Real Men Will (5 page)

“No. Not that. I knew you wanted me.”

Her gaze had been shifting wildly around his office, but her eyes flew to him at those words. “You should have told me. Right at the start. Or later, when we met for wine. Or—” Her voice stopped as if the words had been cut in half. They’d met for wine the first day of the expo, and he’d touched her in that hidden booth, making her come while the rest of the bar moved around them unaware. The memory seemed to flash over her face and turn into shame.

“Who are you?” she growled, her hands clenching to fists.

“I’m Eric. Donovan,” he clarified stupidly. “I’m Jamie’s brother. I thought it would be easier if…” Hell, what else was there to add? He was the brother of Jamie and Tessa Donovan and he helped run the brewery. There was really nothing more he could think to say. That was all there was. Which was why he’d been able to talk himself into this mess in the first place. Because he hadn’t been willing to risk ruining the brief, wild spark that had arced between him and Beth. He’d needed that moment to be someone he’d never been before.

Beth closed her eyes and shook her head. “You thought it would be easier,” she whispered. “Easier to get me into bed.”

“That’s not what I meant. I swear to God, Beth, that wasn’t it. We were just… It was all just a fantasy, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to make it…”

“Real?” she filled in. And yes, that was what he meant, but it sounded cruel now. It sounded horrible.

Tears flashed to life in her eyes, and Eric reached for her, knowing he shouldn’t. She stepped back and his hand fell, but she watched it as if it were a snake.

“You made me into a fool.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“And now—” She swept an arm in the direction of the barroom. “Now I let everyone know you made a fool out of me. Jesus.”

He shook his head.

“I did,” she insisted. “But that’s okay, because I wanted everyone to know that you were the one who should be ashamed. Not me.” She pressed a finger to her mouth. Her eyes looked far away. “I didn’t want it to be me feeling that.”

“You shouldn’t. I wasn’t trying to trick you. I just didn’t know how to stop and say, ‘Can we start over? My name’s actually Eric.’”

“That’s no excuse.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You should have told me then. Or last night. Or anytime in the past six months.”

He nodded, and Beth met his gaze again, her dark brown eyes deep with sorrow. “You’ve ruined it.”

“I know.” He did. It had been a perfect memory. A perfect moment in his life. Her body and her mouth and her trembling hands. And now it was something sordid.

Beth stood a little straighter and seemed to reset herself. The tears stopped and her chin rose in disdain as she stepped forward and brushed past him. “I just wanted you to know that. That you ruined it. Don’t ever call me. Don’t get in touch. But I guess that was your plan from the start, right?”

She was right, so he didn’t dare touch her arm to stop her. He didn’t even apologize again. He just let her slam his office door and disappear from his life as quickly as she’d reappeared.

Eric collapsed into a chair, let his head fall into his hands and called himself every name in the book. And yet there was still that small, stony part of him that didn’t regret what he’d done. Not at all. It was that same part that had always been selfish, but lately it seemed to be growing.

A
S SOON AS SHE’D SLAMMED
the door behind her, Beth lost her ability to hold it together. She couldn’t draw enough air. She was breathing too hard, too fast, and she worried she might pass out at any moment. That would be the only thing that could make this unbearable situation worse: being found passed out in the back hallway of the brewery as if she were some delicate flower of womanhood, overcome with sexual shock.

So Beth put her hand to the wall and made herself breathe slowly in and slowly out. She bowed her head for one moment, keeping an ear out for the sound of Jamie’s—Eric’s—door opening behind her.

But he didn’t follow her, and Beth calmed down, and when she opened her eyes she was steady enough to walk. There were two men on the far side of the kitchen, and they watched her as if they feared she might snap at them like a mad dog. She ignored them, and was reaching for the double doors when they swung inward.

She stopped short, clasping her hands to her chest. It was him. The man who was really named Jamie. And it was all so obvious in that moment. This man was the Jamie Donovan she’d heard rumors about. He was handsome and roguish-looking, and she could perfectly picture him wearing a kilt and flirting as he delivered beers to customers. Eric, on the other hand, looked like a man who never bothered with flirting. If he wanted you, he wanted you; it was as simple as that. It certainly had been the night they’d met in his room.

“Hey,” the real Jamie said, his eyes looking down the hall for a moment before refocusing on her. “Is everything okay?”

She almost laughed. Sure, everything was just great. Except that she’d been betrayed and used and made a fool of. Her cheeks warmed. “I just want to go,” she said, hugging her arms to her chest.

“Oh. Sure. I’m just sorry about the…” His eyes darted toward the offices again. “Confusion,” he finished weakly.

“Confusion. Right.” She wanted to smile, to pretend it was no big deal, but instead she found herself blinking back tears. “Sorry I yelled at you earlier,” she said quickly. “I was a little surprised.”

She brushed past him and started to push through the doors, but he turned and held out a hand to stop her. “Do you want to go through the back?”

She froze. At this point, she could only pray she didn’t know any of the customers who’d so eagerly watched the argument. What if she walked toward the front doors and a friend stopped her for more details? “Thank you. The back door would be perfect.”

He walked her to a steel door set into the far wall, but when he opened it to let her out, he kept walking with her. She hid her look of irritation, and simply stared straight ahead. “You don’t need to keep me company.”

“I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” she said, but it was a moot point now. They were already in the parking lot. He looked like he wanted to say more, but there was nothing else she wanted to hear. She never wanted to see any of these people again.

She beeped open the door on her car. “Thank you,” she said, then slipped inside. She started the car immediately, but when he simply stood there, she gave an impatient wave.

By the time he walked away, it was all beginning to sink in.

How had she let this happen to herself? It was as if she’d been the butt of some fraternity-boy joke.
I’ll pretend to be my brother to get her into bed.

She meant to pull the car out right away, but her face was so hot she had to press her cool fingers to her cheeks. Her stomach rolled with sickness. She’d been proud of her fling before this. It had been exactly the sort of brave and selfish pleasure she’d wanted for years.

And now it was
nothing.
Less than nothing. It was a scar on her pride. It was humiliation.
Why
had he done that to her?

“It doesn’t matter,” Beth told herself. “It doesn’t.”

She didn’t believe it, but somehow the words helped her calm down. Or just the sound of her own voice, solid and strong.

Whether it mattered or not, it was done. And she’d never see Eric or Jamie Donovan again, thank God.

E
RIC HEARD HIS BROTHER’S
footsteps long before Jamie got to his office. And that said a lot about Jamie’s mood; these floors were solid concrete.

Pushing to his feet, Eric told himself he was ready for this, but he still ground his teeth together when the door flew open and banged a tall filing cabinet. “What the
fuck?
” Jamie ground out.

“I know. It looks bad.”

“It looks
bad?
It looks like you used my name to get a woman into bed. But you’d never do something that sleazy, would you?”

Eric swallowed and didn’t answer the question.

Jamie leaned forward and put his fists on the desk. His eyes blazed with fury. “Would you, Eric?”

“It was a mix-up,” he managed to answer, trying to control the fury rising up from his guilt.

“You fucking bastard,” Jamie growled.

“Listen, Jamie—”

“I’m not listening to shit. This is… Christ, I wouldn’t have expected this from anyone I know, much less
you.
”

Eric clenched his hands and pressed a fist to his forehead. He’d never been in this position before. He was the brother who did the lecturing. Who demanded answers. Who did the right thing for his family. He wasn’t the one who had to be ashamed.

Except that now he was, and Eric felt as if he’d explode from the frustration. And the regret. “It wasn’t like that,” he tried again. “She called me by the wrong name, and I didn’t correct her. And then…I’d let it go too long. It seemed like it wouldn’t hurt anything to let it stand.”

“Jesus, are you
kidding
me? You can’t see what it would hurt to have a woman out there who thought she’d slept with me?”

Eric answered honestly, realizing it was a mistake even as he let it happen. “I didn’t think it would make much of a difference. You’ve slept with a lot of women.”

Jamie’s hand was a blur when it shot out and grabbed Eric’s shirt. “First of all, fuck you. Second, that woman is a stranger to me, so don’t let yourself think I’m honored she thinks I did her. Third, I have a girlfriend, in case you hadn’t noticed. You could have screwed up a lot of things for me.”

“It was months ago,” Eric said.

Jamie’s sneer let him know that wasn’t quite the point. “Have you done this before?”

“No!”

Eric sat back in his chair when Jamie let him go. He watched his brother pace the short distance to the door and then back again. “Why would you do this?”

“I didn’t use your name to trick her into anything. We…we had a connection. Chemistry. But she thought I was you. A carefree, easygoing bachelor. A guy who could offer no-strings-attached fun. So I used your reputation as…permission.”

“That’s so damn ironic it hurts.” His laugh certainly sounded as if it was jagged with pain. Eric cringed.

“You’ve spent your whole life telling me I was doing the wrong things. For years, you’ve basically said I was a no-good, irresponsible jackass.”

Eric pushed to his feet. “That’s not true. I—”

“And then you turn around and use my name to fuck around?”

“Jamie…” Eric’s thoughts had scattered. He didn’t know what to say. It had seemed harmless at the time. A little white lie.

Jamie pointed his finger at Eric as if it was a weapon. “If you ever,
ever
throw my past in my face again, I swear to God, I’ll make you sorry.”

He already was sorry. “Jamie—” But Jamie just turned and slammed out of the office, leaving Eric standing there, his lips still parted.

Jesus Christ. He lowered himself slowly to his chair, his chest tightening until he couldn’t draw a breath.

It had been only six months since that night with Beth, but it felt like a lifetime ago. It felt as if someone else had done those things.

Eric Donovan would never slide his hand between a woman’s legs in a public place. He’d never make a woman come after only knowing her for hours. He certainly wouldn’t rent a hotel room for the express purpose of one meaningless, animal encounter.

And he would never, ever lie to make that happen.

He wasn’t that person.

He looked down at his hands. The hands that had touched Beth Cantrell. The hands that had held her hips as he’d thrust into her. That wildness had been all for him—it had had nothing to do with Jamie’s name or reputation.

But Eric had ruined that with his stupidity and now he’d be nothing to her but a mistake.

S
HE LEFT THE LIGHTS OF THE
store turned off when she got in at eight. The shop didn’t open for another two hours, and she liked the starkness of the pale sunlight that shone through the front windows. It comforted her. She felt alone, and she needed that for a little while.

She’d tried her best not to think about Eric Donovan last night, but she’d woken at 6:00 a.m., an hour before her alarm, and she hadn’t been able to keep her hurt feelings at bay anymore.

Logically, she could tell herself that it didn’t make a difference. It was a name. Nothing more. And he was a man she’d had a brief physical connection with. She didn’t love him. She didn’t know anything about him. Even less than she’d thought, apparently.

But she felt so stupid, and she thought she’d left all that behind. Feeling stupid about sex and her body. Feeling used. She’d built a whole life designed to put her above that. And even if she hadn’t been totally successful, she sure as hell hadn’t let a man bring her shame. Not until now.

“I have nothing to be ashamed about,” she muttered, slicing open a box with a vicious slash. But she immediately regretted her anger. She couldn’t sell damaged erotic toys, and she held her breath as she opened the cardboard to inspect the damage. Thankfully, she hadn’t even sliced through the plastic packaging. She needed to calm down. She needed to let it go. He was the one who had to live with what he’d done.

So Beth made herself turn on the lights in the back room and focus on what she was doing. After all, she should be paying close attention to the toys. She might be spending a lot of time with vibrators in the near future. It was either that or arrange a date with super-smooth Davis.

Maybe that would be okay. Cairo seemed to think it was…luscious.

Beth bit back a shudder and grabbed the first packages out of the box. Personally, she wasn’t interested in a toy with a vibrating appendage shaped like a wolf’s head, but werewolves were popular right now. Whatever her personal likes were, Beth didn’t judge what got other people off. The dildos with chillable inserts were especially in demand as well, and if people wanted to fantasize about cold vampire sex, that was fine with her. “You go, girl,” she murmured as she hung the wolf toys up.

Once the box was empty, she polished the glass cases—nobody wanted to look at intimate toys through fingerprints—and straightened the displays.

By nine o’clock, she felt better. Solid and nearly okay. And then her cell phone rang. She knew without a doubt that it must be Eric Donovan. He had to get in touch, didn’t he? He had to apologize again and maybe grovel. So it had to be him.

But it wasn’t.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, trying to keep the weariness from her voice.

“Hey, sweetie. Where are you?”

“I’m at the store.”

“Oh,” her mother said, that tiny word conveying so much.

“Mom,” she said, sighing. “I wish you’d come see it sometime. It’s not what you think it is.”

“Oh, Beth, I couldn’t. I don’t want to see all those…things.”

“All those things are in the back room. The front room is all pretty lingerie and fun gifts. It’s a place for women, not some sleazy video den.”

“But you sell…” Her mom took a deep breath, and Beth heard the muffling sound of a hand cupped over the phone. “Dildos.”

“Yes, we do.” Beth glanced up at the twelve-inch-long black glass beauty they kept behind the counter. “But that’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, if your father ever found out I’d gone into a place like that…”

Right. And if he ever found out that Beth ran a place like that… “I still think you should tell him.”

“No, ma’am,” her mom gasped. “He’d never forgive either of us.”

“I’m not sure what he’d blame you for.” Granted, he was conservative. Old Argentina conservative, not to mention Roman Catholic conservative. He still complained that women no longer covered their hair in church.

“He’d blame me for all of it!”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Well,” she muttered, “I hope he’s happy thinking I’m managing a women’s under-garment shop.”

“Oh, he is! He’s very proud of you.”

She had no idea what to say to that. Sometimes her mom was a little off. Or a lot. “Is anything going on? Are you both feeling good?”

“We’re wonderful, sweetie. We’re ready for some cool weather, though. It’s been so hot here.”

“Turn your air conditioner up, Mom.”

“You know your father hates it when I use it in September.”

“Tell him you’re a delicate Anglo and you can’t handle the heat. And September or not, it’s still hot as hell.”

Her mom giggled, even as she chided Beth for her language. Poor Mom. She’d probably drop dead if she heard her baby talking cock rings and anal plugs with customers. Or maybe she wouldn’t even understand what was being discussed.

“I love you, Mom.” Beth hung up with the same mix of frustration and comfort she always did. Her parents had provided her with love and a safe home and plenty of emotional support. But they couldn’t support the choices she’d made. They just couldn’t. There were lines they couldn’t cross, and she’d found that out the hard way.

But they still loved her, and that was a hell of a lot more than some of her friends had. So Beth chose to feel a little stronger as she walked into the front room and turned on all the lights.

The room blinked to life and she looked over it with pride. Fuck Eric Donovan. He was lucky she’d remembered his fake name, much less bothered to find out his real one.

She wasn’t going to let him make her back into the girl she’d once been. No chance in hell.

E
RIC HAD BRIEFLY CONSIDERED
calling in sick today. After all, he felt sick. He hadn’t gotten one damn hour of sleep the night before.

He’d known better than to lie, but he’d still done it, and look what he’d done to Beth. And to his newly forged relationship with Jamie.

In the spirit of punishing himself, Eric had dragged himself from bed and hauled his ass into work. Jamie had been there to greet Eric with a glare as soon as he’d walked in. Luckily, they’d spent the first half hour in separate areas of the brewery, so Jamie’s anger hadn’t yet burned a hole in Eric’s skull.

But once Eric had the mechanic settled in, he had no excuse to lurk in the bottling room and oversee the work. When he stepped back into the tank room, Wallace grabbed his elbow in one meaty paw.

“The new stout,” he said, as if that explained his tight grip on Eric’s arm.

“Yeah?”

“It’s ready.”

Oh, that was why Wallace’s eyes glinted with worry. The last batch hadn’t worked out, and Wallace had been frustrated, to say the least. Eric had thought he’d been thinking about Faron again, but maybe he was already fully recovered.

“Come on,” Wallace growled. “You and Jamie can taste it at the same time.”

Eric opened his mouth to say no, but even he couldn’t justify that kind of immature answer. He couldn’t bring himself to say yes, either, so he just waited for Wallace to grab the glass of stout, and followed him into the kitchen.

Jamie was already there, an uncharacteristic frown on his face when he glanced up from examining the pizza oven. He jerked his chin up. “Hey, Wallace.”

“It’s time,” Wallace said ominously.

“Time for what?” Jamie asked.

“The chocolate stout.”

Jamie stood and wiped his hands on the rag he’d thrown over his shoulder. “The Devil’s Cock?”

Eric shook his head. “We haven’t decided on that name yet.”

Jamie ignored him completely and nodded toward the glass in Wallace’s hand. “Let’s do it.”

Wallace gathered up three small sample glasses and poured. The dark brown brew looked solid and crisp, the head a nice cream color.

“This is the new cocoa, right? The Mexican?”

Wallace grunted as they each took a glass. “Yeah. And the chipotle peppers.” There was a reason they were considering the name Devil’s Cock. This stout was the darkest of dark, accented with chocolate and a kick of heat. It smelled black and wicked.

“Sláinte,”
Eric said, and they all tipped the glasses to their lips. Richness filled his mouth, flowing with the bitter hint of dark chocolate, sweetened by the malt. At the very end, smoky pepper touched his tongue.

“Christ, that’s smooth,” Jamie said.

Wallace didn’t smile. “Yeah?”

Eric nodded. “This is it. A one-hundred-percent improvement over the last batch. It’s gorgeous.”

Wallace’s eyes tilted a bit, as if he’d finally dared a small smile. Eric couldn’t be sure past the beard.

The brewmaster took another drink and wiped the foam off his facial hair. “I was thinking end of November,” he said.

“It’ll be perfect for winter,” Jamie agreed.

Eric nodded, but he wasn’t sure. “Any chance we could do a limited rollout by mid-October? It could be a nice Halloween beer.”

“No,” Jamie said before Wallace could answer. “We’ve got the Harvest Ale, not to mention the work on rolling out the restaurant. And we haven’t even decided on a name for this one, much less started a logo. It’d never get approved by the liquor board in time.”

Wallace’s eyes darted from Jamie to Eric as if he were waiting for an argument. His anticipation wasn’t unfounded. Eric felt his neck tighten to rock. Jamie’s words sounded like thrown fists, they were so hard.

Eric wanted to throw a few hard words back. He was the one who made these decisions, not Jamie. But Jamie was shouldering his way into the decision-making process now. A good thing, Eric assured himself. “Fine. Late November.”

“And the name?” Jamie pressed.

“We’ll talk about it.”

His brother scowled. “It’s a good name. Wallace, you like it, right? It was your idea.”

Wallace shrugged one massive shoulder. “You two work it out.”

“Good work, Wallace,” Eric said as Wallace turned to retreat back to his tank room. It was his personal cave, and even though it belonged to the Donovans he growled like an ogre at anyone who entered without his permission.

Just as Wallace disappeared, the back door opened and their sister, Tessa, walked in on a shaft of morning sunlight. She was like a Disney character, bringing happiness and smiles with her. Eric used to joke about seeing bluebirds darting around her head. But after the past few months, he no longer looked for bluebirds. Little Tessa was all grown up now, and she had a man living in her house to prove it.

“What’s going on?” she asked, strolling over.

“It’s the new chocolate stout.” He dipped his head toward the glass.

Tessa poured herself a sample and tried it. “Oh, so much better! It’s perfect. I love the kick at the end.”

“We’re going to roll it out in November. I’ll need you to start the logo process. I’ll deal with the liquor board.”

“Did we decide on the name?”

Jamie smirked. “Everyone still loves Devil’s Cock, but Eric’s scared.”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t want to offend anyone.”

Tessa tilted her head. “I think it’s fine. You know, names and logos are getting more and more edgy. And the logo will be a rooster, right? With devil horns?”

Eric crossed his arms and shifted.

“Jesus Christ,” Jamie barked. “You were on board with it a few months ago.”

“I only said I’d consider it.”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Jamie said, leaning toward him as if he meant to share a secret. “Why don’t you try manning up?”

Eric dropped his hands, balling them into fists. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

They were right back where they’d been for years, and Eric stepped into the old groove with ease, his decade of anger at Jamie snapping quickly back into place. “Look, little brother. I know your idea of planning is to throw anything and everything out there and hope something sticks, but that’s not the way a professional goes through life. I’m responsible for the reputation of this brewery and—”

“Oh, you’re kidding me, right? Because that is pure, hilarious irony coming from you. If you think—”

“Hey!” Tessa shouted, and Eric realized they’d both been yelling. “What is going on here? I think I missed something.”

Eric’s anger fell away like spilled water. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Jamie, on the other hand, looked morbidly delighted.

He smiled. “Why don’t you ask Eric?”

Eric shook his head. He didn’t want to tell Tessa. She was his baby sister. He’d been her hero, once upon a time. “It’s just a fight.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I heard something about a woman coming in and starting an argument with Eric, but I assumed…” Her gaze slid to Jamie. “Everything’s okay with you and Olivia, right?”

“Olivia and I are great, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Ask Mr. Perfect here what that was about. Oh, and watch out for falling pedestals, Tessa.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means the higher you are, the harder you fall. Especially if you’ve been pretending to be an angel.”

“All right.” Eric sighed. “That’s enough.”

“Not by far. But I’ll let you explain to our sister. I’ve got to get to work.”

Jamie disappeared into the barroom, and the doors swung silently in his wake, but Eric winced as if a door had slammed. His brain scrambled for a way to explain it all away, but he couldn’t think. He was so damn tired. And guilty.

Tessa folded her arms. “
You’re
having girl trouble? Is this April Fools’ Day?”

“I wish it were.”

“Come on. Give me the dirt.” She was smiling as if it was a joke, because she couldn’t imagine that Eric would ever do something scandal-worthy. He was the responsible one. The steady one. The one who never had time for fun, and didn’t miss it for a second.

“It’s no big deal,” he lied. “Just an argument with a woman.”

“Oh, is that all?” She leaned forward. “Seriously, Eric.
What
woman?”

“Someone I saw a few months ago. It was just one date. Nothing serious.”

“Then why did she come in here to yell at you last night?”

Oh, that. He held his breath for a few moments, hoping that an earthquake would hit or a tornado siren would begin to sound. Anything to distract his sister from the question. But no natural disasters struck. And Tessa would find out, whether he told her or not. “What did you hear?”