“Maybe that’s what I’m scared of, baby brother, the way you take care of things.” Chase chuckled. “But I’ll let you f**k up first. Piss her off real good, okay? Maybe she’ll be receptive to me the next time I offer to take her home.”
That really shouldn’t have angered him, but it did. Cam turned quickly, his eyes narrowing on the driveway as Chase headed back into the mansion. His brother was perfectly serious, and Cam knew it. Seven years ago, he had wanted Jaci with the same hunger that Cam had. But Chase hadn’t known the same emotions, emotions Cam still tried to hide.
It was Cam she had wanted, though. And Cam had wanted her with a force that he hadn’t known before or since—a force that unleashed all the possessive and dominant traits he’d never had a problem holding back before.
“Matthew?”
“Yes, Mr. Falladay?” Matthew stepped from inside the house.
“Have one of the boys bring the Harley around. And please inform Mr. Sinclair I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Yes, Mr. Falladay.”
Long minutes later, one of the houseboys Ian employed to keep the grounds cleared and under control rode the Harley out of the back garage with a wide grin.
“Here you go, sir.” He pushed the kickstand down with reverence and swung off the cycle. “She’s all gassed up and everything. I took care of her this morning when you came in.”
The wicked, black, customized Harley was the pride and joy of every maintenance worker on the estate. Ian really needed to get his own for his employees to lust over.
“Thanks, Danny.” Cam straddled the seat, raised the kickstand, and engaged the powerful motor. Seconds later, he was speeding toward Alexandria and the woman that thought she had gotten away.
Jaci entered her suite with a sigh of relief, kicked off her pumps, and stared around the elegantly appointed hotel sitting room.
The ever-present vase of flowers were on the desk. Fresh, of course. The minibar was fully stocked, the refrigerator filled with a variety of goodies, all at Ian Sinclair’s expense—part of her fee for the interior design of the mansion that he would no longer be calling home, but would instead be turning over to his club.
Good Lord, she hadn’t heard even a breath of rumor attached to him. Well, perhaps a breath—several years ago, by a wife involved in a very nasty divorce—but it had been quickly silenced. Now she knew why. If it carried half the power Cam had warned her it did, then it was legion. Legendary. Probably dangerous.
She should call Ian Sinclair right now and say thanks but no thanks, return his deposit, and return to Oklahoma to lick her wounds and find another career.
She moved across the room to the bar. It was only a little after noon, but the glass of wine was much needed. Something to settle her nerves and give her a chance to think. She really needed a chance to consider this.
No wonder Cam and Chase were here. Considering their sexual tastes, there was probably no keeping them away. She sipped at the wine before curling into the corner of the fluffy, comfortable couch, where she tried to consider her options. But all she could see was Cam’s face. His eyes. The vicious scar that marred one side of his face.
What had happened to him? She knew they occasionally kept in touch with her parents, surely they would have told her if they had known Cam had been hurt.
Or would they have? Her father had been waiting up when Cam brought her home that night, seven years before. He had taken one look at her face and the man’s shirt she wore, and had known. He hadn’t said a word. He had wrapped his arms around her, patted her back, and then let her escape, as she had needed to.
Perhaps they wouldn’t have told her if Cam had been hurt, because she would have gone to him if she had known. She covered her face with one hand and breathed out wearily. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. No matter where he was, she would have tried to get to him.
She was just as weak where he was concerned now as she had been seven years ago. He made her want things she knew she couldn’t have or accept.
The ring of her cell phone drew her from her thoughts. Pulling it from the band of her skirt, she looked at the display, sighed again, and brought it to her ear as she connected the call.
“Yes, Courtney?” She should have known the other woman would call. Jaci was just grateful Courtney hadn’t made a trip to the hotel instead.
“Are you upset?” Courtney asked carefully.
Was she upset?
“Not with you.” And did Ian share his wife? If he owned the club, then wouldn’t he share those same dark desires? How did Courtney handle that?
“Cam said you didn’t quit. Does that mean you’ll be back in the morning?”
“I’ll be there.” She hadn’t known until that second that she would be. Hadn’t known how crazy she was, until those words slipped past her lips.
“We’ll take coffee in my sitting room,” Courtney said softly. “We can talk.”
“Do we need to talk, Courtney?” Jaci asked her. At this point, she didn’t want to talk about it. If she talked about it, then she had to acknowledge it.