Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,237

it this way.

One evening in early July, Brian and I are snuggled on my couch, being lazy with wine in my glass and whiskey in his as we watch mindless television.

“I have a question,” I say.

“What?”

“Do you gamble a lot?”

“I wouldn’t say a lot. I go once in a while.”

“Do you spend a lot when you go?”

He shrugs. “I play like I did that night with you. I don’t spend as much as my brother, but I also don’t do Vegas quite like Mark does.”

So to answer my question, yes. I want to ask if the money is his or his brother’s, but I don’t.

A shudder races up my spine at the mention of his brother. “What does that mean?”

“It means Mark likes to party.” My heart races at his name. “He likes to drink. He likes to drop a lot of money at the tables before he heads out to a strip club, where he spends even more money. He likes finding women to take home for the night. And when he’s done with that one, he moves onto the next.”

“If he’s like that, why do you feel like there’s so much competition between you?”

“I told you before, Reese. He’s charming. He makes women think he cares about them. He’ll feed them lines, make them think he’s in it for more than a night. He’ll say he’s going to write songs about them. He’ll tell them how intriguing they are.”

My heart stutters as he repeats the very things Mark told me that one night we were together. He wrote down those words to write a song. He told me I intrigued him. Were those just lines? Sadness tugs at my heart as it starts to pull me under. I know I shouldn’t let it—I’m with Brian now. My one night history with Mark doesn’t matter, even if I thought I was different. But I wasn’t. He says those same things to every woman, and that small bit of knowledge hurts more than it should.

“They’re all just lines, though,” Brian continues. “Can we not talk about him?”

I want to keep talking about him. I want evidence that it was just a line, that he’s said those same things to other women. How could the connection I thought we shared be nothing more than a few lines he says to every woman? It doesn’t feel possible.

“Sure.” I do my best to hide my disappointment. I’ve become somewhat of an actress on that front in my professional life. If I’m having a bad day, I can’t take it out on my students, so I’ve learned to mask what’s going on inside. It doesn’t always work, and it’s not always perfect, but I do my best to put on a show. I push my thoughts about Mark to the side and focus on the man in front of me. He deserves my attention. He does want more with me.

“I have to go to Houston again,” he says.

“When?”

“I don’t know. I’m on call for now and pretty much need to hop on the next flight when I get the call.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Undetermined right now.”

“Well that sucks. Will your pretty secretary be going with you?” The words taste bitter on my tongue and sound even more bitter than I mean for them to.

“I thought we were past that.”

I think about the irony. I’m pissed at him for traveling with his secretary, and I have no reason to think he’s lying about the nature of their relationship—yet I slept with his brother, a huge secret that feels like it gets bigger by the hour.

“We are,” I mutter, even though I’m a little annoyed that he didn’t answer my question.

He pulls my wineglass from my grip and sets it on the coffee table next to his glass of whiskey. He turns to me, and his eyes burn. This is smoldering. I still don’t know if I believe Jill when she said Mark’s eyes were smoldering at me, but Brian’s definitely are in this moment.

“Are we?” he asks with such intensity that I’m momentarily thrown back in my seat.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Prove it,” he says.

“How?”

“Be creative.” His voice is a sharp demand, and I can’t tell if he wants me to prove it with my body or with words.

“I trust you,” I say.

He chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. “Actions speak louder.”

Body it is.

I press a soft kiss to his lips as I run my fingertips under his shirt. His warm muscles are firm even