Zane followed her line of sight. One of her brothers had thrown his head back with laughter at something another model said. He wasn't certain which twin it was, but he took a wild guess. "That one's Charlie?"
"It is," his sister confirmed. "Apparently, Pete called me out here for nothing."
Her delectable pink mouth flattened into a line. "Not for nothing," he coaxed, secretly enjoying the angry set of her jaw. "It's a pretty day, and I'm happy to meet you."
She gave him her full and startled attention. Zane struggled not to laugh. For whatever reason, this cutie wasn't expecting to be flirted with. No doubt his amusement showed in his eyes. Rebecca's brows drew together in confusion. "Why are you here exactly? Aren't you too important?"
He did laugh then. "I usually do the interviews for our annual Hot Men of Harvard piece. Bad Boys Magazine has its own staff these days, but now and then I get nostalgic. When we started, I did everything from layout to selling ads. Anyway, I like to see what the latest generation of Harvard lights is up to. Your brothers were standouts. Very well spoken and personable. Their account of how you raised them is inspiring."
Rebecca let out a gasp so sharp he couldn't miss hearing it. "They told you that?"
"Shouldn't they have?" His answer was the pallor that swept her face. If that weren't enough to clue him in that something was wrong, one of her knees buckled. She looked as if she were going to boot or faint.
"Hey," he said, quickly getting an arm around her. "Let's find you somewhere to sit."
He grabbed a bottled water from a passing magazine staffer, not wanting to pause more than that in guiding his distressed damsel to a shady spot. The nearest he saw was under a huge weeping willow. Rebecca was shaking as he settled her on the bench. He handed her the water, which she took a sip of.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm all right. That just took me by surprise."
Zane sat next to her, figuring she could use his warmth. She seemed to be in shock. Her side was actually cold.
"Look," he said, laying his hand gently on her knee. Despite being attracted to her, he tried to keep the touch platonic. "If you need me to pull the interview, I will. Your brothers didn't act like they were breaking a confidence, and God knows my tiny journalist streak will crymdash;as human interest goes, the story is great. I will kill it, though, if it bothers you that much. We'll find something else to sell issues."
Rebecca rubbed her forehead. "I guess it's not a deep dark secret anymore. They're too old for anyone to take them away from me."
Zane's throat tightened the same way it had when he first saw her eyes. "Your brothers should have warned you they were going to spill the beans."
To his surprise, she laughed. The sound was nice, low and a bit throaty. "Pete and Charlie know me too well to ask permission about some things. They must have decided I'd been holding on to that too long."
"So you don't mind? God knows I'd like to run the piece. Their stories of how you tried to pretend your father was still around were hilarious."
Rebecca laughed again. "Did they tell you about our Christmas Eve with the mannequin?"
"How Charlie stayed up all night and moved it from chair to chair to convince the neighbors that it was real?"
"What about the Brazilian fry cook I hired to impersonate our dad for parent-teacher night? He had gray eyes, which was perfect, but he barely knew English. We pretended he had laryngitis and couldn't speak."
"That one I didn't hear."
Rebecca leaned back against the bench, her shoulders almost relaxed. "He was illegal and really sweet. I promised I'd sponsor him for a green card as soon as I was old enough and had a job where I could."
"And did you?"
"I did. He works in LA now for Wolfgang Puck. That frosts me a little. He was a damn good cook. I'd be happy if he was still with me."
Her smile was wry but totally beautiful. "You must have been scared," he said softly. "Raising two boys by yourself at sixteen."
"Terrified," she said humorously. "Sometimes I still am."
They smiled at each other, and something inside his chest swooped like a wave dropping. He'd had Trey to help him through his nightmare years. This woman had no one. "Your brothers were lucky to have you."
"Oh no." She shook her head in disagreement. "I'm lucky to have them. They're such great kids. I don't know how they turned out so good."
Zane knew. The love she felt for them shone like a sun from her. Whatever mistakes she'd made, her brothers wouldn't have doubted that. To him, who'd been anything but loved, it was no wonder they'd flourished. He wanted to touch her, more than the hand he'd left resting on her knee. Her cheek looked like it would be soft to stroke, her lips a dream to kiss.
"Would you have dinner with me?" he asked before he'd quite planned to.
She jerked in surprise. "Oh. Imdash;"
"Coffee is fine too, if that seems lower key."
She laughed and covered her lips. "It's not that . . . I don't know if you know this. It's kind of a funny coincidence. Your CFO, Trey Hayworth, recently hired me to run your new restaurant."
Zane sat straighter, drawing his hand back from her knee. "The Bad Boys Lounge on Charles Street?"
"That's right. So I don't know. Maybe you're my employer too?"
Zane supposed he shouldn't be taken aback by not knowing. The restaurantmdash;their first that wasn't part of a resortmdash;was more Trey's project than his. It was odd Trey hadn't kept Zane in the loop, but not overly. "I'm . . . more of a silent partner there," he said. "I'm pretty sure us having dinner wouldn't break any rules."
Rebecca stuck a thumbnail between her teeth, obviously considering this. Zane wasn't accustomed to hesitation, certainly not from women who showed signs of finding him attractive.
"Should I reiterate the coffee option?" he offered, trying not to sound insulted.
Rebecca removed the thumbnail she was gnawing. "Sorry. Imdash;" She squared her shoulders with a crispness that would have amused if it hadn't been his ego that was stinging. "I'd be very happy to have dinner with you. I just feel obliged to warn you I'm not in practice for dating."
Not in practice sounded like Rebecca wouldn't be his usual speedy catch-and-release conquest. But maybe that was all right. He hadn't lied to Trey the other night. He was tired of chasing females, only to leave them by the roadside. Admittedly, if this one let him bed her right away, he wouldn't turn her down, but maybe actually talking to a woman on a date, with no expectations beyond that, wouldn't be awful. He could relax and let her relax too. If she were as tightly wound as today's exchange suggested, she needed it.
~
Like his CFO, Zane Alexander packed an extra punch in person. For one thing, he was plain old bigmdash;6'4" or 5" with muscle packed onto his muscle and shoulders she was certain could still play quarterback. Staring at him from her height-challenged state easily could have overwhelmed her.
Rebecca was fortunate she was ballsier than she looked.
Her hormones had a harder time digging in their heels. He was a hunk and a half. Great body. Great face. Killer smile and blue eyes. If Trey was quirkily good-looking, Zane was flat out handsome. His hair was a thick sandy color, expertly styled to create a just-rolled-out-of-bed, finger-combed casualness. He wore the same uniform as the rest of the magazine staff: straight-legged jeans topped by a short sleeve Henley with the Bad Boys logo on the left breast. No one looked bad in it, but as he leaned forward over his knees on that willow-shaded benchmdash;the better to meet her gazemdash;he was drool worthy.
The gray waffle cotton hugged his torso lovingly. Even the sweat marks beneath his arms didn't lessen his sexiness. From where she sat, his body's reaction to the August heat just made him smell better. He and Trey both had good taste in cologne.
The fact that Zane had asked her outmdash;and that she'd acceptedmdash;somewhat astonished her.
Should she have said yes? Would having dinner with him create more complications between her and Trey? Not that there necessarily was anything between them apart from a work relationship. They'd both agreed their hot-as-Hades indiscretion in the Bad Boys kitchen shouldn't be repeated.
Crap, Rebecca thought, her insides melting like flambémdash;both for the hunk in front of her and the one she'd just remembered. A bead of sweat rolled down the small of her back. Could a woman cream through a pair of panties and blue jeans? That would be embarrassing.
"Rebecca?" Zane said like he was about to laugh. The back of one big knuckle brushed the side of her leg. It was a light touch, really, but it raised a pulsing tingle inside her clit.
"Is tonight okay for dinner? I could pick you up around six."
He could pick her up, and they'd sit across from each other at an intimate table. She'd stare at that full-lipped mouth, watching it grin, watching it eat, wondering how it would feel eating her . . .
"Tonight is fine," she said, slightly strangled. She didn't have to sleep with him. Probably he wouldn't want to once he realized what an oddball she was. She'd wrestle her hormones into submission. Rebecca was no stranger to self-control.
"Good," he said, smiling at her and giving her thigh a pat.
That settled, he sat back and rolled his big shoulders. The way this shifted his chest muscles fascinated her. Despite his magazine-perfect grooming, he seemed as much animal as man. Rebecca truly couldn't look away. He didn't appear to have the same problem.
"Ah," he said, his gaze directed toward the lagoon and the photo shoot. "Here are your brothers now."
Rebecca jerked her much too X-rated attention away from him. Her brothers were indeed coming over. For some reason, the twins were dripping from head to toe. They'd been supplied with Bad Boy brand robes to wrap over their skimpy Speedos. Soaked state aside, they looked happy.
"Hey, Becca," Pete greeted her. "Hello, Mr. Alexander. We were going to introduce you two, but I guess you took care of it yourselves."
Rebecca's head had a lot going on in it right then. Nonetheless, a light bulb did turn on. This whole thingmdash;Pete's claim that Charlie needed his meds, asking that she not change out of her snug old jeansmdash;was the boys' idea of a fix-up.
"Glad you're feeling all right," she said dryly to Charlie.
"Oh sure," he said. "I don't mind being tossed overboard with Pete. The other guys were only horsing around."
"I meant you've recovered from your anxiety attack."
Her slightly younger little brother had sufficient conscience to blush. "Oh. Um, that was a false alarm. Caroline didn't show up after all."
"That's too bad." Rebecca ladled on the sympathy. "Why don't you invite her for Sunday dinner? I'll meet her then."
"Uh," Charlie stammered. "I don'tmdash; She mightmdash;"
Pete covered his snickers with his hand.
"I haven't decided how to pay you back yet," she warned him.
"Pay me back for what?" Pete said with his sweetest smile.
Zane stopped her answer by rising. "I see you've got family stuff to talk about. Go ahead and take a break, boys. I'll see youmdash;" he pinned Rebecca with a sexy smile "mdash;around six o'clock tonight."
"He'll see you?" Pete repeated as soon as Zane was out of earshot. "He asked you out already?"
He seemed both delighted and surprised.
"That's quick work," Charlie said in a similar tone.
She wasn't mad enough to scold them. The flattering aspects of having a date with a guy like Zane were making her giddy. On principle, she pretended to be annoyed.
"You two," she said, "are lucky you're too old to be grounded."
~
The photo shoot was duller after Rebecca left, but Zane stayed until the end. Rebecca's brothers waved goodbye to him as they straggled off with the others. Their gawky man-boyishness amused him, while their innate niceness reminded him of their big sister. She flitted in and out of his thoughts as he returned to TBBC's headquarters. Work reclaimed his attention there, mostly. He had one meeting, two calls, and a boring report to review. To lessen the drudgery of that, he read the document on his tablet between showering and changing for dinner. Spending long hours at the office made it handy for him and Trey to share a trio of rooms behind their offices. They had a full bath, a walk-in wardrobe, and a quiet space with a napping couch.
Trey came into the bathroom as Zane scraped five o'clock shadow from his cheeks. Stubble didn't suit him like it did Trey.
"Going out?" Trey asked, sounding a bit surprised.
Zane rinsed the razor under the tap. "Yes. With the older sister of some kids who were in the shoot today."
Trey leaned against the doorway. "Pretty?"
"Yes." He started on the other side. Part of him suspected he ought to tell Trey his date was Rebecca. She was his employee, and he might worry Zane would mess that up. The thing was, Zane didn't want to be told to watch his step with her. The chances they'd have a second date were smallmdash;or that this one would go so badly she'd feel a need to flee the state. In any case, Trey hadn't told Zane he'd hired her. Maybe Zane was being stubborn, but he shouldn't have to get Trey's approval.
"Missed a spot," Trey said, taking the razor from him. He tipped Zane's chin sideways with his fingers, dragging the blade carefully up his throat. His touch was pleasant and familiar, creating a heaviness in Zane's groin that wasn't quite an erection. Finished, Trey set down the razor and smiled at him. "Now you're perfect."
His green-gold eyes were fond. Emotion rose inside Zane, strong as a summer storm. "You're perfect," he said back.
Trey laughed and kissed his cheek. "You have your car, right? I can take the limo home without you?"
"Yes. I don't think I'll be home too late. This woman is no sure thing."
He spoke without considering how the claim would sound. Trey lifted his dark brows. "Not losing your touch, are you?"
"Doubt it." Zane grinned even as a prick of guilt for holding back information urged him to be honest. "This one is nice to talk to is all. We had some common ground."
"Well, good," Trey said, but as if he wasn't sure it was. He hesitated. "Have a good time."
He left before Zane could figure out how to close the odd little distance that had opened between them. He shrugged as Trey shut the mini-apartment's outer door. He probably shouldn't worry. He and Trey were solid. Nothing stayed off between them long.
~
By the time her cheap bedside clock ticked to six, Rebecca was ready to admit her brothers were right about her wardrobe. She had nothing date-appropriate to wearmdash;not her work clothes, not her jeans, not her suddenly sorry-seeming beige shirtwaist dress.
It was just her luck that the doorbell rang while she was in it.
"Screw it," she said to her reflection. She'd showered and shaved her legs and slapped on both lipstick and mascara. This was as good as she got. If Zane Alexander didn't like it, she couldn't help that now.
When she opened the door, the warmth of his smile nearly wiped out her nervousness.
"You look so nice!" she exclaimed, unable to hold it in. He was wearing pale linen trousers with a thin designer-y black T-shirt. His narrow leather belt probably cost more than her dress, and never mind his sharp-looking shoes.
"Thank you." He bent to kiss her cheek, wafting the scent of soap and cologne over her. "You look pretty nice yourself."
"Ugh," she said, at which he raised his brows. "All right, I'm supposed thank people for compliments, but I know you're lying. I'm afraid this is the only dress I own."
"You could have worn jeans."
"I considered them, believe me. This is what I was in when the doorbell rang."
He laughed, seeming to enjoy her neurotic honesty. "I could mention that, to me, you'd look good in a sack."
"Hm." She gazed at him sidelong. "You're pretty good at this lying thing."
He laughed at that too, further lightening her mood. With a flair she couldn't help but appreciate, he presented her with a bent elbow. "Ready to go?"
Sliding her arm into the crook of his was a pleasure she wasn't prepared for. His skin was warm, his golden body hair like silk. Her arm was bare against both. She shivered, and then he did, and then he laughed again.
"See," he teased. "You don't need fancy dresses to get to me."
Rebecca didn't know if their destination was his original choice, or if he'd switched gears to make her more comfortable. Whichever it was, he took her to The Cellar Pub, a local hole in the wall that offered a dizzying array of craft beers and burgers.
"This okay?" he asked as she scanned the menu posted outside the entrance.
"Perfect," she said, only to be surprised by how genuinely pleased his smile of response was.
The place was crowded with young peoplemdash;of which you are one, she reminded herself. Zane got them a booth in a back corner. Rebecca decided he was one of those people who felt at home anywhere. Like a big slouchy cat, he relaxed against the seat, arm stretched along the back and knees sprawled casually. Rebecca wished she could imitate him. Her limbs all felt as stiff as pokers.
When the waitress came, he convinced her to bring them a tray of small samples for the beers. "With labels," he said, slipping a folded hundred into her hand. "I know it's a hassle, but we'd really be grateful."
"How did you know I wanted to do that?" Rebecca asked.
"Just a guess," he said, pleased again. "Chefs like to taste things, don't they?"
"They do," she said, pleased with him as well.
By the sixth tasting sample, Rebecca's neck unkinked.
"So . . ." Zane said on a teasing note. "What's the story about that dress?"
"Oh God."
"I told you I didn't mind but, seriously, only one? What do you wear on dates? And don't tell me you never go, because you're too pretty."
"I guess I don't go on date-y dates."
Zane put his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He was silentlymdash;and grinninglymdash;inviting her to go on.
"Oh fine. I feel most comfortable in work clothes. My closet is full of black trousers and button-up white shirts."
She turned the shot glass she was currently sampling from in a circle. Zane reached lazily out and covered her hand with his. His touch stilled more than her fingers. She could actually feel her pulse slow. "Why do you feel most comfortable in work clothes?"
"You don't really want to know that."
"Yes I do." His thumb rubbed the side of hers, stirring hot sensations his knowing eyes seemed completely aware of. Rebecca tensed her thighs. "Does it have to do with raising your brothers?"
She sat back but left her hand where it was, under his. "Work didn't just save us," she admitted. "It saved me. I'd lost my mom. My dad had walked out." She grimaced, but let the memory go. "I needed something to keep me from constantly worrying. I could cook, and restaurants aren't always fussy about who they hire. I made money to cover bills, and I found a calling. Putting on my chef's whites is my idea of dress up."
He took that in, his blue eyes steady and quiet.
"Tell me about you," she said.
The waitress returned with their loaded burgers. They were delicious, charred and juicy and rare on the inside. Good though they were, Rebecca wasn't going to let a little thing like eating get him off the hook.
"Tell me about you," she insisted.
"That's a long and unsavory tale."
"So?" she said around a bite of red meat.
He thought for a moment. He was such a charmer, he must have a standard answer, one that would relay amusing and evasive truths. Rebecca hoped that wasn't the answer she'd get. He set down his burger and faced her.
"My father used to beat me."
That she wasn't expecting. "Like . . . as a regular thing?"
"Once a week, I'd say. Depending on how much he was drinking and if I lsquo;made' him lose his temper. Starting when I was ten or so."
"And your Mom?"
"She wasn't in the picture. She ran off with the Mattress King, ironically enough."
"The Mattress King?"
"He owned a warehouse store in Trenton. Wore a bad toupee and ran loud commercials on late night TV. We lived in a small town. My father didn't much like having been thrown over for a bad joke."
"Wow," Rebecca said, picking up her food again.
Zane did as well, though she doubted he tasted it before he swallowed. "I don't talk to him anymore. When Trey and I left for college, I never looked back again."
"That was probably smart," she said, though she knew people did look backmdash;whether they wanted to or not.
He nodded and looked down. He didn't seem like a mogul. He just seemed like a person. Rebecca wondered if she should touch him the way he had her. Giving in to the impulse, she rubbed his strong-boned wrist. He didn't pull away.
"I'm okay," he said. "I had Trey to get me through. We had each other."
Something in his voice said this hadn't been an ordinary friendship.
"You two are close."
"Yes," he said and lifted his gaze to hers.
She couldn't read what was behind it but sensed she was seeing a side of him he didn't show most people. How did souls connect? People talked about it in books: The eyes were the window to and all that. Pete and Charlie were part of her, but other folks were a mystery. Was Zane's soul talking to hers as he stared at her? Did hers understand the secrets that weren't coming out his mouth?
Okay, she told herself. You've had too much beer.
Maybe he thought so too. He broke the tension with a gentle but charming smile. "This is too serious. I should be asking you your favorite movie or where you wish you could go on vacation."
"To work," she not-quite-joked. "Obviously."
"You could cook your way around Europe," he suggested in the same vein.
"Mm," she said. "That would be fabulous."
~
Rebecca lived in a single family two-story Victorian. The residence wouldn't have been fancy even when it was new, but Zane supposed it had character. When he picked her up, she'd explained her brothers' basement apartment plan. Zane had assured her the strategy wasn't stupid, and that she'd have no trouble learning how to be a landlord.
"You're a boss already," he'd said. "You're used to keeping on top of things."
The dumpster hulking in her front yard was less obvious in the dark. As he parked his old silver convertible in her driveway, Zane reminded himself she had a lot of pressures on her: new job, changing home, boys becoming more independent and expecting her to let them. For a person as tightly wound as Rebecca, this wouldn't be easy. She might not be in the mood to hop into bed with him.
This, needless to say, wasn't a thought he was used to having about women.
Overall, tonight had left him off kilter. He wondered why he'd told her about his father hitting him. Because she was different than his usual arm candy? Because her brothers had opened a window onto her equally non picket-fence childhood?
Unable to answer, he shut off the engine. By this point, he was half-hard, though he knew better than to look too eager to be invited in. He didn't want to push Rebecca past her comfort zone. Hell, maybe he didn't want to push himself. He was seriously attracted to her, more than he'd been to any woman recently.
Ignoring the whiff of danger, he turned in his seat and looked at her. She was sitting forward with her knees together, her thumbnail stuck between her teeth again. The nervous gesture shouldn't have struck him as so endearing. The compulsion to put her at her ease was strong. One thing he knew for sure: he didn't want the night to be over yet.
"You know," he said, his wrist draped over the steering wheel. "I think when Trey and I were students, we lived less than half a mile from here."
She twisted to face him. The Mercedes' top was down and the nearest streetlamp lit her fine features. "Really? We could have met and not known it?"
This seemed to intrigue her. Smiling and oddly happy, he reached to brush a pixie wisp from her smooth cheekbone. "I'm just glad we've met now."
"Oh you're full of it," she said good-naturedly. "A guy like you could date a different woman every night of the week if you wanted to."
"A guy like me."
"You know: gorgeous, successful, in command of himself."
He liked her description. Enjoying the feel of her downy cheek, he continued stroking his finger over it. "Why can't I want to date you?"
"Because I'm weird."
"Maybe I like weird."
She smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing. How did she get through every day so tensed up?
"You like cute-weird," she corrected, teasing him.
"I'm glad your self esteem is sufficient to admit you qualify."
She laid her adorable blonde head on the seat back, the change in position causing his hand to cup her ear. She might as well have groped his cock. His half hard-on lengthened inside his trousers, swiftly stiffening all the way.
"I had a nice time tonight," she said. "I liked talking to you."
"Me too." He was surprised how much he meant it, and how strongly the need to get inside her surged up in him.
"Will you kiss me good night?" she asked. Her manner wasn't quite shy, but it wasn't bold eithermdash;as if she wasn't certain he'd want to.
Zane wanted to kiss her, and a hell of a lot more besides. Chest rumbling with a growl he didn't mean to utter, he slid as far over as the small car required. She moved toward him simultaneously, her own cry as their lips met completely flattering.
Oh kissing her was good. She was small and strong and she poured her whole body into answering his passion. There was plenty of that, wave after wave rolling through him, until his dick ached with it. Groaning, he pulled her on top of him. He couldn't keep his hands from running over her. Her back, her arms, the curve of her narrow waist, all called him to admire them. Her tight little butt obsessed himmdash;its firmness, its roundness, how he could cover half of it with his palm. Her ass made him long to take her in ways he'd only taken Trey until now.
Actually, her ass kind of made him want to spank her.
He counted himself fortunate she couldn't read his mind. "Mm," she hummed, wriggling as his hand slid under her wretched dress and over her slightly nicer satin panties. Half Zane's blood tried to race to his cock at once. She was wet, her gusset soaked where he pushed the cloth between her labia.
She broke free of his kiss and gasped.
"Too much?" he panted, feeling like a teenager who'd tried to steal third base.
"Maybe." Her Cheshire smile was at odds with her breathlessness. "Why don't I even things up a bit?"
His size and the car's lack of it didn't allow her much room to move. He debated suggesting they take this show inside when her surprisingly firm hand wrapped his erection. He arched, the top of his head bumping the window frame. The way his scalp tingled had more to do with her rubbing him than the possible concussion.
"Fuck," he groaned, feeling her touch so intensely he could hardly believe it. One more squeeze, and he swore he was going to come.
"Too much?" she asked.
Maybe she was joking. Tit for tat, and all that. Zane didn't wait to find out. He shoved her seat fully backward on its track, then flipped her down onto it. At the cost of a couple curses and bonked body parts, he twisted into a hunched position where he could shove her dress up and latch his mouth over her pussy. The pleasure he took in this improved the second he ripped away her panties. Her clit was so swollen he had no trouble zeroing in on it.
"Jesus," she said, ineffectually pushing at his head. He licked up her creamy button, and she whimpered. "Zane, the top of your car is down."
"Gaze at the stars," he laughed, drunk with the taste of her. "And for God's sake, don't be loud enough to disturb your neighbors."
"Oh God," she groaned, because he'd brought his thumbs into play beside his mouth. He wedged his shoulders beneath her thighs, spreading them wider. Her hands forked into his hair, her hips jerking closer in spite of her embarrassment with the exposure. "Zane, I can'tmdash;"
He found a hot spot to the left of her clit and worked it in a circle with the pad of his thumb. Apparently, it was a good nerve cluster. Rebecca groaned and thrashed and clutched his head harder. "We're outside," she said, trying to whisper. "I can't . . . relax enough to come."
He was pretty sure she could. She was hot enough to burn him, the moans that caught in her throat ramping up his excitement. Now that he'd got himself where he was, he was damned if he wanted to cut this short.
An idea sprang into his mind thatmdash;in the momentmdash;seemed like genius. Possibly it was evil genius. His cock thudded like a demon as it came to him.
"I can help you keep quiet," he said, hands flying from her sex to his belt buckle. "Then you'll be able to relax."
His belt whipped free of its loops with a telltale metallic rattle.
"Zane," she breathed in shock. "You can't fuck me out here."
She would have let him. Her temperature had jumped ten degrees. "Not the plan," he assured her, despite the temptation. "Give me your wrists."
"What?"
"Wrists," he repeated.
She stared at him with her mouth open. Her pupils were dilated from more than the darkness. His instincts were on target. Whether she knew it or not, this game excited her.
"I promise," he swore harshly. "I'll stop the second you ask me to."
She swallowed and then offered him her wrists. She looked so obedient, so surprisingly natural. Zane's heart rate sped up wildly. He was doing a number on his own arousal as well. Trey had trained him to like these scenarios. Struggling not to shake, he wrapped his belt in figure eights around her slender wrists. The leather wasn't tied, but it would stay where it was.
"Bite it," he said. "Or hook it behind my neck. Whatever helps you feel in control."
The suggestion that binding her wrists would increase her sense of control sent a shudder through her body.
"Okay?" he asked, because she seemed unable to speak. She nodded, a quickened pulse beating in her throat. Satisfied, he bent back to her pussy.
She was twice as wet as before, twice as wild and responsive. She was also quieter. Only gasps and tiny strangled mewls came from her. When he rolled his eyes up, she had the belt clamped between her teeth. The sight did incredible things to him. He forgot how uncomfortable his hunched position was. Aroused beyond bearing, he wanted to make her come so hard the belt would be all that prevented her from screaming.
He sucked her until she tensed every muscle with her longing to go over, until he knew all she needed was a bit more pressure. He drove his hands up the front of her body, underneath her loose dress to the wire bottom of her bra. His fingers pushed it easily upward, each hand covering one round breast. Her skin was feverish, her hardened nipples perfect for scissoring between his knuckles.
She hissed and arched for how good that felt. Then, as if she needed it too much to remain inhibited, she finally slapped her belt-bound wrists behind his neck.
This was a signal he had no intention of disregarding. As she urged him closer, he lavished all his oral skill on her clit, sucking it with force and directness: lips, tongue, everything brought into play.
She came without screaming, but she came hard. When her thighs relaxed at last from their spasm of pleasure, he shifted up her body. The move kept her arms behind him, tied wrists limply hugging him. Her eyes were wide, her pulse still trembling within her cushy lips. He kissed her softly, and she returned it the same way. He loved that as much as he'd loved her earlier aggression. Her kiss conveyed a depth of caring he shouldn't have been hungry for. He had that in his life. Trey gave it to him in spades. Ruthlessly shoving that consciousness aside, he lowered his hips to hers.
The stiff ridge behind his zipper couldn't be overlooked.
"Zane," she murmured against mouth, definitely not an objection.
He didn't open his trousers. He liked his hands where they were, fanned and kneading her warm soft breasts. Rebecca's legs were parted around him, her panties torn away. He began to rub against her slowly, getting her wetness on the linen, teasing his prick with prospect of getting off. Her bound hands fisted in the small of his back, her calves moving restlessly behind his.
"Are you going to come like this?" she asked in a hushed tone. "Without even unzipping?"
He looked into her big gray eyes, into her shining black pupils. "Do you want me to?"
Her pelvis arched to him. "Yes, please," she whispered in answer.
He needed the release bad, but he didn't rush. He waited until tension rose in her again, wanting her to go with him. Then he dropped his head beside hers on the car seat and ground hard and quick into her mons, making sure to strafe the swelling at its apex. Growls of pent-up longing escaped him, his cock as trapped by his clothing as her wrists were by his belt. The constriction pleased his nerves, the perversity of doing this like he was back in high school. As excited as he was, the friction got to him in no time.
He had to let go, and he did. He gasped at the intensity of the orgasm, hot kicks of ejaculation driven hard from his cock and balls. Rebecca went a second later, her involuntary cry muffled against his neck.
He suspected he'd remember the sound of that for a while.
"Whew," Rebecca said after a long moment.
Zane covered her mouth with his sweaty hand. Someone was coming toward them on the sidewalkmdash;walking a dog, he thought.
"Stay still," he instructed her very quietly. "I don't think they'll notice us."
The person didn't seem to, talking nonsense to his dog and humming an off-key show tune. By the time he was gone, Rebecca was biting her lip against laughing. She'd unwrapped his belt already to free her wrists, so he rolled off her. She straightened her dress and wriggled her bra back on. She tried to get the convertible's seat up, but she needed his help for that.
Her amusement remained apparent through all of it.
"We're both completely crazy," she declared.
Her hair was sticking up all over, actually more stylish than it had been before.
"Maybe," Zane said, giving in to the urge to smooth it, "but I'm pretty sure we need to do that again, preferably in a bed."
Rebecca saw she'd dumbfounded him, though he tried to act like it was no big deal. "Why would you say that?" he asked calmly.
She wasn't certain how to explain. What were the guy rules for two friends fooling around with the same woman? As to that, what were the girl rules for pointing out they had? She did her best not to squirm under his regard.
"I don't want to cause trouble between you and your partner."
"Trey and I don't run each other's sex lives. I mean, he wouldn't like me upsetting his new chef. Other than that, I don't see why he'd care."
He wasn't telling the complete truth. She knew that from her experiences riding herd on the twins. Maybe he saw the suspicion in her eyes. "Call me crazy," he said, turning it back on her, "but you seemed to enjoy what we did."
She'd more than enjoyed it. She'd been as shocked by his ability to divine her unsuspected kinks as she'd been by Trey's. "Of course I enjoyed it," she said aloud. "Maybe this is just too fast for me."
"I can slow down. I . . . like you, Rebecca. Why don't you take tonight to think about it? I'll call you tomorrow."
In her admittedly limited experience, guys rarely meant they would call when they said that. If Zane didn't mean it, it would let her off the hook of this dilemma.
"All right," she said, opening her door and getting out. "Call me tomorrow."
I won't be disappointed if you don't, she swore to herself as she went inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On the Menu
TREY had Elaine arrange his Wednesday appointment with Rebecca. He told himself it made sense to talk at the Lounge. Rebecca could confirm that the kitchen and dining room were set up to suit her. Yes, Zane was back in Boston and, yes, he might read something in Trey's body language if he saw him with her. That wasn't why Trey didn't want Rebecca at headquarters. He had no plans to pursue her. Anything Zane might misinterpret was moot.
Aware the excuse was slim, he shook his head and opened his laptop at one of the dining room's finished booths. He'd come early, and Rebecca wasn't there. Possibly, he should have had sex with Zane more than once this morning. The thought of his new chef arriving made his libido feel antsy.
He'd left the street entrance open, but Rebecca knocked anyway. Trey's palms broke into a sweat as he went to greet her.
"Hey," he said. "Glad you made it."
This wasn't very bosslike, but he was grateful anything came out of his mouth. His pulse was going haywire, his eyes trying to drink in every part of her at once. It wasn't normal to be this happy about another human being's presence.
"Come in," he said, stepping back to give her room.
She came, ran her gaze around, and turned back to smile at him. "It looks great," she said delightedly. "It's more finished than last time."
He reminded himself she was delighted because she'd be cooking here, not because she was with him. His cock wasn't listening. It was throwing a little party inside his Calvin Kleins.
"Should we sit?" he offered, gesturing toward the booth he'd chosen.
She jerked as if her thoughts might have wandered too. "Sure," she said. She held up the computer tablet she'd been clutching to the side of her crisp white shirt. "I brought some suggestions for the menu. I realize you're a foodie and probably have your own ideas. I promise I'm not married to what I'm proposing."
She wasn't married to what she was proposing. Trey's mind had trouble processing that plainly. "I want your ideas. I'd be wasting your expertise otherwise."
They slid into the booth at almost the same momentmdash;and with very similar awkwardness. Trey's legs were longer and his foot ended up against hers. He pulled it back, but the contact rattled her as well. She fumbled over opening her computer, a hot red tide rising up her cheeks.
He wanted to lick the color, or maybe just fuck her senseless over the tabletop. He was so hard he hurt, his prick a fricking missile seeking the heat of her.
Sheesh, he thought. I'm a maniac.
The remainder of their discussion unrolled along the same road. Being this close to her might have been easier if he hadn't known she wanted him too. Because he did, it took twice as long to rough out a menu, considering they weren't at odds over it. Rebecca's vision of classic Boston favorites given a luxury twist was very much what he'd had in mind.
He noticed the longer they sat, the tighter she pressed her knees together. When she crossed them under the table, he wanted to break into tears. Truly, he deserved industrial strength credit for the sacrifice of not chasing her.
"I, uh, need to put the word out," she said. "But I should be able to pull a crew together within the next two weeks."
"You're going to steal some line cooks from your old employer."
Her sly smile was a welcome break from tension. "A couple. But they already told me they'd follow me to a new place."
He grinned back, and a small silence fell. Rebecca stroked the edge of her computer like it was something else. Trey tried not to get any harder at the unconsciously sexy movements of her fingers. Wrenching his eyes to her face didn't improve matters. Her lips were so tempting . . . and her eyes . . . and that delicate stubborn jaw . . .
"Uh," he said, his voice unavoidably husky. "We should plan on a dress rehearsal, after you've got the staff up to speed."
She'd stopped fondling her tablet, but seemed to be staring at his mouth. "Right. You'll want to invite local celebrities and press."
"Friendly ones. That way we can get buzz started off on the right foot."
"I'm not afraid of critics. Not if I've got a good team. Your special guests and their taste buds won't know what hit them."
He loved her confidence . . . and agreed with it.
"Rebeccamdash;" he said just as she blurted out his name.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Trey didn't know what he'd been about to say. Something crazy, chances were. Please strip naked or where would you like to honeymoon? "That's all right. What did you want to tell me?"
"Only that . . . I'll shop."
She said it like someone else would have promised to see a dentist. "You'll shop?"
"For clothes. That I can wear to greet VIPs. Your signing bonus was generous. It's fair for you to expect me to look like a top-drawer chef."
God, she amused him, enough that his chest warmed with it. "Do you hate it that much?"
"I don't hate it exactly. I worry I'll buy the wrong thing."
Worry ought to be her middle name. He wanted to take her shopping in the worst way. He would have loved to watch her change into or out of anything.
"I know a stylist," he said instead. "She's not a bully so much as a guide. I'm sure she'd be happy to work with you."
Sybil would be perfect. She shopped for Trey and Zane when they were short of time. She knew how to pinch a penny or empty out a mintmdash;as her clients preferred.
Trey tried to look reassuring, but Rebecca hesitated. "Could I get back to you maybe? I might have someone I can ask."
He was more miffed than was rational. She had someone she could ask? Why would she when he had the ideal answer? Evidently, if he couldn't sleep with her, he really wanted to help her out.
"Sure," he said, doing his best to hide his annoyance. "I'll have Elaine email you the stylist's info, in case you change your mind."
"Great," she said.
It might have been Trey's imagination, but she sounded miffed then too.
~
The call was close, but Rebecca escaped The Bad Boys Lounge without jumping Trey Hayworth's bones.
He's your boss, she repeated. Sleeping with your employer is asking for trouble.
Too bad she wanted to ask for trouble. And ask and ask andmdash;
"Shut up," she snapped to her rearview mirror. As she pulled her car into traffic, her face was hotmdash;not merely from arousal but also annoyance.
Trey would have Elaine forward his stylist's info? The man couldn't peck one email with his own fingertips?
Oh Lord, what was her problem? An email wasn't a lock of hair. And she didn't need a memento of her non-relationship with him. Maybe most absurd, because she'd refused Trey's referral of a stylist, now she was hoping Zane would call her. It was tomorrow. Twelve hours into it, to be precise.
Stopped by a red light, she glared at her shoulder bag, which she'd thrown on the right-hand seat. Her cell phone was in there, and it wasn't ringing.
She could ask the twins for fashion advice, but they wouldn't be as useful as Zane. He'd founded a magazine around what people ought to buy. He must know his Gucci from his Dior.
"You are so transparent," she muttered. How could it be a good idea to fight her attraction to one man with her yen for another? Trey and Zane were friends. The phrase sailing close to the wind was invented for this sort of thing.
When her cell phone buzzed, she jumped a foot in the air. Knowing better than to talk and drive, she swung her car into a miraculously open spot at the curb. She dug the phone out before it stopped buzzing.
"Yes," she said.
"You're there," came Zane's voice. "And you're answering."
She wasn't coy enough to pretend she didn't recognize him. "Hi, Zane," she said as her nipples tightened and her panties dampened yet again. "How are you doing?"
"Hopeful," he said, his charm apparent even through the phone speaker. "Could I tempt you to a picnic on my boat? The skies are supposed to be clear tonight, and I anticipate a breeze."
Rebecca squeezed her temples. "That soundsmdash;" ridiculously romantic? her girly side suggested "mdash;really nice, but I sort of need to ask a favor."
"A favor." He sounded curious rather than displeased.
Was asking this the lesser of two evils? Rebecca jumped in before she could decide. "I need to add to my wardrobe. Nothing crazy like a bunch of ballgowns, but a couple outfits I can wear for the public aspects of my new job. You seem to know about women's clothes."
"I know about them intimately," he agreed waggishly. He was silent for a moment. "Suppose we both get what we want tonight?"
His tone ran through her like melting caramel. "Is that a trick question?"
"Maybe." He laughed. "Meet me at this address at five. I'll take care of everything."
"You could explain what you mean."
"No I couldn't," he twitted her. "You're going to have to trust me to take all your needs into account."
He texted the address and then he hung up, leaving her gaping at the little screen. She should trust him and show up? Did he realize who he was talking to?
He did, of course, and presumably this was why he thought it was funny.
"Zillionaires," she muttered, maneuvering her car away from the curb. Thought they could arrange the world. A cab let her into traffic, and she lifted her hand in thanks.
She'd go on Zane's mystery date. She'd squeezed herself into a corner where she more or less had to.
"I didn't do that on purpose," she said.
Her protest wasn't convincing. She knew she was excited to find out what he'd planned for her.
~
Naturally, the address Zane gave her was a boat slip in Boston Harbor. Which of the small yachts belonged to him couldn't be mistaken. For one, his was the biggest, and for two, the name painted on the back was Bad Girl.
Rebecca grinned when she saw that. Really, she couldn't help herself.
Zane trotted out to greet her as she walked up the pier, an indicator of eagerness she was too flattered by. Zane probably treated all his dates nicelymdash;the ones he hoped to sleep with anyway. In spite of knowing this, she couldn't suppress a flutter as he handed her up the ramp. This was heady stuff for someone who'd once washed dishes to cover grocery bills.
"Welcome to the Bad Girl," he said with a brilliant smile. "We're nearly finished setting up."
We referred to him and a nicely dressed older woman who stood by two long racks of clothes. The living room was spacious enough that the racks weren't close to filling it.
This was a home Rebecca had entered. Teak wood, highly varnished, gleamed in narrow planks on the floor. A long white sectionalmdash;one she suspected wouldn't have fit in her housemdash;stretched beneath a broad window. An open stairway led up to a second level: sleeping cabins, she presumed. To her right, she caught a glimpse of a kitchen with white marble countertops.
She had no doubt it was better equipped than hers.
"This is Sybil Spaulding," Zane said, after she'd finished her quick gawk. "She's a personal shopper. I'm sure you'll find something you like among what she's brought to try on."
Sybil shook Rebecca's hand. "I've taken the liberty of laying out a few selections in one of the upstairs bedrooms."
"Great," Rebecca said, returning her gentle grip. "Maybe I could meet you up there."
The minute she disappeared, Zane came over and kissed her.
"Mmph," she said, pushing at his chest as she tried to fight the inevitable melting of her spine. Zane's kiss was comprehensive, to say the least. "Zane, I want to talk to you."
"I know." He angled his head for another sleek penetration, which she admitted she enjoyed. He pulled back and smiled. "Now that you're not so tense, maybe you'll listen to what I say."
She was more relaxed, especially since his big hands were smoothing up and down her back. It didn't hurt that the kiss had affected him. A definite bulge nudged her from behind his pants.
"All right," she surrendered. "Explain yourself."
"Sybil is aware your budget isn't as big as some. As long as you don't go crazy and snap up everything she brought, you're not liable to break the bank. And, much as I hate to restrain myself, I'm only asking you to accept one small gift from me in return."
"Zane. That isn'tmdash; I can'tmdash;"
"I know. " His smile was warm, his blue eyes seeming to glow with genuine affection. "Accepting gifts from men you barely know isn't appropriate. Please just indulge me this little bit."
"Zane." Her treacherous hands rubbed his chest, the muscles of which felt awesome beneath the navy silk shirt he wore.
"Think how much time you'll save shopping this way," he coaxed. "And how much surer you'll feel about your purchases once two people have approved."
"That," she said, "really is dirty pool."
He smiled unrepentantly. "Go upstairs. I'll wait here for the fashion show."
He pushed his luck by swatting her bottom.
"Do not try that again," she warned, shaking her finger. Zane's expression was angelic.
Upstairs, in a hallway paneled with dark wood and hushed by a thick carpet, she counted five cabin doors. The final one on the left was ajar. Striding toward it, she grumbled about Zane's highhandedness . . . at least until she saw the clothes that lay on the bed.
Zane must have given Sybil instructions. Everything the shopper had selected was a transformed version of Rebecca's everyday work wear. Dark pants and skirts were paired with light-colored button tops. The difference was that the styles and fabrics were heaps nicer.
"Silk," Rebecca said unsurely, stroking one pale blue shirt. The cloth felt delicious against her fingertips.
"It's washable," Sybil assured her. "And you can wear a camisole under it. I also brought a selection of accessories. Dress up any of these outfits with jewelry, and you can go anywhere short of a formal ball. That shirt you're touching certainly suits your fair coloring."
Tears stung Rebecca's eyes. This was so thoughtful . . . and so smart! She looked helplessly at Sybil, unable to say a word.
"Why don't I select a combination you can start with?" she said.
All the clothes Rebecca pulled on fit. More than that, everything flattered her.
"He guessed my size," she blurted, twisting back and forth in front of the full-length mirror.
A moment later she realized Zane must have scads of practice guessing women's measurements.
"Would you like to model this outfit for him?" Sybil suggested politely.
"Oh no," Rebecca said, braced by the reminder of who Zane was. "That's too damn Pretty Woman. If you think these clothes are all right, that's good enough for me."
Sybil might have hid a smile as she helped her remove the blouse again.
In the end, Rebecca chose five outfits, a simple cultured pearl necklace, and two pairs of low heels she expected her calves would tolerate. Sybil presented her with the total and accepted her credit card. If she noticed Rebecca's tiny wince, she was too tactful to let it show.
The shopper had been professional, pleasant but not chatty. To Rebecca's surprise, Sybil touched her arm to stop her before she left.
"Zane's gift for you is hanging in the closet. I'm sure he'd be pleased if you put it on for him. Maybe I shouldn't tell you, but this is a first for him. Although I've shopped for him and Mr. Hayworth, you're the first female he's called me in to help. I'm sure he doesn't mean his present to come with strings attached."
Sybil blushed even as she lifted her chin slightly. "Mr. Alexander is a gentleman. You don't see that often these days."
Rebecca supposed you didn'tmdash;especially not in a man of so much privilege.
With Sybil's testimonial to goose her on, she opened the room's closet. A fragile dress hung inside, mid-thigh length and lovely enough to steal her breath. The fabric was a silver silk so shiny it shimmered like water. The matching sandals were tall enough to kill her if she weren't careful.
She saw at once it wouldn't be possible to wear underwear with it.
Oh boy, she sighed privately. She wanted to put that dress on; wanted to show Zane how she looked in it as much as she wanted to see herself.
He's earned this, she thought, sitting patiently in the living room all this time. Maybe he was hoping she'd put out in return or maybe, as Sybil Spaulding claimed, he wanted her to have it without strings.
Unable to resist and feeling disconcertingly as if she were sixteen again, Rebecca stripped naked and dropped the dress over her.
It was beautiful. She was beautiful. For the first time in a decade, Rebecca acknowledged that. Her face held a hint of the girl she'd been, but her body was a woman's. She looked seductive in the thin clinging silk: firm where she ought to be, soft where a man would like. She was better than naked wearing it. She was enchanting.
Squeezing her feet into the teetering sandal heels brought her back to reality, but she was determined not to do this half-assed. She'd always taught the twins the best thank yous were wholehearted.
As a precaution, she gripped the handrail when she went down the stairs. Zane was in the living room, working on his laptop. He looked up at the clack of her sandals. His reaction was priceless. He rose to his feet, hand on heart, as if she were a bolt of lightning that had struck him.
"Wow," he said and swallowed.
"I have to keep this," she confessed, laughing. "It looks too nice on me."
"It looks amazing." He took her hands as she reached the bottom, holding them out from her sides.
"Thank you," she said. "You did a thoughtful thing."
"You didn't mind too much?"
"No. It reminded me I used to look forward to buying clothes. My mother loved taking me each fall before she got sick. She could pinch a penny, but she was into it. She'd pour over Seventeen before we went. She called it our girls day out."
He dragged his eyes up to hers, simply staring at her. He seemed to understand she'd revealed something personal. "I, ummdash; Wow. I'm having trouble remembering what I meant to say. Our picnic boxes are in the fridge. I told the captain we could cast off soon. We'll eat on the aft deck, if you like."
"We have a captain?" She was startled by this idea.
"We do. I can operate the yacht but, generally speaking, drinking and boating isn't a good idea. I wanted to share a glass of wine with you and watch the sunset."
Her fingers were tangling with his, their thumbs stroking together with a suggestiveness that made her knees tremble. "What time is sunset?"
A smile spread across Zane's sensual mouth. "Not for hours yet."
"We could maybe work up an appetite before we go admire it."
Rather than speak, he scooped her into his arms. He carried her up the narrow stairs without clutching the railing or tumbling them to their deathsmdash;a testament to his athleticism that she was grateful for.
He didn't miss that she'd taken a tighter grip on him.
"You're safe now," he teased as they reached the top landing.
"It's simple neurotic reflex," she assured him. "I knew you had me."
"Not yet." He carried her to a new bedroom at the top of the quiet hall. "I'm hoping to have that privilege soon."
The master cabin was bigger than the one where she'd tried on clothes. Decorated in brown and gold, its bed was custom-carved and king size. Zane laid her gently on the gold coverlet. He didn't follow her down, but started unbuttoning his silk shirt.
"Please." Rebecca rolled onto her knees. "Let me help you with that."
Zane stopped working on the buttons. "Thank you," he saidmdash;almost seriously.
Rebecca grinned and took over the task for him. She loved being this close to him. Smelling him, feeling his heart beat hard and strong under her fingers. The center of his chest appeared, its furring of golden hair narrowing to a line that dove into his trousers. His erection reshaped the front admirably.
"I remember this belt," she said, releasing its buckle and pulling. "But I don't think you'll need it tonight."
"Want your hands free?" he suggested.
Rebecca opened his waist catch and pulled his shirttails free. He helped her get the garment off his powerful arms, at which point she truly had to caress him.
As she did, a low sound of pleasure broke in his throat.
"You're a fine looking man," she said, palms and fingers exploring his rib cage. "Only a foolish woman wouldn't want her hands on you."
Zane was breathing harder, his big chest going up and down. He didn't interfere with her petting by trying to touch her. "Have I mentioned how much I like you, Rebecca?"
"Only the once." Amused, she bent to brush her lips across his peaked left nipple. "You could say it again any time you want."
He caught her face in his hands, straightening her, looking into her eyes. His expression hovered between a smile and something more intense, something that might have been wonder. "I like you," he repeated. "You're smart and funny and so damn sexy my cock is crying."
He kissed her before she could answer, deep and hard, his long-fingered hands holding her in place. The slide and draw of his tongue, so like the motions of lovemaking, caused her body to react.
"Oh," she gasped, breaking free. "I need to take off this dress before I get it wet."
Zane's handsome face darkened, muscles in his cheeks tightening with lust. "Rebecca," he growled.
"It's silk," she said, though she didn't think he was arguing. "I don't want to ruin it."
He released her so she could pull it off, hands curling at his sides as he watched. She crawled off the massive bed, draped the pretty silver dress on a chair, and then turned to him.
"There," she said, completely naked and only a little shy. "Now I'm ready for anything."
He laughed then. "You're a character."
She hopped back onto the bed, one more concern rising while it still could. "How far away is your captain?"
Zane's eyebrows arched. "I hope you don't think we need his help."
"Oh no." Heat touched her cheeks in embarrassment. "I just wondered if it was safe for me to be noisy."
Zane's slow smile of answer was anything but safe. "The cabins are soundproofed. You can saymdash;or screammdash;whatever you like to me."
She leaned back, not quite brazen enough to stroke herself. "Well? Hurry up and make me."
As if it were a race, he shucked his trousers and briefs, giving her a too-short flash of his tall nude body before clambering onto the bed over her.
"Wait!" she cried, pushing him to his back. "Let me look at you."
Clearly happy, he grinned up at her from where he'd tumbled. "lsquo;Hurry up.' lsquo;Wait.' Make up your mind, Rebecca."
He wasn't too shy to touch himself. He took his hard-on in hand, pointing its flushed tip at her. The other hand he wrapped warmly around her breast.
"Oh," she said, liking the way his thumb circled her nipple.
Naturally, when he pulled his fist slowly up his shaft, his erection was all she could stare at. The length of it was solid, his own personal monument. Thinking of things she could do to it, her tongue curled over her upper lip.
"You see how he likes you?" Zane purred. "How he beads up and cries when I cup your breasts."
Rebecca put her hand lightly over his, fingertips caressing the dips between his knuckles. "I like him too. I want him inside of me."
Zane stretched up until he could kiss her. He pulled his cock again, tugging slowly enough that her hand rode his to the crest. She guessed being on the bottom wasn't his thing. He rolled until she was beneath him, dwarfed by the size of his big body. He didn't lie on her yet. With a longing moan, he dipped his head to suck her nipple.
"These are gorgeous," he murmured, dragging his head across to the other breast. He must have shaved, because his cheeks were smooth. "So round, so perfect, I could suck on them all night."
Her hands fluttered to his hair, fingers sinking into thick waves. Though she didn't think of her breasts as perfect, the way he nuzzled at them and groaned almost convinced her. He pulled at her, flicking the stiffened tips with his tongue. That got to her a little too well. She was aching terribly.
"Zane," she said, rubbing the inside of her thigh against his waist.
He lifted his head, blue eyes lasering at her. "You don't want to wait anymore?"
She shook her head, and he smiled. He reached across her, pulling open the bedside drawer, strafing her pleasantly with his chest hair in the process. His hand returned with a condom. He sat back on his bare heels.
"You put it on," she said shyly. "I like watching you touch yourself."
He must have believed tradeoffs were fair play, because he took one of her hands and placed it between her lolling thighs. "You don't have to put on a show," he said, urging her fingers into a curve around her labia. "Just hold yourself while I put this on. Just feel what watching me does to you."
He opened the condom wrapper but didn't roll it on. "Cup your breast with the other hand. Don't cover the nipple. I want to look at that."
Rebecca did as he asked, since it was simple enough. Watching her watch him, he pushed the pad of his thumb across his penis slit, employing more force than she'd have thought comfortable. Moisture welled from the opening. Rebecca shivered as he spread the fluid across and around his tip. His skin grew redder, his shaft standing more upright. He rolled the condom over himself, smoothing the latex until it clung to him. His veins bulged starkly under it.
"Wow," she said, unused to finding this sexy.
When he smiled and lowered his gaze meaningfully, she noticed she was gripping her pussy considerably tighter than before. Her whole sex was pulsating: lips, clit, the soft wet parts that were inside her. She wasn't quite masturbating, but she was close.
"You'll have to move your hand out of the way for me," he said.
She did so with surprising reluctance.
When he came over her again, she knew there'd be no more waiting. His face was intent, focused on her and what they were about to do. He propped himself on his elbows and aligned his hips with hers. God, his shoulders were broad. She slid her hands over them, then down his sides to where she could hold on. His cock rested on the line of her pussy lips, hot and thick and pulsing with excitement.
Its weight felt amazingly good to her.
"We'll take this easy," he assured her.
She wasn't worried. She and Trey had managed . . . and then she realized maybe this wasn't the most appropriate comparison to make. She couldn't help it. Trey was leaner overall, but erection-wise, they were around the same size.
The image of Trey's highly aroused penis rolled into her mind: the wider flare of his cap, the dragon's tail circling his root. Her pussy contracted, embarrassing her.
Being turned on by the memory of another man wasn't appropriate either.
Thankfully unaware, Zane smiled at the increase in her wetness. Tipping his cock down between her labia, he angled it to notch her. To her delight, he bit his lip as he pushed inside.
This, of course, wasn't her only reason to be happy.
"Oh boy," she said, palms sliding up his back. "Oh wow, that feels good."
He entered her in one slow glide, working his right hand beneath her bottom to ensure his cock squeezed in all the way. All the way felt incredible, like she was filled and then some. Rebecca bracketed her legs around him, leaving her heels on the mattress. When her hips cocked up to get closer, he chuckled.
"My cock's still crying," he informed her. "You are so fucking soft and tight around me."
"Better move," Rebecca advised. "Give your friend what he's crying for."
He didn't need to be asked again. Zane moved like he was the boat rocking her: slowly, smoothly, long ins and outs that left them both moaning. When one position got him too restless, he shifted into another. He rolled her to her side for a while, then on top of him. As she sat above him, his fingers plucked the aching tips of her breasts. When that no longer addressed his needs, he pulled her down to kiss her shoulders and urge her mouth tight against his neck. His hands stroked her everywhere, even the ***** of her butt cheeks. Nothing felt wrong to her. His touch was magic no matter where it went.
Patience fraying yet again, he eased her off him and onto her stomach. Rebecca clutched the edge of the mattress as his cock plumbed her sheath from behind.
"Zane," she said, arching her ass to him. "You can go faster."
Zane gave a little grunt. "I want this to last."
Apparently, he thought their latest mutual torment could be improved on. He shifted her more onto her side and crooked her top leg up, thrusting in from a close rear spoon. With his left arm pushed beneath her, he was able to wrap her up with both. That was a nice position, the spots his cockhead knocked against and rubbed over delicious. The way he held her felt marvelous, the nuzzling of his face against her shoulder. The only drawback was the incredible wound-up tension in their bodies.
"I need you to go faster," she admitted. "And I can tell you need it too."
He moaned out a sound of protest, but his next shove surged in harder.
"Yes," she urged, tightening on him.
He shoved again, harder still.
"God," he gasped, letting her know this felt as great to him as it did to her. He wrapped one hand around her mons veneris, shifting his weight a bit more on top of her.
His next thrust was hard enough to make her cry out.
"Good," she praised for fear he'd think he'd hurt her. She fumbled back to grip him behind the thigh. "Please, Zane, do me more like that."
Her plea made him growl, made his erection stiffen and swell in her. When she clenched her sheath around him, he cut loose. He fucked her then, no other word for it. Both their right knees dug into the mattress, his forcing her leg higher and more open. The stretch felt wonderful, being overwhelmed by all that big male power. His abdomen slapped her butt like it was spanking her.
"You're . . . too small for this," he gasped even as he went wild.
"I'm not," she promised, groaning with pleasure. Heaviness gathered in her pussy, an ache only he could cure. "Zane, Zanemdash;"
The pad of his middle finger dug firmly into her clit and rubbed. She came with a spike of feeling that blinded her. Zane cried out, churning into her so fast it was insane. Then, with a cry and a good hard slam he crashed over the edge as well.
His cock throbbed inside her, his ejaculation so distinct, so strong she couldn't have missed it. Finding that sexy beyond belief, she came again.
"Re . . . becca," he said, her name broken by panting.
His cock slipped from her as his body relaxed.
"Mm," he hummed andmdash;as easily as thatmdash;he was unconscious.
Caught beneath half his weight, Rebecca laughed softly. She'd had men fall asleep after sex before, but never so abruptly. Coming had felled Zane like the proverbial tree. She wriggled around beneath him until she lay face up. Zane's cheek settled on her breast. Still asleep, he snuggled to her, one long arm and leg wrapping her. His slumbering self seemed determined not to let her get away.
Rather than allow the rubber to get them both messy, she reached between them to peel it off. Zane grumbled as she stretched to discard it. Finding a luxury brand tissue on the nightstand to stroke him dry earned her a melodic sigh. She was done then, free to enjoy his snuggling and his warmth and the oddly pleasant intimacy of his nakedness and hers. Like Trey, he smelled incredible after sex, a combination of personal chemistry and what was probably hundred dollar an ounce cologne.
Now that she wasn't occupied with Zane, she could look around. The space was bigger than her bedroom at home, the furniture in it equally oversized. Like the bed, the wall panels were dark wood. Whatever sealed them left them with a glossy shine, an effect echoed in the nightstands and the portion of the elegant en suite bathroom that she could see. The counters there were white-veined black marble. Apart from the bedroom rug, which glowed in subtle desert hues, everything her eye fell on gleamed softly. She might have been shut up in a very expensive boxmdash;a protective box, it actually seemed to her. Nothing bad was allowed to happen here.
Extending from the wall above the bed was a wooden half-moon canopy. Two reading lights were recessed within it, suggestingmdash;in case she'd ever doubtedmdash;that this bed hadn't been designed for one person to sleep in.
Oh whatever, she chided. She'd known Zane wasn't a monk. Maybe she should simply savor being here tonight. She had plenty of time to remind herself not to get used to it.
She closed her eyes, smiling at her temporary worry sabbatical. Not intending to fall asleep, she didn't realize she had until the dream came to her.
Night had descended. She was waitressing on Zane's boat. Its spacious dining room was packed, Boston's skyline twinkling behind the long windows. She was serving her own food, and for some reason all the courses were on her tray at once. Knowing that was wrong, she debated returning to the pass-through. The last thing she wanted was to humiliate herself in front of all these people.
"Here," Zane called, signaling her from a table. "We're ready for dinner now."
Trey sat across from him in a gorgeous all-white tuxedo. That was awkward. What if Trey realized she'd slept with his closest friend? Unlike Zane, her new boss wasn't smiling.
"I tipped you," he said sternly, pointing to a pair of hundred dollar bills that lay across his bread plate. "The least you could do was leave him alone."
This was an odd way to put it, she thought.
"Don't listen to him," Zane said. "He has no claim on me."
Zane's formal wear was black and white. He reached across the table to hold Trey's handmdash;which seemed to contradict his words.
"I'm confused," Rebecca said. "Do you two want me or not?"
With a simultaneity that had to be practiced, the men unzipped their tuxedo trousers and pulled out erect cocks. Rebecca gasped, suddenly painfully aroused. The men turned in their chairs to face her and began to stroke themselves. They'd spread their legs very wide. She could see into their trousers down to their testicles.
The display was too much for her. She wanted to drop to her knees before them, to suck one reddened cock and then the other until they exploded. They'd like watching each other. Somehow she just knew that.
Her heavy tray trembled on her shoulder. She realized she forgotten to pull on panties beneath her brand new skirt. Hot cream from her arousal was trickling down her leg.
"We would want youmdash;" Zane began.
"mdash;if you weren't so needy," Trey finished.
"I'm not needy," she objected. "I work like a dog. I take care of everyone!"
Zane shook his head sadly. "You only pretend. We know how much you want to cling."
"Fuck you," dream Rebecca swore. "I'll serve your food to someone else!"
She stormed away with her traymdash;or tried to. People kept bumping her, sticking their elbows and shoulders out from their seats. At last, she reached an empty table on the edge of the room. She set the courses down on the tablecloth. The plates were cold, an embarrassment to serve. All her hard work was ruined. She wanted to cry but refused to.
A shadow came up behind her. She didn't turn. She already knew who it was.
"They see the real you," her father said. "I'm not the only one.
Rebecca shuddered awake. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and anger surging through her in sickening waves. What was she doing with Zane tonight? How could she imagine nothing bad could happen in this room?
Bad things could happen anywhere.
Settle down, she urged herself, conscious that the nightmare still had a grip on her. Then again, just because a dream was a dream didn't mean she should ignore the reality check. She eased Zane's head from her shoulder and sat up. The sky outside the porthole window was nearly dark. They must have slept a while.
Night was the time she worried most. About work. About the boys. Anything she could dream up. Especially since the twins had gone off to college, she felt vulnerable sleeping in the family house. The big man lying beside her tempted her to think differently. For countless reasons, that was a mistake. At the most, she and Zane would enjoy a fling. At the worst, she'd screw up the job she'd just won. That message from her subconscious was crystal clear.
She looked at Zane slumbering. He'd grabbed a pillow to hug instead of her and seemed happy enough with it. He was a good-looking manmdash;a decent one, from what she could tell. What he wasn't was a person she could afford to lean on.
She'd let his past and some excellent sex seduce her into thinking they had a bond.
He was a billionaire CEO. She was a fancy cook. He bought women thousand dollar dresses. She baked bread as gifts.
He was smoother than a 24-karat egg.
She couldn't be trusted not to blow a gasket over undercooked salmon.
She eased naked from his luxurious bed, padding down the hall to the cabin where her real clothes lay. They felt rough as she pulled them on, as awkward as a hair shirt. She thought about writing a note for Zane, then decided he must be used to this sort of thingmdash;though possibly not from the receiving end. Did people leave notes after one-night stands? Hell if she knew what was expected.
She crept like a thief down the stairs and across the dark living room. Fortunately, they hadn't pulled away from the dock. Maybe Zane hadn't had a chance to issue that order. Maybe the captain had given up and left. Whatever the case, no one challenged her as she slipped away.
~
Okay, Zane was human. Now and then he fell asleep after sex. Usually he only relaxed that much with Trey. Sometimes he intended a second round with a woman and woke up to find her gone. If the first round didn't bear repeating, he wouldn't fall asleep at all. He'd get up, pull on clothes, and make polite noises like, "Gee. Early day tomorrow. Maybe we'd better get to our own homes." Women didn't always like that, but most appreciated that it saved face.
He wasn't sure what Rebecca's disappearing act was supposed to save.
Zane hadn't consciously decided he wanted Rebecca to spend the night. It was only when he woke to an empty bed that he knew he had. He was annoyed then, and insulted, and maybe a little sad. That was good sex they'd had. Sweet sex. The kind where you thought you'd made a real connection to someone.
Just in case she wasn't gone, Zane pulled on a pair of boxers, got up and looked around. Her clothes weren't in the guest bedroom any longer, and the yacht's living room was dark. The kitchen hadn't been entered, not even to make coffee. She'd left in a hurry . . . and silently.
Seeing it was 9:10, Zane called her on his cell.
She picked up after four rings, long enough to be considering not answering. "Uh, hello, Zane," she said.
"Where are you?" was his admittedly gruff answer.
"Home. Were you expecting me to stay?"
"Yes," he said, only stretching the truth a bit.
"Should I have left a note?"
"You should have woken me. At the least I'd have made you coffee."
"It's nine at night."
"I'd have made decaf!"
A soft laugh came through Rebecca's end, informing him this conversation was stupid. He imagined her rubbing her brow in that way she had, as if so many thoughts were in there they needed to be soothed. "Sorry," she said in a less uptight tone. "I guess I'm having second thoughts about taking this any farther."
He didn't miss the irony that this was typically his line. "We can talk about that."
"I'd rather not."
Zane stared at the phone in disbelief. "You'd rather not?"
"I like my independence. I need it, if it comes to that."
"Was I acting like I wanted to chain you up?" His dick twitched with left-field interest in that idea. Rebecca would look adorable shackled to a wall.
"No," she admitted. She was silent for a moment. If she said it wasn't him, it was her, he was going to reach through the phone and strangle her. "I just don't feel comfortable with this hookup, given who you are and who I am and the fact that your business partner is my boss. I shouldn't have let my hormones run away with me. I should have been more sensible."
"Rebecca, I thinkmdash;" Zane hesitated, every self-protective instinct urging him to shut up. With an effort, he ignored them. "I think this could be more than a hookup."
"I can't," she said. "Look, Zane, I really have to go."
And then she hung up on him.
"She hung up on me," he marveled to no one. He didn't dial her back. He had sufficient pride to restrain himself that much. He didn't break out his black book either. Replacement sex with some other woman only would have proved how much realer making love to Rebecca was.
He went back upstairs to dress. Forget taking the boat out tonight. He'd go home. Hopefully, Trey would be in. They'd do something, or nothing, and they'd go to bed together.
He was pulling on his trousers when he noticed what was draped across the back of the bedside chair: Rebecca's skimpy silver dress, the one that had stopped his heart when he saw her in it on the stairs. He'd bought that for her, to show her how beautiful she was. He was pretty sure he'd succeeded. She'd admitted she couldn't resist keeping it.
"Fuck," he bit out.
If she'd left this behind, she truly didn't mean to see him again.
CHAPTER NINE
Idle Hands
REBECCA had plenty to keep her busy in the wake of cutting things short with Zane. She pulled her semi-new crew together, putting them through their paces in the fully loaded Lounge kitchen. Her friend Raoul bounced around like a kid in a candy story. Trey's choice of equipmentmdash;and his willingness to buy moremdash;made him her head chef's new hero.
"Finally!" he crowed. "Everything is how you like it. We'll throw mud in the faces of those culos at Wilde's Bistro."
Rebecca secretly hoped so but merely smiled when he said this.
She and the crew tinkered with her recipes: cooking times, temperatures, this ingredient or that. The results Rebecca achieved by herself, with every detail under her control, weren't the same as what a busy brigade of line cooks produced. Rebecca's crew was skilled and proud of it. Nonetheless, some needed coaching to reach her high standards. Those who weren't used to her methods tried her patience, but they worked through it. They all knew consistency was key. They weren't aiming to be Joe's Diner. At this level of play, one crappy plate could tarnish a reputationmdash;and forget a crappy night.
Rebecca heard everyone's input at group tastings, including wait staff and busboys. She wanted them to feel they had a stake in the restaurant's fate, though it went without saying she had the final word.
If a trial went well, she grew cautiously excited about their prospects. If it sucked, she tried not to dwell on it.
When she went home, it was to an abandoned construction zone. The twins' friend Jesse had excavated one side of her house and patched the foundation. This was followed by what she believed was called dimple-boarding, repairing the drainage system, and filling the trench again. That done, Jesse's crew had moved inside. Every night she'd go down to survey progress, hating that she couldn't tell if the work was done correctly. The basement apartment seemed to be moving along okay, enough that she didn't regret having signed some darned big checks.
As she'd expected, Pete and Charlie's contribution had only gone so far.
You have to trust them, she reminded. The twins were young but not idiots. They'd taken their friend's measure in deeper ways than she could by Googling.
She tried to ignore the fact that the thought of having a boarder in her home made her stomach lurch. Zane had temporarily managed to calm her on that prospect. On her own, she didn't have the knack.
Zane hadn't tried to contact her again, aside from shipping the infamous silver dress to her. He'd included a scribbled note in the FedEx box. No one but you would look right in this, it said, a statement she was irritatingly unable to interpret. Was the message meant to be angry or romantic? And what right did she have to care? He'd signed the note Z, like he was Zorro or something.
One night, Jesse "happened" to stay later than his crew. When she made her usual foray to the cellar, he'd asked her out for a beer. Rebecca turned him down politely, then went upstairs and cried. She knew she'd been stressed lately but, even for her, this was ridiculous. She also knew it wasn't Jesse she was sorry to have refused. What she did regret didn't matter. Staying away from Zane was the reasonable choice.
Pulling herself together, she dove into getting the restaurant ready even more determinedly.
~
Trey stared out his office window in a futile attempt to stop obsessing about Rebecca. As he did, their executive assistant knocked on the open door.
"Sir," she said. "I thought you'd like your mail."
Elaine was attractive but blissfully uninterested in men. Dressed in a smart brown suit, she set the short stack in his inbox. "The latest Bad Boys is in there," she informed him.
The magazine was more Zane's baby, but it had been TBBC's first successful project. Elaine knew he liked to keep up with it.
"Thanks," he said. "Any plans for the weekend?"
"Gardening," she answered. "And possibly a movie."
He didn't ask what she was growing or which movie. Elaine didn't invite her bosses to get familiar. Now and then, he and Zane invented stories about her wild secret life, but the truth was they found it easier not to know. Elaine was efficient, trustworthy, and never complicated their lives. Right then, that trait seemed more precious than rubies.
"Mr. Hayworth?" she added before she left. "I sent the list of responders for Monday night to your computer. It looks like most everyone you asked is coming."
"Good," he said. "Thanks for doing that."
Trey didn't want to think about Monday night, their scheduled preview for The Bad Boys Lounge. If he thought about it, he'd wonder how much Rebecca was worrying, which was sure to lead to wanting to go to her.
Rather than succumb to temptation, he pulled the mail toward himself. Yet another letter from his aunt got fed straight into the shredder. Sending them to his office was her new tactic, one that wasn't any likelier to entice him to open them. He set aside a business proposal to read later.
The latest issue of Bad Boys was next. He did a double take when he saw the cover. A pair of eerily familiar faces grinned at him from the glossy front.
"MEET HOT HARVARD TWINS PETE amp; CHARLIE EILERT," urged the headline.
Eilert was Rebecca's name. Trey's research had focused on her work history, but he recalled she had younger brothers. What a strange coincidence that Zane's magazine had picked them as cover boys.
Unable to resist, Trey flipped straight to their interview. His eyes were drawn to a block of text in the middle of a column.
~
"Charlie always was intense," Pete said jokingly of his brother. "Even at the age of ten. He decided the neighbors wouldn't be convinced Dad was home for Christmas unless he animated the mannequin we'd dressed up as him. I was recruited to help. I conked out at midnight, but Charlie crawled the floor until daybreak, shifting the dummy from chair to chair. He wore himself out so well he fell asleep facedown in his pancakes the next morning."
"Rebecca cooked more when I woke up," Charlie said. "Though she did tease me."
"She teased you worse when you tried to invent a way for the mannequin to drive us to school."
~
Trey set down the magazine, blinked, then began again at the start. He was so amazed by what he learned that he went through it twice.
This was extraordinary. Rebecca's childhood read like a Dickens novel. Mother dies. Father abandons family. Teenage daughter raises brothers while keeping father's absence secret. No wonder she was uptight. She'd spent a good portion of her life looking over her shoulder.
He'd been right to sense a sympathy between them on that long-ago night at Wilde's. They were kindred spirits, more than he'd realized.
He rose from his chair, his head buzzing with odd thoughts. Did discovering this about her change anything? Was she less of a soul mate if there was a rational cause for his reactions? He slapped his palms to his brow, barely aware he'd done it. Kindred spirits or no, given his own dysfunctional childhood, could he trust his feelings?
Stop, he thought. No one could prove soul mates existed or what being one entitled a person to. All Trey knew for sure was that Rebecca called to him. So did Zane, and he valued Zane too much to risk losing him.
He sat and looked at the article again. His hands flattened the magazine's open pages, a bit too close to stroking them.
He couldn't think straightmdash;not a preferred state for him. Popping up again, he grabbed his jacket and strode across the hall to Elaine's nice but small office. She looked up at him startled. The clock behind her said four thirty.
"I'm going out," he said. "You can leave whenever you're ready."
"Yes, sir," she said, too circumspect to ask questions.
He felt better out in the sunshine. The afternoon wasn't sweltering, more fall than summer for the time being.
Jacket slung over his shoulder, he walked in the hopes of the exercise settling him. Past the Old State House he went and then down Tremont Street to the Common. The lush green park reminded him how much he loved living here. The people of Boston were a wonderful mix of blue- and white-collarmdash;in every shade of the rainbow. On any corner, he might see ivory tower academics bumping elbows with cops and dog walkers. Trey belonged here as much as anyone.
He crossed the Common with meandering steps, eventually landing on Charles Street. He could check on the restaurant. It was only a few blocks off.
"Crap," he muttered under his breath. His subconscious had done this on purpose.
She'd be there of course, but so would everyone else, a whole horde of cooks and bottle washers much too busy to speak to him. She'd been training her crew as if their first night were an Olympic event. He could stick his head in, as any owner might. Rebecca didn't even need to know he'd come.
As soon as he decided, an undeniable excitement fluttered in his stomach.
To his amazement, when he stepped through the door, the only soul in sight was her. She sat in the dining room, sipping from what he thought was a pint bottle of porter.
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
"Sent 'em home," she said. "We were getting over-prepped. I told them to enjoy the weekend, and I'd see them first thing Monday."
She seemed to recognize this was out of character. She poured beer into the glass she hadn't been drinking from. "Sit," she said. "Taste. I think this will complement our spin on Boston beans and bacon."
This was one of their appetizers, served on lace-thin triangles of sourdough toast. Unsure what he was getting into, Trey sat and sipped. "Yes," he said. "That combination ought to work."
When she said nothing, he studied her. He was irrationally content to be in her presence, though he disapproved of the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked thinner than the last time he'd seen her, and she couldn't afford to miss the weight. That bothered him. This job was supposed to ease her burdens, not add to them.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She let out a ragged laugh. "I had a moment today when I was convinced everything was crap. I honestly thought I needed to toss out every recipe and start again from scratch."
"Ah," Trey said. "That's when you sent your crew home."
"I wish. I sent them home an hour later after my head chef told me I'd better. When every other word I say is lsquo;fuck,' he knows it's time to rein me in."
"Smart man."
"Good man." She took another swig from the bottle.
"You know, Rebecca, Monday night doesn't have to be perfect."
"Sure it does. Trying to be perfect is what keeps me sane." She said it wryly, but he sensed it wasn't a joke. Worried, he wrapped his hand on her bare forearm. He didn't like that she eased away.
"Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be laying my doubts on you."
"Why not? Can't we be friends as well as employer and employee?" Though he strove to say this lightly, he wasn't certain he'd pulled it off.
Rebecca's big gray eyes rose to his. The steadiness at her center seemed to look straight into his heart. Fuck, he wanted her. His cock was abruptly aching, his chest tight with longing to nestle her against it.
"Can men and women be friends?" she asked.
"Sometimes," he answered cautiously.
"Do you have any?"
"You've got me there," he confessed ruefully.
"Raoul is my friend, but he's married. And older. I think I'm kind of a daughter to him. Maybe men and women can be friends as long as they don't want to have sex."
She made him sadder than he could saymdash;not for philosophical reasons, but because he craved a tie to her. If friendship were all she'd give him, he'd take it.
"I like to think," he said, "that with the proper motivation, people can set aside one sort of desire in favor of another."
Rebecca burst out laughing. "I think I'm drunk," she said. "That actually sounded good to me."
"Maybe I should take you home."
She looked at him. Her pupils were dark with wanting and something else, something that went deeper than attraction. Did she know it was there? Would she let it matter? She reached out, fingers brushing the hand he'd flattened on the table. Though her touch retreated almost at once, tingles radiated up his arm.
"That's nice of you," she said, "but I'm pretty sure a taxi would be safer."
~
Zane was doing a piss-poor job of forgetting Rebecca. He'd tried not thinking about her, but whenever he let his guard down, she crept into his thoughts. This annoyed him immensely. Screw the woman if she couldn't realize they mightmdash;might, he emphasizedmdash;have the makings of a special connection.
Might doesn't pay the mortgage, his father had liked to say, usually as a prelude for pimping Zane out at Alexander Sporting Goods. God, he'd hated those workdays. High school football hero stuck with his dad's jokey arm around him, hawking number jerseys to kids while his latest bruises throbbed on his back or thighs. He'd loathed being used that way, knowing if he said no, he'd get a worse beating. A real man earns his keep, his father would say. Don't tell me you aren't one.
Grimacing, Zane shut down the computer on his desk. Things were bad if he'd started down memory lane with his shit of a dad.
"I'm here!" Mystique announced, appearing at his office door in a cloud of Dior and expensive hair products. "Don't everyone stand up and clap at once."
Her real name was Missy Kroner. Mystique was what she went by for modeling. Fluent in French and English, she was amusing, sexy, and an undeniable hard worker. Zane had seen her intermittently over the last three years, though he took care not to date her too often. Mystique's ambitions most definitely included becoming Mrs. to a high-profile wealthy man, someone who'd add luster to her mystiquemdash;if you'd pardon the punmdash;without overshining it.
"Hello, Missy," he said, getting up to kiss her soft cheek. Even in her stilt-heeled white go-go boots, he was taller. Humming with catlike pleasure, Missy twined slender arms behind his neck. She was fully made up and, as a result, didn't tongue-kiss him.
"I forgot what a lovely big brute you are. Clearly, it's been too long since we've seen each other."
She pouted, which wasn't his favorite expression, though her expertly painted mouth was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Rebecca's, his treacherous memory pointed out.
"Oh, you know," he said vaguely. "We moguls get caught up in doing mogul stuff."
"More like bad boy stuff," she quipped. "I can't believe I convinced you to come away for the whole weekend."
Zane was having qualms of disbelief about that himself. "I like Montreal." He stepped back slightly to stroke her shining brunette waves over her shoulders. "And you know I enjoy having you polish up my French."
"I'll show you what I'll polish," she teased, slapping one perfectly manicured hand around his crotch.
It was six thirty on a Friday. They were in the empty hall outside his and Trey's executive offices. With the exception of the janitors and him, headquarters had cleared out. Zane let Missy back him leggily into the nearest wall. As she intended, a few squeezes of her fingers got a rise out of him.
"You're a naughty girl," he said, palming her narrow butt. Continuing the theme of the go-go boots, she wore a sixties style flowered minidress. Under it, he discerned a teensy thong.
"The naughtiest," she assured him, her voice husky.
Missy loved sex and he liked having it with her. Nonetheless, when she batted her fake eyelashes, he couldn't help thinking of centipedes. He was shamefully grateful when a shadow moved in Trey's office, distracting him from her. Trey had left earlier. No one ought to be in there.
"Excuse me," he said to Missy, pulling free of her groping hands. "I need to check on something."
Trey's office was closer than his to the elevator. He must have forgotten to lock up, because the door was open.
An older woman in a yellow polyester pantsuit was rifling through Trey's desk. The papers on top were scattered, and she had his bottom left drawer open, the one where he stashed rubbers and Zane's favorite hand job assister. Clucking her tongue, she thunked the box of prophylactics and Albolene onto the clutter.
Zane categorically refused to blush over them.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "And how did you get in here?"
"She came up with me," Missy answered from behind him. "She said she'd forgotten her ID and could I let her up."
The guards knew Missy and that she was expected. No matter how harmless this white-haired old lady looked, they shouldn't have let her sneak past them.
"You're Trey's aunt," he said, hard and cold as she gaped at him. "Constance Sharp."
"You're a dirty man," she returned querulously. "You and my nephew both."
This did bring heat into his face, though he fought it down. "That's enough," he said, striding in and taking her by the arm.
She was seventy if she was a day. She couldn't hope to resist his strength. She fought though, going so far as to cling to edge of Trey's desk. "I need to be here," she cried. "I have a right to speak to my own nephew!"
Zane wasn't in the mood for this. As carefully as he could, he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her off her orthopedic shoes.
"Zane!" Missy said, shocked at him. "She's a little old lady."
"Get the elevator," he ordered.
He must have sounded stern enough. Missy ran ahead to press the button.
"You're dirty too," Trey's aunt said to her, devaluing whatever stock she'd earned with the model.
Thankfully, the elevator came quickly. Missy squished herself into a corner to accompany him to the ground floor. This was due to Trey's aunt having decided her best strategy was to spend the journey kicking his shins like a two-year-old. She repeated her claim that Trey ought to talk to her, adding that her father was worth ten of them. Zane couldn't tell if she had dementia or was just crazy. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he cared.
The security team rushed over the minute they exited, wide eyed and apologetic and seemingly wondering if they ought to pull their guns.
Zane handed his thrashing burden over to two of them. "Find out where she's staying. Get her there safely and make sure she doesn't gain entrance here again. If I hear she's gotten ten feet into this lobby, all of you are fired."
The guards assured him they'd take care of it.
"Sorry," he said to Missy, vibrating with tiny tremors as Trey's relative was carried out of sight. He was so angry for his friend's sake that his heart thumped wildly. Trey was too good a person to have to deal with this.
"That's okay," Missy said, a little shaken herself. "You know what they say about family. Can't live with them. Can't make them go away."
He laughed at her joke, hugging her with genuine gratitude. "I'll make this up to you," he promised.
Liking that, Missy smiled coyly at him from under her fake lashes.
~
Somehow Rebecca made it to Sunday night without imploding, no easy task after she'd ordered her crew to relax over the weekend. She'd heard through the line cook grapevine that Neil Montanamdash;the jackass whose hiring had driven her out of Wilde'smdash;was predicting an epic fail for The Bad Boys Lounge. As celebrities went, he was a nonentity, destined to be forgotten as soon as Monster Chef's next winner was announced. For the moment, he had a soapbox, and some people would enjoy hanging on his words.
To anyone who'd listen, he dubbed the Lounge "Beantown Boredom"mdash;his idea of scathing wit.
Rebecca longed to call Trey and sound off but restrained herself. Venting equaled bonding, and she and Trey didn't need any more of that. So what if he'd have settled her in two minutes? He wasn't responsible for her mental state.
Too keyed up to sleep and hoping to blank her thoughts, Rebecca switched on the TV in the living room. A gossip show was on. What was Miley up to? Who were the latest Kardashian love interests? Soothed by the inanity, Rebecca was debating which of her new outfits she'd wear tomorrow when a familiar face appeared onscreen.
She slid forward on the couch so fast she almost fell off.
She couldn't tell if the footage was live or taped; she hadn't been paying enough attention. Whenever it had been filmed, the piece showed Zane Alexander emerging from a French nightclub, looking like expensive sex incarnate in a royal blue shirt and black trousers. A woman hung on his arm laughing. She was nearly as tall as him and drop-dead stunning. Rebecca recognized her as a famous swimsuit model. Mystique, she thought was called. Though Rebecca thought Zane was more intriguing, the video paparazzi were there for the brunette.
"Did you enjoy the band?" one reporter called to her, sticking out his microphone.
"How could I not," she cooed, "with a fine man like this to keep me company?" She hugged Zane's arm, and he smiled down at her.
Face and chest flaming with embarrassment, Rebecca seized the remote and snapped the TV off.
Boy, Zane hadn't taken long to get over her dumping himmdash;if dumping was the right term. And so much for what they had being more than a hookup!
She lobbed three couch pillows in swift succession against the wall. The final was aimed so wildly her framed poster of a Parisian boulangerie fell down. Didn't people say Paris was for lovers? How nice for Zane to be there with his!
She might have descended into a tantrum, but her own growl of rage shocked her.
"They're not yours," she reminded. Not Zane. Not Trey. And what sort of idiot was she to want to claim them both?
The answer to that was simple: a female idiot with a pulse.
Rebecca's chest hitched as if gearing up for a crying jag.
"No," she growled for a new reason.
She wasn't allowed to fall apart. Not over this, not the night before the Lounge opened. She forced herself to breathemdash;one breath in, one breath outmdash;until she'd calmed as much as she was going to.
CHAPTER TEN
Opening Night
THE Bad Boys Lounge put its most beautiful face forward. Flickering candles and fragrant flowers softened the men's club atmosphere. The fat coffee table books were shelved in their built-ins, the glassware polished like crystals. Everyone who stepped through the entrance looked glamorous. Here was a female anchor for local TV news; there a player from the Bruins with a date so stunning she could have been the celebrity.
Some of the guests congratulated Rebecca on her brothers' recent interviewmdash;either because they assumed it was smart promotion, or because they admired her courage in raising the twins alone. She accepted the slightly discomfiting compliments with the best grace she could. Mercifully, they were infrequent. Rebecca bought the "Best New Wines" issue every year, but at more than ten bucks a pop, the subscription base for Bad Boys Magazine wasn't huge. She expected this was deliberate. Neither Zane nor Trey was afraid of appearing exclusive.
Then again, who was she to talk? She might not be a high flyer, but she wanted people to feel privileged to eat her food.
Given the crowd, she was grateful she'd splurged on the pearl necklace to dress up her ivory silk blouse and black skirt. Though the outfit reminded her of Zane and his fickleness, at least she didn't stick out like a sore thumb.
Her feet already ached in the two-inch heels.
"Thanks so much for coming," she said for the umpteenth time. She'd stopped offering her hand a while ago. The coldness of her fingers had shocked people.
She and Trey stood ahead of the hostess's podium, greeting guests as they came in. Rebecca was no stranger to schmoozing dining rooms. Having faces to associate with a restaurant personalized the diners' experience and made them feel valued. She simply wasn't accustomed to being away from her true job so long. She longed to be with her crew, heading off the million and one disasters that might be unfolding.
Barring that, she wished she could focus on the action behind her back. Early sitters had ordered and received their first courses. The noise of talking and laughter obscured what she believed were hums of approval. The wait staff seemed slightly harried as they passed to and fro, but no more than a filling house and first night jitters could account for.
God, let them stay steadier than she was.
A gap between arrivals allowed Trey to sneak his fingers over to chafe her wrist. "Stop agonizing," he scolded. "If the kitchen were having problems, someone would have come out to get you."
"Only if they realized the problems were happening," Rebecca gritted from the side of her mouth.
Trey was spared from trying to counter this by the arrival of her brothers.
"Look at you!" she cried, hands flying to her lips. "All dressed up in your suits."
Pete wrapped her in a bear hug and then stepped aside for Charlie. Next to him was a little redhead with horn-rimmed glasses. Rebecca saw at once how a girl like this might drive Charlie to anxiety attacks, fictional or otherwise. She was the precisely the sort of nerdalicious siren smart boys dreamed about. Ordering herself to act like a sister ought, Rebecca fought not to recall Charlie's story about snogging in the library stacks.
"This is Caroline," he said, pride mixing with nervousness. "My friend from school."
"So nice to meet you," Rebecca said, taking the girl's hand. "Charlie's mentioned you."
"Sorry I couldn't make it to your Sunday dinner," the girl responded politely. She looked down as if surprised. Too late, Rebecca remembered she shouldn't have touched her. "Wow, your hands are like ice!"
Pete laughed. "Our big sis is a perfectionist. Leaving her crew to cook a new menu by themselves is her idea of a trip to the guillotine."
"Pete!" Rebecca chided, though what he said was true.
"You know Raoul can handle it," he returned.
He squeezed her arm as the busy hostess came back to lead them to their table. Wistful, Rebecca craned around to watch them go. Her brothers were so tall now, handsome in their gangly way. Suddenly, she could see why the Bad Boys editor had chosen them for the cover. They had a presence most young men didn't, a lively . . . interestingness. Other diners glanced at them as they passedmdash;including at shy Charlie.
"Well, well, well," said a voice she wished she didn't recognize. "Enjoying your fifteen seconds in the spotlight?"
Reluctantly, Rebecca turned back toward the street door. Neil Montana stood before her, backed up by a circle of his cronies. He wasn't quite six feet tall. His build was skinny but soft, his pasty face not improved by his trying-too-hard-to-be-fashionable beard scruff. She'd worked for him all of six days before quittingmdash;which was six days more than any chef with standards should have had to take.
Had Trey invited this idiot? Or maybe Neil had bought one of the tickets whose proceeds were going to charity. God, it didn't matter. Rebecca forced her shoulders straighter and her jangled brain together.
"I am enjoying myself," she confirmed. "Though of course I prefer working in the kitchen to all this attention."
Neil let out a skeptical snort. Attention was what he lived and breathed for.
Thankfully, the hostess appeared to lead him and his gang away. "Enjoy your meal," she called after them before hissing, "Did you invite him?" to Trey.
"I believe he's Gordon Hewitt's guest. I sent him a handful of tickets."
Gordon Hewitt was the editor of Boston Eats and a well-known food critic. Her head whipped around to confirm he was with Neil. Sadly, he was, his short form dashing in a rumpled jacket and bow tie.
"Crap. I didn't see him. Hewitt must think I'm completely stupid. Why did he bring Montana? He can't possibly like his food."
Noting her horrified stare, the dapper food critic smiled and lifted two fingers. Weakly, Rebecca returned the greeting.
"Crap," she repeated, jerking forward again.
"It's okay," Trey soothed. "Hewitt has a reputation for being puckish. He probably invited Montana in the hopes of inciting a drama."
"Just kill me now," Rebecca moaned.
Trey laughed underneath his breath. She was glad he was taking this in stride, thoughmdash;strictly speakingmdash;she should have followed his example. God, she wished she were in the kitchen. Her nervous energy would have served a purpose there.
She was so overwrought she didn't immediately identify the striking woman who swung legs first out of a limo that had pulled to the curb. A chauffeur handed her out, a service the woman seemed used to. Her dress was Marilyn-esque: white, pleated, its flowy skirt poised to lift at any convenient draft. Though her hair was dark, its waves were styled to resemble the iconic movie star's. Her pouty red lips glistened with reflections from the Lounge's decorative outdoor lights. Strings of the twinkly bulbs spiraled around the entrance.
"Mystique," Trey said when she reached them. "I didn't know you were in town."
"Oh you know." She waved a hand whose glossy manicure matched her lips. "Spur of the moment thing."
"Well, I'm glad." He accepted her air kiss. "It's always nice to see you."
The tilt of the model's head struck Rebecca as dubious. Did she think Trey wasn't glad to see her, and if so, why not? Rebecca realized she hoped Trey disliked her. Bad enough Zane and she were cozy.
She probably had a weird expression on her face when Mystique shifted her gaze to her. "You must be the chef. Congratulations on the big night."
She showed no awareness that she knew who Rebecca wasmdash;not that she was worth mentioning by Zane.
"Thank you," she said, her spine inescapably poker stiff. "I hope you enjoy the meal."
Sensing her tension, Trey laid his hand in the small of her back.
"I'm sure I will," Mystique said pleasantly.
She continued in, stirring murmurs even among the ritzy crowd. Zane hadn't appeared behind her, so perhaps the couple was meeting here. Hardly steady to begin with, Rebecca's pulse began skittering. She knew he'd probably attend tonight, but she been trying her hardest to compartmentalize that knowledge. Could she bear seeing Zane in person with his beautiful arm candy? Did she have the nerve to face him with Trey no more than six inches from her side? For that matter, could this situation get any more uncomfortable?
"Jesus," Trey murmured, looking at her. "You've broken into a sweat."
"Sorry," she said. "I just really want to oversee the kitchen."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Oversee. I'll take care of the rest of this."
Rebecca hurried off as if she were escaping a guillotine.
A server stopped her in the back hall. "Chef," she said, a smile on her face. "Your clam chowder is a hit. Folks are scraping their bowls!"
"Great," Rebecca said. She moved aside to let the waitress pass. Though glad to hear the accolade, she wondered if it meant her other appetizers were simply meh.
Steady, she ordered, grabbing her chef's whites. Even as she shoved her arms through the sleeves, she pushed through the kitchen door. There she found the sort of chaos she didn't like to see.
Raoul was haranguing two of the newbies with the Spanish version of get your asses into gear.
"What?" she said to get his attention. "Are we in the weeds?"
"No. Just slow getting off the mark. These twomdash;" he narrowed his eyes at the flinching cooks "mdash;need to get over their fucking quivers at turning up the heat."
"You," Rebecca said to the newbie she knew had quicker hands. "Go help plate. I'll take over your station."
"Yes, chef," he said, already trotting off despite looking unhappy.
"Fast and pretty!" she yelled after him. "Presentation is important. Don't send anything hot out cold!"
"You're staying?" Raoul asked, seeming relieved by this. Apparently, they were closer to the weeds than he'd wanted to let on.
"Yes." She took control of the departed newcomer's sauté pans. "You're overseeing the grill?"
"Yes. Lorenzo's expediting."
She'd seen this on her way in. Lorenzo was one of their senior men. Once they picked up speed, he ought to have no trouble keeping the train on track.
"Focus," she reminded the sweating newbie beside her. "When Lorenzo calls an order for your station, let him know you've got it. If someone is working on the other half of your dish, keep him in the loop on how far along you are. Everybody communicate!" she finished with a bellow.
"Yes, chef!" the kitchen bellowed back.
She smiled at that, and turned back to work. For the next ten minutes, the kitchen's chaos became the nimble dance it was meant to be.
Then the lobster started returning.
Lobster couldn't be rushed. You had to cook it gently or you'd lose its exquisite taste and texture. The Lounge's version was butter-poached with creamy broth and orzo. Topped with savory Parmesan "crisps," it made a memorable small entree, the sort diners would come back for . . . assuming, of course, that it was actually cooked.
In spite of the hubbub around her, the second server to call for a re-fire put Rebecca on full alert.
"Crap," she said. Adrenaline poured through her as she signaled the second newbie to take her pans. Fearing the worst, she headed straight for the pass-through. Lorenzo was poking the rejected food in befuddlement.
"They're raw in the middle," the server insisted, which Rebecca could see for herself.
"Why are you letting them go out like this?" she demanded of Lorenzo. "You're supposed to check every plate."
"Imdash;" Lorenzo stammered, his big brown eyes filling up with tears.
Rebecca's brain went into panic mode. The senior man was built like a wrestler and normally tougher than alligator hide. She hadn't cursed him out yet, so the problem had to be personalmdash;a fight with his girlfriend, or some such thing. "Christ," she said, too stressed out to be sympathetic. "Don't do this to me tonight."
"Sorry, chef." His eyes welled up even worse, tempting her to slap him out of it. "I'll pull it together."
"Damn it. You're my best expediter after Raoul, and he's better than you at meat. Don't make me take you off this post."
Lorenzo dragged his sleeve across watery eyes. "Yes, chef. I'm sorry."
Rebecca didn't want sorry. She wanted her crew to straighten up. "Seafood!" she called over her shoulder to that station. "Give your fucking lobsters more time in the oven."
The smattering of yes, chefs she got back didn't satisfy.
"Fuck," she snapped in her deepest drill sergeant's voice. "You know that bastard from Wilde's is out there. He's dying to see us fail!"
"We never fail, chef!" Raoul roared back at full volume.
Her head chef was grinning, which put her nearer to an even keel. She slapped Lorenzo's shoulder to let him know they were all right, then pointed to the newbie she'd shifted to plating. "We're a team here," she said in a quieter tone. "You be Lorenzo's back-up if he needs it."
"I'll tell the guests new plates are coming," the waitress assured her.
Nodding curtly, Rebecca strode back to the sizzling cooktop and her orders. As a rule, she didn't relish blowing up. She was so wired now her hands shook. Her entire life seemed to be trying to overwhelm her at the same time: the twins, her house, her fucking sweetheart of a boss and his fucking too-sexy-to-stand best friend. Her breath caught in her chest as if an ogre had her around the ribs. Emptying her lungs required a conscious effort.
The newbie at her elbow glanced at her sideways. "You okay, chef?"
"I will be," she promised him grimly.
~
Zane was having a bad Monday.
This, he decided, was a fitting follow-up to his shit weekendmdash;not to mention every crappy minute he'd suffered through since waking alone on his yacht. If Rebecca had tried to put a whammy on him, she couldn't have done a better job.
The trip to Montreal had begun as merely uncomfortable. Missy had been a smidgen too curious about why Trey didn't want to see his aunt.
"I know so little about you," she'd wheedled on the Bad Boys jet. "I'm not some on-the-make groupie. You can trust me with your personal life."
Except he couldn't. He liked lots of things about Missy, but trust wasn't in the mixmdash;not on his own behalf and certainly not on Trey's. Maybe she'd have kept the gory details about their childhood to herself. Maybe she'd have let them slip the next time she wanted to seem in the know in an interview. Zane couldn't predict what she'd do and didn't care. He didn't want to share his past with her.
Few realizations could have clued him in more clearly to the lack of substance in their relationship.
Because he'd agreed to join her for the weekend, he tried to be a decent companion. He squired Missy around to her parties, listened to her chatter about her dramas, and only made a single call to check on Trey and his upcoming opening night.
Missy knew something was up anyway. They had sex once, the night they arrived in the hotel. Missy wasn't a stranger. Zane had expected going to bed with her would be a step up from his recent one-night stands. Instead, it had been worse, not just soulless but dishonest. Sleeping with Missy had felt like misleading her.
She must have noticed his heart wasn't in it, because she didn't press for more. Zane's relief was premature. Missy saved her big confrontation for the return flight.
Why was he so withholding? Couldn't he see she cared about him? Didn't he feel anything for her?
"You have more real emotion in your voice when you talk to Trey," she accused. "I deserve to be more than a convenience."
Zane choked back an urge to declare that it wasn't her, it was him. He said other soothing things, no doubt just as annoying, basically admitting that she was right. She did deserve better than he was offering her.
"I understand," he said. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste any more time with me."
This wasn't the response she'd been looking for. They were the only passengers in the private jet's cabin. Missy gaped at him from the leather seat opposite his, her mile-long legs crossed and her high-heeled shoe jiggling. Her perfect nails worried the label on the designer water she was drinking.
"There's someone else," she said.
This was one straw too many for Zane. "Saying there's someone else suggests we have the sort of relationship where I could cheat on you."
He said this gently, not betraying his temper. Maybe he should have lost it. Missy gasped as if he'd struck her.
"I'm not giving up," she said, graceful hand to her graceful throat. "I believe we have something even if you don't."
"You're kidding yourself, honey. You and I were never more than a bit of fun."
He said this gently too, but it sank in deeper. Missy tossed her head and glared out the window. He hoped he'd gotten his point across. Missy did have a habit of believing what suited her.
They touched down around six thirty that evening. Zane handed Missy off to Owens to drive in the limo to the hotel where she was staying. Not as experienced as some TBBC employees, Owens jaw dropped at the sight of his glamorous passenger. Zane concluded his presence wouldn't be missed. He took a cab instead, thereby avoiding last-ditch debates about what he and Missy had. The taxi dropped him at the home of a friend, a lawyer he'd met at Harvard. Fortunately, Evan was free to see him. Unfortunately, he didn't think they had grounds for a restraining order against Trey's aunt, or that such an action would necessarily stay out of the media.
"You and Trey are public figures," Evan warned. "When you go to court, people wonder why."
Zane had a bit more sympathy for Missy as he left. He wanted to deny what he'd been told in plain English. To top off that disappointment, between calling another cab and going home to change, he was late to Trey and Rebecca's big event. When he pulled up on Charles Street in his old Mercedes, groups of guests were coming out. He threw the convertible's keys to a valet, but doubted the minutes he saved would help. From what he saw, the Lounge's maiden voyage was over.
He went in anyway. A last few tables in the back were in the process of getting up. Trey stood among them, seeming at ease with what was being said. The guests were in a good mood, so Zane guessed the evening hadn't been a disaster. Trey laughed, the sound carrying. He looked good in his dark gray suit with the white shirt collar unbuttoned. His hair was tied back so you couldn't tell it was shoulder length. His sexy stubble showed off the planes of his cheek and jaw.
All grown up, Zane thought, remembering him in more casual getups. Affection expanded in him so fiercely the sensation was uncomfortable. He knew he was walking a slippery slope with Rebecca but couldn't seem to drag his feet off it. She felt like the antidote to every forgettable woman he'd slept with, like proof he could connect to one with a deeper part of him than his cock. Wasn't there a way to hold onto Trey and have a shot with her? And how would he know if he never tried?
He didn't call out to Trey, whose back was to him. Doing nothing to draw attention to himself, he slipped down the hall to the kitchen.
"Where's Rebecca?" he inquired of a busboy.
Because he'd asked like he had a right to know, the young man pointed to a door marked "Staff Only."
Inside was a combined break room and overflow storage. Metal shelves stacked with dry goods lined the walls. Zane spied a small coffee station, a large round table, and the door to the staff toilet. In the middle of the floor, on the tweedy brown carpet, he found Rebecca.
She lay on her back with her knees bent up. Her left forearm shielded her eyes. Her right was flung out flat, as if the ground beneath her were unsteady. She wore her precious chef's whites, the front now dirty from her labors. Zane's restless emotions settled even as his heart beat harder. God, he was glad to see her.
"Is there a reason you're lying on the floor?" he asked.
Rebecca twitched but didn't rise. "My back is trying to seize up. It's a stress thing. I took a couple ibuprofens. It'll stop in a minute."
Weirdly amused, Zane crossed the room to drop down next to her. Rebecca shifted her forearm to look at him. The look in her narrowed eyes was not friendly. "Why aren't you with your girlfriend?"
"My girlfriend?"
"The one you took clubbing in Paris. The one you thought it was perfectly okay to bring to my opening. The swimsuit model."
The last description he understood. His mind took a moment to sort out the rest. "Mystique was here? I didn't bring her. I just arrived myself. Anyway, we weren't in Paris. It was Montreal."
"Whatever." Rebecca hid her eyes again. "At least you didn't tell her you slept with me."
This seemed as much a complaint as a statement of gratitude. The smile Zane was fighting grew stronger. "You're jealous."
"I'm stupid," she retorted, her sumptuous lips pressed thin. "I know I have no right to be angry."
"She's not my girlfriend," Zane said, to which she responded with a snort. "She isn't. She's a woman I've dated on and off for a couple years. This weekend decided me to switch her to lsquo;off' for good."
"If she showed up here, you need to convey your decision more clearly."
Sensing a grudging reduction in her annoyance, Zane coaxed Rebecca's arm away from her face. Her hand fit nicely between his. Turning her head without lifting it, she looked at him with her big gray eyes. The vulnerability he saw there touched him. Funnily enough, so did her prickliness.
"I wouldn't do that to you," he said softly, "even though we only slept together once. Deliberately shoving her in your face would be childishmdash;especially on your big night."
"It wouldn't be my business if you did."
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "You could make it your business in two seconds."
"I told youmdash;"
"I know what you told me." He slid his arm beneath her back, helping her to sit up without straining her muscles. "How did tonight go?"
"Oh," she said, "we had a couple bumps. The guy who replaced me at my old job showed up with an important food critic. Half a dozen lobster plates went out raw andmdash;evidentlymdash;my big tough expediter falls apart over fights with his roommate."
Zane eased her toward him until her brow rested on his shoulder. With extra gentle fingers, he massaged the back of her neck. Her skin was warm, the short hair at her nape like silk. "What went right?"
"Almost everything else," she admitted. "My crew pulled it together after they bobbled. I don't think The Lounge will get panned."
Zane was willing to bet it would get rave reviews. Smiling, he gave in to temptation and kissed her hair.
"Zane . . ."
"Shh." He moved his lips to her temple. "I've been thinking about doing this for days."
She pushed back, head lifting, lush mouth opened to protest. Zane kissed it softly and silenced her.
He could have kissed her all night. She melted into him like a dream, pleasured noises breaking in her throat despite her misgivings. He came erect in surges, letting out a groan when she rubbed his chest. Craving a lower hold, he dragged her hand downward to his bulge. She wasn't shy about exploring, her fingers strong from the work she did. Once he knew they'd keep at it, he slid his hand up to cup her breast. God, he loved squeezing it. Its tip was a hard tight button beneath his palm.
"Rebecca," he pleaded, "say you'll give this a chance."
She sucked in a breath but didn't get a chance to answer.
"Damn it!" Trey cursed from the door.
~
Rebecca pulled away from Zane so fast her back went into cramp mode. "Shit," she hissed, trying to ease the spasm by thrusting her arm back there.
Poised in the doorway with his hands braced on either side, Trey looked both angry and hurt. Somewhat to her surprise, Zane was the person he directed his fury to.
"I held back," he said. "All these years I wanted to pursue her, but I held back for you!"
"What are you talking about?" Zane asked, which could have been her line. "You barely know Rebecca."
"I held back ten years ago!" he spat out.
"What?"
"The waitress at Wilde's. The night you asked me to be your business partner: your partner for real, I thought!"
Obviously, Rebecca was missing a couple checkers from this game. "I waited on you at Wilde's?" she asked, choosing the safer of her two confusions.
"Yes." The sparks Trey's eyes were shooting shifted to her instead. "You warned us not to order lobster because the purveyor delivered frozen. You looked at me like you saw my soul. You knew I wanted to ask you out. I didn't because of him."
Memory stirred: Two Harvard boys at her table, their clothes and their confidence setting them apart. She recalled the piercing green-gold of Trey's eyes, the vibe between him and his friend that she couldn't figure out. She was no expert on souls, but the floor had rocked beneath her at Trey's stare. She'd been disappointed when he simply left later. She'd have broken her no-dating rule for him. She'd have broken a lot of things.
I dreamed this memory, she thought, that night on the yacht with Zane.
"You left me a two hundred dollar tip," she blurted.
"No," Zane said. Apparently, this triggered his recall. "That was her? God." He shoved his hands through his hair, gaping at her and then at Trey. "You could have asked her out. You didn't need my permission."
"Like hell," Trey bit out. "You didn't want me sleeping with anyone I might fall for. It's why you hate me flirting with other men. You think they're more of a danger. You think I'm gayer than you."
Zane's glance shot to the open door. He didn't want anybody to overhear, which he'd hardly mind if what Trey said were false.
"Oh, boy," Rebecca said, the pieces falling together. "You two are a couple?"
"We're not gay," Zane clarified in a lower voice. "We're bisexual. But, yes, we're a couple."
He didn't seem to like admitting it. Rebecca rubbed her back, which was still knotted up.
"We both like women," Trey said, stepping farther into the room. "We don't want to give them up, so we came to an arrangement."
"And now you both want me."
"Apparently." Trey's anger seemed to have run its course. He looked from her to Zane. If gazes could see into souls, theirs were doing it then. Rebecca sensed Trey asking his lover a silent question.
"No," Zane said categorically.
"What if she were willing?"
"I want her," Zane objected.
"You want me too," Trey said. "I know we've never done it before, but you can't tell me it's never crossed your mind."
"Guys," Rebecca interrupted, suspecting they were trying to steer her fate without her input.
"Wait." Trey lifted a hand to silence her. "I'll ask you too. I need to settle this with him first."
When he and Rebecca turned their attention back to Zane, his face was completely red. "Why would she agree to that?"
Trey's quirky mouth slanted with amusement. "Some women like the idea of two men making love to them."
"But we're not justmdash; We'dmdash;"
"Yes," Trey agreed in answer to Zane's stammers. "She'd see us touching each other. No way could the pair of us be naked and not betray our attraction."
Despite the pain in her back, Rebecca's breath caught with arousal.
Zane's flush-brightened face jerked to her. "You wouldn't mind that?"
"Uh," she said, her own cheeks hot. Her pussy was wet enough for her clit to swim. The way the little rod was throbbing it could have been trying to. She cleared her tightened throat. "As long as you guys were comfortable, I expect I'd like it."
Zane rubbed his face up and down. "Honestly?"
"She just said she would," Trey reminded with a soft laugh.
"I didn't say I'd sleep with both of you," Rebecca broke in hastily. "I said the idea didn't offend me. You're still my boss, Trey. And there's still the matter of me not wanting to cause a rift between you and Zane. No offense, but from the looks of things, you can't promise I won't do that. Trey, you were ready to take Zane's head off when you walked in on us kissing."
The two men exchanged another look.
"I want to try," Zane said.
"Me too," Trey agreed, like it was settled. "In spite of being mad, watching you kiss her was kind of hot."
"Hey," Rebecca said, a mix of panic and elation spiking inside of her. "I get a say in this."
"She could use a good tumble," Trey pointed out to Zane.
"And how," Zane responded. "As tense as she always is, she could probably use a lot of them."
"I need to think about this," she protested.
Zane cocked his head at her. "I'm not sure letting you think is a good idea."
~
Though Trey was the one to suggest he and Zane both pursue Rebecca, nervousness flooded him. This was a giant risk. If things went south, he could lose everything.
Zane's attention was directed toward more practical issues. "Help me get this off her," he said.
This was Rebecca's white chef's coat.
"What's wrong with her?" Trey asked, kneeling down on her other side.
"Back spasm. I think it must have hit her once the pressure of the night eased off. Delayed reaction or whatever." He swatted Rebecca's hands. She was trying to work the buttons instead of him. That this hurt her was obvious from her winces.
"Shouldn't we call a doctor?"
"I'm fine," Rebecca snapped. "I've had this happen before. It'll go away."
"If you stop fighting me, it will." Zane looked across her at Trey. "Hold her hands. She's being an idiot."
Trey took Rebecca's hands. She struggled in annoyance, but his hold on her wrists was firm. Her little tugs sent sensation pinging to his groin. To judge by the twitching between his legs, he was getting an erection. This might not be the best issue to raise right then.
"Zane's not trying to hurt you," he said.
Rebecca frowned, but stopped pulling away. "I haven't said lsquo;yes' to your proposal."
"I know," he acknowledged.
"Then why are you manhandling me like I did?"
"Jesus," Zane muttered. "That isn't manhandling."
Rebecca looked startled by his sureness. Her distraction allowed Zane to get her sleeves fully off. She wore her pretty silk blouse beneath, the one Trey had been pleasantly surprised to see her in. Zane seemed surprised for his own reasons.
"Hey," he said, stroking the collar smooth. "This looks nice on you."
"Your shopper knew what she was doing," she admitted grumpily.
Trey's eyes widened. "You put her in touch with Sybil?"
"Sure. Who else wouldn't push stuff she'd hate on her? Rebecca has her comfort zone. Sybil respected that."
Trey struggled with his resentment. He'd wanted to do that favor for Rebecca. And why was Zane familiar with her comfort zone? Was the kiss Trey walked in on not their first? Exactly how long had they been seeing each other?
His face must have betrayed his questions.
"I met her at the lsquo;Hot Men of Harvard' shoot," Zane said. "Her brothers were the cover boys. I knew she was your new chef, but I swear I didn't guess you were into her. I didn't tell you about it, because I figured you'd warn me off."
Trey felt his mouth turn down as he tried to process this without anger.
"I'm sorry," Rebecca added, touching his sleeve gently. "I knew you were attracted to me, and it did occur to me that seeing Zane would be awkward. He just sort of . . . charmed me."
Zane chuckled, obviously liking that.
"You were attracted to me too," Trey said levelly.
"Yes." Her gorgeous mouth twisted in apology. "But you and I really couldn't date. I thought maybe he and I could squeak away with it."
"She did break it off," Zane put in. "After the first time."
"The first time? You and she slept together already?"
"Once," Zane said. "And, uh, in the interest of full disclosure, I also got her off in my car the day we met."
"Great," Trey said, irritation bubbling up in him.
"Too much to get over?"
Zane's blue eyes were worried but sympathetic, like he'd understand if Trey couldn't forgive this. Trey looked down at his arm, where Rebecca's hand still rested. Tiny scars marked her fingers, battle wounds from cooking. Her thumb rubbed him through his sleeve, little soothing motions she might not have made consciously. Her gaze was lowered, probably because she was more inclined to guilt than Zane. She'd feel it even whenmdash;to be fairmdash;she wasn't obliged to.
"Do you want me as much as you want him?" Trey asked her.
Her lashes lifted, their gold blackened by mascara for tonight. Within that frame, emotion sheened her gray eyes. She appeared to understand he wanted honesty.
"I think you're awesome," she said earnestly. "I'm amazed you want me. When we had sex, I felt different things than with Zane, but they were just as strong."
"Hey," Zane said, his turn to be aggrieved. "When did you have sex with her?"
Trey couldn't help it. He lifted his brows and grinned.
"Shit." Zane shook his head, thankfully more bemused than angry. "I don't know whether to sock you or demand every damn detail."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Buck House
REBECCA hadn't officially agreed to anything, but that didn't seem to matter. Trey told the valet to bring Zane's car around the back, and Zane carried her to it. Fortunately, the silver convertible was a four-door. She and Trey fit in the rear seat.
"This isn't necessary," she said as Trey arranged her with her head resting on his lap.
She was curled on her side, which seemed less helpless than lying on her back. Free to do so, Trey ran one hand soothingly down her tense muscles. His palm was warm, and it really did make her feel better. She steeled herself against liking it too much as Zane pulled out of the Lounge's lot.
"At least tell me you're taking me home," she said.
"We are," Zane assured her. "Our home."
This stunned her. "Not that mansion in Lexington!"
"What's wrong with Lexington?" Trey finger-combed her hair.
"Everybody says it's Sodom and Gomorrah, that you throw wild sex parties on weekends."
Zane snickered and shifted gears.
"If they claim that," Trey said, "they've never been invited."
This wasn't the same as saying there weren't wild parties. "I am so not interested in orgies."
"Not even to watch?" Zane teased.
"No!" she denied too hotly. She'd have watched him and Trey getting it on with each other any day of the week.
"Don't worry," Trey said, returning to making seductive passes along her spine. "Zane and I only want you to play with us. When we're really into someone, we're not inclined to share."
"How do you know?" Rebecca demanded. "You implied you've never, er, done the same woman at the same time. Maybe you'd change your mind."
Zane burst out laughing in the front seat. "You could turn worrying into a superpower."
"It's a legitimate concern!"
"Of course it is," Trey crooned. "You'll be the boss, Rebecca. Any time you want to call a halt, we will."
Calling a halt wasn't the same as calling the shots. Moreover, it suggested there'd be an activity she might want to call a halt to. She remembered the game Zane played with her and his belt in this very car. She pressed her thighs together, also remembering how she'd responded. She thought she'd noticed Trey's breathing accelerating as he restrained her wrists tonight. Was he into bondage too? When they'd had their wild monkey sex in the Lounge's kitchen, hadn't his style been controlling? Her pussy simmered at the flashback, a new and softer ache distracting her from the one in her back muscles.
"Uh," she said, "just how sexually adventurous are you two?"
Trey's reassuring hand chafed her shoulder. "Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?"
Rebecca's inner muscles twitched. She wasn't the only one to react to this conversation. The flesh her head rested on was stirring. Trey was getting an erection. So was Zane. The angle she was curled up in allowed her to see between the front seats. Zane had just tugged his trousers to give his cock more room.
The heat that poured through her then was incredible.
"Oh my God," she couldn't help murmuring.
"Close your eyes," Zane advised huskily from the front. "With all you've had on your mind, I bet you haven't slept much lately. You might want to rest up before we get there."
His words caused Trey's cock to lurch beneath her temple.
Holy smokes, she thought, her knees vised together with excitement. The reality of them wanting her and each other was sinking in. Zane and Trey were her best lovers to date. The handful of other men she'd slept with trailed far behind. To enjoy these men one at a time had set new records for her. To be taken by them both, and to watch them take each other, was bound to knock her pleasure out of the ballpark. Zane's suggestion that she ought to rest up implied a few home runs in her near future.
How little that frightened her should have been alarming.
~
Zane must have been right about Rebecca's sleep shortage. She dropped off in Trey's lapmdash;one moment conscious and the next zonked out. Trey continued to pet her, shifting so that his legs stretched out and his shoulders rested against the door. His hard-on subsided but didn't disappear. The moment felt surreal. The woman of his dreams was with him. She was using his thigh as her pillow.
"She asleep?" Zane asked, twisting his head around to see.
"Like a baby."
Zane returned his attention to the road, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "You really okay with this? With sharing her? You've been thinking about her for a long time."
"I'm okay," Trey said, relatively sure he was. "I confess you had a tendency to creep into my fantasies about her."
Never short on ego, Zane's smile held a hint of smirk. "You've got to be the most monogamous non-monogamous guy in existence."
"Maybe," Trey conceded, amused. He went on more seriously, aware the topic was sensitive. "Are you ready for this, Zane? Not to sound arrogant, but whether we cross swords or brush hands or what have you, she's going to see you want me. You're going to expose what you think of as your gay side."
Zane's smirk fadedmdash;and not simply because he was concentrating on merging onto the highway. "Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?"
Trey pinched his lower lip. The bridge was approaching fast, no matter what Zane preferred.
~
Rebecca didn't wake so much as slide from one pleasant dream into another. Trey was lifting her from the car, his arms hooking under hers. Her body was limp, her back muscles warm and supple.
She guessed Trey expected her to sleep through him carrying her. He'd been bending to swing her legs off the floor. When she spoke, he left them where they were and straightened. Rebecca didn't mind. Her front rested pleasantly against his.
"Your back is okay?"
"Uh-huh." She opened her eyes and squinted. "It's bright in here."
"We're in the garage. We're home."
They were in a freaking airplane hanger. Everything needed to service vehicles was here, up to and including a hydraulic lift.
"Wow," she said, craning around Trey to take it in. Two limos gleamed side by side in slots: a vintage black with a fancy grill and a classic white modern. Zane's silver convertible was behind her. Its nearest car buddy was a shiny red Bugatti, low-slung andmdash;even to her unsophisticated eyesmdash;thoroughly sexy. After that, she noted two Harley motorcycles, some sort of giant black SUV, and a relatively sedate Mercury sedan.
She had a hard time imagining her beat-up delivery van parking here.
"We drive them all," Trey said. "Or if we don't, staff do. Zane's weirdly attached to the car he bought in college."
Rebecca smiled, endeared by his defensiveness. "They're pretty. You have no idea the silly things I'd buy for my home kitchen if I could afford them."
He smiled back, his brief tension relaxing. "My Bugatti is the prettiest."
"Oh here we go," Zane groaned liked he'd heard this before.
"Because it's red," Trey said. "And faster than his old Mercedes. Plus, its curves are sexy."
His cars' curves seemed to remind him she had some. He slid his palms around her ass, hitching her higher and closer. As he lifted her off her feet, Rebecca's eyebrows rose. Trey was all the way hard, the firm swell of his erection nudging her pelvis. Unable to help herself, she squirmed. Trey's penetrating eyes darkened.
"What do you say?" he asked in a rougher tone. "Want to get this adventure started?"
"Here?"
"Why not? This is our territory, home to our manliest man toys. And no one will interrupt us. Once we drive through our front gate, we can do and be what we please."
Having spent much of her life hiding things, Rebecca saw the appeal of that. She laid her cheek on Trey's shoulder and looked at Zane. He stood maybe ten feet away, seeming rooted to the sealed concrete floor. He was a handsome man: tall, built, and pricey in his tailored trousers and custom shirt. His expression inspired a shiver. He was watching her and Trey as if someone had cast a spell on him. Lust had him in its grip, from the parting of his bedroom lips, to the quickened rise and fall of his chest, to the sizeable hump behind his zipper. Wanting that and more, she swung her legs around Trey's hips.
"What about you?" she asked Zane. "Do you want to get started?"
"Yes," was the answer he grated out.
"Thank God," Trey whispered a second before he kissed her.
He walked with her as he did, arms tight around her and mouth hungry. Though she'd closed her eyes, she wasn't the least surprised to be laid back over the hood of his Bugatti. Happy to be there, she crossed her ankles behind his tailbone.
"Let me do the work," he murmured in her ear. "I don't want your back to seize up again."
Her back was fine, but she sensed that wasn't behind the instruction. He wanted her restricted. He got off on it. Zane had come closer while they were kissing, only a step away from the sleek sports car. One palm rested on his belly, like he was afraid or maybe embarrassed about moving it to his cock. He hadn't minded touching himself before. Trey had to be the source of his hesitation. He was opening the buttons on her blouse. Zane met her gaze and flushed.
"Zane bound my hands the first time he got me off," she said.
Trey lifted his head, breath suspended for a heartbeat. She'd spoken impulsively. From the men's reactions, this was the right topic to bring up.
"He used his belt," she went on. "He wrapped it around my wrists and went down on me."
"In his car?" Trey's voice rasped like sandpaper.
"In his car. He barely had room to move."
Air wafted over her cleavage, above the satiny bra she wore. Trey closed his eyes. "Are you saying you'd like him to bind you now?"
"I'm saying if you want, you could restrain me some. I didn't mind when he did it."
"lsquo;Didn't mind' isn't the same as liking it."
"Oh I liked it," she admitted.
Trey groaned like she was killing him. Suddenly, he moved in a flurry. Her blouse was gone, and her skirt, and then he pulled her panties off.
"You have amazing legs," he panted, hands cruising up her calves and thighs. She supposed they were strong. She was on them all the time. Chances were she was lucky Trey noticed them. He snapped her bra free in a second, pushing each breast up for a hard kiss. The sting of his lips pulled a gasp from her.
"Okay?" he asked, soothing her now blazing nipples with his thumbs.
She nodded, somewhat surprised for enjoying it. She couldn't doubt she had. The pulsing of her clit had just doubled in tempo. As if he knew, Trey stepped between her knees. He sat her up, yanking her to the edge of the hood with a vigor that caused her skin to skid on the cherry paint.
It didn't hurt, but it made her gasp as well. She hadn't expected her sweetheart boss to be quite this decisive. Zane did, apparently.
"Here," he said, tossing Trey a small object.
The object was a condom. Trey caught it in one hand and yanked his zipper down with the other. That left him a hand short.
"Take my cock out," he ordered her.
It absolutely was an order. Rebecca had given enough of them to recognize the tone. Nothing inside her minded, not when the order came from him. Shaking just a little with anticipation, she spread his trouser front. His big erection pushed out his underwear. Carefully, Rebecca folded the cotton under him. She tucked the waistband beneath his balls, which resulted in lifting them. Pleased with that picture, she wrapped her hands around his hipbones, her thumbs stretched beneath his shaft. The stiffened flesh jolted with his pulse, the slit beading with pre-cum.
"I love your dragon," she said, her right thumb running over it where the pointed tail stretched up his underside. Aside from its erotic suggestiveness, the tat was beautiful in the brightness of the garage, its colors and scales vivid.
"He's going into you," Trey said hoarsely. "As soon as I get this on."
She wasn't the only one turned on by this idea. Zane let out a low moan. Trey jerked but didn't look at him. She suspected Trey would have liked Zane to roll on the rubber. Perhaps he didn't want to push his luck. He did it himself instead, quickly and with deft motions. Rebecca watched him, mesmerized.
He brought her eyes back to his by slapping his palms on the car hood beside her hips. This too was a dominant gesture. She was very aware thatmdash;of the three of themmdash;only she was naked. Moisture trickled through her folds, hot and slick. Trey leaned forward until the crest of his penis touched her where she was wet.
"I thought about this," he said, his tone dangerous. "Every time we were together at the restaurant, no matter what else was going on, I wanted to be fucking you."
She wet her lips, her gaze caught and held by the fire in his. She touched his penis lightly, adjusting its angle to fit his wide glans to her entrance. Trey sucked in air but didn't move forward. "I wanted that too."
Her answer freed him. He pushed in: one long stroke slow enough to count as careful. As his cock disappeared inside her, Zane made the same low sound he had before. Trey stopped when his slinged-up balls met her ass.
"Come closer," Trey rasped to Zane. "Rebecca, lean back so he can see."
Rebecca could hardly help herself. The pressure of his cock inside her was delicious. She had to arch at it. When she did, the shift in position bared the veiny width just above his root. Zane's eyes totally locked on it. His fascination made her crazy, like the dial on her arousal was spun to ten. She needed to be taken as she never had in her life.
"Please," she said to Trey, her grip tight where she hung on his strong shoulders. "Please do this."
Trey snapped his reins but good. His smooth hard strokes reverbed along every nerve in her abdomen. The result was heaven and hell togethermdash;making her want desperately to come, yet also to go on like that forever.
"Rebecca," Trey gasped in that way he had, as if her name was one he knew intimately. She supposed she understood why now. He'd been dreaming of her for years.
The thought excited her even more; the crazy intensity he brought to every plunge into her. Her breasts bounced on her ribcage, drawing his eyes to them. He palmed one, thumbed one, then simply gripped her hips and churned. That must have been what he wanted most. His head tipped back with pleasure, his Adam's apple standing out. Groans issued from his chest and echoed through the garage. Rebecca dug her fingers deeper into his shoulders and timed her upward humps to his.
"Fuck," he cried, approaching some crisis. "Fuck. Fuck."
As amazing as his actions were, she couldn't forget Zane. From the corner of her eye, she saw him wrap his crotch in a killer grip. He didn't rub his bulge, butmdash;boymdash;was he squeezing. New heat streaked through her at the sight of his white knuckles. Her pussy contracted helplessly around Trey's shaft.
This shot Trey to a new plateau.
Groaning, he slammed her back down onto the car. His hands caught her wrists, trapping them so he could pull her arms out and up. Rebecca's body writhed. She wasn't fighting the hold but enjoying how unbreakable it was. Trey seemed to like her faux struggle. His cock stretched and throbbed inside her, his thrusts resounding against the car's metal. His groans had devolved to snarls.
"I've got you too," Rebecca panted, pulling her heels inward for his next drive. "You're not getting away from me."
She was small, but she was wiry. She used more strength on Trey than she would have dared with another man. The muscles of his butt clenched for her, giving her heels lots of firmness to dig into. His hips began to twist with his plunges, as if he craved the strongest possible pressure on every part of his cock at once.
Maybe Zane's view of Trey going in and out wasn't as good as before. He stepped right up to the car, his free palm planted inches away from her. He was so close Rebecca registered the waves of his body heat.
Trey gasped, sweaty hands threatening to slip on her outstretched wrists. "God, you're so . . . fucking . . . tight."
He swelled one more millimeter, and that was it for her. The sensations coiling inside her sex burst in an explosion of sweet feelings. Trey jerked his cock up into her, and up into her, like he couldn't stop the motions. Bending, he caught her nipple in his mouth and sucked. He came like that, his moans of ecstasy vibrating through her breast.
He didn't release her nipple or her wrists until they'd both finished.
"God." He straightened and pressed a soft kiss into her brow.
Her arms were trembling from being stretched, but she wrapped them around him. Oh that felt good. His nice shirt was damp with sweat, his lean and powerful body warm inside it.
"Next time, no clothes for you," she slurred.
He laughed, still breathless, then turned his head to check on Zane. His friend had let go of himself and was astonishingly hard, his prick pushing out his zipper like a tent pole. A star of creases in the cloth attested to the force with which he'd gripped it. Like Trey and Rebecca, he was breathing raggedly.
"Saving that for something special?" Trey suggested.
His arch words didn't amuse Zane. "Shit," he said, sounding shaken. "I can'tmdash; I'll catch up to you two later."
"Zane," she called a second before Trey did.
Zane stopped in the middle of striding off. He turned his head back to them. "I'm okay," he said over his shoulder. His breath came out on a shaky laugh. "I guess Rebecca isn't the only one who needs to think."
"Shit," Trey swore after he was gone.
Rebecca touched his shoulder.
"Sorry," he said, maybe believing he shouldn't let her see he was upset.
"That's okay. Of course you want him to be all right with this."
Trey wagged his head ruefully. "I went at you like a crazy man. He saw how into it I was."
"It turned him on, Treymdash;a lot. He couldn't take his eyes off us."
"I couldn't take my eyes off you."
"I don't think that was the problem."
Trey pulled gently out of her.
"I don't," she repeated, because he remained troubled. "And I'm probably an expert on the sort of things people can have problems with."
He smiled crookedly, his fingers smoothing her hair back from her hot face. The caress was spine-meltingly pleasant. "I don't know how to hide my feelings. I don't know how to slow them down. I've been waiting too long to let them out."
God, his sweetness made her eyes sting. She stroked his hair like he was stroking hers. "You have to be yourself," she said, more than half wishing her nature was as brave as his. "Once you start pretending, you tend to get stuck with it."
He kissed her then, and helped her hop off the car. "Grab your clothes," he said. "I'll give you the dollar tour of Sodom and Gomorrah."
~
Zane and Trey's garage was bigger than most houses. Clad in brick and draped in ivy, it resembled a residence from outside. Rebecca was dressed again, at least haphazardly. Following Trey, she padded barefoot across the long stretch of grass to the house proper. A bright partial moon lit what appeared to be very spacious, very picturesque landscaped grounds. The plantings were nicer than Boston Common. No question about it: Rebecca had left the humdrum world.
Trey caught her hand as she slowed to gawk. "Do you like it?" he asked, long fingers squeezing hers.
"It's beautiful."
He smiled, seeming to hear her unsureness. "We earned it," he reminded. "I doubt we grew up any fancier than you."
His hand was warm. Though she tugged a little, he didn't allow her to pull away.
"Let me," he coaxed. "I like this kind of thing."
It seemed silly to object when he'd just ravished her atop a car. Holding hands wasn't more serious than that. She had no cause to feel self-conscious simply because the gesture might be interpreted as romantic. She didn't have to interpret it that way.
The problem was, part of her wanted to.
Trey let her in to his and Zane's mansion via a side door. Whatever staff lived in were snug in their beds. Trey and she had the plush antique-laden halls to themselves. Here and there she spotted a touch of modernitymdash;an abstract sculpture on a pedestal, a bold contemporary painting, a streamlined chair or lamp. Mostly, though, Zane and Trey's furnishings were old. They looked comfortable to her, but they weren't what she was used to . . . or what she'd expected.
The dollar tour didn't reveal evidence of Sodom or Gomorrah. It also didn't reveal Zane. Short of opening every one of the zillion doors, Rebecca couldn't imagine how they'd find him.
"And this is our suite." Trey opened one half of a set of paneled doors on the third floor.
The doors led to a shadowy sitting room. Through the arch behind that was an orgy-sized heavy wooden bed, its design reminding her of pews in a cathedral. The suite took up the end of the floor. Tall paned windows brought in light on three sides. At the moment, the light was strictly nocturnal. No lamps had been turned on. The space was peaceful and empty. Zane wasn't here either.
Trey exhaled a small disappointed sigh.
"I should let you wait for him," Rebecca said. "Give you a chance to talk. I'll be fine sleeping in a guest room."
"I wouldn't be fine with that. I'd rather you slept with us."
Rebecca looked at her bare toes. It seemed impolite to point out that us didn't exist right then.
Trey repeated the quiet sigh. "If Zane wants to avoid us, he can take a guest room."
"I don't want to create awkwardness between you."
Trey took her face in his hands. "What do you want for you, Rebecca? What would you choose if you had no one to consider but yourself?"
The question was hard to answer. She wanted to stay with him, but she was frightened to. She was bet he'd cuddle, that he'd hold her and stroke her until she fell asleep. She also bet she'd like it.
He laughed at the length of her hesitation. "You'd think I was offering you a line of cocaine."
He was in a way, and she feared addiction. On the other hand, did she really want to live the rest of her life never risking anything? What was the point in having survived so much if she didn't move forward?
"I'd like to stay with you," she confessed shyly.
He smiled, hands sliding from her cheeks to her shoulders. "Good," he said. "I'll give you the dime tour of our suite."
~
Zane hadn't gone inside after he left the garage. His feelings were too intense, and he'd needed air. He'd strode stiff-legged and stiff-cocked to their lagoon, a small manmade lake he and Trey sometimes rowed out on. The reeds at the edge were tall, the water wavery with moonlight. Zane calmed a bit as he stared at it.
He'd expected jealousy to be his worst problem. He did have a possessive streak. To his surprise, when he'd watched Trey and Rebecca fuck on that car, he hadn't known who to be jealous of. He wanted to be taken with the animal single-mindedness that Trey was taking her, but he'd also wished her tight hot body were all his to play with.
She was so damn cute, so touchably firm and curved. He hadn't realized watching Trey's cock pump in and out of her pussy would flip his brain upside down. Her wetness had gleamed on Trey's shaft, on his swollen veins, on her engorged clit, the flow lubricating each fervent thrust. It seemed perverse that she was naked and he was dressed, like she was extra vulnerable. Her beautiful pink nipples had stood out like fingertips on her bouncing breasts. Zane had longed to suck them even as he'd longed to suck Trey's. Torqued by what he was doing, Trey's had beaded behind his shirt as if it were December.
When Rebecca pulled the trick where she hammocked Trey's balls on his underwear, she could have been trying to drive Zane insane. He was accustomed to having a strong sex drive, but from their first hungry kiss, Trey and Rebecca had shot his through the stratosphere.
He couldn't help thinking a real man wouldn't enjoy watching a friend screw the girl he wanted . . . or vice versa.
He didn't know how to handle it. He felt like he was out-of-control drunk, and someone ought to take his car keys. He couldn't join in with them. Sliding behind that wheel would be dangerous. He'd crash and break into pieces. He needed more control before he went to them.
He groaned to the clear night sky. The thought of going to them punched his cock hard again. Were they making love even now? Was Rebecca running her hands over Trey's lean torso? Was Trey's adorable ass clenched with longing for someone to fuck it?
"God," he swore, covering his face. He needed half a dozen cocks to do everything he wanted to those two.
He glanced back over his shoulder to the house. He was far enough away to see the whole structure. The windows of the bedroom wing glowed gold, the only ones lit up. He knew how sweet Trey was, how he crept into a person's heart and made them want to keep him forever. Could Zane leave Rebecca to his charms? No matter how off balance he felt right now, didn't he want to stake a claim on her too?
His erection throbbed out a hell yeah, you do.
Maybe Trey was right. Maybe Zane had issues about exposing his "gay" side. If he wanted to enough, he'd get over them.
"Can't do that out here," he muttered.
Squaring his shoulders, he prepared himself for battle. He kind of had to. He wanted them both too much to remain where he was.
In the end, he'd girded himself for nothing. He'd stayed out too long. Trey and Rebecca were asleep, spooned back to front in the big California king. So hard he was shaking, Zane cursed his luck. Trey slept naked, but Rebecca wore one of Trey's T-shirts. Trey's arm wrapped her waist, his chin tucked above her blonde head. Already he was putting his mark on her.
Don't be an idiot, he chided. Trey didn't think that way. He wasn't half as competitive as Zane. Rebecca probably had been coldmdash;what with Trey's fondness for cranking up the A/C. Zane stripped down to skin. He told himself he wasn't trying to match Trey for seductiveness. This was how he went to bed. Because there was room, he slipped under the covers in front of Rebecca.
She made a kitten noise in her sleep.
Zane's cock thought it sounded sexy. An ache pulsed hard in his groin, his balls starting to draw up, which reminded him what she'd done with Trey's Calvin Kleins. He screwed his eyes shut against that image. Christ, he wasn't going to be able to sleep like this. He wasn't even certain he could lie still. Gritting his teeth, he reached for his erection. His palm was dry, which wasn't his preference, but squeezing the rigid pole still felt good. Rubbing it was too good. His nerves were sensitized from waiting, his stored-up come ready to boil out. Probably, he should get up and do this in the bathroom. Trying to control his breathing would be impossible.
Then Rebecca squirmed forward and snuggled him, her soft breasts flattening on his back.
Pre-cum squirted from his tip at the sudden jump in his excitement.
"Zane?" she mumbled against his shoulder.
He froze, then overruled his teenage-style urge to pretend he was asleep. "I'm awake."
Her hand followed his forearm to the pounding erection his fingers gripped. "Mm, yes, you are."
His fist let go. He turned and kissed hermdash;soft, deep, stroking his tongue against hers and sucking. She hummed again, sleepily, her top leg sliding over his. His cock bumped her belly, the slit leaking more excitement. Rebecca might not be quite awake, but he knew he couldn't resist her instinctive welcome. He had to take her now.
"Two seconds," he said, and reached into the nightstand drawer.
The movement roused her. Rebecca came up on one elbow.
"Boy," she said, watching him cover his raging prick. "You two are quick at that."
The comparison to Trey aroused him, maybe more than made sense.
"I can't wait much longer," he warned.
She opened her arms to him.
He spread her thighs and moved between them.
He slid balls deep in a single stroke.
She was hot and soft and he could have pounded to his finish in ten seconds. She stopped him with a subtle wince.
"Sore?" he asked.
She shook her head and flushed. "What Trey did in the garage left me tender. Your penetration felt . . . extra good. I really knew you were going in."
Oh he didn't need that match tossed onto his sexual coals. Her words had the same effect as a flurry of pumping strokes. Then she pressed her hips closer.
"Fuck," he swore, the tingle of impending orgasm buzzing up his tailbone. "Hold still a minute. I am too fucking close."
She stopped mid-wriggle and smiled at him. "What if I am too?"
He didn't think she was lying. Besides the squirm she'd cut short, her sheath twitched around him in small contractions, her pussy growing wetter by the second. Her fit felt like heaven around his cock. He guessed it did to her too. As if she couldn't help it, she shifted her legs to let him deeper. The head of his cock prodded her cervix.
"Fuck," he repeated, his penile skin stretched so tight it stung.
If that weren't enough to test him, Trey stirred and began waking. "Hey, buddy," he said, husky and half asleep. "You came back."
He put his hand on Zane's back, a friendly gesture that nearly took his skull off with arousal. Zane groaned at the pain gathering in his balls.
"Uh," Trey said, sensing there was a problem. "Should I back off?"
Zane shook his head tightly. "Just . . . don't do more right now. I'm about to lose it."
Trey accepted this as the reason. "Okay." His hand rubbed just a little. "You need to do your own thing with her. I get that."
Zane wasn't sure what he needed, except to come as soon and as long as decently possiblemdash;preferably without embarrassing himself.
"Roll me on top," Rebecca suggested throatily. "That'll make it easier to control your responses."
He wasn't convinced his responses were controllable, but her on top sounded fine to him. He squirmed around and sat her above him. Her weight pushed him really deep, which she liked enough to roll her lower lip beneath her teeth.
"Now," she said, humorously smug, "you keep still while I work."
"Go slow," he warned.
Trey sat up next to them.
Zane wanted to grind his teethmdash;and not from annoyance. Trey had one leg bent up and the other dropped to the side, making it clear to the others that he was getting an erection. Zane wanted to look and not look at the same time. Rebecca looked, smiled at Trey like they shared a secret, and then braced straight-armed on Zane's shoulders.
"You watched us," she reminded him. "In fairness, you can't ask Trey not to."
"You like him being here."
"I liked you being in the garage." Her tone said all this was completely reasonable. Zane's jumping nerves said it was thrilling but stressful. Trey closed the difference by reaching over to cup Rebecca's breast.
"Do you like me doing this?" he asked Zane.
He liked it all right. Trey's darker hand caressing her fair skin was nearly as hot as his cock disappearing in her body.
"I like it," he said, out of breath. His hips pressed deeper, their motion impossible to restrain. "Rebecca, please move on me."
"Put your hand on me too," she said.
He covered her other breast so that he and Trey each supported one soft globe. This must have been what she wanted, because she writhed on him.
Zane and she made noises in chorus. The wet tight friction around his cock was too good not to moan over. Leaving the hand that cupped her breast in place, he took her hip to guide her as she lifted. From there, he slid his thumb inward to pull one labia wider. This exposed her clit to his and Trey's view.
He guessed she realized this. She groaned as Trey swallowed.
"Can I touch her there?" Trey asked. "Can I pinch her clit out between my fingers?"
Rebecca's neck was arched, spine twisting as she slowly rose and sank again. She couldn't answer so Zane did.
"Yes," he panted. "Do that to her."
She came two seconds after Trey got his pinching rub on her. The ripples of her orgasm gripped his shaft. Trey milked the pleasure until she stopped shaking. Rebecca's head tipped forward again, her gaze zeroed in on Zane, though Trey was the one who'd just brought her over. Her face was beautifully flushed, her irises a lustrous gray ring around her pupils.
What his face looked like, he didn't know. Slightly crazed, probably.
"Are you ready for me to bring you off?" she asked.
Her voice was smoke, her body dripping heat down him. His cock gave a pulse hard enough to hurt. "I am ready like you wouldn't believe," he growled.
She didn't rush. She rolled to his flare, tightened her gate around him, and then relaxed and rolled down. Maybe she did the muscle-squeezing trick for her own pleasure, but it felt great to him.
"God," he said when she repeated it. "Please keep doing that."
She leaned forward, bracing more of her weight on himmdash;and more on the two palms that cupped her breasts. With his second hand, Trey started working her clit again. His fingers bumped Zane with her down strokes.
The combination was too enticing. Zane tried to breathe deeper, easier, to hold onto the edge longer.
"Slower?" Rebecca offered breathlessly, seeing him struggle.
"No," he gasped, reluctant to give up the delectable sensations. "Keep on like that." His grip tightened on her hip, his pelvis lifting off the mattress to press into her harder. He made a noise he would have been embarrassed by if she hadn't made it back.
She couldn't keep to her pace. Both of them needed her to speed up.
"Yes," he said, giving her permission even as she took it.
She cried out and he did too, riding him as he bucked. He huffed for air and went crazy. Trey couldn't hold onto her. Zane shoved his fingers where his friend's had been, twisting and rubbing the slippery button as they both went over.
Heat shot from deep within his balls. His body clenched with pleasure, his cock jammed as far as it could go between her legs. His hang-ups intensified the , as if he'd indulged in something forbidden. He ejaculated until he simply couldn't anymore. Then he collapsed with pure mellowness.
He was dazed and dozy from the hard come. At first, he didn't understand why Rebecca lifted his hand from where it had fallen to the covers. His fingers were too limp to do her any good.
At least they were until she folded them under hers on Trey's shuddering erection.
In spite of the massive he'd just enjoyed, Zane's penis stirred inside her.
Trey gasped with shock and pleasure as they pulled the joined fist up him. Seeing how stiff and big watching them had made him, Zane suspected he was about to go.
"Tighter," Zane said, voice hoarse from his final shout. Rebecca's fingers immediately obeyed. Knowing Trey would like faster too, Zane dragged their fists to the crucial stretch of nerves on the upper part of his under side. Trey watched their hands slide up him, then gaped at them. Satisfied he and Rebecca were exactly where they were needed, Zane shimmied Trey's skin up and down the hot spot as fast as it would go.
This flipped Trey like a giant switch.
He moaned, every muscle in his body jerking as he spewed semen over them.
Playing voyeur must have wound him up. The fountain sprayed pretty high and went on longer than usual.
Rebecca let go before Zane did. He couldn't seem to stop stroking Trey's penis.
"God," Trey panted. He put his hand over Zane's. Zane did stop then and looked into his eyes.
"Thank you," Trey said so seriously Zane probably should have laughed. He wished he could laugh, but he felt serious too.
"Fair's fair," he said, wondering if fairness truly had dictated that hand job.
Before the moment could get more awkward, Rebecca lifted off him and called dibs on the shower.
~
Rebecca didn't know which man's bathrobe she'd borrowed on her exit from the sybaritic bathroom, only that it smelled heavenly. Unable to resist, she inhaled through the fluffy lapel as she padded back to the bedroom.
The bed, which was empty, looked like a hurricane had hit it. In spite of being excellently pleasured twice recently, her flesh tightened at the sight.
"Over here," Zane called from the sitting area behind the arch. "We rustled up a snack."
Rebecca's stomach growled. She'd only tasted the food in the Lounge tonight. Turning, she saw the men sprawled in armchairs in their underwear. Their snack was spread across the round table between them. She spotted sliced smoked salmon, a big tin of caviar, and two bottles of Louis Roederer Cristal chilling in silver ice buckets. Both men were toasting bread on long forks over a small gas fire.
The fireplace turned the scene into a wet dream, its flames flickering cozily over the muscled limbs of the two big men. The air conditioning justified the warmthmdash;sort of.
"It's August!" her sensible side felt obliged to say as she walked over.
Trey flashed teeth in a grin. "We have to toast the bread. Caviar doesn't taste as good on plain."
Delicately, so as not to break the eggs, he spooned a portion onto a finished slice. He passed it to her hand like the rare treat it was.
"This is Ossetra," she said, staring at the glossy gold rounds in awe.
"Petrossian Special Reserve," Trey informed her.
Rebecca gulped. Comparable in quality to Beluga, this stuff ran upwards of a thousand dollars for a five-ounce tin. Chef though she was, it was so expensive she'd only tasted it once before.
Laughing, Zane pressed a cool flute of Cristal into her other hand. "Come on. Who better to appreciate this luxury than someone with your palate?"
"I need to sit down for this," she said.
Zane helped her into the third armchair.
"Eat," Trey coaxed, taking a bite himself.
Rebecca bit down on the loaded toast. Amazing flavors exploded in her mouth. The large-scale caviar was the perfect texture: firm, smooth, the taste a layering of butter and nuts and sea.
"Mm," she hummed, closing her eyes to absorb it. She felt as if she'd been transported to Mother Russia, to some wintry gray seashore. When she lifted her eyelids, Zane and Trey were fighting laughs.
"You look like that when you come," Zane explained.
"And you definitely need more," Trey said, before she could blaze up in a blush.
They ate the decadent feast togethermdash;laughing, licking fingers, and enjoying. The salmon was nearly as good as the caviar, the chilled champagne the perfect accompaniment. The food was gone by the time Trey popped the second bottle.
"You do that as neatly as my head chef," she praised.
"Practice." He poured for the others and settled back in his chair. "Somewhat to my surprise, Zane is a champagne hound."
Zane grinned unabashedly, likely a little buzzed. "I'm about more than beer and burgers." He stretched his bare legs until his feet bumped hers. "You're wearing my robe."
This appeared to please him.
"It smelled good," she said.
"It smells like bad boy," Trey clarified and laughed.
"Is that an inside joke?"
"We're testing a new men's fragrance," Zane said. "Called lsquo;Bad Boy,' of course. We've both been wearing it. We're hoping to launch it next Christmas."
"It's nice on both of you," she observed.
Smiling, Trey slouched deeper in his chair, arms flung out in relaxation, feet nudging hers like Zane's were. He seemed not only amused but happy, drunk perhaps but not impaired.
This is what he wants, she realized. Trey had no hesitation where he loved. His heart's desire was to draw both of them close to him. Zane's body still held a hint of tension, not much but it was there. Like her, he didn't let down his guard easily. Also like her, he found a lot to admire in Trey.
"How did you two meet?" she asked, sensing the champagne would oil their answer.
Trey turned his head to Zane, silently offering him the option of answering. She realized something else then. Trey was more careful of Zane's boundaries than Zane was of his.
Zane seemed willing to tell the storymdash;if warily. "We were neighbors," he said, fingers tapping his chair's arms. "And we went to the same high school."
"I was a nerd. He was a jock."
"You weren't a nerd," she said, not believing it. Trey was quirky, but too beautiful for that.
"An outsider then. Zane took me under his wing in our senior year."
Zane leaned forward over his knees. His sandy brows drew together, creating a furrow above his nose. Rebecca leaned forward too, not close enough to tell him with her touch that his private stories were safe with her.
"Did he know what your father did?" she asked gently.
Zane wet his lips. "Trey's father hit him too. For different reasons, but we found out we had that in common."
"And also liking men and women."
"And also that," Zane concurred. "One night, my dad and I had a last-straw blowout. I was convinced I was going to kill him and spend the rest of my life in jail. Trey watched the fight from his bedroom window. When I ran from the house, he followed me. I'm not sure what he thought I was going to do. Throw myself off a bridge maybe. We talked for the first time at the high school track. You could say he initiated the other half of what I wanted sexually. We got each other through our last year of school."
