Their Soul Mate [The Hot Millionaires #5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

“Yeah, shit.”

“She’s made a bit of a fool of us.”

“And some.” Zac scowled. “Do you think the jerk has been here all the time we’ve been away?”

“I don’t know. Justine seemed stunned by your dramatic exit and refused to talk about it.”

Zac shrugged. “What’s to talk about? The facts kinda speak for themselves. Anyway, what have you two been discussing all this time if not her renewed devotion to the jerk?”

“Your mother,” Cody said gently. “Justine’s found her.”

Zac’s head shot up. “Already?”

“It wasn’t that hard, apparently.”

“Where is she?”

“Best let Justine tell you.”

“Why, is it bad?”

Cody shrugged. “I’ll call her in. We can’t ignore her just because she’s disappointed us.”

Zac shot him a look. “Says who?”

“Get over it, Zac.” Cody sighed. “Treat her as another business contact.”

“I don’t make a habit of fucking my business contacts.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Cody ran a hand through his hair. “I still remember that little mewing noise she made when she—”

“And you’re telling me to get over it?”

“I thought she had something, is all.”

“We both did.” Zac growled. “But we were wrong. She’s just another broad.” He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Go on then. Let’s get this over with.”

Cody stuck his head around the door and called to Justine. She appeared quickly, looking upset yet defiant.

“Cody tells me you’ve found my mother,” Zac said coldly.

“Yes.”

She threw a photograph on his desk. Zac glanced at it then did a double take.

“Fucking hell! Is this her?”

“I would imagine so.”

Cody glanced over Zac’s shoulder and let out a soft whistle. “She was quite something.”

“Where is she now?” Zac asked.

“In a care facility in Southampton. I traced her through your grandmother’s bank statements. She’d been paying for her care up until her death. I rang them and they said that a Mary Elizabeth Everton with your mother’s date of birth is still a resident there.”

“So who’s paying for her keep now?” Zac asked, his eyes still glued to the picture. “And why all the secrecy?”

“I don’t know the answer to either of those questions,” Justine said, her attitude marginally thawing.

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

Justine and Cody shared a glance, and it was Cody who answered. “Apparently, it’s a facility for patients with severe mental disabilities,” he said softly.

Zac absorbed this latest blow in stunned silence.

“Well done, Justine,” Cody said, filling the heavy silence in a voice that sounded a little too jovial. “You’re a fast worker.”

If Justine recognized the double entendre,
she chose to ignore it.

“There’s an up-to-date report on all the building work in front of you,” she said, pointing to a neat file Zac hadn’t even noticed on the side of his desk. “You’ve got woodworm in the drawing room panelling. I’ve asked for an estimate to renew the affected area.”

“We need to go to this Holmwood
place tomorrow,” Zac said, not acknowledging Justine’s words.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” Cody asked.

Zac shrugged. “I’ve come this far. I need to know.”

“I’d like to tag along,” Justine said. “I’m curious.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Zac said frostily.

“Perhaps not, but I’ve gotten to know your mum over the past few days… Well, that’s how it feels, anyway. I’d like to be there.”

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” Zac asked. “Sounds to me like you have plans to go back to London with lover boy.”

“Which goes to show just how little you know me.”

Justine’s raised voice caused both men to look at her askance.

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on in that kitchen,” Zac said.

“Then it’s just as well that you don’t work for NASA.”

“Cool it, you two,” Cody said placatingly. “Yelling at each other won’t fix anything.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Justine said, her face flushed red with anger, “but Justin turned up unannounced, and I told him to get lost.”

“By kissing him?” Zac asked scathingly. “Very effective.”

“He was kissing me, Einstein. I didn’t ask him to, and I didn’t have a chance to fight him off before you came barging in, jumping to erroneous conclusions.”

“But I saw you. I—”

“Did you see my arms round him?”

Zac thought about it for a minute. “Can’t recall, but I do know that I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight.”

“Seems to me you saw only what you wanted to see.”

“What was that about attending a party?” Cody asked.

“The Mansell reception. The Cornish artist I told you about. The reception is at a gallery in Soho
this Friday. I’m still in charge, and there are a few hitches I need to sort.” She hugged her torso. “Jason will use the opportunity to put me down, most like, but I’ll have to attend and deal with it.”

“Then don’t go,” Cody said.

“I must. If I say I’ll do a thing then I do it. Mansell is a bit temperamental, but he likes me and listens to what I say. Besides, I need the money because I appear to be out of work again. If I don’t go, Jason will use the excuse not to pay me.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll come with you tomorrow to see your mother and then look for another job.”

She left the two startled men gaping at her as she left the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

* * * *

Justine absolutely refused to cry. Right now she was probably too angry for tears anyway. It was bad enough that the guys had come home at that precise moment. What were the chances of that? Worse, they’d jumped to conclusions based on a moment’s glance. She threw herself into her room and slammed the door, attempting to calm down. That wasn’t going to be so easy. Of all the damnable luck! She kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the settee in front of the television, trying to figure out what to do next.

She loved it here, almost as much as she loved Zac and Cody. She sat bolt upright.
Love?
Where had that notion come from? Was it possible to fall in love with such an alien way of life after little more than a week? The countryside had always seemed too quiet and…well, empty to her. Now she knew differently. It was a moving tapestry of constant activity—just not human.

Justine was procrastinating, and well she knew it, directing all her thoughts to her sudden enthusiasm for country living to avoid tackling the subject of the guys. She absolutely
did not
love them. She might be a bit whacky, free with her affections, quick to trust, and enthusiastic to embrace new projects, but she wasn’t stupid enough to fall in love with such unattainable alpha males. To hanker after one of them would be unrealistic, but how could a woman feel the same level of desire, of deep oneness, for two men at the same time? She’d only known them for five minutes. This was ridiculous. The only explanation she could come up with was that she must be sickening for something.

Except she felt absolutely fine—just furious with Zac for having such little faith in her. She had allowed him to fuck her without putting up a single objection, it was true, but did he really think she would have done that if she was in love with someone else? The implied insult caused red spots to appear in front of her eyes and for a dull pain to attack her temples. She thumped the cushions on the settee into a comfortable nest, stretched out full length, and closed her eyes.

It was just typical of her luck. She’d finally found a place where she loved living and a job she enjoyed, but she’d screwed it up through no fault of her own and would have to start job hunting. Again. The mere thought of it made her feel weary. More to the point, where would she live in the meantime? Hell, why did life have to be so complicated?

She jumped when someone tapped on the door. It could only be Zac or Cody, and she didn’t want to speak to either of them.

“Go away.”

The door opened, she glanced up, and Zac loomed over her. In spite of her anger, the sight of his handsome face, for once suffused with uncertainty, caused her insides to lurch.

“What do you want?”

He sighed. “Are you all right?”

Bloody stupid question.
“What do you think?”

“Look, I’m sorry, right?” He scrubbed a hand down his face, and Justine could see he wasn’t nearly as in control as she’d imagined. “I jumped to conclusions without stopping to think.”

Justine gaped at him. “Are you apologizing?”

“Kinda.” He flashed a tight smile. “Blame it on jet lag. Those overnight flights are killers.”

Justine wasn’t sure what to say. Conflicting emotions spiralled through her, but she tamped them ruthlessly down and maintained a neutral expression. Even so, she was ashamed of her awareness of him. The walls of her large room seemed to shrink in on her as Zac prowled round it, dominating the space with his uncivilized male aura. He was a real force of nature, and she desperately wanted to resist his halfhearted attempts to apologize. Unfortunately, her anger drained out of her at an alarming rate, along with her resistance. His compelling charm tugged at her on a level she was unable to control. She said nothing, but the silence didn’t seem to unbalance him, and he simply watched her in a way that sucked the air out of the room.

“Just so you know, Justin called today and I told him to get lost. He tried to persuade me by kissing me, which is—”

“Which is when we walked in.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, babe.”

He knelt in front of her, his eyes dark chips of obsidian as he focused the full weight of his gaze on her face with disarming intensity. He took one of her hands in his, turned it over, and softly kissed the inside of her wrist. She wanted to tell him to go to hell but couldn’t seem to find the words. The touch of his fingers, the soft brush of his lips froze her in place whilst her insides flooded with desire.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head and finally found the strength to snatch her hand away. “I’ve found your mother. There’s not really anything else for me to do here. I’ll see if I can sleep on a friend’s sofa in London until I find another job.”

“Please don’t do that.”

She shook her head. “The trust’s gone.”

“I packed five days meetings into three in New York,” he said softly, “and do you know why?”

She couldn’t look at him. “No,” she said, addressing the comment to her feet.

He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted it until she was obliged to meet his eye. “I was rude to everyone, cut through all the bullshit and got things done in record time because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“What!” She shook her head and laughed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you should because it’s true.” He stood up and took to pacing the room again. “What happened here between us last week, I didn’t plan that. Cody and I both thought the same thing when we first saw you, but we don’t mix business with pleasure.” He expelled a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve never had problems keeping my distance in the past, but you were a challenge from day one. Then, when you got so upset about the jerk, I just couldn’t seem to help myself. I let instinct rule my head and I’ve been lost ever since.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t leave, babe. Stay here with us. We need you.”

Justine’s resistance, such as it was, evaporated. He took her hand again, pulled her to her feet and straight into his arms. She went willingly, her soft curves a thrilling contrast with the hard planes of his chest as he drew her close and kissed her. It was a deep, drugging kiss that demanded and received her full participation. She simply couldn’t help herself. Her emotions were off the scale, and all she could think about was the here and now.

She responded with indecent haste, forgetting why that was a bad thing. As his large hands roamed across her back and came to rest on her ass, she could feel how aroused he was and gloried at her ability to reduce him to such a state. Zac Wendell could have any woman he chose, and for some reason she was unable to fathom, he appeared to want her. The feeling was entire mutual, and she stopped trying to figure out what made him tick. She simply went with the flow and returned his kiss with fervour.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to get back here to you,” he said, whispering the words against her lips.

“You didn’t call.”

“Nor did you.”

“I didn’t want to look needy.”

His chuckle was deep and dangerous. “We’re like a couple of gauche teenagers.”

There was absolutely nothing gauche about Zac, but she definitely got the dangerous bit. The thrill of being held by him fizzed through her bloodstream like an illicit drug, sending all thoughts of maintaining her distance flying out of her head. He backed her toward the bed, and she put up no protest until he started tearing at her clothes.