No Laughing Matter: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy

by Hunter, Talia

  “Thanks for fixing the porch,” she said. “And for cleaning away the dinosaur poop.”

  Xul came out from behind her and sniffed my legs, his tail wagging. Then he sat down to watch the workmen unpack their tools.

  “I’ll start with the front door lock, then come in and take a look at your windows. Okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll go and change, then give you a hand.”

  I started to bend toward the toolbox I’d borrowed from Asher, then forgot what I was doing. My entire world narrowed to the sway of her hips in her tight, sexy skirt as Carlotta walked inside. Even after she’d disappeared around the bend at the end of the hallway, it took me a moment to remember where I was and what I’d come here to do. Then I had to clear my dry throat and bend again to get the tools I needed.

  Trixie’s rusty old front door lock came apart in my hands, thanks to the corrosive salt air that blew from the ocean. It was an easy job to replace it, and by the time Carlotta emerged, I was already starting work on the window latches in the living room.

  She’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and her feet were bare. She’d pulled her hair back into a short ponytail. Though I missed the skirt, she looked beautiful with her hair like that. And when she moved close to watch what I was doing, she smelled delicious, like crisp green apples.

  “How are you feeling today?” I asked her.

  “Still a little shocked about my mom and your dad, but coming to terms with it.”

  I nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “I’m sorry you found out about it like that.”

  “I’m just glad I know.” She leaned against the wall next to the window I was working on, then tilted her head back. “Is that why you didn’t talk to me when you came back from Mexico?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you blamed me?”

  “What? No!” I put down my screwdriver so I could give her my full attention. “I didn’t blame you.” I abandoned my efforts not to touch her, and ran my hand down her arm. “When I got back from Mexico, I needed to put that hellish experience behind me. My mother had gone on and on about what your mother had done, and I couldn’t…” I broke off, hating that it was so hard to put my feelings into words. “I should have spoken to you. I thought you knew about the affair, so you’d understand why I was keeping my distance.”

  “You didn’t even want to look at me.”

  I put my other hand on her waist, tugging her to me. Bending my head, I touched my forehead against hers. This close, her eyes looked large and soft enough to fall into. They were usually a light brown, but they’d darkened. The upward tilt of her lips had vanished, and all I could think about was kissing the smile back onto them.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Her hands moved around the back of my neck, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin above the collar of my T-shirt. She let out a small sigh. “It sucks that I was the only person who didn’t know. I wish Mom had been honest with me. You’d think I’d be used to her fantasies by now, but I hate them more than ever. Being lied to is the worst.”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed, thinking about what I was keeping from her. “Listen, you know I work in Houston? I have to leave in a few days and go back to work.”

  “A few days?” She blinked, drawing back. “I didn’t know you were going back so soon.”

  “And my work’s so busy, it makes any kind of relationship impossible.” I shook my head, reluctantly dropping my hands. “I know that sounds like a lame excuse, but my job’s important to me. I’ve sacrificed a lot to get where I am. When I started out, I had to make a choice. I could either be good at my job, or have a personal life. I chose my work, and there’s no way to go back on that decision.”

  “A body guard can’t have a personal life?” She didn’t look convinced. “Are you like a priest who’s sworn a vow of celibacy?”

  “You could say I’m married to my job. I’m not celibate, but a relationship wouldn’t work.”

  Her brow furrowed. “So what you’re saying is that after you leave, I won’t see you again?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So you’re what? Just looking to mess around for a few days? With no possibility that it could turn into something serious?”

  I grimaced, taking a step back. “You’re right, it’s not fair on you.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s perfect.”

  I froze. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want to get hooked on you, or start trusting you, or be hurt, or disappointed. You’re exactly wrong for me.”

  I frowned at her bright eyes and upturned lips. “Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing?”

  “Because now we’re clear. I can use you for your excellent kissing skills and killer bod, without worrying about developing feelings.” She stepped close to me, closing the gap to slide her hands back around my neck.

  I opened my mouth to give voice to the second thoughts that had flared. Something about the fact that I wasn’t sure how detached I could be, or how difficult it might be to walk away when I had to leave. But with one fingernail she started tracing small circles on the back of my neck, and the sensation was exquisite. Goosebumps prickled down my spine and across my scalp. Any reservations I had were lost.

  Leaning into me, pushing her body against mine, Carlotta wet her lower lip with her tongue. I made a small sound, a tiny intake of breath, and her body reacted, shuddering as though she was as on edge as I was.

  Her eyelids lowered. She was on tiptoe, her face tilted up to mine.

  Maybe I was making a mistake and my feelings for her were already too strong for this to be a good idea. But I could barely keep that thought in my head. She was offering her lips and I needed to kiss her. The idea of carrying her into the bedroom and stripping off her clothes marched into my brain, destroying all other thoughts, like a militarized drone designed to wipe out everything it encountered.

  My lungs were full of her scent and I breathed her in, my gaze on her gorgeous lips, resisting temptation for just a second longer to savor the moment before kissing her.

  Then she spoke.

  “Do you think it’s weird that your father and my mother had sex?”

  My lips hovered over hers. “What?”

  “Does it make what we’re doing seem strange?”

  “Why would it?” I pushed my hand under the edge of her T-shirt. The warm, soft skin of her back felt like heaven. We didn’t need to stop. I could shut her words from my mind and—

  “Because your father ejaculated into my mother.”

  My hand halted. The hot lust that had marched unopposed into my brain and conquered every other thought, suddenly fled for the hills.

  I winced, drawing back. “That was an explicit mental picture I could have done without.”

  “If they’d gotten married, you would have been my stepbrother.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “If you were, would this be incest?”

  “No.” There was steel in my tone. “We’re not related in any way. My feelings toward you are the opposite of brotherly, and this is definitely not incest.”

  She dragged in a relieved breath. “Okay. Good. That was just something I needed to get out of my head.”

  “Something you had to put into my head?”

  “Whoops. Sorry.” She gave me a sheepish smile. “Forget I said anything.”

  Though her finger started circling on my neck again, I eased free and took a step back. If only there were such a thing as mental bleach, I could use a bucket.

  She bit her lip. “Was that a mood killer?”

  “Little bit.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “You have the number of a therapist? There’s a picture in my head I’ll need professional help to get rid of.”

  Her mouth twitched, a hint of the smile I’d been hoping to see slowly appearing. “The inside of my mind can be a twisted place sometimes. I didn’t mean to dump it on you.”

  “It’s okay. Though I’ll ne
ver be able to look your mother or my father in the face again.”

  Leaning back against the wall, she sighed. “I know not to believe anything Mom says, but not telling me about what happened with your dad feels like a bigger lie than most of her others.”

  The reminder that I was lying to her pricked my conscience. Though Carlotta seemed okay with the idea of a short-term fling, I felt uncomfortable not being able to tell her the truth about my work when honesty was such a touchy subject for her.

  Picking up a screwdriver, I started screwing in the window latch. Probably a good idea to slam the brakes on anyway, so I could finish the job I’d come to do.

  “My father was never home. I barely knew him, and even now we only talk at Christmas.” Carlotta drew a circle on the floor with one bare toe, studying it as she spoke. “The last few years, I’ve barely spoken to Mom any more often. We’ve never been close.” Her gaze flicked back up and she frowned. “Come to think of it, Mom doesn’t seem to have any friends. I haven’t been here that long, but I don’t think she’s had a single phone call.”

  “You’re worried about her?”

  “She must be lonely. When she gets home from school, all she does is dream up ways to annoy your father.”

  “I worry about Dad, too. He has heart problems and refuses to improve his diet. He’s filled our old bedrooms with too much junk for anyone to stay with him, and he won’t let us hire a nurse to take care of him. Every time I drop in, I worry I’m going to find him unconscious on the floor.”

  She sighed. “It’s a shame they were both married to other people when they met. They could be keeping each other company, instead of cooking up stupid pranks to torture each other.”

  “Maybe they’ll get back together one day.”

  She let out a snort of laughter. “Can you imagine? That would be hilarious.”

  I laughed too, mostly because she was adorable when she snorted. And watching her eyes sparkle made me ache to kiss her again.

  “I need to get these latches finished,” I said as much to myself as to her. “You need to stop distracting me so I can work.”

  She bent to grab a screwdriver out of Asher’s toolbox. “How about you drill the holes and I’ll take care of the screws. That’ll make the job go faster.”

  “You know how?”

  She shot me a withering look. “Bless your heart,” she drawled. “Delicate womenfolk are doing all kinds of manly things these days. Using a screwdriver might be an intellectual and physical challenge for y’all, but I imagine I may be equal to the task.”

  I doffed an imaginary hat. “My apologies, ma’am. I meant no disrespect.”

  “Stand back, sir. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” She started fastening the latch, while I moved on to the next one. Her fingers were nimble and she made surprisingly quick work of it.

  “You’re faster at that than I am,” I said admiringly.

  “Are you saying I’m better at screwing than you are?”

  “I’d need to do more research before I can say for sure.” Unable to resist, I gave her a suggestive look.

  She laughed. “Maybe I should give up my new job and become a full time screwer.”

  As distracting as the word ‘screwer’ was, she’d just reminded me about her job. I was about to ask her about it when she drew in a sharp breath.

  “I’ve had an idea.” She lowered the screwdriver, her eyes lighting up. “I could create a photo series about how I’ve lost my income so I take on jobs in construction. It could be an empowerment series, but with a blooper reel of mistakes to make it funny. Like I build a path and accidentally concrete my feet into it.”

  “You won’t change your mind and close down your social media accounts?”

  “Or I could nail my overalls to a wall and have to take them off to get free,” she mused, like she was thinking aloud. “Underneath, I could be wearing something funny.”

  “Your Spock panties?” I put the drill down, as the job I was doing suddenly seemed a lot less urgent than investigating her underwear.

  She blinked at my tone, which had acquired a growl. “Do you have a Vulcan fetish?”

  “Apparently, I do.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m wearing those panties right now.”

  She may as well have waved a red cape in front of a bull. I stepped closer and she turned so her back was to the wall, her eyes widening with mock innocence.

  “Show me.” Putting one hand on either side of her, I leaned in. “So I can take them off with my teeth.”

  Her lips parted and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her cheeks flushed.

  “You’re making my face go warm,” she whispered. Then her voice changed, a note of alarm creeping into her tone. “Wait. Am I blushing?”

  “A little.”

  “No, no, no. I can’t blush. That’s not possible.”

  I frowned, confused by her sudden distress. “You have a little color in your cheeks. What’s the big deal?”

  “You don’t get it. To take the photos I do, I can’t blush. My career depends on the fact I don’t get flustered.”

  I drew back, dropping my hands. “I didn’t mean to fluster you.”

  “Really? That’s not what your eyes are saying.”

  She was right, I had meant to fluster her. I’d wanted to make her feel as off balance as she was making me. I needed to know if she was feeling anything close to the same level of urgent, needy desire as I was.

  “What are my eyes saying?” I asked, though I already knew. If they were transmitting my thoughts, they had to be telling her I wanted to feel her thighs tighten around me as I buried myself inside her.

  But she shook her head, putting her palms against her cheeks. “I can’t afford to lose my only superpower.”

  It sounded like a joke, but her expression was so serious my heart twisted. “The last thing I want is to take anything away from you. I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

  “But I don’t get it. Why would talking about talking off my panties make me blush when being naked in front of strangers doesn’t?”

  “Your blush was faint. Barely noticeable.”

  “Really? Because my face was hot.”

  “It’s a warm day.”

  Hope flared in her eyes. “Sunlight coming through the window? Landing on my face?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I need to be sure.” She stepped closer. “Say the panty thing again.”

  “I want to rip your panties off?”

  “Like you mean it. Here, I’ll get us back in the mood.” She flattened her hands against my chest, then caressed down my pecs, following the lines of my muscles. Lifting her face to mine, she sucked in her breath. This time when she spoke, her voice was husky. “What do you want to do to me, Mason?”

  I put my hands on her arms. “Not hurt you.”

  She made an impatient sound, then stepped backward, breaking free from my grip. With a flick of her wrist, she popped the button of her jeans and pushed them down, using her feet to get them right off.

  Every molecule of blood in my body rushed south of my belt buckle.

  “You lied.” The words came out in a hoarse growl. “Those aren’t your Spock panties.” Somehow her waist was in my hands and I was pulling her hips against me.

  “Spock’s in the wash. Even Vulcans get dirty.”

  My hands slid to her ass of their own accord. The thin cotton felt flimsy under my fingers. Easy to tear.

  “I have a confession to make.” I nuzzled her ear, kissing the sensitive skin under her lobe. “I don’t care what panties you wear. It’s what’s underneath I can’t stop thinking about.”

  “You’ve been thinking about me?” Her voice was breathless, and I savored the hitch I heard, the way her words caught in her throat. Staring up at me, she was so damn beautiful, it made me want to forget caution and restraint. To forget everything except what my body was demanding.

  I pressed into her so she could feel how hard I was and know how
much I wanted her.

  Her body softened and molded against me. Her arms went around my back and she melted into me, pushing back against my hardness.

  I let out a groan of pure desire, tangling my hand into her hair to draw her face back. I’d never wanted anything so much as I wanted her.

  “You’re making me crazy.” I told her, lowering my mouth to hers.

  She bit at my lips and her tongue danced against mine, teasing me.

  I lifted her off her feet and her legs locked around my waist. Her mouth was sweet and needy. Urgent and demanding. Soft and enticing.

  The nearest flat surface was the dining table, and I didn’t stop kissing her while I carried her there and sat her on it. I couldn’t stop kissing her.

  When we were dating as teenagers for that too-brief time, her kisses had been my entire world. Now I knew nothing had changed. There was something earth-shattering about the way our mouths moved with each other, the way our tongues caught and our lips played. As many women as I’d kissed since then, nothing had ever come close to the pure, intense pleasure I felt when I kissed her.

  Her hands were on my back, yanking up my T-shirt, running over my bare skin. I did the same to her. Her body felt precious, my touch both too rough and not rough enough. I wanted to treasure her and I needed to devour her.

  Shoving her T-shirt up with one hand, I pushed her bra up with it so I could cradle one breast. Her nipple hardened under my palm. The curve was gentle but perfect, and when I ran my thumb across her nipple, it formed an erect point that made me groan with desire.

  “Mason,” she gasped into my mouth. “Please. I need you.” Reaching to the front of my jeans, she ran her hand down my length. I was so hard, her touch was in danger of making me explode.

  She hooked her legs around my hips, pulling me in closer. “You’re vibrating,” she gasped.

  I bit her earlobe. “Sweetheart, you make me feel like I’m—”

  “No.” She pulled away. “You’re really vibrating.”

  “Oh.” It took a supreme effort of will to step backward and shake away the haze of lust and want. I fumbled in the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my vibrating phone.