The Lawson Boys: Marty (10 page)

Maybe it
wouldn’t be so bad, Belle told herself. Maybe she wasn’t such big
news. She certainly wasn’t wealthy or prestigious, and was
respected only in her home town, though that was a little dubious
now amongst some of the people, no doubt. Oh joy.

Then again, she
wouldn’t be such big news if she hadn’t crashed the wedding of
another prestigious family. Two prestigious and wealthy families,
in fact. This was a local scandal that had the gossips drooling at
the mouth.

There was
nothing for it, she couldn’t repay the Lawsons’ kindness by
bringing the scandal to their doorstep. She had to go home. It
wasn’t as if there was anything to really keep her in the city,
anyway, not now.

Picking up the
mobile, she called the airport and made reservations for the
following day at eleven in the morning, the earliest flight she
could catch. Getting a taxi home was one option, but she really
didn’t feel like being scrutinized by someone who would probably
know her, so she left a message on Holly’s phone to let her know
what time her flight would arrive. Now she just had to make her
excuses to her hosts without appearing ungracious.

It was a shame,
she liked Mr and Mrs Lawson and had looked forward to meeting the
rest of their family. They had sounded delightful. True, she had
imagined meeting them all while on the arm of an adoring Trevor,
but that ship had sailed.

Spectacularly.

Now it was time
to go home and weather the scandal.

Yep, being
adult and responsible sometimes sucked lemons.

Going to the
bathroom, she washed her face and then surveyed it. The shower
she’d forced herself to have when she first woke up, along with a
brisk teeth clean to remove traces of alcohol smell, hadn’t exactly
made her feel better, but she’d been glad of it when Mrs Lawson had
entered her bedroom after a polite knock. Having one’s host finding
one sprawled on the bed in a wrinkled maxi dress with booze-riddled
breath just wasn’t polite. Thank God for showers, toothpaste,
windows and air freshener.

Not that she
was entirely certain that had done the trick, never having gotten
drunk before, but it surely had to have helped. She hoped.

Sitting by the
window, she took in breath after breath of fresh air, sipping water
and waiting for the headache to pass.

By lunchtime
she was feeling a whole lot better, and she headed downstairs to
have lunch and inform her hosts that her time at their lovely
mansion was coming to a finish a lot earlier than anticipated.

She was met at
the foot of the stairs by a tiny, white poodle wearing a pink satin
bow in the poodle curls stop her head. A florescent pink collar
with fake diamantes- at least she thought they were fake - sparkled
around her little neck. One dark eye looked at her. The other eye
was missing, the place where it should have been a closed eyelid. A
scar ran down one side of her muzzle, pulling the lip on one side
of her mouth upwards a little. It resulted in her face looking a
little off balance.

The poodle took
one look at her and stopped in her prancing footsteps.

Belle had had
no idea that the Lawson’s also had a poodle, or maybe it belonged
to a visitor. Voices were coming from the direction of the lounge
room.

Loud voices and
some panting.

“You
iron-pumping jerk!”

“Say you’re
sorry.” That was Marty’s voice.

“Not on your
nelly!”

“Then I’ll rub
all the hair off your head.”

“Cindy!”

“She’s not
listening. She doesn’t care.”

“
Cindy
!”

“Say you’re
sorry.”

“No! You’re the
one dressing that dog in
pink
!”

Marty had put
the pink bow in the poodle’s hair and the pink collar around her
neck? Intrigued, Belle peeked around the door.

Marty had
another man in a headlock. The man was tall and lean and trying to
push Marty over. Unfortunately, Marty was a lot more muscular and
it showed, mostly because his shirt was half hanging off and his
impressive muscles were on display while he easily restrained his
hapless victim.

“You put a pink
bow in that dog’s hair!” The other man tried to throw his weight
against Marty, grappling him around his waist.

“Sugar is a
girl,” Marty argued, deftly turning and throwing the other man off
balance.

“Cindy!” the
man bellowed and tried to look towards the corner of the room.

Following his
gaze, Belle’s eyes widened. Sitting in an armchair, completely
ignoring the goings-on and seemingly engrossed in a magazine, was a
woman. Tall, definitely plus-sized, and wearing clothes that Belle
hadn’t seen a woman that size wear. She was dressed in a tight red
top that clung to her impressive breasts, the only thing holding it
up the strap around her neck. Her tight white pants came to
mid-calf and she had on a pair of gold stilettos that made Belle’s
arches ache in sympathy. Gold bracelets adorned one wrist and
blonde hair was piled in a careless knot atop her head, from which
several blonde strands fell down to bob around her cheeks.
Lipstick, mascara, she wore the works when it came to make-up.
Dangling earrings completed the picture.

The woman was
pretty and exuded confidence from the tips of her eye-watering
stilettos to the artfully careless bun on top of her head. She was
undoubtedly, enviably, one of those who didn’t give a fig what
anyone thought of her clothes or how she wore them. Neither,
apparently, did she give a fig about the men wrestling in the
middle of the room.

This just had
to be Cindy, Marty’s sister, and that meant that the man Marty was
wrestling was her husband, Tim.

“And calling
her Sugar?” The lean man almost ripped Marty’s shirt off completely
in his attempts to wrestle him to the ground. “What are you, a
sissy girl?”

Marty’s reply
was lost in the fog of admiration that surrounded Belle. Oh God, he
was
built
! Shirt hanging open and half off him, his six -
count ‘em,
six
- pack stomach in plain view, his suit pants
riding low on his hips due to the button hanging half off. The
muscles in his arms bulged, his pecs flexed, everything flexed and
-
Oh my God,
he had a small bar piercing his right
nipple!

That made her
eyes widen even more. Marty Lawson had a piercing in his right
nipple! It looked - he looked - oh God - that was so
hot
!

She was
practically panting like a giddy teenager.
Holy cow! Get a
grip!
She almost had to wipe the drool off her chin.

The poodle
pranced into the room and made straight for Marty. Catching sight
of her, Marty dropped Tim to the floor and picked the poodle up,
cuddling her close. Belle’s chin almost hit the floor when Marty
started talking to the poodle.

“Who’s Daddy’s
girl then, huh? Who’s Daddy’s widdle girl? Did that nasty Uncle Tim
of yours insult you? Huh? Did he? Well don’t you worry, Sugar baby,
Daddy kicked your nasty Uncle’s arse, yes I did. Yes I did.” He
buried his face in the poodle’s neck and she rewarded him by
wriggling frantically and barking and licking anywhere on his head
that she could reach.

Marty owned a
tiny poodle called Sugar and he dressed her in pink accessories. If
Belle hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she’d never have believed
it.

The man -
obviously Tim - rolled onto his back on the floor and groaned.
“Jesus. I’m father to a cat and a bloody uncle to a dog dressed in
pink by a sissy-girl owner. What kind of family did I marry
into?”

Marty’s reply
was to place the little poodle onto Tim’s chest, where it dove at
him and proceeded to lick his face.

Tim bellowed
and tried to roll away, but Belle noticed that he cupped the little
poodle gently in one hand and had a huge grin on his face. Sitting
up, he tipped the tiny dog onto her back and proceeded to tickle
her belly.

“Aw,” said
Marty. “Who’s Sugar’s Uncle Tim, huh? Who’s widdle Sugar’s Uncle
Tim? Is he being nice to you, then? Is he scared of Daddy’s big
foot up his arse? Is he?”

The whole time,
Cindy didn’t look up once.

Shaking her
head in disbelief and unable to help smiling, Belle started to back
away from the door, unwilling to interrupt the fun, but Marty
caught sight of her. His grin faded, his gaze sharpened, and she
felt the lack of his warm amusement intensely.

Stupid
stupid stupid
. Ignoring the way her heart fell suddenly, she
turned away.

“Belle?”

Ignoring him
calling out to her, she started for the staircase. Obviously her
drunken status last night had scored badly with him, and she
couldn’t blame him, mostly because she didn’t exactly remember
everything that had transpired after drink number, well, who knew
what? All she knew was that he’d seen her safely home and left her
fully clothed in bed.

“Belle?” His
voice sounded closer and she sped up.

“I’m just going
upstairs to get…something.”

“Belle.” This
time his voice was firmer, the hand wrapping around her upper arm
and drawing her to a halt just as firm.

Taking a deep
breath, she turned to face him, and just like that her breath fled.
It just up and left her body, leaving her staring at the bar that
pierced his right nipple, the bar that seemed to wink and beckon to
her to touch it, to trace the unyielding steel right before she
touched the brown male nipple that clasped it.

The heat of his
body so close to her seeped into her, the male scent of him, and
his height above her, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the
hall beyond. Her whole focus was on Marty.

Her gaze
travelled upward, over the swell of muscle, over the tanned throat
and firm jaw, gliding across the full lips that retained a
masculine firmness, the straight nose and finally those brilliant
blue eyes that were so startling when taken with the blonde hair
that flopped across his dark brows.

She had to
fight the temptation to lift her hand and trail her fingers through
that thick, dishevelled blonde hair, to smooth it back and tunnel
her fingers into the silky strands.

Those brilliant
blue eyes were locked onto her own eyes, seeming to bore into her,
searching and examining, pushing aside her carefully guarded
secrets to lay her bare.

Oh God, to be
bare beneath him, skin on skin, breathe intermingling... Just the
thought had her swaying close.

His hand was
firm at her waist, big, spanning the indention where the small of
her back met the rise of her hips. His fingers spread, the big palm
moving lower. His eyes darkened, deepened, wicked secrets seeming
to spill forth as he moved closer, his head angling down-

The poodle’s
yipping pierced the air along with a door banging shut in the
distance, both noises bringing Belle to her senses and making her
spring back.

Marty blinked,
a frown darkening his brow briefly, his eyes suddenly unreadable as
he turned to the hall entry, blocking her view of whoever was
coming through the door.

“Marty!” Mrs
Lawson’s voice was surprised and then resigned as she added, “Are
you and Tim fighting over Sugar again?”

“He insulted
her.” Moving forward, Marty gave his mother a kiss on the
cheek.

“Your son picks
on me,” Tim said dolefully from the lounge room doorway.

Smiling fondly,
Mrs Lawson walked up to him and patted him on the cheek before
straightening his shirt with a few brisk pulls, saying as she did
so, “Cindy?”

“Yes, Mum?”
came her daughter’s voice.

“How could you
let the boys fight?”

“I was reading
an article.”

“Both of them
are half undressed, no doubt from fighting.”

There was
silence for a second before Cindy replied, “I hope it’s from
fighting. If it’s from anything else they’ve been trying to do, I’m
going to be worried.”

Tim made
gagging noises.

Ignoring both
her daughter’s comment and her son-in-law’s reaction, Mrs Lawson
turned to Marty. “Dear, do something about your state of dress. You
look positively barbaric.”

Yeah, he sure
did. Belle almost had to stop her tongue from lolling out of her
mouth.

“Belle likes
it,” Marty replied easily.

Her eyes
widened, her gasp audible in the hallway. “I don’t - I didn’t - Mrs
Lawson, I-”

“Sweetie.” Mrs
Lawson walked over to pat her arm. “I know you wouldn’t. It’s my
son I’m not so sure of.”

Over top of his
mother’s head, Marty winked at Belle, making her even more
flustered. There was no sign of the wicked carnality in his eyes,
only the twinkling of a wicked sense of humour.

Had she
imagined the whole thing? Oh, how embarrassing! Oh Lord, she could
never look him in the eye again. Ever.

“Now go and get
another shirt.” Mrs Lawson pulled Marty’s shirt outward and shook
her head at a torn button hole and several missing buttons.
“Honestly, you boys.”

Tim
grinned.

“Then come on
through into the dining room for lunch.” Mrs Lawson glanced behind
her as her husband came through the door.

Sugar
immediately raced up to Mr Lawson, who bent and patted her. “Hey,
Sugar plum.”

The kittens
appeared as if from nowhere, eyeing Sugar with mischief clearly on
their minds.

“You better put
her somewhere safe,” Mrs Lawson told her husband. “Or the Terrible
Two will cause problems.”

“I’ll shut her
in one of the bedrooms.” Bending down, Marty gently picked up
Sugar, cradling her in his arms.

It looked
weird, yet also sweet, the tiny poodle with the pink accessories
being cradled so gently in the muscular arms of a wickedly handsome
man who did look barbaric with his torn shirt revealing the small
steel bar piercing his right nipple.