Hot in Here (27 page)

long day at work to the comforts of a home and a woman who cared.

But then he’d ruin it with his coldness. He just didn’t feel the way other men felt. It was like he was wired

wrong, like all warmth and feelings had been omitted from his makeup when he had been created. He

was numb. And being numb and emotionless didn’t make for good relationships.

In the end, he’d just fuck everything up. He didn’t deal well with people. Now photographs, they were

different. He never fucked up those.

“I bet you’re bored stiff out here, especially after living in London for so long,” Jenna said. “I know it’s

not much, but if you’re interested, Ashton is heading into town for last call at the Caddy. There’s always

something going on up there after a night of drinking.”

Trey tried to keep his expression neutral. The mention of Ashton Wilson made his teeth clench. “Nah,

I’m good. I think I’ve had enough already.”

“Okay, then,” she said, squeezing his arm briefly. “Night.”

“Night.”

He watched her run the rest of the distance to Bryce, who was standing with his arms opened to her,

welcoming her. She jumped up into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. His brother’s hands

were already on her ass and they were kissing like they hadn’t seen each other in a year.

Lucky bastard.

Restless, Trey decided to walk around the old Victorian farmhouse. It needed some work and a

significant amount of updating, both outside and in, but with a little money and lots of elbow grease, it

could be just as stunning as it was in its heyday. The stained-glass windows were original and in good

repair. The porch just needed the paint scraped and a fresh coat applied.

And with a few modern improvements, like some Jacuzzi tubs in the rooms and turning the walk-up attic

into a luxury honeymoon suite, this old farmhouse could be turned into a beautiful hotel.

Climbing the steps to the veranda, Trey shook the railing. A little loose, but not bad. The wooden floor

slats, from what he could see, were in good repair. This would be a perfect place to offer the guests

late-afternoon cocktails with some of Bryce’s appetizers, or even afternoon tea. The front garden, thanks

to Jenna’s mom, was stunning. And with a water feature and some more plants, it could become the focal

point for a relaxing twilight stroll.

“What? Seeing if Daddy dearest is getting his money’s worth?”

Trey’s heart jumped.Such hatred in that sweet voice, he thought. And Sarah McCabe always had the

sweetest, sexiest voice he’d ever heard.

“So you know?” he asked, keeping his back to her.

“Of course. He had the nerve to come to the Caddy for lunch today with his investment banker. He

made it very clear that I could kiss my family home goodbye. That within the year it’d be a Bargain City

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and a fast-food restaurant. Wonder if he’ll choose a pizza joint this time instead of Value Burger.”

Trey heard her sniffle and turned. Saw her on the porch swing that was suspended from the ceiling of the

veranda. She was wearing a light-colored sundress, the moonlight backlighting her figure, giving pretty

much everything away.

He swallowed—hard. He’d like to take her picture, just like this—with the curved outline of her breast,

the hem of her dress riding up over her knees, her bare feet, with her pink toenail polish, making little

circles on the hardwood while her blond hair whispered softly across her cheeks.

Sarah looked away from him and he saw her swipe her hand across her cheeks.

“My sisters and I always dreamed about getting married out in the garden. We thought we’d have our

reception picnic-style in the backyard.” She laughed, but it was full of heartache. “I’m sure you’re

thinking how hillbilly that sounds. But that’s the difference between you and me. I love my home and my

family. And you don’t care about anything but yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. She climbed down off the swing. He held out his hand to help her but she

pushed him away. She never wanted him near her. Never had.

“Jenna, Emily and I used to sit in the hayloft and talk about what it would be like when we’d come back

to the farm after we were grown,” she said as she slipped her feet into a pair of sexy sandals. “Our kids

would play together, running around and laughing and getting dirty, just like we used to. We thought of all

the long weekends we’d have, and the fireworks. We thought about tucking our kids into beds—the

beds that used to be ours. And now all those dreams are being bought up by some money-worshipping

bastard who thinks that we’re nothing but a bunch of sentimental hicks.”

Trey’s heart was beating rapidly. Laughter. Fun. A sense of belonging. She’d had it all, her whole life.

And he had always been on the periphery, standing alone and apart, watching and trying so desperately

not to wish. To want. While Bryce laughed and teased, he had remained silent. Bryce had always been

family, while he had always been the guest.

Headlights drifted over them, illuminating the veranda, where they stood side by side. Gravel crunched

beneath heavy tires. The purr of a diesel engine idling in the driveway coasted over.

“I gotta go,” Sarah said.

Before he knew what he was doing, Trey reached for Sarah and grabbed her by the arm. “I’m not an

unfeeling asshole, you know.”

“Of course not,” she spat.

He pulled her closer, feeling those big, gorgeous breasts brush against his chest.

“I don’t know what I ever did to you to make you hate me so much.”

“Let me go.”

“What if I don’t want to?” He had no idea what she saw in his expression, but she recoiled from his

touch and the closeness of his body. Damn her.

“Why do you hate me, Sarah?” he repeated, despising the confusion he heard in his voice.

“I don’t hate you. I just want my home to be safe. I want my family close by. I want a husband who I can

love and who will love me. One who will want me just as I am. I want a houseful of laughing children.

And I want, just once, for you not to laugh at that.”

“So you’re going to hop into that diesel with Ashton Wilson and make your fondest dreams come

true—is that it?”

“What if I am?”

“Mrs. Ashton Wilson, is that what you want? Really? A lifetime chained to a farmhand?”

“There’s nothing wrong with working hard for your money.”

“But will he still want you after four babies, Sarah? Will he still come home to you and that houseful of

laughing children?”

“He’s a good man. He’s responsible, honorable. Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

“He’s the wrong man for you, Sarah. He can’t save your farm. He can’t give you your dreams.”

“And you can?”

Trey finally allowed himself to drop her arm. “Forget it.”

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The horn honked. It was followed by the deep drawl of Ashton’s voice. “C’mon, gorgeous,” he called.

“Time’s wasting.”

“I have to go.”

Trey watched Sarah run down the veranda steps. Ashton jumped out of the truck and caught her around

the waist. He bent down and whispered something in her ear. Sarah looked over her shoulder—back at

Trey. And all he could see was the way she went so easily into Ashton’s arms. As he dialed a number on

his cell phone, he told himself he was doing this for his brother. For a chance for a future for both Jenna

and Bryce. The other McCabes, while he liked them well enough, did not figure into this. This sacrifice he

was going to make was for Bryce only. He kept telling himself that, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t

true.

“Hello?”

“Lance Ryder?”

“Yes? Who’s this?”

“Your son.”

“Which one?”

“The oldest.”

“Bryce?”

“Bastard.”

“Trey, then.”

“That’s right.”

“Haven’t talked to you in years. What do you want from me?”

“Your promise to quit busting Bryce’s balls.”

A deep-throated chuckle reached him through the phone. “Why should I?”

“Because I’m an influential person now. I’ve got an excellent reputation, and a pile of money in the

bank.”

“And I give a shit because . . . ?”

“Because I have two interviews lined up in the next week. One withMaxim , and the other withGQ . Both

publications are global. And I’m feeling decidedly melancholy in my old age. I once had a therapist who

told me that what I needed was closure and I’m thinking he was right.”

“You—”

“That’s right, old man. If you don’t back off and let Bryce buy the farm, I’ll sing like a fucking canary,

and I’ll be hitting all the high notes, if you know what I mean. Not sure what the good folks in Lucan or

your cronies at Greenwood Financial would think about your dirty little secrets.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would dare.”

“What does that shit pile mean to you?”

“Nothing, but it means something to my brother, and my brother means everything to me. Now back the

fuck off, or find our personal history spewed on the glossy pages of those magazines. Got it?”

“You don’t have the balls.”

“I’ve grown a set over the years, old man. I wouldn’t test them. Tomorrow, by noon, I want the deal

called off. Or I’ll talk, and you’ll go down.”

Clicking his phone shut, Trey took a deep breath. Well, at least he’d saved the farm. There was no way

Lance Ryder would risk his secret coming out. The man was, and always would be, a coward.

He’d done it for Bryce, Trey reminded himself, even as he brought his hand to his nose and inhaled the

sweet country-flower scent of Sarah McCabe’s soft, luscious skin, which still lingered on his fingers.

“I swear, you must have ESP.”

The bedroom door clicked softly in the dark. Jenna approached the bed, where Bryce was propped up

with pillows, wearing nothing but a white cotton sheet over his lap.

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“And why would you say that?”

He smiled and reached out to her. “Because I was just thinking of you coming in here, wearing something

slinky and sexy and having your wicked way with me.”

“Seems we’re wired alike, because I was thinking the same thing.”

He pulled her down and she straddled his thighs. His hands, warm and soft, went to her ass. He pulled

her panties up so he could caress her intimately.

“And what wicked thing were you thinking of doing?” he asked.

She shrugged, purposely letting the strap of her red nightie slip down her shoulder. The crest of her

breast was freed, and Bryce put his face to her, inhaling her scent, kissing her with slow calculation.

“Maybe I was thinking of watching you jerk off. Maybe I was going to take your cock in my mouth and

suck you dry.”

His brow arched and he pinched her butt. “Your vocabulary has undergone such a change, Miss

McCabe,” he teased. “I wonder who could be the bad influence.”

“I wonder.”

“What a quick study you are,” he said, pulling her panties aside so he could dip his fingers into her pussy.

Jenna moaned as she felt the fluttery strokes of his fingers. “Ah, Jenna, your cunt is so wet and warm.”

She closed her eyes as he circled her clitoris. “And waiting for your cock, Bryce.”

“What about your mom and dad,” he asked, baring her breast to the moonlight, which was coming

through the lace curtains.

“I think it’s safe,” Jenna whispered. She pulled the filmy negligee over her head. Bryce caught it in his

hand.

“I intend to make you scream, Jenna,” Bryce said as he reached for her hands. “I want to hear you cry

out. But I don’t want Mom and Dad to come rushing in here, because what I’m going to do is totally

X-rated.” He took her wrists and tied them behind her back with her negligee.

“What are you doing!”

“Playing.”

Her body trembled as Bryce ran his hand down her side. Her back was arched, and the position pushed

her breasts out, right in front of Bryce’s face. “Have I told you how much I love your tits?”

“Only a dozen times,” she laughed.

He circled his tongue along her areola before flicking her nipple. “Have I told you how much I love the

way you taste? The feel of you on my hand. On my mouth.”

She was breathing hard. His seduction was too slow, too lazy for her needs. She wanted him fast and

hard, swiftly taking her.

“I love going down on you, Jenna. I love knowing I’m the only man who has.”

“God, yes, Bryce, I want . . .”

“What do you want, baby?” he asked darkly as he caught her breasts in his hands and met her gaze.

“What do you need?”

“You know,” she said, her face growing hot. It was one thing to say she wanted him to fuck her, but

something else entirely to say that she wanted his mouth on her pussy.

He followed her glance as her gaze drifted to her spread legs. He smiled wickedly as he ran his fingers

along her folds. He grinned up at her as he rubbed her clit.

But he didn’t do what she wanted. In frustration, Jenna groaned and shoved her hips toward him. He

laughed and lay on his back, capturing her hips in his hands.

“You’ll have to tell me what you want, babe.”

She would have swatted him if her hands hadn’t been tied. But then, she wouldn’t have the wicked

feeling of being bound up.