Tymber Dalton (9 page)

“Then leave. Go to a movie or something.”

He studied the stern set of Allan’s jaw. “This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. If you’d seen her, how much pain she’s obviously in, you would have agreed with me. Besides, I want to be nice to her.”

He wanted to be nice to her, too, but the kind of nice he wanted involved no clothes, a bottle of Astroglide, and a marathon lovemaking session. His dreams the night before had been consumed by her, so much so that he’d rubbed two out that morning before getting out of bed.

A record even for his healthy libido.

“Earth to Ben.”

He looked up and realized Allan had been saying something else. “What?”

When Allan’s brow furrowed, Ben knew he’d been made. “Oh, shit. You like her, too, don’t you?”

“That’s not the issue here.”

Allan pulled out a chair and sat across from him at the table. “Yeah, it is. You feel it, too. Don’t lie to me. You might be a great undercover cop, but I’m your twin.”

“Okay, she’s cute. Is that what you wanted to hear me admit? And yeah, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had anything resembling a relationship. But she’s still off-limits. You got it?”

Allan slowly nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I’m just wondering how much you’ve got it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m the one who said we’d tell everyone we’re gay cousins.”

“I know.”

Ben didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. “Listen, Counselor, that shit might work on someone sitting on the witness stand, but it won’t work on me. Fine, she can come over for dinner and we’ll cook for her.” He slapped his laptop closed a little harder than he’d meant and headed for his bedroom, remembering at the last moment not to slam it shut behind him so Libbie couldn’t hear it from across the hall.

He leaned against the door and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand as he closed his eyes and tried not to recall last night’s scorchingly hot dreams.

The one person he couldn’t lie to—Allan—was the only one who understood exactly what he was going through.

He turned and snatched the door open and stalked across the apartment to where Allan still sat at the table. He jabbed a finger at him. “We can’t do that to her,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice down.

Allan stared up at him, a look of cool, calm determination on his face. “Can’t do what, bro?”

He leaned in. “You know damn well what. Besides, we already told her we were gay cousins.”

Allan shrugged, infuriating Ben.

“We cannot drag an innocent woman into our lives right now. She deserves better than that.”

“You want her as much as I do.”

“And we can’t have her,” Ben said, poking the table with his finger for emphasis. “We. Can’t. Have. Her. Besides, we don’t even really know her.” Which was all the more reason he was freaking out over his sudden feelings about her.

“Dude, all I did was ask her over for dinner. You’re the one wigging out.”

He straightened, looking down at Allan. The smug smirk that curved his twin’s lip made him want to reach out and slap it from his face.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Allan slowly nodded. “We are. But I won’t lie and say I’m not attracted to her when I am. You obviously are, too. We can be attracted to her and still be just friends with her.”

Clenching his jaw to hold back his retort, Ben spun on his heel and returned to his room.

He
was
attracted to her.

Too damn much.

* * * *

Allan took the truck and headed out to the grocery store. He hadn’t cooked for anyone other than himself in months.

Tonight’s menu would start with Caesar salad. Followed by sweet potato soup, steamed broccoli, and broiled salmon with a parmesan crusted sauce. And for dessert…

He still wasn’t sure what to get. Considering she ran a bakery, it seemed silly to buy a grocery store dessert. After finding the other items on his list, he had an epiphany and returned to the produce section. There, the special was fresh peaches, of all things. Shrugging, he grabbed several, returned to dairy for a quart of vanilla yogurt, and then located a bag of granola.

He smiled at his own cleverness as he made his way to the checkout stands.
Sweet, healthy, and not baked.

Hopefully she liked peaches, or he was screwed.

When he returned to the apartment he managed to haul everything up in one load. Ben still sat at the table, working on the laptop.

“You need help?” Ben asked.

“No, I got it.” He piled everything onto the counter. He glanced at the clock and realized he had two hours to get everything ready.

Plenty of time.

“Why is this so important to you?” Ben quietly asked.

He pondered the question as he put things away in the fridge. Eventually he turned to his brother. “I’m grateful we found such a perfect place, for starters. And yes, I feel sorry for her. So shoot me.”

Allan didn’t miss the slight frown on Ben’s face as his brother refocused his attention on the laptop. “Okay.”

“You know, you can sit there and pass whatever kind of judgment you want on me, but the truth is you don’t know me as well as you think you know me.”

“I know what I read in the gossip columns. And what my friends in the department relate to me on a regular basis. How my party-boy brother lives it up at night on a regular basis and is seen going home with a bunch of different women.”

Allan clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Fuck. You.”

Ben lifted his gaze to his brother. With his voice soft and level, he said, “Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare.”

“Or what? Not that that was my plan anyway.”

Ben leaned back in his chair. “If I think you’re fucking playing her, or trying to get into her pants, or any of that kind of bullshit, I’ll put you on your ass myself. Don’t think I won’t.”

Stalemate. They stared at each other in an uneasy silence for several minutes. “Why are you so insistent on goading me, huh?” Allan asked.

“Because I spent the last three years of my damn life with these fucking animals. I know what they’re capable of. I’ve seen them do stuff to women that made them wish they’d gone ahead and killed them.”

“Well, if you think she’s in such danger, why the hell did we take the place?”

“She’s only in danger if we put her there. Which we won’t. Right?”

Allan tried to remember all his brother had gone through. It was the only thing that helped him hold on to his temper and back down. “Right,” he agreed. He tried lightening his tone. “Look, seriously. I just want to do something nice for her. Have her get to know us, what little we can let her, so she knows we’re not jerks.” He stepped forward and extended his hand to his brother. “Please?”

Like ice calving off a glacier, he watched as Ben deflated, his expression turning sad. He took Allan’s hand and shook. “I’m sorry. I just… You have no idea.”

Allan took this as an opening and put cooking out of his mind for a moment. He slid one of the chairs out and sat, switching to his “kind prosecutor” mode. The I’m-on-your-side persona he’d used countless times to ease witnesses through the trauma of preparing for a trial. “We’re on the same side, bro. Honestly. The impression I got from Grover on Saturday was that she rarely goes out, has hardly any social life. She could probably use the distraction as much as we could. That’s it. That’s all. I’m man enough to store it up in my brain for at night when I’m alone, or for in the shower.”

That earned him a smile from his brother, which was what he’d hoped for. “I don’t know who yelled louder,” Ben said, “you or Mom, when she accidentally walked in on you that time. You dumb-ass. You should have had the water going so she could hear you were in there. Or locked the door.”

“You have no idea how long that ruined shower sexy time for me.”

Ben let out a long sigh. “I missed you.”

Allan leaned over and hugged Ben, pleased when his brother hugged him back. “I missed you, too, bro.”

Libbie dove into her Kindle again. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except that regardless of how the author described the heroes, she now had absolutely no trouble superimposing Charles and Ken on their features.

Unable to focus on her reading without sexy thoughts of her new tenants-slash-neighbors filling her mind with deliciously dirty thoughts, she opted for a little work. She needed to place her wholesale order tomorrow morning in order to have everything delivered Wednesday afternoon.

At least I can get something accomplished.

When she finished that, a sudden, horrifying thought struck her.

What am I going to wear tonight?

This time of year she was completely comfortable lounging around the house in men’s flannel sleeping pants and oversized T-shirts. Especially when it was cool out.

As she stared down at her black and grey plaid bottoms, she knew she couldn’t go over there looking like that. It didn’t matter she’d worn them to the bank, because she’d used the drive-through and never got out of her car.

I can’t have them see me like this. Gay or not, I want to make a good impression on them.

She burrowed into her closet, which was still in disarray from the move, and finally opted for a long, dark charcoal maxi skirt that would be both warm and reasonably presentable. She could wear leggings under it, and her Ugg-lookalike boots, to keep her even more comfortable. She selected a long-sleeved forest green cowl-neck shirt to complete the ensemble. Laying the items out on the bed, she nodded in approval. She wanted to take another bath before going over there, more to ease her aching body than because she felt she needed one.

As she studied herself in the bathroom mirror nearly an hour later, she opted to let her hair fall loose over her shoulders. Naturally wavy, she only managed to get her hair cut once every few months. Usually, she kept it pulled up in a ponytail, bun, or braid, held in place by a hairnet or bandana while working. She rarely got an opportunity to go out in public with it long.

For the first time, she realized it had crept past her shoulders.
I need to call for an appointment and get it tamed.

She briefly considered putting on makeup, then decided against it.
That’s overkill.
Not that she had much makeup to choose from. Just powder, two different sets of eye shadow, some tinted lip gloss, and blush.

I really am turning into a schlub.

Galileo watched her from the bed.

“Don’t give me that look. I know what you’re thinking.”

The cat stared at her without blinking.

She looked in the mirror again. “He’s probably thinking he’s owned by a crazy lady who likes to talk to herself,” she muttered.

* * * *

After taking several deep breaths to calm herself, Libbie walked across the hall and knocked on Charles and Ken’s door at exactly 6:01.

“Come on in,” one of them called out.

It struck her, as she reached for the doorknob, that the men sounded alike in addition to looking very similar.
They could almost be brothers instead of cousins.

Well, except for the hair.
Why on earth does Charles think that color looks good on him?

She stepped in and felt her stomach immediately growl at the wonderful aromas floating through the apartment.

Charles stood at the stove. He turned and flashed her a grin. “There’s our guest of honor.”

She felt a heated flush rise through her body at his tone.
I really do need to get out more often.

Ken was setting the table. “Come on in and have a seat,” he said, also gifting her with a delicious smile. When she felt heat fluttering between her legs, she quickly broke eye contact with him. Those blue eyes of theirs were deadly to a woman’s reserve, gay or not.

Le sigh.
“I appreciate it. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nope,” Charles said. “It’s all under control.”

Ken held out a chair for her, and she offered him a bashful smile as she sat and he helped her scoot her chair in. “What would you like to drink?” he asked. “We have iced tea, water, or I can make you some coffee.”

“Tea’s fine, thanks.” The caffeine might keep her up, but she didn’t care. She sensed a fairly energetic rendezvous in her immediate future with Bob once she got back to her apartment.

Those always helped her get to sleep.

When they were all seated and working on their salads, Charles asked, “So, have you lived in Florida all your life?”

She nodded while she worked through a mouthful of romaine lettuce. “Born and raised here. I did have an offer to go to New York City after I graduated from school, but…” She felt her face redden in embarrassment, wondering how this would sound. “I turned it down.” She quickly stuffed another forkful of salad into her mouth.

“Why?” Charles asked.