Men Times Three (2 page)

Unfortunately, in the club scene
long and slow
meant fifteen minutes of eye contact and a sloppy conversation that usually centered on such meaningful shit as what kind of car the guy drove and how nice her tits looked in that top.

A sigh rose from the pile of naked limbs and rolling hips as Marnie pondered the idea of finding a real relationship in her unreal world. Just as soon as she returned from the Peninsula, she'd find someone she could have a conversation with. A man who made her crazy with lust. A man.

Not a man-child. And not a hound dog. An honest-to-God grown-up male who wanted her in his life.

In the meantime, this was some hot action. But cold and mechanical at the same time. A loud moan signaled the end for one of the women. The blonde's body shook as she rocked her clit over her friend's hand. Her ass shimmied and guttural groans from the brunette spurred her on.

“Yeah,” the brunette crooned. “Fuck him. Rock that cock.”

She soon joined the other woman in ecstatic moans as the brunette stiffened over Dennis's face. “Unh. So good.” She cried out as the blonde pinched her distended nipples while she came.

Two down one to go.

Marnie took her seat behind her desk and reminded herself to pick up batteries on the way to the Friendly Inn. Long and slow with BOB would have to be enough until the right man caught her eye.

Once the inn was sold, she wouldn't have to put up with Dennis and his women again.

She had to hand it to him though; he tried to make his women feel good about their efforts, so he always yelled when he came. He figured they appreciated it. Dennis shouted his release a moment later and the pungent odor of sex and musk bloomed.

From what she'd seen, the blonde and brunette were more into each other than into Dennis. They kissed and petted as he relaxed, until a light tap on the brunette's haunches signaled the end. After a moment the three partners rolled off and away from each other. The women stood, looking mussed and sated.

They intertwined their fingers and kissed each other deeply.

Marnie pointed at the piles of feminine clothing. “You can dress in the hall,” she said in dismissal. “Turn on the lights on your way out,” she said in a tight voice.

The women each kissed Dennis with fervor, giving his cock and balls one more long stroke each before they gathered their clothes and pranced out holding hands.

Dennis stood, stretched and scratched his flaccid cock. “Sticky,” he said with a grin.

Marnie shook her head. “We didn't get the loan.”

“You love to ruin the glow.” A filled condom dangled as he scratched his balls absently. He headed into the office washroom. Water ran into the sink, the toilet flushed and out he came again, grinning like a fool. “It's okay, I've got a plan.” He bent to pick up his clothing and began to dress.

Not nearly fast enough,
she thought. “Why am I not surprised you have a plan. You always
have a plan
.”

He grinned and zipped his slacks. “It's a great plan.”

“Unless it involves a winning lottery ticket, I doubt it'll help.”

He bent over and picked up his shirt. While he pulled it on, he grinned wider. “The club needs a new direction.”

“You're crazy. We're about to take off.”

“You've said that for months, but apparently….” He waggled his brows. The man was bright enough on his good days. But lately, she'd seen fewer and fewer good days. “…Apparently all the banks in the state disagree with you.”

“It's the economy, the mortgage crunches, not the club. And do not even think about going anywhere else for a loan.” Dennis liked to think he was connected. “I won't have any silent partners. Not the kind that you'd bring in.” Of course they'd been approached with ways to make extra cash, but Marnie refused to play and had made it known police personnel were always welcome in BackLit. She'd quietly put the word out to thwart any of Dennis's wilder, illegal schemes.

“We still need to change things. The thrust, as it were.” He stepped in front of her chair, slipped his hands to her shoulders and squeezed lightly. The faint scent of pussy wafted by.

She pulled away. “You're a pig. You didn't even wash your face.”

“I like the smell of women.”

“You're getting more strange all the time.” He'd never been fastidious but this was gross.

He laughed and took his seat behind his desk across the room. Maybe it was stress. They were in a crunch. The economy had gone flat and put pressure on them to keep their prices lower while increasing staff. Expenses had climbed and their DJ had threatened to jump ship and go to the competition. He had a following and brought in a lot of regulars. “What's the word from Mike?”

“He wants at least ten percent more.”

“Damn. We can't go that high and he knows it.” Not with a new bartender they absolutely needed. Pressure built behind her eyes. She downed a painkiller from the bottle she kept on her desk. She no longer needed water to wash them down. What did that say about her lifestyle? She sighed and refocused on Dennis.

“That's why we need a new direction,” he said. “I'm tired of being held hostage by that guy. If we change things up, he can go and we'll never need another DJ.”

Whatever he had in mind wouldn't matter if they sold the inn. He'd sell his half of the club to her and disappear from her life. “We don't need a new direction; we need patience.” She pulled out the company checkbook and started signing paychecks. She'd like to do direct deposit, but the waitstaff turnover was too rapid. She could never keep on top of the changes. “We'll talk about everything when I get back. In the meantime, keep Mike happy and tell him we'll discuss his salary at month's end.”

“Right, yeah, sure.” But his eyes were focused inwardly as his mind whirled.

Damn, he wasn't going to let this rest, but she knew when to leave things alone. Dennis could be unpredictable and she didn't have time for an argument.

She tapped her pen on the checkbook and waited for him to remember she was leaving him on his own for a few days. This was a first and she fought down the bitter fear of Dennis in charge.

His eyes dropped to the floor under her desk. “That's the reason for the ugly boots. You're heading to the Olympic Peninsula, where they've got that tree museum, right?” Dennis hated the outdoors and everything to do with it.

“If you mean the Olympic National Park, then yes, that's where I'm going.” Close enough. The Friendly Inn sat on several acres of second-growth timber on Seduction Cove. “And my boots aren't ugly. They're practical. Stilettos won't work up there.”

“When will you be back?” The gleam in his eye made her want to cancel.

Shit.

“As soon as I can.” If all went well, she'd be free of Dennis and his unpredictability. “Promise me you won't make any changes while I'm gone. We
will
have a discussion when I get back,” she promised.

He shrugged. “Sure, I want to work out some details anyway.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “I'll make a business plan and give you a professional presentation. You'll like it.”

His strength. That was what had convinced her to take him on as a partner in the first place. He had a head for marketing and sounded like a shark when he was on a roll. But the man had no follow-through.

With a partner like Dennis, the other half would always have the lion's share of the work. Applying himself to a presentation would occupy him while she was gone. Satisfied, and aware of the clock ticking toward rush hour, she signed the last check and began stuffing envelopes.

“Fine, you get your ducks in a row, and when I get back, we'll have a serious discussion. Now, all I want to do is hit the road. The sooner I leave, the sooner I get back.” She passed her hand over the frown lines etched into her forehead. Maybe the inn's peaceful surroundings would help her find her equilibrium again.

“In the meantime, I'll take care of everything,” Dennis said with a grin that made her belly clench. Selling the inn quickly was her best option for getting Dennis out of her life and BackLit to springboard onto Seattle's must-go list.

A
car barely bigger than a toy bumped across the grass-covered parking lot in front of the misnamed Friendly Inn. TJ and Deke watched the vehicle from the deep shadows of the front porch. “What the hell is that thing?” Deke asked.

“One of those European cars that get a million miles to the gallon.” TJ didn't care; it was the driver he was interested in. Must be one of the heirs. One of Jon Dawson's granddaughters.

Deke snorted. “It's two seats with a roof. Golf carts are bigger.”

The car stopped and the driver's door opened. A sensible boot, small enough to be a woman's, landed on the grass, quickly followed by a shapely leg in blue jeans. A woman emerged from the car wearing a gold-colored blouse and green fleece vest. Nice.

Even better was the mane of red hair that topped her off.

TJ loved redheads. Always had. This one had flare and cranked his temperature just by breathing.

Her jeans rode low on her hips and her tucked-in blouse emphasized her curvy waist. A redhead with curves and lustrous long hair that hung loose and free.

He swiped the cobwebs and bits of debris from his hair, shirt and jeans.

She swept a handful of hair out of her way while she reached inside the car for something.

He took a long deep breath and sucked in the beauty of the day made better by the arrival of this gorgeous woman. She leaned back into the car to grab something off the passenger seat. His heart kicked into high gear at the sight of her shapelier-than-average butt and Deke's suggestion of getting laid moved into the realm of TJ's personal goals.

Deke's low whistle set TJ's teeth on edge. He'd forgotten Deke was getting the same view he was.

He cast his brother a sidelong glance. He'd slapped at the dirt that clung to his clothes, too. He smoothed his hair as TJ watched. “Not a chance, little brother. She's mine.”

Deke shot him a challenging look. “You always want the redheads.”

The redhead in question straightened to her full height, with a canvas knapsack in her hand. Her mouth moved in an animated conversation, but snatches of the conversation drifted away on the wind.

“She must have a hands-free phone stuck in her ear,” he said. “Either that or she's talking to herself.”

Deke snorted. “You like the wacky ones, too.”

“Once, I picked a wacko once, Deke. Everyone's entitled to one mistake.”

The redhead laughed, touched her ear to hang up then gave the car door a hip shot to close it. Her breasts jiggled on impact. He sucked in another breath and the effect of her whole package charmed him: shapely curves, hair, expressive face and smiling mouth.

And flare. Lots of
flare
. He'd be damned if he knew what it was, but she had it.

“That a car?” Deke called. “Or a scooter with a roof?”

She looked startled by Deke's voice and stopped in her tracks. She took a wary step backward while squinting into the shadows on the porch.

They each took one step into the sun, so she could see how harmless they were.

Like hell he was harmless. He wanted to stalk and chase, pull her down and cover her head to toe. Naked.

He grabbed Deke's forearm, looked him in the eye. “You're going to walk away, Deke. Now. Seriously. Walk away.”

But Deke always was a butthead. He shook off TJ's hand and went straight toward her.

“Takin' your life in your hands, Bro.” TJ threw his voice low so only Deke could hear as his brother moved toward the redhead. TJ kept the threat softly spoken but clear.

Deke surprisingly veered left and headed for her tiny car instead. “Mind if I take a look at her?” he said, bright as a yokel.

“Help yourself. The door's unlocked.” The beauty sized up his brother with one flick of her eyes then trained her gaze on TJ.

His heart stuttered and his cock stirred to life. It wasn't her eyes or her figure that had him by the 'nads; it was her mouth. A man tended to remember his first kiss, and his had landed square on that incredible mouth.

If he thought hard, he could probably still conjure the taste of her lips.

Strawberry lip gloss. Yeah, that was it. Sticky, and sweet as sin. But under that, where the female taste really lived, was the sweetest flavor known to man: invitation.

He hoped the invitation still stood, because now that she was full-grown, he could take her up on it.

He flat-out wanted to take her, nearly as much as he wanted to take care of business here at the Friendly Inn.

 

A pair of Paul Bunyans stepped out of the shadows on Grandad's veranda and took three long strides toward her. Plaid shirts, blue jeans and tan work boots convinced Marnie she'd stepped back in time. Who dressed like this today?

Still, two huge men coming at her with interest plastered across their faces took her back a step. She put her hand on her car door handle although they could probably run faster than she could accelerate.

“It's a Smart car,” she responded to the familiar question with the same calm tone she used with drunks at the club. Friendly but firm. “A two seater from Europe.”

The bigger, broader, black-haired one gave the younger, shorter one a quiet instruction meant for his ears only. Whatever was said made Bunyan the Younger change course and head for the car rather than for her.

As he drew near, she realized “shorter” was relative. He was a mere half inch under the six three of the older one. He was brawny and had his plaid flannel sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. Clearly they were brothers. They sported the same square jaw and dark hair, although the younger had brown hair. He stared with curiosity at her car. “Don't pick it up and carry it off, okay? It's my only transportation.”

She glanced back at the older one and got caught in the force of his primal, watchful gaze. Hot as sin. The question, “Who are you?” fell out of her mouth before she could stop it.

The attention in his gaze heated to smoldering. An expression she'd seen before…somewhere, a long, long time ago. His mouth lifted in a grin that looked halfway familiar.

Warmth oozed around her chest.

She knew that mouth. Firm lips, agile tongue and a ready smile. She recalled the feel of him with delicious clarity. A woman tended to remember her first kiss and especially her first taste of desire.

For one crazy moment she wanted to go back to that awkward summer, that tender first kiss. She smiled wider, in recognition and welcome.

“Marnie Dawson,” he said, his eyes glowing warmth. “You've grown some.” His gaze flicked down her body, heating her to sun-warmed chocolate.

She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “Thomas John O'Banion. You've filled out some.”

His grin went wider and stole her breath. “You spent the summer here with your grandfather when you were thirteen.”

She walked three steps closer. His outdoorsy scent was fresh and tangy. The breadth of his shoulders could block the sun, and even better, her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of his naked left ring finger at his side. Lifting her face to his, she smiled and put every bit of allure she had into the look they shared with equal intensity. Threads of memory tightened between them as she recalled long warm days spent in his company.

He'd been a couple years older and bored that summer. Grandad had him doing chores most days, but after dinner, he spent his time with her. The night before she left for home he finally let his lips skim hers. Once, twice, then full on until he pulled back. “Best summer of my life,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “I've had a weak spot for redheads ever since.”

“Thank God for that.” Marnie laughed with TJ, easing back from the sparks that could catch fire if she wasn't careful. She felt absurdly pleased to see him. The sharp tang of desire reverberated through her memory.

First crush, first love, first kiss. Whatever they shared, it felt good to see him. “You still live here? I'm surprised.”

“The Peninsula's home,” he said simply. “I'm a building contractor now.”

“For a moment there, I thought you'd grown into Paul Bunyan.” He certainly smelled like a woodsman. “Those chips look suspiciously like cedar.” She tilted her head toward a sprinkling of bright yellow shavings on his boots and ankles that he'd missed when he'd slapped at his clothes.

He laughed a deep, booming laugh that he hadn't had at fifteen. The sound warmed her with its honesty and made her think Bunyan thoughts again. She wanted to look for an ox and an axe. “I build log cabins, so you're not far off.”

All those rough hewn logs. The scent of wood. The strength it would take. Oh, mama. A man who built solidly snug log cabins by the strength of his own hands. “Seriously sexy, TJ.”

“Thanks. I think.” He scrubbed his large hand over his thick hair and went an interesting shade of red under the stubble on his jaw. “Never had the job described that way before, but I'll take it.”

She wasn't talking about the job, but he knew that. “So, life's good?” she asked.

“Now that Deke's back, yes, life's good. I've been after him to come home for a couple of years and last month, he showed up just in time.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the younger Bunyan, er, O'Banion and grinned as he tested the weight of the car by lifting the rear. “Hey, put that down. Very funny.” She rolled her eyes at TJ. “I don't remember a brother.”

TJ snorted at his antics. “There was a time he wasn't as smart as he is now.”

“That, I can believe.”

“For a few years in our teens the three of us couldn't stand being in the same room, never mind the same family.” He chuckled. “If I could get Eli, my youngest brother, to come home, the business would be set. Eli's our electrician when he's not globe-trotting.”

“A triple shot of O'Banions?” Three log-cabin-building brothers, built like mountains. “Whew, you boys must be hell on the women around here.” A moment of mutual admiration stretched until TJ's eyes darkened.

“Not lately,” he assured her.

“I'd say that's a shame but I wouldn't mean it.”

His brows dropped to a frown as he studied her. “Sorry about your Grandad, Marnie. Jon Dawson was a character.”

“That's a nice way to put it.”

He gave the rambling building behind him a cursory nod. “Don't know why he pretended this was still an inn. He didn't mix much with strangers.”

“He didn't mix much with family, either. Not for years. The only reason I got to stay with him that summer was because my parents parked me here. I never knew whether I was welcome or not.”

TJ nodded. “Sounds like Jon. He was crusty, but for what it's worth, he missed you after you left.”

“He wasn't just crusty. He was crotchety, difficult and rude. None of the family had seen him for years.” She had her regrets about that, but she'd only done as he'd asked and stayed away. “Still, he left me this place.” She glanced at the weather-beaten inn. It would have been quaint in its day. But the land was valuable.

“You and a cousin, right?”

“Mine and Holly's. Actually just his female grandchildren. A quirk of his?” she asked. If TJ was a friend of Grandad's maybe he knew more about the strange details of Jon's will than the family.

TJ shrugged. “Maybe he figured his grandsons were better equipped to support themselves. Jon had some old-fashioned ideas about men and women and their roles.”

“And their abilities,” she said. The old man had always favored his male descendants, at least until it came time to read his will. Holly and Marnie had brothers, but they'd been left stock certificates and bonds. No real estate. Holly and Marnie's parents had been left incidental items with more sentimental than monetary value. “Have you met my cousin, Holly Dawson?”

“Can't say that I have.”

“How about a Kylie Keegan?”

His lips firmed. “Oh. Kylie. She a cousin, too?”

At his regretful tone, her bullshit meter buzzed like a saw. “Yeah, Kylie. Has she already been here?” She and Holly hadn't even met her yet.

“Not since before Jon died. After she drove off in a huff, he pulled out a bottle of fine scotch, blew the dust off and talked about regrets all night.”

“Specific regrets?”

“Nothing in particular.” A flicker deep in his gaze said he knew more than he was saying. Loyalty to his friend. She understood.

Interesting. Poor Aunt Trudy died before knowing her father might have had regrets about kicking her out on her ass without a dime. All because of one baby born out of wedlock. This Kylie Keegan. Trudy had been so angry with her father, she'd changed their surnames from Dawson to Keegan when Kylie was born. No one knew where she got that name or if it had any connection to Kylie's father.

“That explains some things we've all wondered about,” she said vaguely. But not everything. Bitterness raised a flag, but she fought it. Still, sharing a major inheritance with a stranger was a big problem. If she were Kylie, she'd keep a low profile. If Kylie wanted nothing to do with her mother's family, everything could be handled through lawyers and she would never have to meet her cousins.

Except for that damn codicil.

All Marnie wanted was to sell the place and get back to work. Any reasonable person would want the same. She just hoped Kylie Keegan was reasonable.

One-third of this place would set Marnie up perfectly. She couldn't begin to guess what Dennis had in mind for his new direction for BackLit, but if things panned out here, she'd never have to know. She'd be able to buy him out of the club.

Deke's voice drifted across to them. He was still gawking at the car. “This thing looks like it's cut in half. Where's the rest?”

“Very funny.” But she answered a couple of his questions by rote while she felt the all-over study from TJ. After she tossed Deke the keys for a test drive, she turned back to the O'Banion who interested her most. “Like what you see?”