Bedding The Wrong Brother (Dalton Brothers Novels) (5 page)

Rhys practically fell into his chair.  He wanted to rail at his brother for his deceptive tactics, but his own guilt weighed on him heavily.  He hadn’t thought that his pulling away would hurt Melina that much.  Then again, he hadn’t thought much beyond wanting to stop his pain.  But Max was right.  Melina was his friend.  It wasn’t her fault he wanted her to be more.  “Okay, I will.  First thing in the morning, I promise.”

“Good.  You still going to fly to Reno?”

“Right after I see her.” 

“We don’t have to be in Reno for another few days.  You’re obsessing—”

“The last time we worked the Magic Underground, the backstage crew was a disaster.  And you weren’t the one caught trying to do an Omni deck in front of 500 people, only to flounder when it didn’t happen.  I’m not going to let something like that happen when the Seven Seas contract is at stake.” 

His brother reached out and placed his hand on Rhys’s arm.  “You’ve always been the brains behind our success, Rhys.  I know that, and so do Mom and Dad.  No one can take that success away from us, even if we don’t end up getting Seven Seas.”

A little stunned by Max’s admission, Rhys said, “We’ll get the contract so long as everything goes as planned.” 

Max gave a curt nod, then stood.  Rhys looked at him in surprise.  “Where are you headed?”

“There’s a blonde at the bar that’s eyeballing us.  Unless you’ve changed your prudish ways and want to join us—”

Rhys didn’t even bother looking at the woman.  “Go ahead.  I’m going to turn in.  I’m beat.”

“Yeah.  You really should turn in.”  Max turned, paused, then turned back.  “It’s been a hell of a decade on the road, don’t you think?”

“It’s been fun.  The best.”

Max nodded, then grinned.  “Get all the rest you can, you hear.  I’ll see you not-so-bright-and-early Monday morning at the Magic Underground.”

Rhys watched his brother approach the blonde, who looked at Rhys and waved.  Rhys smiled and waved back, his public persona firmly in place, but he swiftly turned away.

He dismissed the idea of having another beer.  He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was tired.  He’d had to catch two layovers to fly from Kentucky to Sacramento.  Of course, being that it was last minute, the flight had cost a small fortune.  In the end, it hadn’t mattered. 

Even before Max had called, Rhys had been getting ready to book a flight; Max’s call had just added some panic to the long trip.  He couldn’t let Melina think he’d forgotten her birthday.  As much as it would solidify the distance he’d been gradually establishing between them, he couldn’t hurt her that way.  Instinctively, he knew it would be a hurt he couldn’t repair, and the thought of making that final break had been terrifying.

As had been his sudden, inexplicable certainty that she needed him. 

Maybe it was some kind of twin telepathy or something.

Melina had clearly confided her relationship troubles to Max and sworn him to secrecy.  The idea of either Melina or Max keeping secrets from him was unsettling, but not surprising.  Why would she confide in him when he’d been doing his best to push her way?

More disturbing was the idea that her ex had hurt her.

Possessiveness swamped him, but he easily pushed it down.  He’d had so much practice at it, after all.  Melina wasn’t his, but she was still someone extremely special to him.  If someone had hurt her, even if it was just her pride, he’d pay for it.  Rhys would make sure of that.

“Excuse me?” 

Rhys glanced up at the soft, feminine voice.  It was the blonde from the bar.  Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder but saw no sign of Max. 

“Your brother was telling me about your act.  He’s going to get his car.  I was wondering if you’d mind company.  My friend Jocelyn over there—”  She pointed to a rail-thin brunette who was sitting at the bar and watching them.  “—is a doll and I’d feel horrible abandoning her.”

But she’d still do it, Rhys thought, trying not to judge his brother’s taste in women.  He’d made plenty of bad decisions in his life so he had no business judging anyone.  Shaking his head, he began to rise.  “I’m sorry, but I was just about to—”

“Hi.”  The brunette strode up to his table and held out her hand.  “I am so thrilled to meet you.  I absolutely love your magic act.  Would you mind if I join you?”

Sighing, Rhys sat back in his chair and watched as the blonde backed away, waved, and bee-lined for the exit, presumably to meet his brother.  He focused on the brunette, who looked a bit like Cindy Crawford.  She was decked out, fit, and had a charming smile, but he just wanted to go up to bed.  Alone.   The last thing he wanted was to talk about magic right now.  But he didn’t want to be rude to a fan either.  “So where did you see the act?” he asked, catching the eye of the waiter and indicating he wanted another beer.  

***

As Melina entered the hotel room, she half-expected Max to have done it up.  Candles.  Flowers.  Something.  But it was in its normal state, the linens straightened and the towels in the bathroom folded neatly, indicating that housekeeping had come and gone.  Melina let out a sigh of relief.

Max was sticking to the plan, making this weekend exactly what she wanted, a straight forward tutoring session rather than something resembling a romantic rendezvous or false seduction.  When a woman asked you to teach her how to please a man, very little seduction was necessary, after all.  Pretending otherwise would have made her feel even more self-conscious.  

Setting her single bag on the bed, she noted that Max had traveled pretty light himself.  A suitcase in the corner, along with the familiar looking magic case that held his cards and smaller close-up tricks.  An evil urge to open the case and rifle through it took hold of her, but of course she couldn’t do it.  A magician’s bag of tricks was his sacred possession.  As close friends as she and Max were, neither he nor Rhys had ever broken the magician’s code by telling her how a trick was performed. 

Of course, she’d done her own research on the Internet, but had never told them that.  They would have been appalled.  Growing up with professional magicians as parents had made Max and Rhys not just passionate about the craft, but mystical in many ways.  They talked as if they actually believed it was possible to make a card appear from thin air.  And they wanted her to have such belief as well. 

Lucky for her, her scientific mind couldn’t subscribe to such fodder.   It was always better to deal with concretes.  That way, you could at least try and calculate the risks and predict the outcome.  Even then, the world was a scary place.  Add something like magic to the equation?  No thanks.  

It didn’t take her very long to unpack, and soon she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed trying to stop herself from bolting.

Chewing on one nail, she glanced at the hotel clock.  7:30 p.m.  Max had told her he would be back to the hotel room close to 8:30 p.m. and to get comfortable and wait for him. 

“And by comfortable, I don’t mean sweats and a ratty t-shirt, Melina.  Bring something sexy to wear,” he’d ordered.  “Wear your hair down.  And ditch the glasses.”

“But I can’t see well without my glasses,” she’d protested.  “I mean, I won’t run into walls, but I’ll miss the finer details.” 

Something like satisfaction sparked in his eyes, but then his expression went blank.  “Don’t you have contacts?”

“I can’t wear contacts.  I have dry eyes.”

Shaking his head with amusement, he said,  “Just do it, babe.”  Then he’d leaned forward, kissed her forehead as he’d done so many times in the past, and got up to leave.  Before closing the door, however, he’d turned back to her.  “You sure about this?”

Of course she wasn’t sure, she’d wanted to scream.  But he’d already said yes.  Plus, she didn’t relish the idea of telling fifty undergraduate students that she was a sexual coward.  And finally, she’d forced herself to remember the shame she’d felt at Brian’s words.  Telling her she wasn’t good enough, sexy enough, to inspire a man’s passion.  She was never going to let another man hurt her that way again, and she trusted Max to teach her things that would put Brian’s little vet resident to shame.

“I’m sure,” she’d said.  “After all, tomorrow’s my birthday.  What could be better for me than a little continuing education?”          

Education?  What a dork, she’d thought.  Thankfully, he’d just smiled.  “That’s right.  Remember, no glasses, okay?”  

“Are they really that ugly?” she’d asked hesitantly, lifting one hand to touch the wire frames that she’d once thought were quite stylish.

All he’d done was close the door, loudly singing “Happy Birthday To You,” as he walked down the walkway to his car.

She’d felt so self-satisfied then.  Giddy that he’d agreed to help her.  Now, she stared at the single large piece of luggage that had been laid across the luggage rack as if it contained something horrible.  Standing, she walked toward it, stopping when she saw a few items that Max had laid on the long surface of the dresser.  A black toiletry bag.  A bottle of cologne.  A comb.  And—

Her eyes widened and she reached out, nudging the cologne bottle aside.  There, sticking half-out of a toiletry bag, was a box of condoms.  Hand shaking, she picked it up. 

It was open.  Looking around as if to make sure no one had snuck into the room while she’d been distracted, she read the label more closely.  Good thing he’d come prepared because what she’d bought wasn’t nearly as interesting.  She’d gone for the standard stuff, whereas his tastes ran to Magnum Extra Large, ribbed, and flavored.  She flushed, but couldn’t resist grabbing one of the foil-wrapped Magnums and studying it.  

The men she’d been with had all been of like-size and she knew they’d fit well within the range of average.  This condom didn’t look unusually big.  Really, how much difference was there between magnum and acceptable?  Was it just a marketing device designed to play on a man’s insecurities?  There was one sure way to tell. 

Rifling through her own bag, she took out one of the condoms she’d brought.  Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she ripped open each foil packet and laid the small latex disks on the coverlet.  Dragging her purse closer to her, she extracted the small measuring tape in one of the side pockets.  Pursing her lips, she unrolled both condoms then laid them flat. 

After some quick measurements, she sat back.   

Okay, there was a definite difference.  She couldn’t accuse the condom makers of false advertisement.  The magnums were indeed about 30% larger than the regular sized condoms.  Mostly in width, since the condom wasn’t designed to fit the entire length of a man’s penis anyway. 

  Feeling light headed, she tried to envision herself helping Max put one of those things on. 

All that did was make her start hyperventilating.

Stop it, she told herself.  Don’t go there.

To distract herself, Melina carefully tucked both unused rubbers into her overnight bag.  She couldn’t very well leave them in the trashcan and risk Max seeing them and guessing what she’d done.  He’d tease her about it mercilessly.

He’d probably tease her about this whole situation once the shock wore off.

If he showed up in the first place.   

Breath catching, she once again felt dizzy.  Frantic. 

Desperately, she searched the room, her gaze landing on the mini-bar.  She rushed to it, opened the door, and stared at the little bottles of alcohol. 

She’d seen a stocked mini bar before but she’d never actually drank from it.  Too expensive.  Plus, the little alcoholic bottles had seemed silly somehow.   Right now, silly seemed appropriate, and she was desperate to calm her jittery nerves.  Taking out the five small bottles, she lined them up on top of the dresser and perused the selection.  One finger tapping her pursed lips, she selected one bottle.  Unscrewing the cap, she took a swig.

And gasped.

Holy Moly that burned.

The second swig not so much.

By the time she took her third, she was already starting to feel better. 

She set the bottle down then looked at the clock.  It was almost eight. 

Max would be here soon, and she was still fully dressed, hardly what one would call comfortably. 

Rushing into the bathroom, she took off her clothes and stripped down to her underwear, simple boy-short panties and a cotton camisole and bra.  Face flushed with nerves and alcohol, she stared at herself in the full-length mirror.

What she’d told Max was true.  She wasn’t beautiful and she didn’t have the world’s best body, but she was attractive.  Certainly nothing like he and Rhys were used to, but Max must find her at least reasonably attractive, or else he wouldn’t have agreed to her little proposal.

Unless he felt sorry for her.

Oh God.  Was she about to be pity fucked?

The idea didn’t sit well with her.  She was a strong, independent woman who simply wanted to expand her repertoire of tricks.  She’d read sex books.  She’d watched porn.  But besides making her incredibly hot and frustrated, most of the sexual acts and responses she’d viewed still seemed somewhat perplexing to her.  The whole thing with the nipples, for example.  Nipple stipulation did next to nothing for her, but other women seemed to enjoy it.  Did men?

That was the kind of thing she wanted to know.  The kind of thing that Brian had ridiculed her for when she’d asked him.  She’d ply Max with questions and she’d try her best to make the experience a good one for him.

It wasn’t like he could have very many expectations.

At least she knew she was a better kisser than she’d been at sixteen. 

Closing her eyes, she opened herself to the memory of that long ago night.  Rhys had asked her to meet him in her parent’s gazebo the night of her sweet sixteen party.  He had something special he wanted to give her, he’d said.  And something important to tell her.  Imagination going wild and hope soaring, she’d waited in that gazebo for over an hour before Max had come out to find her.  When she’d asked about Rhys, Max had stalled.  But Melina had kept pushing until Max finally admitted that Rhys was making out with Trisha James, the busty blond cheerleader who lived next door and the one who Melina’s parents had bullied her into inviting.  She’d sobbed all over poor Max’s shirt and then, feeling sorry for her, he’d kissed her.  Even then, she hadn’t been ignorant of his skill.  That slow, gentle, open-mouthed kiss still ranked up high on her kiss-o-meter.  By the time Rhys had shown up outside, Trisha by his side, Melina had been able to control her hurt and make a dignified exit.