“Hey, Jack…Jack!”
Matthew’s muffled oath broke through his fogged brain.
“Take it easy. I need my shoulder in one piece.”
Fists paused mid air, Jack blinked into focus. He’d forgotten his brother was there. “Sorry, man. I was—”
“On a mission. I know.” Matthew rubbed his shoulder. “Jeez, when you’re driven, you’re really driven.”
“Ah…yeah.” He unraveled the tape from his hands, balled it up, and tossed it into the garbage. Too bad he couldn’t toss last night away. His lip twitched. No. Last night might have been a big mistake, but he'd learned from it, nonetheless.
Kissing Brielle—not once, but twice—had proven her dangerous. Not to Matthew, but to Jack and his self control. What self control? He bit back a curse. It ran out the door the moment Brielle had waltzed onto the set. And Jack hadn’t seen or heard from it, since. Hell, he should probably call his buddy in the L.A.P.D. and put out an APB.
“Am I to assume you have a problem with Brielle since your assault on the bag, and my shoulder, started after I mentioned her name?” Matthew leaned against the wall, arms folded, serious expression on his face.
“Problem?” Yeah, he had a problem with her all right, but not one he wanted to discuss. Swiping his water bottle from the floor, he straightened to face his brother.
“Come on, Jack.” A smile tugged Matthew’s lips. “You don’t honestly suspect Brielle, do you?”
Good question. He eyed his brother, warily. “Why? Do you like her?” His stomach knotted. Did he really want to know the answer? No. Not really.
“Yes, I like her. I think she’s great, don’t you?” Matthew’s dimples deepened.
Ah hell. He looked like a man intrigued. “I guess.”
What he thought didn’t matter, and the matter of Matthew and Brielle didn’t bear thinking about.
“You suspect her, don’t you?” Matthew continued to press.
Jack tossed his head back and drained the water from the bottle before he spoke. “She was with me at the time you said the call came in. So, no, she didn’t make the call. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t working with one of the others.”
Matthew pushed from the wall, dark eyes troubled. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying she could’ve been pretending to help me clean up last night in order to keep me occupied in the kitchen.”
There, he’d said it out loud. The scenario had been niggling him ever since he’d learned Matthew had received another threatening phone call—at the exact time he’d been distracted by Brielle and left Carla and Mandy unattended.
His grip tightened around the empty water bottle until the crackling ceased to assault his ears or fuel the ache in his head.
“I think it’s dead, Jack.”
Unable to stop his lips from curling, he propelled the plastic torpedo into the garbage only to have it bounce back out. Just like Brielle—she refused to stay out of his mind no matter what he did. He exhaled, and ignoring his brother’s raised brows, picked up the bottle and dropped it straight in.
His thoughts returned to last night. It wasn’t like he’d planned on being in the kitchen long. He’d just needed to put some space between himself and Brielle. Two excruciating hours of sitting next to her on the couch was more than his libido could take. She sat there looking all soft and smelling of some kind of exotic spice that made his mouth water and temperature rise. So did her long expanse of leg. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing her thigh. Hell, he’d eaten more pizza and drank more last night than he had in two months, all so he could experience the feel of her leg. He swallowed. Damn, but that woman had the nicest pair of legs. Well, next to Ariel. He rubbed his chin, mentally comparing the two.
Smooth, shapely…sexy, they had a lot in common—not the least of which was the fact they got his motor running. Although one was slightly thinner with long red hair and blue eyes, and the other curvier with shorter brown hair and brown eyes, they both tasted hot. Ariel had tasted like hot, wild mangos. Brielle tasted like lime and pizza, and, oh yeah, hot. And wild. Jack grunted. He was an idiot. If Brielle was part of the problem, then he’d played right into her hands.
“Jack? Jack? Earth to Jack.”
Matthew’s fingers snapped in front of Jack’s face.
“Where were you? Never mind. I know. Another mission.”
Yeah, a forbidden one. He felt bad enough about jeopardizing the case, but that didn’t even come close to the guilt gripping his gut for putting the moves on his brother’s possible girlfriend.
Should he tell Matthew?
Jack studied his brother’s open brown gaze. Yes. Dammit. He had to. He lived by the honesty code. Several tours in Iraq, some bearable, some not so bearable, he’d learned a man had nothing if not his word. And after the Dear John he’d gotten from his fiancée, and the utter betrayal from his last girlfriend, Jack valued honesty over breathing. He drew himself up to his full height, and braced for his brother’s reaction.
“Matt, about last ni—”
“There you two are,” Bill interrupted, scurrying into the massive home gym, sweat beading on his brow. “I’ve been all over this place looking for you.”
“You should’ve called my cell.” Amusement lit Matthew’s eyes and twitched his lips.
“Or checked the security monitors,” Jack added.
Bill pushed his glasses up. “Yes, well, I’ll make a note of that for next time.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Jack cupped the producer’s shoulder making sure he stayed put. “I want to take a look at the box seats Matthew and Danni occupied last night.”
His brother frowned. “I thought Franco’s men and the police already went over it?”
“They did, but I want to check a few things out for myself.” He transferred his attention back to Bill. “So, what do you say?”
“Sorry, Jack. No can do. You’ll have to call Mr. DeMarco or send your men over there. I need you and Matthew to accompany the four girls on a picnic,” Bill stated, hugging his clipboard.
A grin split across Matthew’s face. “Sounds like fun.”
“A picnic?” Jack’s senses red flagged. He narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Bill?
“Nothing. You’re all going to a horse ranch two hours north of here.” The producer tugged loose, then strode to the door where he stopped and turned to face them. “Oh yeah, and there’s horseback riding, a firing range and a great picnic lined up, too. You leave in an hour. I’m leaving now. See you there.”
“What? No way. No fucking way.”
Too late. The producer disappeared faster than studio magic.
Matthew patted his shoulder. “Look on the bright side. You can determine if any of the girls are marksmen.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?” Jack muttered a few colorful expletives at the absent producer, and questioned his brother’s sanity. “Why in the world would you want to do this?”
“What?” Matthew blinked at him like he was the one off his damn rocker. “Why would I want to spend the day with four beautiful women, who all want to be with me—Matthew the starving artist, not Andy Matthews the famous one? Gee, yeah, can’t imagine why I’d want to do that.”
Jack sighed. “Look, I know it’s tough on you, being famous, but surely you see there's a potential for danger here?” He grabbed Matthew’s shoulders and glared at him. “I’m not putting a gun in any of those girls’ hands, especially with you around.”
“Fine, the guys running the range can,” Matthew said, his gaze beseeching. “I want this, Jack. I need this. Okay? And I’m willing to do whatever this show wants in order to get it.”
Jack dropped his hands and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe how reckless his brother was being. What the hell was wrong with him? Why would he put himself in danger? Unless... Jack’s eyes snapped open.
“Matthew.” He stepped closer and locked gazes. “Are you in love with one of the contestants?”
“I…uh…” His brother momentarily closed his eyes and sighed, before his gaze returned. “Yes, Jack, I believe I am. But I’d like to take every opportunity this show gives me to figure that out.”
“Care to tell me which girl?”
He knew he probably wouldn’t get an answer because of the show’s rules, but he had to try.
“You know I can’t. But, I will tell you this.” Matthew elbowed him and winked. “She’s beautiful and has the nicest pair of legs.”
Jack’s gut tightened. Brielle had the nicest pair of legs—in his opinion, anyway. He eyed his brother. “Gee, could you be a little more specific?”
“Yeah, but what fun would that be?” Matthew laughed. “Oh, come on, bro. What could seriously go wrong on a picnic?”
He grunted. “You want the short list?”
When Brielle learned the ranch they were to spend the day at had a firing range, she immediately locked herself in the bathroom and called her uncle.
“You have to talk to the producers and get them to change today’s destination,” she urged, pacing the ten-by-ten floor.
“I already tried, hun. But since Matthew gave the go ahead, they’re proceeding as scheduled.”
“Are they nuts? Are they hoping he gets shot? Is that the kind of ratings they want?” She stopped to take a breath. This assignment was a complete nightmare, for more than one reason.
“Calm down. No one is going to get shot. I sent some of our men with Jack’s to check everything from top to bottom, and they’ll be running the range.”
She exhaled a long breath. “Thank goodness for that. But I still don’t like it, Uncle Franco. Couldn’t we just forgo the range and concentrate on whatever else the ranch has to offer?”
“I tried that too, Brielle, but the producers insisted Matthew wanted to utilize the whole ranch.” A sigh filled the phone. “So, I guess you’ll be a shoot’em up, ride’em cowgirl today.”
She groaned. “I don’t know how to ride a horse, and I’m going to have to pretend I don’t know how to shoot.”
“Why would you do that?”
Brielle pulled the phone away and stared at it as if it had grown a tail. Has he flipped? She blinked, then brought the phone back to her ear. “Maybe because I wouldn’t want Jack to wonder why I’m such a good shot? It’s not generally a prerequisite for a dancer, you know.”
“Yeah, but more and more women in this country have a gun license, and permit to carry. Besides, I know you, if there’s any type of competition, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”
He was right. Her competitive side wouldn’t let her back down from a challenge. She smiled. “I get that from my uncle, you know.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
She was still smiling when she remembered something else she’d wanted to ask him.
“Listen, while I have you on the phone, I need you to get me some small surveillance cameras. I want to hide them in the security room and see if I can catch the culprit fiddling with the mansion’s security.”
“Jack has tried that, hun. The cameras always end up smashed on the floor.”
Shoot. She scratched her temple. “Well, maybe that’s because someone sees him installing. I don’t plan to be seen, and if you get me the smallest possible, maybe they’ll go undetected.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I hope you’re right. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” she paused to chew her lip and form her words carefully.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” he asked.
She smiled despite herself. “It's about the call Matthew got last night.” Playing with the soap dispenser, she watched soap ooze out and drip to the vanity, spreading in several directions—a perfect reflection of her thoughts on Jack. She wanted to believe in his innocence but the evidence…
“Yes? Go on. You wouldn’t happen to have one of your hunches, would you?”
“Not exactly.” She swallowed. How should she put this?
“Well, come on, spit it out,” Uncle Franco prompted, his impatience reaching through the line to straighten her spine.
“I overheard Jack talking on his cell phone last night—around the time Matthew said the call came into the box.” She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and waited for her uncle to speak.
“What did you hear?”
“He said: this is no joke.” Her eyes squeezed tighter, then shot open when her uncle’s laughter burst into her ear. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, hun, Jack said that to me last night when he called to report the snake incident and you grilling him in the security booth.”
“He did?”
She swallowed, relief sagging her shoulders as she stared at her reflection. It isn’t Jack. He wasn’t a suspect. Dodger really was there to keep his brother and everyone else safe from the stalker.
Uncle Franco chuckled. “Yes. Jack wasn’t happy with my amused reaction either. Seems your suspicion baffled him. Guess he’s used to doing the interrogation—not being interrogated.”
Brielle nodded. She knew how he felt. His interrogation of her last night had been necessary, and she would’ve questioned him if he hadn’t, but it didn’t mean she liked being a suspect.
“Well, hun. If there’s nothing else, I’d better let you go. I want to call the men. They should be at the ranch by now. Call me tonight.”
“I will. Bye.” She flipped the phone closed and stared at her reflection. They were about to spend the afternoon at an isolated ranch with the possibility of arming the maniac threatening Matthew.
At least Jack was in the clear. But, where did that leave him? Her pulse jumped. No longer a suspect, he only had to pay her some attention and she’d be sunk. Who was she kidding? All the former Ranger had to do was crook his pinky at her, and she’d be all over him like chocolate sauce on a strawberry.
“No…I can’t give into that attraction...” Her whisper fogged the mirror. He still posed a danger, clouding her mind when it needed to be clear to investigate.
Brielle yanked a towel from the ring, balled the soft material and swiped at the mirror. What the hell should she say to Jack after that kiss? They’d ignored it last night. He’d been too busy interrogating her, and she’d done her best to forget the embrace. Embraces. She touched her mouth and blinked. But not anymore.
Groaning, she dropped her head until it clunked against the mirror. She was in trouble. Big trouble. And she had no one to blame but herself. She knew better than to kiss him.
Because, hot damn, that man could kiss.
She knew Dodger’s lips, his taste, his searing heat would pull her in and make her hum. Heck, her toes still tingled. She glanced at her bare feet and wiggled her mauve-painted toes. Yep. Still tingled.
What should she do, now?
Her gaze settled on her reflection and her mind immediately supplied the answer.
Finish getting ready and go do your job.
Ten minutes later, after taking her own advice, Brielle was dressed in a form-fitting red T-shirt and tight jeans—the only pair the studio had sent—and joined the other girls in the living room with time to spare before the men were due to arrive.
“My, don’t you look all country. A regular Brielle Evans,” Carla said, voice close to a sneer.
“You think so? Thanks.” She smiled, noting the other woman’s short shorts and plaid shirt tied above her belly. “I guess that would make you Carla Duke.”
Danni snickered.
“Oh, do me next. Who am I?” Mandy asked eagerly, turning in a circle.
“Oh, that’s easy. You’d be Mandy Parton.” Carla obliged.
The hand model blinked, twirling a curl around her fingers. “Really? Because of my blonde hair?”
Brielle knew Carla had slung the name because of the woman’s more than ample curves, but kept quiet. Dressed similarly to Carla, Mandy practically fell out of everything.
“I hope that doesn’t mean I’m Roy?” Danni s
tared down at her jeans and T-shirt with a frown.
“No, you’d be, Danni Oakley, right?” Mandy asked excitedly.
The teacher smiled as chimes echoed one after another through the foyer.
Mandy squealed. “Oh, they’re here.” The blonde rushed for the door while Danni and Carla strolled behind.
Stomach flopping, Brielle hung back, reluctant to face Jack. Maybe they didn’t have to bring up the kiss. After all, it wasn’t likely to happen again. She’d see to that, so did they really need to discuss the incredible lip-lock?
Yes, you do, her conscience insisted. She was supposed to be there for his brother. Jeez, what he must think of her…
It sucked. Finally, after all this time, she found a decent man she made a real connection with, and she had to lie to him. For the first time ever, she actually hated her job.
Her mind and body far from happy, she reached the others as they opened the doors.
“Hello, ladies. Don’t you all look ready for the ranch?” Matthew tipped his Stetson and graced them with a glimpse of his perfect teeth and sexy dimples.
“Wow, so do the two of you.” Danni blushed.
Carla’s jaw joined Mandy’s on the floor while Brielle lost her breath. Both men were gorgeous. But, a little thrill shot through her body, lingering on her good parts the moment she saw Jack. His magnetism reached out, grabbed hold and squeezed tight.
Matthew was the only one wearing a hat, no doubt to distinguish him as the groom, but wardrobe did dress the brother’s alike in jeans and denim, snap-front shirts, Matthew’s plaid, Jack’s a solid blue. The Anderson brothers filled the foyer with a truckload of testosterone. Even their boots oozed sex appeal.
Brielle forced air back into her lungs and tried to sound nonchalant. “So, did you ride up on horseback or is that later?”
Matthew laughed. “Later. We brought the sleek racehorse.”
“You did?” Mandy blinked. “How will we all fit on one animal?”
“He means the limo.” Carla sighed, moving forward to grab Matthew’s arm. “Come on, let’s hit the range, cowboy.”
“Yeah, I can hardly wait,” Danni said, claiming Matthew’s other arm.
He smiled and led them out the door.
She Does Know Jack Page 11
