“Sure.” Bree joined him behind the bar. Much of the hired help had been dismissed an hour or so earlier. She and Ginger had decided to stay on, confident ‘ol Ginny would get them back down the mountain.
Ginger moved in, slid an arm around Ted’s waist, smiled, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Bree raised a brow. Obviously, there was another reason Ginger wanted to stick around.
“What time do you think we can get out of here,” she asked, adding glasses to Bree’s plastic bin. “I am so ready to go.” She kicked off a red Mary Jane and reached down to rub a foot. “What about you, Bree?”
At the moment, Bree was conflicted about leaving sooner rather than later. She scanned the room again. No Carson. She shrugged. “I’m with you, Ginger. I leave when you leave.”
“Ted needs a ride,” Ginger returned.
“Okay by me.” She hefted the bin of glasses, wondering just what kind of ride Ted would get later tonight. She watched as he palmed Ginger’s butt through her dress. “I’ll get these started.” Behind her, she heard a tinkling of glasses and a female voice raise over the crowd, attempting to gain attention. She continued on into the kitchen.
With an oomph, she hoisted the container onto the counter and bent to open the dishwasher. Good. Clean dishes. One by one she emptied the glasses and small plates and stacked them on the counter. Every once in a while she stretched to work the kinks out of her back.
Oh boy, was she ever tired.
Had he been on his game tonight, Jake would have been out in the great room, peering up at Grace Walker, the chair of the committee raising money for the homeless shelter downtown off Central, smiling and clapping his hands as she announced the merits of each item up for auction.
Of course, he wasn’t on his game, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass what useless trinkets were up for grabs tonight. The whole notion was silly, anyway. Each of those items was already sold to their owners, the bidding having taken place prior to the party. It was all show, and he wondered why they were even going through the motions since the press didn’t show up for the party, anyway, due to the weather.
At best, he felt disconnected to the entire ordeal, but his body sure as hell jerked to attention as soon as he stepped through the back entrance to the kitchen.
His heart pounded in his throat. Thank God there was no one else in the room with whom he had to speak. He wasn’t sure he could. All he could do, however, was stand and stare.
The obvious item that caught his attention was the skimpy red Santa dress trimmed in white fur-and the woman wearing it. The boots, why yes, those were quite the thing, as well. Sleek and sexy and screaming “come fuck me” at the top of their lungs. The long mane of almost jet black hair that swung over her shoulder was the piece of the picture that made his chest clutch in addled surprise. The bronzed and dewy skin of her long legs made him think of only one thing-a perfect passage to the nectar of the gods. Her thighs gave way to a luscious round derriere that peeked out from beneath that fur-lined skirt each time she bent to pull out a dish or put one in.
His gut quivered.
She stood and he got the full profile effect.
“No.” The word whooshed out on a breath before he could drag it back.
Bree sensed, more than heard, the one word exclamation of angst that filled the room around her. Slowly, she rotated to her rear, and immediately caught site of the man standing behind her.
Her entire being trilled at the sight of him, and suddenly it all came back in a whoosh…
She tapped her pencil on her desk top, keeping rhythm with the nervous kick of her leg beneath it. Leaning toward the two men, she feigned attention on both but was totally fixated on the tall, dark-headed man who sat to her left. And he, it appeared, was giving off come-hither vibes like nobody’s business.
“So you’re looking for something in the mountains?”
“I’d actually prefer downtown,” the sandy-haired one remarked. Drawing her gaze away, she focused on this man for a moment. “A condo would be best,” he offered. “Small and efficient. Perhaps an outside deck area but nothing elaborate. Good lighting, natural, at least in one room, for my studio.”
“What do you consider small?” she asked.
“Thirty-five hundred square feet, or about.”
Handsome, sexy, and rich. Nice combo. And there were two of them.
The way-too-viral man to his left cleared his throat and leaned closer. “That’s his preference. Not necessarily mine. If you’re asking for our wish lists, yes, I do prefer the mountains. The east side, of course, looking down over the Turquoise Trail. Something sprawling and authentic that reeks of the Southwest. A great view. A pool would be nice. Guest quarters for when the families come to visit, should they visit, and so on.”
Bree swallowed and kept tapping her pencil against the Plexiglas desk top. She glanced from one man to another. The dark-headed one-what was his name? Oh yes. Jake. Jake Baldwin-appeared engrossed with her. She licked her lips and found it difficult to sit still in her seat. “So in other words the two of you are at an impasse.”
“No,” Jake scooted even closer and laid a hand over her tapping pencil and fingers. Her knee stopped jerking. “Where we are at, is that you will find something that comprises both our needs.” He grinned, and Bree felt an electric current spark from his eyes and make a beeline straight for her pussy. Dammit. These two men were a couple, and she was getting so turned on by that. What the hell?
But his eyes…the lightest shade of blue, and the contrast of his inky black hair. The combination was spell- binding and, shit, yes, she was captivated.
He continued, “We need for you to be our common ground, Ms. Conner. The bridge between us, so to speak. We trust you.”
Between them. She glanced from one highly potent male specimen to another. They both oozed sexuality and pure, unadulterated maleness. They were a couple. Gay, she supposed, or bi-sexual?
Why was she feeling like this?
Not to mention that the heat from his palm, still tented over hers, felt erotic as hell, and somehow protective at the same time. She glanced down. Was his thumb caressing hers?
“I see I have my work cut out for me.”
He cast a sly smile her way. “That, you do.” Then breaking away, he stood. “May I borrow your restroom?”
“Of course.” She stood as well. “Down the hall and to the left.”
He nodded and headed that way.
Ginger swept in at that moment. “I found those listings,” she began, sitting beside the sandy-haired client. “Let’s see how you like some of these.”
Carson nodded and reached for the files.
Bree glanced down the hall.
No. She shouldn’t.
“Excuse me.”
Her heels clicked down the ceramic tile hallway. Loud. Her small, private office sat across the hall from the single bathroom. Pausing in the doorway, her hands resting on the casing, she cast a sideways glance. The fine hairs at her neck stood erect.
She swiveled on the ball of her foot.
He stood framed in the opposite doorway, a question on his face that must have rivaled the one on her own. Her heart banged against her chest as she stepped across the hallway.
He pulled her inside with one swift motion. The door clicked shut behind them. He locked it and crowded her up against it.
She moaned as he covered her mouth with his firm, wet lips and kissed her. Hard.
His hands wandered, bunching up the hem of her dress; the heat of his fingers scorched her inner thigh as they inched toward her center.
Breaking away with a gasp, she took his face into her hands and searched his face. In the next instant, she
