Brielle released the breath she hadn’t realize she’d been holding, then smiled as Mandy let out a scream.
“Me? Really?” She glanced around, hand to her throat. “I never win anything!”
“Well, you did this time.” Matthew grinned. “Looks like you and I will be going out on a date, tomorrow night.”
Carla, of course, frowned. “What about now? Aren’t we supposed to go riding?”
“Yes.” Greg pointed to one of the ranch hands, waiting silently off to the side. “Blake will get all of you saddled up and take you on the trail.”
The sooner, the better. Brielle turned and followed the others. At least it got Matthew away from the immediate threat of those damn guns.
A few hours later, Brielle questioned her reasoning as she tried to walk back to the limo. Why had she agreed to be subjected to this pain?
Despite her daily workouts and arguably being in the best shape of her life, her whole body ached as if she’d gone ten rounds with the United States Olympic Boxing Team before paddling a canoe to Japan in a category five typhoon where two sumo wrestlers body-slammed her into a rock wall. Twice.
Yeah, horseback riding had been a terrific idea.
“Hurry up, girls. It’s time to go back.” Bill strode toward their slow moving crowd.
Brielle noted Carla, Matthew and Jack, didn’t suffer any ill effects from their ride. No. They’d strolled ahead and now stood near the limo with their perfect bodies, perfectly at ease, perfectly feeding her ever-growing misery.
“We’re coming.” Danni grunted between steps. “Hold your horses.”
“Horses? Don’t say horses ever again.” Mandy moaned, next to her. “Why didn’t someone tell me horses were bad for your health?”
Brielle would’ve laughed, but knew that would only cause more pain. Instead, she concentrated on forcing her legs to cover the short distance to the limo—then contemplated having the driver pick them up so they wouldn’t have to walk the last thirty feet.
“Oh, alleluia, we made it.” Mandy sighed, when she grasped the opened door, then stopped. “Ah, Houston, we have a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Bill hastened to the blonde, brow creased, glasses slipping down his nose.
Matthew and Jack pushed past her to get to Mandy’s side. Caught off-balance, Brielle grabbed the nearest thing to keep from falling. Jack. She had a death grip on the back of his shirt.
“Brielle, it’s not polite to choke the groom’s brother,” he ground out, backing closer to her.
She regained her balance, then loosened her hold. “And I wouldn't have if said brother-of-the-groom hadn't almost knocked me over.”
When she let go, he twisted to face her, damn sexy lips twitching with a grin itching to come out. Gone was his leery expression, replaced by a friendly, teasing gleam. Heat, once again, flooded her body, easing some of the ache while causing another.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to see what was wrong with Mandy.”
“Nothing a couple of pain pills wouldn’t cure.” Amusement dripped from Carla's tone, and snapped Brielle from her Dodger stupor.
“You wouldn’t find it so funny if you couldn’t get in the limo,” Mandy grumbled, trying to lift her leg.
“How about if I go in first?” Matthew suggested before ducking into the vehicle. “Now, give me your hand.”
“It’s not my hand that’s the problem.” Mandy grimaced while doing her best to bend.
A slow and painful eight minutes later, they were on their way back to the mansions for what Brielle feared would be a torturous two hour ride. The driver seemed adept at hitting every bump, every hole, every damn dip in the road. Didn’t he know they had injured back here? Okay, not exactly injured, but certainly horse damaged.
Fifteen minutes after that, she gave up trying to hide her discomfort and readily accepted the drink Jack shoved in her hands.
“Here, this should dull the pain.” He passed Mandy and Danni a glass, too, before he settled into the seat next to her. Heat from his body seeped into her side, tingling her skin where they almost touched. It was a weird sort of massage her sore muscles eagerly accepted.
“You’re lucky, Brielle, at least you get to soak in Matthew’s hot tub,” Danni said before sipping her drink.
She felt Jack stiffen and glanced at him, but his gaze was neither friendly nor hard. Just plain unreadable.
“You ladies have a hot tub at your mansion, too.” Seated between the two women, Matthew patted Danni’s and Mandy’s hands. They rewarded him with brilliant smiles.
“Yes, you’re right, we do. Bless you for reminding us. I’d give you a kiss if it didn’t hurt so much to move,” Mandy gushed.
Danni winced. “Me, too.”
Carla sat on the other side of Jack, and she caught the woman shaking her head while staring at the other two contestants. Was it general disgust or something else? Brielle sipped her drink and leaned back, her pain lessening as her mind concentrated on the case. At least the afternoon went by without incident. She turned her attention to Matthew as he talked with the others.
Thank goodness nothing happened at the firing range. She’d been dreading that part of the group date. So had Jack, no doubt. Her sidelong glance wandered over the silent man. He had impressed the hell out of her today—handling that whole contest like a professional. Putting in safeguards on such short notice and the efficiency with which his men worked, all reflected on him and his capabilities.
Their gazes locked and her heart beats quickened. If only things were different. If only he’d remember their time at The Limelight and they could talk openly about it. If only he’d been read in on her undercover status. If only…she didn’t have to start a sentence with if only. She forced herself to look away.
By the time they reached the bachelorette mansion, her body was almost numb. Was that the pain or the drink? She didn’t know and didn’t care. All she wanted was to get those cameras from Matthew and crawl into bed. Although, how the hell she was going to manage the stairs, she had no idea.
The couch held infinite appeal.
“You need your bathing suit, Brielle.” Danni said as Matthew helped the teacher out of the limo. “I’d go get it, but you don’t have all night. Maybe Carla wouldn’t mind running for it?”
Everyone stared at the brunette standing next to Mandy on the sidewalk.
“Fine.” Carla bent down to peer at her. “Where is it?”
“It’s in the top drawer of the long dresser. Thank you.”
Carla disappeared into the mansion without a word.
“Someone is not a happy camper,” Jack muttered, sliding to Carla’s vacant seat.
Brielle told herself she didn’t miss his warmth or solid strength. His hard body. Intoxicating manly smell. She swallowed a groan. Cripes. She was going to have to change his nickname from Dodger to Achilles. He was becoming her biggest weakness.
“Here’s your suit.” The model returned in record time and tossed the scrap of brown material onto Brielle’s lap, snapping her back to reality. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“Well, that leaves the field wide open.” Mandy put her hand to her mouth and blushed. “I thought out loud again, didn’t I?”
Chuckles echoed through the air.
“Good-bye, Brielle. Enjoy your win,” Danni said, backing away from the limo.
“Yeah, have fun.” Mandy waved. “But not too much.”
She smiled and waved back. Right now, the three contestants seemed like the winners to her.
Settled into a hidden spot on the grounds, ready to act should things get out of hand, the shadowy figure observed the men, waiting to make a move. Matthew sat relaxed, laughing with his brother and the producer, seemingly accustomed to the cameras and crew.
Where’s the girl? She was supposed to join Matthew in the hot tub.
The figure eyed Matthew. Tonight’s outcome depended on that man. He’d better play the game right, because one wrong mo
ve and a ton of trouble would come his way.
“Brielle, there you are.” Bill halted. “Are you all right?”
The woman appeared in a brown bikini looking sexier than she should in such a drab color. Tall, yet curvy, she was going to make a lot of men happy on national TV, and a lot of women jealous. The dancer just better play the game right. She stepped onto the patio looking victorious clutching a pair of ripped jeans.
Jack and Matthew rose to their feet.
“I’m fine. Why?” She frowned.
“What happened to your jeans?” Bill pointed to the used-to-be pants.
“Oh, these. I did that.” She smiled smugly and shook the ruined denim. “I couldn’t get out of them, and although I know both Matthew and Jack would’ve helped had I called, I wasn’t about to have that broadcasted on national TV.”
Bill frowned. “Too bad. That would’ve been great.”
The figure’s grip tightened around the branch of a nearby tree. No. Matthew did not need to be undressing this woman.
“Let me get this straight. You couldn’t get out of your jeans, so you cut them off?” Matthew’s brows disappeared into his thick hair.
“Yes. There’s no way I was getting back into them, anyway.”
Jack shook his head. “Only you, Brielle.”
She smiled. “Now you’re starting to get it.”
Yes, that’s it. Get chummy with Jack, not Matthew. Leave Matthew alone.
“Well, now that you’re finally out here, Brielle let me explain the rules.” Bill hugged his clipboard and grinned. “There aren’t any.”
A twig snapped in the shadow’s hand, but thanks to the noisy crew, went unnoticed. That producer is pushing it.
The dancer looked from the stone-faced Jack to the smiling Matthew, then back to the producer. The figure grinned. Brielle did not look pleased. This should be good.
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Bill, but if you were hoping for some hot, hot-tub footage, you aren’t going to get it,” she told the producer.
Bill’s shoulders dropped, and the figure’s grin broadened. Good girl.
“Thanks to your scheduled horse-back riding this afternoon, I’ll be lucky to even get into the hot tub.”
The producer’s eyes lit up. “Jack, you suit up, too and help.”
She groaned. “Wait a minute! I won alone-time. You’re not getting a three-some from me.”
“Brielle’s right.” Jack held up his hands. “Leave me out of this. Matthew is more than capable of handling things.”
Damn. Too bad. The more Jack was around Brielle, the better.
“Yes, it’s our alone-time.” Matthew slung his arm around the frowning woman.
Bill shrugged. “Very well. It was just a thought.”
“Yeah. A bad one,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind, that hot water is calling me.”
“Fine. You go ahead.” The producer waved toward the softly lit tub, glowing in the distance. “I’m calling it a night. I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Jack slapped the man’s shoulder and fell into step next to him.
Matthew guided the slow moving woman to the steaming tub. “Your water awaits, my dear.”
Damn. Looks like I need to stick around. The figure shifted position to get a better view of the hot tub. They’d better behave.
The back of Brielle’s neck tingled and pricked like a swarm of bees brushed by. Someone was watching her. She glanced over her shoulder, spotting shadows and trees…and Phil and the rest of the cameramen. She laughed. No shit Sherlock. She was being watched.
Turning back to face Matthew, she crossed her arms over her chest as they stood on the patio. “Okay, Matthew, they’re gone. Where are my cameras?”
“In my room.”
“Great. Let’s go get them.”
He blinked, then shook his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Why in the world not?”
“Because if I know my brother, he’ll be in his study before we even get into the house.” Matthew pointed to the room where Jack had questioned her on her first night. “And from that study he’ll be keeping an eye on us. If we’re not in that tub, he’ll come looking for us. Now, I know you’re putting on an act, but do you really want him to find us in my room?”
Normally, she wouldn’t care. But, was it worth the risk of tarnishing her already questionable reputation in Jack’s eyes?
She sighed. “Fine. I take it you have a different plan?”
“Yes.” He touched her elbow and continued to guide her toward the hot tub. “We allow him to see us in here, then after an acceptable amount of time, I’ll pretend to get a call from the gallery and go inside, grab the cameras, sneak them to the limo, then come back and join you.”
The man had obviously given this some thought. She ran his plan through her head and stopped at the edge of the beckoning water.
“Sounds feasible,” she said, motioning to the cell sitting on a nearby table. “But how will you get your phone to ring?”
Brown eyes twinkled down at her. “I’ve already arranged to have one of the crew call me…” He glanced at his watch. “In fifteen minutes. So, it’s into the water with you, missy.”
Satisfied with the plan, she saluted him. “Yes, sir.” Holding his hand and the rail, she slowly and painfully sank into the heated, bubbling, depths. “Ah, heaven is a hot tub.”
Matthew settled next to her, set his watch aside and grinned. “I see that by your smile.”
About to reply, she paused as movement in the window of the darkened study caught her eye.
He chuckled. “See? My bodyguard is on duty.”
“Well, you’re lucky to have him.” She turned to her companion and winced.
“Here, let me help.” Before she knew it, he was sitting behind her, massaging her shoulders. “How’s that?”
“I’ll let you know in three—maybe four—hours.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she moaned, uncaring that the cameras probably zoomed in on them. Her muscles were rejoicing and crying out for more. Hell, they were doing the tango and proclaiming their undying love for the artist’s talented hands. The only way it could feel better is if they were Jack’s.
Her eyes flew open. Nope. Not going there. She instantly derailed that dangerous train of thought. It was better to have Matthew’s hands on her. Yes. He was safe. His art inspired emotions in her, not his hands. Okay, not true. Right now, his fingers inspired a whole boat-load of gratitude from her abused muscles.
When he finished with her neck, back and arms, he gently altered her position until she sat on the bench with her legs across him. Cripes, she felt like a piece of clay. But that was okay. It felt too damn good.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Her eyes closed again and she had all she could do not to sink under the water. “I still can’t believe how sore I am.”
“Horses can take their toll on a novice.”
She groaned. “Did you have to say the ‘h’ word?”
He lifted her leg out of the water and massaged from the knee to her foot. “What? Horse?” He laughed.
“Yes.” She groaned again. “I’ve just decided I’m allergic to them.”
“That’s too ba-a-ad.” His sorry excuse for a neigh sounded more like a sick goat.
“Hey!” She opened her eyes and cocked her head. “Don’t make me shoot you.” Then leaned forward and tickled his side.
He laughed and tried to scoot from her grasp, but thanks to their positions, she had him pinned.
“Don’t let Jack hear you say that, or he’ll have you in handcuffs.”
Brielle stilled, and heat settled low in her belly—mostly because the idea appealed to her. And the idea of handcuffing Jack. To a bed. Great. Now all her worthy parts were hot and tingly.
“Speaking of Jack.” Matthew glanced at the house as he drew her other leg out of the water. “He’s right.”
She started to relax
and close her eyes again, loosing herself in the incredible massage. “Yeah? What about?”
“About you having great legs.”
Her eyes snapped back open. “He said that?” She bounced her gaze between Matthew and the mansion.
“Oh, yeah. And I was serious when I said I thought he liked you. In fact,” Matthew’s grin grew devious, “I’m betting that my dear brother is spitting bullets right now, watching me touch your legs, wishing it were him.”
She blinked…twice. Jack likes my legs? A thrill warmed her spine and further south. But with the cameras right in her face, she wasn’t about to share her growing feelings for the former Ranger with the world. When in trouble, fall back on humor.
“He wishes you were massaging his legs?”
Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “No. You know what I mean.”
Just then, his cell phone rang, saving her from having to respond.
“Ah. Right on time. I’ll be back.” He winked, then got out to answer his phone.
The lights went on in the study. She smirked and exchanged a look with Matthew before he disappeared into the house, phone to his ear.
Maybe winning that contest wasn’t so bad. She sighed and sank deeper into the hot water. Good company, free massage, security cameras, it wasn’t such a bad day after all.
Until the power went out.
Brielle sat up and scanned the darkened grounds and house. Adrenaline shot through her body, numbing her pain as memory guided her out of the tub to a nearby towel. Quickly drying off, she shushed the cameramen and told them to stay put as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight.
Turning toward a faint rustling, she skirted the chairs and closed in on a now visible shadow. Her heart raced. Matthew? Jack? She stopped to listen. No. They would’ve called to her, and since the cameramen were off to her left—she had an intruder.
Going into attack mode, she positioned herself in the shadow’s path, then struck with a diving roll that took the figure down. They wrestled, each taking turns on the bottom until the intruder went slack and she pinned him to the ground—just as the lights came on and cameras appeared in her face.
She Does Know Jack Page 13
