help themselves.”
Dare choked. “She’s the smaller, more female version of Trace.”
What an appalling thought. “Not even close,” Jackson denied. “You see her like a kid sister, same as Trace does.” Sure, they had the same coloring of pale hair and bright hazel eyes. That combo might be noticeable on Trace, but on Alani it was outright striking, fascinating every guy who met her. “I see her differently.”
Trace rolled his eyes. “But still you’re noble enough to give her space?”
“Uh…” He’d thought so. When she’d hesitated to be alone with him, shying away from his interest, he’d walked away rather than torture himself. But this morning he had awakened with her naked. And since then, knowing she’d wanted him enough to sleep with him, he’d been on the make big-time.
Trace and Dare waited.
Disgust at his heavy-handed tactics hit Jackson like a ton of bricks. “Butt out, damn it.”
“I should just kill you now and be done with it,” Trace grumbled.
Jackson ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, maybe.”
Dare coughed at that admission. “You trust him, Trace, and you know it.”
“With my back,” Trace snapped. “Not with my sister.”
Shaking his head at them both, Dare said, “Tell me about the meeting you had with the financier.”
“His name is Marc Tobin,” Trace said.
Jackson curled his lip. Even the guy’s name annoyed him. “I dropped in on her, but she was due for a date with the idiot, and I didn’t bow out in time.”
“Probably on purpose,” Trace accused.
Jackson shrugged. So he’d lingered. So what? “He showed up, and you know Alani. Always so polite.”
Dare choked. “She introduced the two of you?”
To Jackson’s mind, Dare’s humor was sadly misplaced. He gave one sharp nod. “Yeah.”
“Did you act like an ass?” Trace asked.
“You mean did I pulverize him? Nah.” But he’d wanted to. “I’m sure I mean-mugged him a little. He’s just so…slick, it was hard not to, you know?”
It surprised Jackson when Trace agreed. “Slick, and too rich.”
“You’re rich,” Jackson reminded him.
Dare reached over to slug him in the shoulder. “Take what you can get, will you?”
He had planned to take Alani—again and again. But now…did she need extended time? Lots of space? God, he hoped not.
He peered into the kitchen and saw her stacking mugs on a tray. His guts twisted. Yeah, he had it bad. No other woman had ever made him feel this way. He didn’t like it.
Having her would be the only cure. Or rather…having her again so he could commit the experience to memory.
“What now?” Ensuring Dare and Trace didn’t misunderstand the situation, Jackson added, “She can’t be alone.”
“I agree.” Dare rubbed his chin. “You did a background check on Tobin?”
“From the get-go.” Trace leaned up against the wall. “Decent enough person, I guess. Privileged, but no criminal record beyond a few speeding tickets.”
Jackson didn’t like that assessment. “Every investment he makes turns to gold. I don’t trust him.”
“She left him,” Dare reminded Jackson. And then, “But if he assumes he was dumped for you, then that could be motive enough for us to do a little more digging.”
“It makes as much sense as anything.” Besides, with nothing else to go on, Jackson wanted Tobin to be responsible. It’d be a quick and easy solution, and it’d permanently remove the competition.
“You think he sent a woman after Jackson, had her drug him…for what reason? To get him in bed so that Alani would walk away?” Trace gave Jackson a verbal kick, saying, “Hell, he always screws everything in sight, and still she went to him.”
Jackson stewed. “Wrong.” He was no more active than any other healthy adult. And since meeting Alani…well, he hadn’t been all that healthy, no matter how a woman looked or how willing she might be.
He wanted Alani.
He’d had her, damn it, and from what she’d said, it was as mind-blowing as he’d always known it would be.
“You know how it is, Trace.” Dare ignored Jackson’s denial. “That just makes him more appealing to some women.”
“Maybe.” Trace gave Jackson an evil grin. “But not to Alani.”
Knowing Trace might be right, Jackson picked up the sandwich and took a healthy bite. She wanted him to eat, so he’d eat.
Done tweaking him, Trace paced. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. Whoever drugged him likely saw Alani at his place.”
“So she’s in the thick of it,” Dare agreed, “no matter how we look at it.”
Around the mouthful of food, Jackson said, “I don’t want to scare her, especially since odds are she’s in the clear.” He swallowed, a plan forming in his mind. “If she lets me stick close, then there’s no reason her life has to be more disrupted than it already has been.”
“You can watch her up close,” Dare said, “while Trace and I start investigating things from the outside.”
“And that being the case, you should have called us right away.” Trace’s temper shot up again. “Christ, was she left alone at any point today?”
Jackson winced. “All morning.” Alone, saddened—and vulnerable. There really wasn’t a good excuse for slipping up, not with Alani’s safety on the line. “Thanks to the drugs, I wasn’t thinking clearly at first. All I knew was that I’d missed out on—” he looked at Trace’s set face and censored his words “—some important stuff. Soon as I could, I got ready and came here. Right about the time my head cleared enough for me to realize all the implications, she showed back up.”
“And still you didn’t get hold of us?”
“Yeah, about that…” Jackson hedged a little. “I was going to—right after I smoothed things out with Alani.”
That got Trace’s attention anew. “What’s there to smooth out?”
Another peek in the kitchen showed Alani standing in front of the sink, her arms around her middle as she stared out the window.
As if she felt his stare, she glanced over her shoulder. Their gazes locked, and for him, it felt like a physical connection. Even from a distance, he saw her breathing deepen, her cheeks flush, the slight
