Читать книгу Bedded By A Bad Boy - Heidi Rice - Страница 6

‘NICE place you got here,’ Monroe said to Linc as they walked through the lush landscaped gardens towards the garage. Talk about an understatement, Monroe thought. A spread like this must have cost well into the millions.

There had to be at least two acres of grounds. They came to the large three-car garage, nestled at the end of the estate. Monroe was glad to see the two-storey building was a good distance from the main house, constructed in the same wood and glass.

Monroe knew his brother had done well for himself, built his own computer software company up from scratch. Monroe had picked up on a few magazine articles over the years about the Latimer Corporation and its successes. Still, he’d never given any thought to what that meant. His brother was a stranger, so why would he? But now his brother’s wealth was staring him right in the face, he could see Linc and he weren’t just strangers. They were from different worlds.

‘It does the job,’ Linc replied mildly.

Linc led the way round the side of the building. Monroe followed his brother up the outside steps.

‘Your wife’s English, right?’ Maybe a bit of polite conversation would help ease the knot in his gut.

‘Ali, yeah. We live in London most of the year, her family’s there. But we vacation every summer in Long Island. We’ll be here through September.’

‘Right,’ Monroe grunted. No way would he be here that long. Hearing the affection in his brother’s voice as he talked about his family had made the knot in Monroe’s gut tighten.

Linc opened the door to the apartment and flicked on the main light switch. Recessed spotlights illuminated the spacious, airy room. With a new kitchen and breakfast bar on one side and a comfortable, expensively furnished living area on the other, the room looked clean, modern and barely used.

‘It’s only two rooms and a bath,’ Linc said.

Two rooms or not, it was the most luxurious accommodation Monroe had seen let alone stayed in for a very long time.

‘It’s a good thing we had it fixed up over the winter,’ Linc said, opening the French doors at the end of the room that led onto a small balcony. ‘Or we wouldn’t have had a place to offer you.’

Monroe frowned. He needed to put the brakes on, before Linc got the wrong idea. ‘It’s nice of you to offer. But I don’t know if I’ll be staying more than a night. I’ve got stuff to do in New York and I don’t have a lot of dough at the moment.’

It wasn’t the truth. He’d worked like a dog the last six months so he could afford to spend a few clear months painting. He had stacks of sketches stuffed in his duffel bag that he wanted to get on canvas. He’d had a vague offer to tend bar that came with a room in Brooklyn where he’d been hoping to settle while he got it done.

Painting was Monroe Latimer’s secret passion. Ever since he’d taken one of the art classes they’d offered during his second stretch inside, painting had been his lifeline. In those early days, it had been an escape from the ugliness and the sheer boredom of life in a cage. After he’d got out, it was the thing that had kept him centred, kept him sane. He always gave the pictures away or simply burned them when he had to move on. The process was the only thing that mattered to him. Making the oils work for him and putting the visions in his head onto canvas. He didn’t need family and possessions. He could put up with the drudgery of dead-end jobs and enjoy his rootless existence, if every six months or so he got the chance to stop and create.

He wasn’t about to tell his brother any of that, though. After all, he didn’t know the guy.

‘Monroe, if you’re short right now, surely it’d be good to crash here for a while.’

Monroe stiffened. Pride was the one thing he never compromised.

The irony of the situation, though, didn’t escape him.

When he’d been sixteen and desperate, after his first stretch in juvie, he’d been prepared to do anything to survive. Mooching off his rich brother back then wouldn’t have bothered him; in fact, he would probably have enjoyed screwing the guy over. But in all of the years since, Monroe Latimer had learned a lot about self-control and a whole lot more about self-respect. He’d sworn to himself after that second stretch that he would never go back to that horror again. To do that, he’d stayed clean, and he’d learned to rely on nobody but himself.

‘I’m not a freeloader.’ Monroe forced the words out, trying to quell his annoyance.

Linc sighed, his voice weary. ‘I know that, but you are family.’

‘I’m not family.’ Monroe watched his brother frown at the words. Tough. He needed to get this straight once and for all. ‘We weren’t that close as kids, but even if we had been, that was a million years ago. You’re not obligated to me any more than I am to you. We’re strangers.’

‘All right, stop.’ Linc held up his hand. ‘I understand what you’re saying, Roe,’ he said slowly. ‘Like you say, we’re strangers. Don’t you think I don’t know that?’

‘Then why the hell did you invite me?’

‘Why did you come?’

The quick rejoinder had Monroe stumbling to a halt. Why the hell had he come? ‘I don’t know. Just curious, I guess.’

‘Well, maybe that’s enough for now.’ Linc walked across the living area. ‘Let me at least show you the rest of the place, before you run out on us.’

Monroe was thinking he should do just that when Linc flung open the door to the apartment’s bedroom and his mind went blank.

The wall of glass at the far side of the room flooded it with mid-afternoon light. He could see the pool patio across the gardens, and the ocean beyond. Surf tumbled onto shore on an empty beach of white sand. The view was stunning, but it wasn’t that which made his blood slow, his heart thud against his chest. With its walls painted pristine white and only a bed and a small chest for furniture, the room was so bright and airy, he’d never seen a better place to paint. Always before, he’d had to be satisfied with dingy rented rooms or, one memorable summer, a broken-down trailer next to a car dump in Virginia. He’d never had a studio before, had never thought he wanted one, but, seeing the play of sunlight across one wall, he wanted this one.

‘You like it?’ Linc’s question interrupted his thoughts.

‘Yeah, I do.’ Monroe couldn’t disguise the leap of joy in his voice. He refused to let his doubts surface. Couldn’t he have this one thing, just for a little while? He’d pay his way; he’d make sure of it. ‘Looks like you’ve got a house guest for a while.’

‘Great.’ Linc smiled back at him.

‘But what I said about being a freeloader still goes.’ Monroe walked to the glass and peered down at the garden below. ‘You got anyone to do your yard work?’

Linc frowned as he stood beside him, looked down, too. ‘No, the old guy who used to do it’s having trouble with his arthritis. I figured I’d hire a local kid to keep it under control till Dan gets back on his feet.’

‘No need.’ Monroe took his eyes away from the window. ‘While I’m here, I’ll handle it. Looks like the lawn could use a cut. You got a mower in the garage?’

‘Yes, but…’ Linc’s eyes narrowed. ‘Monroe, I don’t want you doing the yard work. It isn’t necessary.’

‘It is to me.’

Linc didn’t look pleased. ‘Fine. I guess I don’t have a problem with you cutting the grass every once in a while.’

Monroe figured there were probably a lot of jobs needed doing about the place. From what he’d seen so far, the house and gardens were huge and, oddly for rich folks, they didn’t seem to have much hired help. He reckoned if he devoted his mornings to helping out around the place, it’d go some way to paying his brother back for the opportunity to paint in this glorious room.

Jessie replayed her humiliating encounter with Monroe in her head for the thousandth time as she strolled over to the garage apartment, her arms loaded down with fresh linens.

By organising an outing to the local ice cream parlour with Emmy, she’d managed to delay her next encounter with That Man for a good three hours. Unfortunately, out of sight had not meant out of her mind. Of course, Emmy’s endless chatter about her ‘cool new uncle’ over the hot fudge sundaes hadn’t helped. But it was the memory of his naked chest pressed against her back that kept slamming back into her thoughts every ten seconds or so. Not to mention all the daft things she’d said and done before that.

Her palms dampened on the white cotton sheets as she mounted the steps to his door. Oh, this was ridiculous. He was just a guy, and a supremely irritating one at that, if their first meeting was anything to go by. She’d promised Ali that she would apologise and that was going to be hard enough, but she absolutely was not going to dissolve in a puddle at his feet as she had almost done by the pool.

Telling the butterflies in her stomach to go away, Jessie tapped on the door. No answer. She raised her fist to knock again when it swung open.

‘Oh!’ The sight of the tanned naked chest in front of her, glistening with sweat, had her gaping in shock.

‘Hey, it’s the bad cop. Jessie, right?’

Jessie’s eyes shot up to his face. His hair, she noticed, was a dark, burnished blond when it was dry, streaked with gold. With a red and white bandanna tied round his forehead, his tanned, angular face and that thin scar across his brow, he looked like some beautiful Apache sun god, she thought in amazement. Then she spotted the glint of amusement in his riveting blue eyes.

‘Don’t you ever wear a shirt?’ she snapped.

He grinned, sending some really annoying dimples into his cheeks. ‘Not when it’s hot and I’m doing manual labour.’

‘Or when you’re pinching a swim in someone else’s pool.’ The snide remark was out before she could stop it. There was something about the sight of those perfect pectoral muscles, or maybe it was the tantalising sprinkling of chest hair across them, that just seemed to bring out her inner bitch.

‘Well…’ The cool amusement in his voice made her bristle ‘…I figure swimming in your clothes is kind of dumb.’

At that precise moment, Jessie recalled exactly what he had—or rather had not—been wearing when she’d first spotted him and her traitorous skin flushed with colour.

Monroe watched the vivid pink flood her cheeks and grinned some more. No doubt about it, the woman was seriously cute. That mass of curly red hair, which was tied back but hardly tamed, and those round sea-green eyes. With the peaches-and-cream skin and high cheekbones, her face was made up of enchanting contrasts. He glanced down at her slim, shapely legs, showcased by the short skirt of her sundress. Her top half was hidden behind the pile of linens she carried, but he could still remember the feel of her lush breasts pressed against his forearm. She certainly came in one enticing little package.

Jessie hadn’t missed the quick but thorough once-over. The flash of warmth and appreciation she’d seen in his eyes wasn’t doing a thing for the burning in her cheeks. How humiliating. ‘What are you grinning at?’

‘Just admiring the scenery.’

Jessie sent him what she hoped was a withering glance. Unperturbed, he leaned forward and plucked the sheets out of her arms.

‘Come on in.’ He bumped open the door with his butt and strolled into the room.

Jessie stepped gingerly across the threshold. Calm down, woman, and don’t show him how much he unnerves you. She was trying to think of a neutral comment when she spotted the bed frame leaning against the far wall. ‘What are you doing to the furniture?’

He dumped the sheets on the sofa. ‘No need to get ants in your pants. I’m not stealing it.’

Jessie could see the stiff set of his shoulders and suddenly felt ashamed of herself.

She’d promised Ali she’d make peace with him, instead she’d been nasty as soon as he’d opened the door. ‘I didn’t think you were stealing it,’ she said quietly.

‘You sure about that?’ She heard the humour in his voice, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he studied her.

She swallowed. ‘Of course I am. I was just curious. Is there something wrong with the bed frame?’ The intense look in his eyes was making her jumpy again.

He shrugged. ‘No, I’m just moving it in here. I’ve got plans for the other room.’

‘Well, that solves that mystery.’ She brushed her hands down her dress. ‘You’re obviously busy. I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Hey, hold up.’ He walked up to her, blocking her exit. ‘You’re not still pissed about what happened by the pool, are you?’

Of course she was. ‘Of course I’m not.’

‘You are, aren’t you?’ That slow, infuriating grin spread across his face, shooting those irresistible dimples back into his cheeks. ‘You’ve got that fired-up look in your eyes.’ He flicked a finger at her ponytail. ‘Suits you—goes with the hair.’

He was laughing at her again. How infuriating. Jessie put on her best queen-to-serf voice. ‘Thank you very much. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an original compliment.’

She tried to walk past him, but he simply reached out and took hold of her upper arm. The warmth of his hard, callused fingers was such a surprise, she yelped.

‘Don’t panic.’ Despite the quiet tone, he continued to hold her in place.

‘Let go!’ Her voice came out in a breathless rush. He stood so close she could smell him, the musty, but not unpleasant, scent of fresh male sweat.

He dropped his hand, then held the palm up as if in surrender. ‘No harm done. I just figured I should say sorry, for earlier.’

The contrite words would be more convincing, Jessie thought, if his eyes weren’t dancing with amusement.

She took a quick step back. She really, really wanted to wipe that smile off his face. Tell him he was an overbearing oaf who needed to learn some manners. But she couldn’t. His words had reminded her of her promise to Ali.

She was supposed to be apologising to him, not the other way round. Because she couldn’t bear to see him laugh at her when she did it, she looked down at her feet. ‘That’s okay. I guess I was quite rude to you, too.’

She mumbled the words, but when he didn’t say anything she was forced to look up. He wasn’t smiling any more. In fact, he looked astonished. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘No, I’m not.’ Jessie bit back her annoyance. Why was he making this so difficult? ‘My sister pointed out that, since you were invited here, you were the wronged party, so I should apologise to you.’

‘Is that right?’ He tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans; his lips twitched. ‘So it was big sis that put you up to this. She make you come over with the linens, too?’

Irritated by his perception, Jessie kept her tone even. ‘I’m trying to give you a simple and sincere apology. What exactly is your problem?’

‘Simple, yeah. Sincere?’ He considered the question for a moment. ‘I don’t think so.’

Jessie glared at him. Sod diplomacy. ‘You really are insufferable, aren’t you?’

He laughed then, the gesture making his handsome face relax in a way that was ludicrously appealing. Jessie glared at him some more, determined not to notice it.

‘Like I said, Red. You’re cute when you’re mad.’

Jessie’s belly tightened at the hot look in his eyes and the gruff way he said the new nickname. ‘I’m leaving. I did my best,’ she said as she stalked over to the door.

She could hear him laughing harder as she wrenched the door open. She was just about to slam it behind her, though, when she remembered something else.

Turning back, she was dismayed to see he’d followed her. Gripping the door, he leaned against it and grinned down at her. ‘What is it, Red? You got something else to apologise for?’

Ignoring the teasing glint in his eyes, Jessie stepped back onto the landing. ‘Believe me, that’s the only apology you’ll ever get out of me.’

‘Now that’s a shame, when you’re so good at it.’

For a deadbeat, he certainly had an answer for everything.

‘My sister wanted to invite you to dinner this evening at the house.’ She spat the words out. ‘About seven o’clock. I’m sure you can find your own way there.’

Duty done, Jessie stomped off down the stairs. Just as she reached the bottom he called after her. ‘Hey, Red. You gonna be there?’

She looked back over her shoulder. ‘Of course I am.’

He let his gaze drift down to her butt and back. ‘Be sure and tell your sister I’ll be there, then. I wouldn’t want to miss telling her all about that sweet apology you gave me.’

As Jessie stormed off she could hear his deep rumbling laugh all the way past the garage.