in red. That’s why I’m crashing at Sean’s condo tonight, because Cindy has an appointment with the dressmaker for a final fitting tomorrow at eight in the morning. And I’m driving her.”
Davy and Sean exchanged pained glances. Miles’s hopeless devotion to their future sister-in-law’s younger sister Cindy made them both nervous, but all they could do was to build up the kid’s muscles, reflexes and self-esteem, and hope to God that his brain would eventually trail along behind.
Davy sipped his whiskey and let it burn down his throat. “Bridesmaids are bad news,” he reflected. “Beth was a bridesmaid at her cousin’s wedding. It was right after that she got all intense about commitment. Women start tossing back the champagne and thinking about the big M, and whammo, you’re in a world of hurt.”
“You should think about the big M yourself,” Sean said. “You have to do your duty by the family DNA. You’re not getting any younger.”
Davy closed his eyes. “Connor’s got it covered. They’re probably procreating already, the way those two go at it.”
The silence that followed suggested that Sean had the same quiet ambivalence about their brother’s wedding that he had. Not that they weren’t happy for Connor. He was so far gone in love with his bride-to-be, he was practically incapable of coherent speech.
Which was fine. Great. Extreme, out of control happiness was exactly what they wanted for their brother. But the thought of the wedding left him with a dull pang of loss. Connor was moving into a new phase of life. Leaving his brothers behind. It made him feel vaguely restless and empty, when he thought about it, so he tried hard not to.
Stupid, yes, and selfish. They loved Erin. She was perfect for Connor. Smart, brave, pretty, sweet. She’d shown her quality in that crazy thing that went down with Novak a few months ago. She’d earned her membership to the McCloud clan a thousand times over.
No, Erin wasn’t the problem. It was just going to be…different.
Sean blew out a sharp sigh, like he was shoving away unwelcome feelings, too. “I just had a brilliant idea. Bring Margot. She’ll create a force field to protect you. And she’ll add to the scenery, big-time.”
“Forget it,” he growled. “Not happening. Lost cause.”
“How come?” Sean demanded.
Davy gritted his teeth. “Drop it, OK?”
Sean’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, Christ. Don’t tell me, let me guess. You flubbed it, didn’t you? I dropped a golden opportunity in your lap, and you blew it. You chump. No wonder you never get laid.”
Davy stared at the lights that gleamed on the dark, rippling surface of the lake, declining to rise to the bait. He had nothing to say for himself. He hadn’t shared the results of Margot’s background check with his brother. Her mysterious secrets were none of Sean’s business.
Of course, by that token, they were none of Davy’s business, either. He brushed that unhelpful thought aside. “Don’t you have someplace to go tonight?” he asked. “Some girl or other?”
“Miles and I might grab an action flick at the viddy store,” Sean said. “I’m experiencing a brief, restful lull from my usual erotic activities. Keeping myself pure until the wedding.”
“It’s only two more days,” was Davy’s dour observation.
“A fucking eternity,” Sean said. “I want to be charged up for the bridesmaids. Mow me down, ladies. Use me up. Wring me dry.”
“I don’t know about the viddy,” Miles said doubtfully. “I’ve got to get up really early. I have to—”
“Be Cindy Riggs’s personal slave, gofer, tutor, chauffeur, yeah. We know,” Davy cut in.
Miles rocked back in his chair, his eyes wide and startled behind his round glasses. “No way! We’re just good friends. She didn’t have a ride to her fitting, so I told her—”
“I’ve seen how good a friend she is.” Davy mimicked Cindy’s light, breathy voice. “‘Miles, do you like my new push-up bra? Miles, would you help me with my zipper? Miles, would you do my calculus homework? Miles, who should I go out with, Rob, Rick or Randy?’ ”
Miles’s mouth set into a hard, angry line. “It’s not like that.”
Sean cleared his throat in the silence that followed. “Uh…maybe Miles and I should hit the road. You sound like you need a serious time out. We’ll take the Chinese with us, if you don’t want it.”
“Yeah.” Miles sprang to his feet. “Let’s go. Like, right now.”
Davy lifted his glass in silent apology as Sean and Miles left. Waves lapped rhythmically at the pebble beach below the porch in the silence they left in their wake. Usually it was a restful, meditative sound. Tonight, it struck him as soggy, depressing. Repetitive.
He was ashamed of himself. He had no right to criticize poor feckless Miles. He’d done stupider things himself for a woman. Would’ve done them again tonight, in fact. All night long, if Margot had let him.
The evening ticked by, impossibly slow. He wandered from room to room, discarding books and magazines. He surfed the net, the tube, but nothing was remotely interesting. It all seemed empty. The silence was so thick, it clogged his brain, but any music he put on irked him.
Evening stretched into an endless night. He finally wandered into the bedroom and dragged his jeans off to give his relentless boner some air. He sprawled out on the bed, but instead of sleep, he slid right into a series of erotic waking dreams about Margot. Kinky stuff, charged with anger and power games. Struggling against ropes, staring up into her bright eyes as she taunted him, showed him how helpless he was.
Very weird. He wondered what the hell that was about. Bondage games had never remotely entered his mind in terms of bed play. That was for bored people who needed to shock dulled senses to life. And God knows he went to great lengths in his life to avoid feeling helpless.
There was nothing dull about his senses. The dream memory of writhing beneath her beautiful body was vivid to the point of pain. He covered his face with one hand and gripped his stone-hard cock with a growl of frustration. There was no reasoning with his hard-on tonight, with the memory of her slim, strong shoulders beneath his hands so fresh in his mind. The fine texture of the skin on her neck. The look on her face, when she was thinking about letting him take her to bed.
His heart had beat so hard it almost exploded out of his chest.
If she’d kissed him, he would have gone for it and fucked her anyway, in spite of all the question marks. Everything about her turned him on, even her clumsy lies. They didn’t come to her easily. It was almost endearing. The woman couldn’t tell a decent lie to save her life.
The way his mind had couched that passing thought sent an uneasy chill down his back. He shrugged it aside.
Years of interviewing witnesses had made him expert in the study of body language. Margot was prickly and defensive because she was afraid, not guilty. She was no scam artist. She would crash and burn if she ever tried that line of work, the way her feelings were plastered on her face. She was proud, tough, principled. Impulsive. Scared to death, but more scared of the cops than she was of her bloodthirsty stalker.
