Forbidden Attraction [The Callens 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (7 page)

“There’s one other thing. My roommate wants to tag along. Do you mind?”

Going to the art show with Mr. Grumpy wasn’t her first choice of dates, but he was Jackson’s roommate. The conversation she’d had with her mom came back. Should she consider being with two men? The concept worked only if both men excited her equally.

Then again having Taylor come along might mean nothing other than the fact that since it was Taylor’s home, too, he might want to have a say so in decorating the house.

Also, if she and Jackson were going to spend any time together, she needed to get along with the guy. Maybe her prejudice about his lack of education had made her seem stuck up. She needed to change her attitude if the event was going to be pleasant.

Jackson had suggested that she stop over at his place to check out the style, since she needed to know what would fit the décor. The fact he invited her to his house thrilled her. Being part of his life enticed her. He’d given her his address, and her GPS was guiding her toward a very exclusive part of town. When she arrived at the address, she couldn’t believe the size of the estate. He and Taylor lived in an Italian-style villa on about five acres. The natural landscaping, complete with flowering vines, set a less formal tone than if there had been sculptured gardens. She parked and got out, amazed at the size. Why would two men live here? It would better fit a family of ten.

She rang the bell and waited for Jackson to answer. The summer breeze shot down the length of the front porch, and she inhaled the scent of summer flowers.

He opened the door and smiled. “Right on time. Come in.”

As soon as she stepped into the foyer, he wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up, and planted a kiss on her. She hoped Taylor wasn’t looking.

“Ahem.” That was Taylor.

Jackson lowered her to the ground. “Get used to it, buddy.”

When Taylor laughed, his whole face transformed.
Wow
. He was hotter than she remembered. Embarrassed by her reaction, she glanced back at Jackson. When his brows rose, she debated explaining her reaction but then thought better of it.

Taylor closed the gap between them. “Don’t I get a hug?”

Where had that come from? Was he daring her to see if she’d do it? Yes, she’d acted distant the last time they met, but that was because he’d treated her like she thought she was too good for him. Maybe Jackson had chastised his roommate and told him to play nice.

“Sure.” She stepped around Jackson, whose eyes had widened, and gave a platonic hug to his roommate. The hard planes of his chest nearly crushed her, but she couldn’t deny his masculine cologne stirred something deep inside her.

She glanced down and pulled out of the embrace.

“Let me give you a tour,” Jackson said.

He must have sensed her unease and decided to come to her rescue. “Please.”

The living room bordered on the baroque and looked to fit the style of someone older. He was right about one thing. The house had a bunch of old-world charm, but it lacked life. There was a lot of tufted leather furniture, and the coffee table and sideboard were quite ornate. Though the accessories were elegant, the style didn’t fit Jackson’s casual personality.

Above the fireplace sat a deer head. She turned to Jackson. “Did you shoot him?”

Taylor huffed out a laugh. “The peace-lover? Nah. That one I took down.”

Ah.
Her dad loved to hunt as did both Max and Ian, her twin brothers, but she never saw the allure.

“The kitchen is only room I really like,” Jackson said. She followed him in, passing the dining room on the way. A mural of a vineyard was painted on one wall, and the chandelier was made from about five hundred pieces of crystal.

They stepped into the kitchen. “Whoa.”

The kitchen was super modern and didn’t fit with the rest of the house at all. The metal trim and sleek counters seemed totally out of place, but she loved the room it afforded.

“Not what you expected?”

“Hardly, but I love it.”

It was a good thing that Jackson didn’t show her the upstairs bedrooms. Getting close to a bed might have enticed them.

Taylor almost looked apologetic. “When we moved in, it came fully furnished. This is what we got. We haven’t changed a thing.”

“But you want to add your own personal touch?” He smiled, and her heart did that skippy thing again. That wasn’t good.

“Exactly.”

Jackson moved behind her. “Do you have a good idea what might work?”

She turned her head toward him. “I’m hoping that when I see something at the show, I’ll know it.” Maybe Jackson truly had invited her for her decorating advice. Why else would he want Taylor to tag along?

“We better get going. Later, we can show you the pièce de résistance in this place.”

She couldn’t wait.

They all piled into Jackson’s truck. Poor Taylor had to squish in back. “Why don’t you let me sit back there? I’m smaller.”

Taylor mouth skewed to the side. “No way. That would make you a second-class citizen, which you most certainly are not.”

She wasn’t sure how to react. Was it okay for him to be the second-class citizen? Not knowing how to respond, she kept quiet. As they got closer to town, the traffic picked up. She hadn’t been to the show since high school and didn’t remember it being such a big draw.

Jackson pulled down a narrow side street. “I think this is the best we’re going to do.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind walking a few blocks.” There was a pool hall across the street next to a sandwich shop.

They all piled out. The day was in the seventies, making browsing a comfortable pastime. “Are you looking for a painting or sculpture or what?”

Jackson looked over at Taylor who answered. “Could be anything. I like eclectic. As you can see from the different monster trucks I help design, I like something to make a statement.”

Jackson tugged her close. “I’m more of an understated kind of guy.”

“Which is why you’ve been content to sit on furniture that looks like it belongs in a different century.”

Jackson returned his gaze to her. “If Taylor had his way, we’d probably have rubber furniture.”

They both laughed. At least that gave her the parameters. Each booth had different types of works from metal sculptures to paintings, photographs, jewelry, glass, and pieces of hand-carved wood. There were so many choices.

“Do you have a price limit?”

She heard both yes and no at the same time. Jackson was the yes. Instead of them getting into a spitting match, she kept her eye out for something fun. They’d been searching for about two hours when she spotted a metal sculpture of an iron man on a motorcycle. The scaled-down bike was black with red flames on the fender, which would fit well with Taylor’s personality. The rider’s helmet was painted red with spikes of yellow. It was eclectic and colorful at the same time. The big question was whether Jackson would like it.

“How about this? It fits Taylor’s adventuresome spirit, but at the same time would work for Jackson’s passion for life.” She’d made up the last part, but she knew he was into the passion thing.

They both looked at her. Taylor shook his head. “That was really deep.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. That’s just how I see you both.”

Taylor stepped over to the sculpture and turned over the price tag. “I like it. I used to love to ride my Harley until the roads got too crowded.”

In Wyoming?
She wasn’t a fan herself. One fall, and a person could be injured for life.

Taylor looked up at Jackson. “What do you think?”

To her surprise, he didn’t check the price. “It’s perfect.”

They asked the proprietor if they could pick it up later. “I’ll deliver it tomorrow if you like.”

Taylor pulled out a business card and scribbled his address and phone number on the back. With their main chore done, they walked over to the Eatery to catch a bite. Unfortunately, there were no seats available, and the line at the counter was six deep.

“There’s a diner across the street where we parked. You guys ever eaten there?”

Taylor nodded. “Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

They worked their way through the crowd back to where they’d parked. Inside the diner sat one man in a red-leathered booth. Taylor strode over to him and shook his hand. He motioned they meet his friend.

“This is David Druthers. He’s my stockbroker.” He looked back at his friend. “Mind if we join you?”

David scooted over. “Not at all.”

Taylor introduced them. David was maybe in his midforties and seemed nice. Since he must run in fairly wealthy circles, it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t even blink when Taylor told him her last name.

Before they could even start a conversation, the waitress came by and took their drink orders. Taylor returned his focus to David. “How’s your real job coming?”

David laughed and faced her. “Taylor wants me to spend all my time working on his portfolio. I volunteer at the YMCA to help adults and kids learn to read. He’s always telling me I’m shirking my responsibility and not making him wealthy enough.”

Had Taylor really said that? “He can’t trade at night, Taylor.”

“Maybe not on our exchanges.” Then Taylor smiled and once again her reaction to his masculine appeal surprised her.

Damn
. She’d already met a man who saw who she was on the inside and didn’t seem to care that she came for excessive wealth.

By the time the waitress returned with their drinks, they were ready to order. Taylor told David about the great sculpture she’d found and how they’d have a party soon to show it off. His sincerity rang true.

The rest of the lunch was delightful. She was impressed with Taylor’s good sense of humor and Jackson’s insights into the various topics, which ranged from hunting and business to politics. If she had anything to say, all three listened.

When they finished their meal, David excused himself. “It’s my shift to tutor.” He turned to her. “While there are paid employees at the Y, stop by sometime. Maybe you’d like to try your hand at helping the less fortunate.”

After he’d told her how passionate he was about it, she thought it sounded like something she’d like. “I might. Thanks.”

Once they paid, they headed outside. Taylor nodded to the pool hall. “Anyone up for a game?”

She’d been about to raise her hand but stopped herself. Her family had a pool table in their game room. From the earliest age, her brothers had a stick in her hand.

Jackson smiled. “I’m game. You, Jenny?”

“I don’t really know how to play.” Why that lie came out of her mouth, she didn’t know. Maybe because it would put one more wedge between them.

He clasped her shoulder. “It’ll be fun. We’ll teach you.”

She could picture Jackson or Taylor leaning over her and guiding her hand as she stroked the ball. Her damn panties got moist. “Okay.”

They went inside. The air smelled stale and a bit moldy. Only four other men were in there, huddled around two tables. Jackson immediately drew her near. She loved how protecting her seemed to be his primary concern.

Taylor picked up a cue stick from rack and handed her one. “This should fit you.”

She’d had her eye on that exact one. From the one he picked for himself, he was quite proficient in the game. Taylor outlined the rules and the purpose of the diamonds.

“So, if the first ball you hit in is a solid, then I get stripes?”

“Yes. For the first game, why don’t you and Jackson pair up? He can take one shot and then you can take a shot.”

That would handicap Jackson, but he didn’t seem like the kind to care. “That okay with you?”

“As long as I get to guide your shot, I’m good.” His wink stirred up her insides too much. He glanced up at Taylor. “Rack ’em up.”

Let the games begin.

The hardest part about playing with Jackson was seeing the disappointment on his face when she purposefully missed the shot. With each miss, Taylor got more brazen. He seemed to love a dare and was willing to go to great lengths to get his shot in.

When she was up, Jackson leaned over and whispered, “Let me show you how to put English on the ball.”

“Sure.”

He hovered his finger over the side of the ball. “You need to aim here.”

She leaned over and stuck her butt out as far as she could. “Where did you say again?”

“Right here.” Jackson placed his hands over hers. “Stroke it like this.”

Together they hit the ball. The cue spun, hit the target, and sent the three ball into the pocket. She nearly dropped her stick and gave him a hug. “I got it.”

He grinned. “Yes, you did.”

“Let me try another one.” Since they’d gotten one in, it was her turn. “Which one should I try for?”

Jackson seemed to deliberate for a while. “Try hitting the seven ball into the corner pocket.”

Even with her skill, it wouldn’t be a gimme. She wanted to sink this. She changed positions a few times to throw them off. She struck the ball with just the right pressure and
bam
, the ball dropped into the pocket.