Bidding on Brooks: The Winslow Brothers #1 (19 page)

He tightened his jaw, dropping her luminous eyes for a second before looking back up at her. It was time to be honest. He loved her. She deserved to know.

“My father died when I was seventeen,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It was sudden,” he continued. “One minute he was fine, the next an ambulance was taking him to the hospital. He was dead before they even got there. A cardiac arrest.”

“Oh no,” she said, pressing her lips to the space over his heart. “Brooks, I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed, because the toughest part was still to come. “We don’t know why.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t know the
cause
of the heart attack. My dad was in good shape. He drank whiskey and smoked cigars, but he ran three or four miles a day and he sailed every weekend he could. He ran a major foundation, but my Mom says that he wasn’t unduly stressed. Before his cardiologist, Dr. Fiorello, passed away a few years ago, I tracked him down and spoke to him about my dad. He said that nothing had ever shown up on an EKG. In fact, my father had only visited the doctor two months before the attack for some vague chest pains that the doctor diagnosed as irritation of the pleura, a totally benign condition.”

“Surely there are more medical records? Some way to find out what happened?”

“As far as I know, an autopsy was never done. I…honestly, after talking to Dr. Fiorello, I felt like I’d hit a wall. My Mom has no idea what happened. His death certificate lists ‘Cardiac Arrest’ as the reason he died. Do you know how many causes there are?”

“No,” she murmured.

“Thousands,” he said, then repeated, “Thousands.” He paused for a moment. “And any one of them could be hiding inside my body, too.”

“Oh. Oh…” she murmured, finally understanding his deepest fears. She took a deep, audible breath, leaning up on his chest to look into his eyes. “Brooks. No, love. No.”

“Yes,” he insisted, feeling bleak and miserable. “He was only forty. That’s only five years away.”

“But you take care of yourself.”

“I try.” He shrugged. “I eat well. I exercise. I don’t smoke. I drink a few beers a week. Yeah. I think I do.”

“And you’re under a doctor’s care?”

“Yes, but—”

“And your tests come back negative for heart problems?”

“Yes, but so did my dad’s.”

“You can’t live like this,” she said gently, reaching up to cup his cheek and look deeply into his eyes.

“I do, skip. I
do
live like this.”

Her eyes glistened with tears, and he hated it. He hated making her sad, and he hoped she didn’t feel sorry for him or think he was some crazy hypochondriac, because he wasn’t. He was a realist. His father had died for no reason and it tormented him.

“That’s why…” she murmured. “That’s why you can’t offer me a future?”

“Because I’m not even sure I have one,” he answered, wincing, pushing her head back down on his chest, so her eyes couldn’t search his face anymore. He felt too raw, too exposed, even with Skye, whom he trusted, whom he loved.

“You do, Brooks. I promise you do.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Tell me this,” she said gently, wrapping her arm around his chest and settling her cheek back over his heart. “When you asked me to be patient while you ‘figured it out,’ what did that mean?”

“Well, I thought that maybe I could look into more regular, top-of-the-line screenings. There’s a place in Princeton I haven’t checked out yet, because I’ve been travelling so much over the past decade, but they use really high-tech imagining. And I thought maybe…if I settled down and really committed myself to preventative care, well, maybe I’d feel like less of a selfish bastard about asking you to be with me.”

“I see,” she said softly.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Mm-hm,” she murmured in a hushed, broken whisper. She sniffled before speaking again. “I see that you are exceptional. I see that you’re one of the most thoughtful, caring, responsible people I’ve ever met, ever known. Despite how much you want me, you’d push me away before you’d let me fall for you and get hurt. Is that about right?”

“That’s about right, skip.”

She leaned up on her arm, pushing her gauzy, blonde hair from her face and fixing her sky-blue eyes on his sea-green.

“But there’s a fault in your logic.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve
already
fallen for you,” she said softly, her eyes bright and tender.

She dropped her lips to his, kissing him passionately, tangling her tongue with his, her breasts crushed against his chest. And his arms wrapped around her like iron bands, refusing to let go of the sweetness she brought to his life, and he vowed that whatever it took—hell, he’d
move
to Princeton if he needed to and get screened every day—he’d do it…just for the chance to be with her.

“Me too,” he whispered in her ear before letting her pull away. “You’re not the only one falling, Skye.”

Her eyes widened with her smile, and she giggled softly before kissing him again.

When she drew back, her smile faded just a touch, and she reached up to cup his jaw. “You know? Your beard’s very scratchy.”

“I’ll shave.”

“But I think your heart,” she said, covering it with her palm, “is strong.”

“I hope,” he whispered.

“You’re going to be okay, love,” she said, her eyes drinking in his face, and he felt the calm certainty of her words.

“I promise I’ll do my best to figure this out, Skye.”

She nodded, laying her head back on his chest and tightening her arm around his chest.

“I trust you,” she said simply, pressing her sweet lips to his treacherous heart.

***

Several hours later, pointed south and headed for Carolina Beach, Skye felt different. New and vulnerable, desperately in love, excited and worried. Grateful for the blue skies, sunshine, and wind that kept Brooks busy and the
Zephyr
moving steadily forward, she had time to think about all that had happened between her and Brooks this morning.

Aside from the fact that Brooks was a more skilled lover than the handful of other men she’d been with, there was something special about their intense make-out session—something she sensed neither of them had experienced before. For Skye’s part, she realized that she’d never actually been in love with Patrick or with anyone before him. She knew this, because what she felt for Brooks was so much larger, so much more vital and visceral than anything she’d ever felt before. Maybe because she’d had him in her sights for much of her life, but more, she believed, because they’d been friends for years. She was attracted to Brooks, unbelievably turned on by him, and her heart absolutely belonged to him…but she was also comfortable with him. She wasn’t self-conscious lying under him, his tongue doing wicked things to her sex. For the first time in her life, she’d lived in the moment entirely. She’d given him her heart, and somewhere along the way, she felt as though her soul had entwined with his as well.

Two things that lived separately and yet together: a brook and the sky, the wind and the water that coursed through both their veins. You needed both to sail. You needed both in tandem to achieve perfection.

Lying together after Brooks’ painful admission about his father’s tragic death and his subsequent fears, they’d shared the moment in comforting, respectful, loving, mutual silence. She hated that he carried such a heavy burden, but she was deeply touched by how desperately he’d wanted to protect her from forming an attachment to him. It made her love him all the more.

Her phone buzzed in her shorts pocket and it surprised her, since they weren’t that close to shore, but she fished her phone out and glanced down at it, hoping for a text from her father. She bit her lip when Pat’s name flashed on the screen. Swiping across it, she opened his text:

Saw a recent update on the Celeb! website.

So I guess we’re really over.

Fine with me – I’m having a blast with Inga.

Why don’t you ask Brooks about his “girlfriends,” Skye?

She stared at the bitter words for a couple of seconds before deleting the message and shoving her phone back into her shorts. She snorted. Leave it to Pat to try to make trouble. She should have known that she couldn’t break up with him without his ego demanding a severance. Well, screw him. She and Brooks finally had a chance at something real. Pat could go to hell.

…ask Brooks about his girlfriends…

But as much as she tried to forget the words, they circled in her head, much as they had when Guy said something similar.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she couldn’t deny the message bothered her. What girlfriends? The women she’d seen him with at the marina? Did Pat object to Brooks dating several different women at the same time? She didn’t see anything wrong with that as long as he was upfront about playing the field.

But. Oh. Wait. Was he playing the field with her?

No. No! They hadn’t actually had a conversation about commitment, but Brooks had shared his deepest concerns, his most personal secret. He had said,
I want us to be together
. That was enough, wasn’t it? He was serious about her, right? If he was actively with someone else—this “girlfriend” that Guy and Pat kept mentioning—he wouldn’t have made a move on Skye…

…would he?

“Everything good, skip?”

Brooks climbed up onto the deck from the galley where he’d made them ham and cheese sandwiches. He held one just out of reach, presenting his lips for a kiss first, and she complied, grinning at him when he finally backed away and offered her the sandwich.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he said, chewing his sandwich as he looked at her from the deck railing where he leaned back, the bright sun making his thick, black hair shiny like lacquer.

“You knew Pat and I were together…”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“…and then we broke up.”

“Thank God.”

“Well, I’ve seen you…you know, with women, from time to time. Dates. At the marina.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, lowering his sandwich, his smile fading.

“And I guess I just wanted to be sure that…Are
you
free? I mean, are you with anyone else right now?”

His shoulders relaxed. “You mean…do I have a girlfriend back at home?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean…other than you?”

Her face, which had been curious, but mostly blank, suddenly burst into a smile and she chuckled softly, staring back at him in wonder. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He took another bite of his sandwich, grinning at her.

“
I’m
your girlfriend,” she said softly, staring up at him, her sandwich forgotten by her side as she tried to process this miraculous news.

“Damn, I hope so,” he said, still grinning. “Because if you’re not, there was this hot blonde in my bed this morning, and she was doing some pretty amazing things with her mouth on my—”

“I am!” she said, cutting him off, her smile hurting, her cheeks flushed as she conjured a very vivid mental image of exactly what they’d done together.

“In some ways, I’m a bad deal,” he said, flinching briefly before blinking the worry away. “But I’m going to figure things out for us the best I can.” He paused. “And yes. You’re my
only
girlfriend, Skye.”

She laughed softly and he threw his sandwich overboard, crossing to her in two long strides, pulling her into his arms and landing his lips flush on hers.

He tasted like ham and cheese, salty and loving and perfect, and she tossed her own sandwich in the water with his so she could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back long and hard.

Patrick Flaherty was a troublemaking jackass. And clearly, he had no idea what he was talking about.

They spent Thursday night in Carolina Beach and left for Myrtle Beach on Friday morning after a night on the
Zephyr
that included more mind-blowing oral sex in Skye’s little bed and not nearly enough sleep for either of them.

Brooks was waiting for Skye to give him a sign that she was ready to move forward in their physical relationship, but since she seemed content to enjoy one another without making love, he was forcing himself to be patient.

But he couldn’t lie…it wasn’t easy.

Last night, with her naked body pressed against his, the tangy scent of their mutual orgasms surrounding him, he’d clenched his eyes tightly shut to try to stop his cock from hardening. Finally, he’d had to slip out of bed and take a cold shower. As he pulled on some boxers, she turned around and opened her eyes, one eyebrow arching up.

“What are you doing? Come back to bed.”

He’d sat down beside her, in the C of her body, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. “You know I adore you?”

“Mm-hm.” She’d sighed, closing her eyes.

“I need to sleep in my own bed.”

Her eyes had jerked open.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to get any sleep pressed up against you. I want you too bad.”

“Oh.” She pouted, furrowing her brows in protest. “Well, let’s just…”

“No,” he said, stroking her hair off her face, smoothing it onto her pillow. “Not
let’s just.
We’re not
just
doing anything. We’re not
just getting it over with
,” he said, employing Jessica’s incredibly annoying air quotes. “When you’re ready…
really
ready, you tell me, skip, and I’ll make it happen. Deal?”

She nodded. “Deal.”

“Get some sleep,” he said tenderly, kissing her forehead before slipping into the bed across the room from hers.

In theory, he understood why she wasn’t quite ready yet. They’d only kissed for the first time a couple weeks ago…and in a very short amount of time she’d broken up with Pat, confessed her feelings for Brooks, and started an incredibly intense emotional and physical relationship with him. He didn’t blame her for needing a little time before she shared her body with him completely.

So reasoned his mind.

His cock? Which was semi-hard almost all the time lately? It wanted her so badly, he was distracted by the force of his desire for her. Even now, standing behind her as he checked on the rear halyards, he was far more interested in
her
rear, pert and round in tiny little denim cut-off shorts that were probably custom-made to torture him. He grumbled, looking up at the waning sun. A couple more hours until Myrtle Beach and their second-to-last photo shoot with Guy, this one at sunset.

Guy worried him a little. He didn’t like how he’d asked Skye about Patrick with such confidence, a cat-and-mouse smile playing on his face. He’d made it clear to them in Gloucester Point that he’d do whatever it took to get a good story, even fabricate one of his own. But, clearly he was digging around, trying to find something salacious
and
real, and Brooks shuddered when he thought about Elite Escorts. What a story that would make: Ex-Olympian Uses Escort Service. He’d arranged for a non-disclosure agreement with outrageous penalties, so he doubted that Elite would ever legitimize any rumors about him. Not to mention, no one could prove what Brooks and the various employees of Elite had done together in the privacy of his boat. He didn’t worry about legal prosecution, but the court of public approval would be brutal. Aspersions would be cast on his name…and on anyone else with whom he was, legitimately, intimate.

At the very least, it would be a small scandal, and though he wasn’t a large enough celebrity for things to get really uncomfortable, it could certainly affect his relationship with his family…and Skye.

And that’s what bothered him the most.

His mother and siblings would forgive him quickly and knowing them, take every opportunity to defend him publicly. But Skye? What they had was too new for him to bank on her understanding, let alone standing by him.

God, he’d been so short-sighted to use escorts, but then, his plan hadn’t ever been to have someone significant in his life. At the time, it had made sense. Now? Now, he just hoped it wouldn’t be a stupid decision that ended up breaking his own heart.

A few hours later, with the setting sun behind them and the smells of sun-block and cotton candy wafting over to the marina from the midway at Myrtle Beach, it felt like a party, though Guy still did his best to ruin the light mood with his endless smarm.

“So, Skye…safe to say that you dumped Pat for Brooks?”

“No comment,” Skye replied.

“But you and Brooks are a couple?”

She peeked up at Brooks and he nodded, letting her know he was comfortable releasing that information.

“We are.”

“So you really
are
lovebirds,” said Guy, scribbling on his little notepad. “Lovebirds at sea!”

Brooks cleared his throat meaningfully and Guy looked up. “A few more pictures?”

“Anxious to…
go below
, eh?”

Once this interview was over, Brooks might start looking into Guy and make a little trouble for him.  He was sick and tired of Guy’s cheap and leading comments, and frankly, Charleston couldn’t come quickly enough.

“Okay, kids. How about one, real kiss, huh?”

Brooks looked down at Skye, who grinned up at him, winding her arms around his neck. Though Guy’s camera clicked like crazy, Brooks let himself settle into the kiss and enjoy it, plunging his tongue into Skye’s mouth and hardening on contact when she slid against his, stroking it with increasing pressure, arching into Brooks as he tightened his arms around her.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

Brooks leaned back abruptly, breaking off the kiss, finding Guy looking up at him with a thoughtful expression. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that, Brooks?”

He hadn’t looked down at Skye since kissing her, but she dropped her forehead on his chest.

“Here and there.”

“It’s almost like you were trained by a…
pro
.”

Brooks flinched, his eyes flaring. “I don’t like your insinuation.”

“Aw, it’s just conversation, cap. Speaking of which…how come you don’t have any long-term girlfriends, Brooks?”

He knew. Shit and fuck. Guy knew about the escorts.

Brooks looked down at Skye, who was clenching her jaw, staring at Guy with venom. He knew enough about the way her mind worked to know what she was thinking: she knew about Brooks’ dad, she knew that he was reticent to make a commitment, and she thought he’d conducted his personal life in a noble way. She had no idea that the women she’d seen him with had been paid to keep him company.

“That’ll be all, Guy,” said Brooks, ice in his tone.

Guy smirked at him. “You sure? You don’t want to comment?”

“I’ll comment!” snarled Skye. “You’ve been tasteless and insulting since the moment we met you at the auction…and I think we’ve born it with class. But we’re done, Guy. No more. It’s over. Don’t come looking for us in Charleston. This is the last pound of flesh you get.”

Guy cut his eyes to Skye and they flared for just a moment before his lips turned up in a Cheshire cat grin. He nodded. “I guess I can take a hint.”

“I doubt it,” she said crisply, detangling herself from Brooks’ arms and stomping over to the hatch and down the stairs.

Guy watched her go, looking amused, then looked back up at Brooks.

“How much?” asked Brooks.

“What’s that?”

“How much do you want?”

Guy chuckled, an unpleasant, over-confident sound. “How much are you offering? I know you gave her a quarter million to bid on you. Your privacy’s got to be worth double that.”

“You don’t have any proof. I was discreet.”

“You were. I only have hearsay. Her ex, Patrick? He does not like you, Brooks. Not at all. He was happy to tell me as much as he could about your…ah-hem,
personal
life.”

“Pat and I weren’t that close. You don’t have anything concrete.”

“I have tales of escorts at Sorenson Marina,” said Guy softly, looking up at Brooks from under hooded eyes, playing distractedly with the lens of his camera. “I don’t know what you did with the girls because I can’t track them down, but Pat mentioned all those anonymous blondes coming and going. Luckily, I was able to track down a couple of cabbies more than happy to chit chat about a few drop-offs and pick-ups at the Sorenson Marina. Sort of your very own little whorehouse, huh?”

Brooks held onto the deck railing and swung under it, landing squarely on the dock in front of Guy. “I should pound your face in.”

“You don’t want to do that,” said Guy, stepping back and having the good sense to look a little worried.

“Oh, I think I might.”

“Nope. You were on the right track before, chum.”

“Money,” said Brooks. “You want money. What about
Celeb!
?”

“You give me enough money, I’ll find another job in a few years after I travel the world.”

“A bribe.”

“A trade,” said Guy.

“My reputation for your…”

“Comfort,” said Guy.

“You don’t have anything but a few cabbies and a jealous ex-boyfriend. Maybe I’ll take my chances.”

Guy flicked his eyes to the
Zephyr
. “You do that. I’m sure Skye and her father will be very understanding about what you were doing at their place of business.”

It’s not that Brooks didn’t have the money. He did. It was the principal of it. It was paying money to a snake so he wouldn’t do something snake-like. He looked down at the dock, knowing what he had to do. If he wanted a chance with Skye—a
real
chance—he needed to protect her, and her father, from Guy splashing their business all over
Celeb!
’s website and magazine.

“How much?”

Guy grinned. “Half a million.”

“You’re insane,” said Brooks, turning back to the Zephyr.

“Two hundred thousand. In cash,” Guy quickly amended.

“Fifty thousand,” said Brooks. “In a bank check.”

“Made out to cash.”

“No,” said Brooks, feeling dirty, wanting to get back on the
Zephyr
, take a shower and pull Skye into his arms. “Made out to
you
. I don’t want any further misunderstandings.”

“By tomorrow at five.”

Brooks narrowed his eyes. “That’s twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah. But you’re Brooks Winslow.” Guy smirked. “You can send it to me at
Celeb!
.”

“Fine,” said Brooks. “Now get out of here, and don’t ever show your face to me or her again. Not unless you want the beating of the century.”

“Got it, cap. Nice doing business with you.”

“Fuck you, Guy,” said Brooks, climbing back onto the deck of the
Zephyr
, his gut churning as the reprehensible reporter hurried away. “Fuck you.”

Just as Brooks was about to head downstairs after Skye, his phone buzzed.

“Now what?” he bellowed, taking his phone out of his pocket. A picture of Jessica’s smiling face greeted him as his phone continued to buzz. He took a deep breath. “Jess, I’m a little busy.”

“How busy?” she asked.

Her voice wasn’t teasing or playing. Brooks stopped walking toward the stairs and turned around, worried at her tone. “Why? Are you okay? Jess, is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you. I need your attention for a good fifteen minutes. Uninterrupted.”

“Um…okay. Give me a sec.”

He needed to be sure Skye was all right after their unsavory meeting with Guy, but when he got downstairs, he could hear the hum of the shower. As much as it would have been nice to join her, he went back on deck and sat down on a bench in the stern of the
Zephyr
where he stored the life vests.

“Okay. Go ahead,” he told Jessica.

“I’ve been worried about you. Our conversation in Hatteras…it really bothered me.”

“I’m sorry, Jess, but I can’t help the way I—”

“Brooks, shut up and listen to me, okay?” She paused and when he didn’t interrupt her again, she continued. “When I got home, I went up to the attic and looked around. Dad’s desk was boxed up and most of his papers are still up there, did you know that?”

“No.”

“Yeah. They’re all there. And I…I found something.”

“What?”

“An envelope. Unopened. From the radiology department at Kindred Hospital.”

“Did you open it?”