It’s not the launch, is it? Talia. We have this nailed. You know that, right?”
“Fletcher, really—”
“You’ve been working too hard.” Over my head he made eye contact with Drake. “I told you she’s been pushing herself too hard. We should’ve sent her home earlier.”
Drake pushed in closer. “Turn around. Let me rub your shoulders.” Holy…wow. I could feel the heat coming off of his hard, huge body like microwaves. I literally pictured waves floating from him to me…and it was intoxicating.
The effect was intensified when mixed with the warmth of Fletcher’s hands. He still held both of mine, though he had begun to stroke from my wrists to fingertips with slow, caressing motions. “Let Drake rub you.” His voice dropped in volume…and by several octaves. “We can help you relax.”
So soft. So seductive. My heartbeat quickened. I was flustered that Fletcher might feel my excitement through my pulse, if he kept touching my wrist. But when I tried to pull back, he held me tighter.
“What are you two up to?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. We were work associates. Suddenly, this really didn’t feel like work.
“You’ve been working too hard, and it’s our fault.” Drake’s voice was quieter too. “We should’ve taken better care of you. Let us do that now.”
Ohhhh boy, these two were dangerous. My belly flip-flopped with—I didn’t even know what. I’d never felt like this in my entire life, and nothing had really happened other than one man stroking my hands while the other massaged my shoulders. It felt…good. And nice. So very nice…
Every single warning bell of self-preservation pealed through my brain.
“Listen. Your jobs aren’t to take care of me. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. It’s nothing some Motrin and a nap won’t fix.”
“Talia.”
Something about the way Drake said my name, with that particular cadence and tone, made me forget all the reasons why I should fight the notion of them taking care of me, and just let it happen. “Okay,” I relented. “So a shoulder rub would probably feel pretty good.”
“Good girl.” It was a low, satisfied growl, bringing a new flurry of tingles through strange places in my body. “Can you move your hair out of the way?” Without waiting for me to reply, he gathered my hair in his thick fingers, twisted it into a ponytail, and handed the rope over my shoulder. I held the end while he started kneading my shoulders.
Fletcher took the ponytail from me, a dazzling smile lifting his generous lips. “Now, just relax. After all, I’ve wanted to feel your hair for so long. Now I have an excuse. Relax, Tolly. Let Drake work his magic.”
Drake let out another growl. It was deeper this time…damn near a masculine sigh. “We should be ashamed of ourselves, brother.”
My head shot up. “You guys are brothers?”
Fletcher turned on the lethal version of his smile. “In the ways that matter. But no, not blood relatives. Now close your eyes and relax.” His next comment went to Drake. “Why are we ashamed of ourselves this time?”
“She has knots worse than I’ve ever felt. I’ll bet at least half this shit is because of SGC.” He dipped his head, brushing my nape with his next words. “Why doesn’t your boyfriend rub these out at night, little Tolly?”
Gone was the growl. Now his voice was a guttural hum, joining with the magic of his hands to unarm me of the natural instinct against his fishing expedition. Down I fell into his trap, like the naïve girl they were convinced I was.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. And my turtle refuses to do anything for anyone but himself. Selfish bastard.”
They both openly laughed. I rarely joked. About anything.
Fletcher continued massaging my hands, now kneading my forearms as well as my wrists and fingers. All of the daily abuse from using a computer and mouse suddenly flowed out of my muscles and nerves, turning my body into a bowl of Jell-O.
I was in heaven. They both worked quietly, tirelessly, relieving my exhausted body, moving from one side to the other, eradicating the tension that had accumulated in my muscles and tissues. In that moment, I would’ve told them any secret I knew, confessed to any crime I’d never committed, agreed to any wild hypnotic suggestion, if only they agreed to continue.
I was on the verge of falling asleep when Fletcher gently laid my hair back over my shoulders. I laid my head back on the sofa again, a smile sprea
d across my face…or at least I thought so. I would thank the men in a few minutes, after I enjoyed the glow awhile longer.
All too soon, the pressure in the plane shifted. I could feel our descent, especially as my ears popped. I would’ve loved the massage to go on for hours, especially since I’d accepted a rational excuse about why they had touched me like that. They were right; we’d all been working so hard, and it wasn’t such a big deal that they just wanted to take care of me for a bit. No harm, right? Coworkers cared for each other. That was what teams did. Made them stronger.
That’s a load of shit and you know it.
So the minute—the second—the plane landed in Vegas, this “taking care of each other” would be back on the inappropriate list. While we were in the air, no one would be the wiser.
When I finally cracked open my eyes, the men were back at the table, leaning toward each other once again. They were already so deep in conversation, they didn’t notice I’d even looked. Still feeling limp and lazy, I slid my eyes shut once more, resting while we made our way toward McCarran.
“Where do we go from here?” The quiet rasp belonged to Fletcher.
“We still follow her lead,” Drake rumbled. “She had a hard time just letting me rub her shoulders. But my God, touching her was a fucking dream come true. She’s perfect.”
“I hear you. Her hands…they’re so soft.”
“And she’s smells really good.”
Fletcher growled. “Yeah. Reminds me of mornings at that cabin we used to go to in the mountains. Clean and crisp and—damn, I don’t know. Sure as hell made my dick stand at attention. Not like it doesn’t always when she’s around.”
“No shit. Thought I’d have to hit the head before we landed. Luckily, things settled down.”
I swallowed hard and focused on breathing right. Was I really hearing this? They’d definitely flirted over the past few weeks, but this was more than I thought I’d ever hear from these two men—about me.
A memory flashed, clear and stunning, of Margaux’s claims about the way they had sex with women. They liked doing it at the same time! No. Just…no, no, no. I couldn’t do something like that—and even if I did, if my family ever found out, I’d be the disgrace of our entire bloodline. Black sheep? I’d be the black elephant. At the very least, I’d be disowned.
This one—these two—would have to be passed over.
But what if their massage was just a little appetizer of what things could be like…of what it felt like to go to bed with two men at the same time? With those two men, a girl just might die from pleasure overload. Fletcher and Drake would definitely pile on the enjoyment too. Their hands alone were skilled, magical…and likely just the tip of the iceberg when it came to their bedroom prowess.
The sofa dipped again, but I really didn’t want to face them after what I’d just overheard. I focused on not moving. After a moment, I felt the seatbelt being fitted and clicked into place around my lap. I gave up the fight and opened my eyes. Fletcher was leaning over me, his face no more than six inches from mine. Blue eyes. Proud jaw. Luscious lips. The man was intoxicatingly handsome.
“Thank you.” The whisper popped out, almost of its own volition. Well, I’d been raised to have good manners—just not to deliver them in a rasp worthy of a porn star. But what the hell. We were still on the plane, which meant all of this still didn’t count. And I was really grateful to him…for so much more than helping me relax during the flight.
Again, Mr. Sexy broke out the smile that would melt a nun. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“What are you talking about?” My voice was still sleepy, helping with the keep-things-casual angle. Hopefully.
“For letting me take care of you a little bit.”
“Well, you were right. It wasn’t hard. The massage was wonderful. And you too, Mr. Newland.”
I didn’t have to look to know Drake’s brows jumped. “Mr. Newland?”
“My headache is completely gone.” Ignoring him was probably the best strategy. “That really was the best massage I’ve ever had.”
“We’re happy to be at your service whenever you need it, beautiful.”
I went ahead and rolled my eyes. “You guys lay it on pretty thick, don’t you think?”
Suddenly, there was a powerful finger beneath my chin. Then “Mr. Newland”’s storm-filled gaze consumed my vision. Past tight lips, he stated, “We’re not ‘laying anything on’, girl. We mean every single word we say.” A pulse ticked in the center of his hard jaw. “We may be a lot of things Talia, but bullshitters isn’t on that list. I’ll thank you not to make that mistake again.”
Just as quickly, he released me. Rose to his full, imposing height. Stomped his way to the small door leading into the bathroom.
“I think I made him angry,” I mumbled.
Fletcher clasped my hand again. “He has issues with being called a liar.”
“Yikes. I guess so. I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“Well, it’s not like you know all of our buttons yet.”
“Of course not.” I slid him a sardonic side-eye. “Because we’ve only been working intensely together for how many months now?”
“I meant other kinds of buttons.” When I didn’t respond, deciding not to approach the subject mentally, let alone verbally, he went on, “Some insider baseball? A heartfelt apology goes a long way with Drake.”
I eagerly accepted that part of things, before waiting in silence for Drake to leave the bathroom. The whole time, I felt terrible. I certainly hadn’t meant to be insensitive, especially after he’d been so kind to me. I ran over different ways to apologize to him.
Finally, he reemerged.
“Drake?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I offended you. It was the last thing I meant to do. Please accept my sincere apology.”
His face softened, which made me feel worse and better in the same two seconds. “I overreacted, Tolly. I have some issues with people doubting my sincerity, as you can see.” A laugh warmed those chiseled features a little more. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Hey,” I patted the seat beside me, “let’s call it even, okay?”
“Okay.” He sat down and buckled in for the landing. Fletcher did the same on the other side, and we all watched out the windows as we dipped in over the mountains of the Las Vegas Valley. The landing strip at McCarran International appeared ahead.
“Perfect,” Drake said, as soon as we taxied to the private charters terminal. “The driver is already here. We’ve got work to do—and we need to get this little one something to eat.” He unbuckled and stood up as soon as the pilot flashed the lights to tell him he could.
“Agreed.” Fletcher was up and moving with the same palpable impatience. “Something healthy. She usually likes something light in the afternoons.”
It was my turn for exasperation. “Please stop talking about me like I’m not right here. And surprise, surprise, I can decide when and what I want to eat all on my own.” I braced both hands to my waist. “What’s gotten into the two of you? We’ve been working together for months. We left San Diego for Vegas, not Zimbabwe. A few hundred miles doesn’t put you in charge of my wellbeing. And news flash number two: I’ve been away from home before.”
Drake waited with forced patience, his expression plainly conveying the are-you-finished-yet vibe, before softly explaining, “I thought low blood sugar might be contributing to your headache.”
“I told you it was gone.”
“And it would suck if it returned.”
I squirmed, suddenly sheepish. If it was due to his obvious concern, his domineering tone or both, I couldn’t tell. “You’re right. It would.”
“We have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow. The trade show’s going to be insane. Besides, Fletch and I want to treat you to a celebration dinner afterward.”
“If you’ll allow us.” Fletcher’s interjection came with a pointe
d look at his friend. They’d clearly discussed this plan already, as well as my role in it. The knowledge brought on a thrill—and a shiver. “The hotel we’re staying at, The Nyte, has some amazing chefs at their house restaurants.”
“We’re staying at The Nyte?” I didn’t hide my astonishment. “I checked out their website when they announced the show would be there, but…well, you two really travel in style, don’t you?”
Fletcher shrugged. “It’s where the show is taking place. Doesn’t it make the most sense?”
“Sense or not, I’m going to have some explaining to do when I turn in my expense report. One night there will blow my entire month’s allotment.”
“It’s all taken care of,” Drake assured. “We reserved a suite, so I don’t want to hear another word about expenses or costs for the rest of the weekend. Clear?” He’d turned to address me while we waited for the plane to be secured, a move that trapped me tightly in the aisle between Fletcher and him. But that wasn’t what started my stammering.
“A—s-suite? As in—we’re all staying together? I-I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, you guys.”
“What’s the problem Tolly?” Fletcher’s response vibrated into my hair. “There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms, separated by a living space. The suite’s probably bigger than your whole apartment in UTC.”
Drake nodded, never taking his eyes off me. One side of his wickedly full mouth kicked up. “I’m sure we won’t get under each other’s skin too badly for one weekend.”
Before I could say anything, he pivoted back around, ducking to clear the doorway of the plane, pulling his sunglasses down from his head to shield his eyes from the desert sun. Could he look anything more like some flawless hunk from a fashion ad?
“Wait!” Only shock brought back my voice. I hurried after him, blurting as we descended the stairs to the tarmac, “How—how do you know I live in UTC?”
He laughed. “What are you talking about, sweet thing?”
“Stop calling me those kinds of nicknames.”
Fletcher was right behind me—until we reached the Cadillac Escalade, when he jumped ahead and opened the door, despite the driver waiting right next to the vehicle. He looked absolutely edible in his Wayfarers and dark gold, wind-tossed hair. How had both of them managed to get better looking since San Diego?
