said, his voice deadly soft.
Hannah looked up in some alarm as Tanner reached her. He tried to reassure her with a smile as he wrapped his hand around her wrist. His orders via her uncle, showing her a good time in good ol' Coronado, certainly shouldn't start off with what ever knockdown, drag-out Troy had in mind for Desiree. It wasn't going to be physical, of course, but it probably wasn't going to be pretty either.
"I think that's our cue to leave," he said.
And only once they were out the bar's door and into the January Southern California sunshine did he remember he'd already blown his plan.
They were alone again. And he was going to have to keep control of himself if he was going to regain control of his life.
Chapter 9
Despite himself, Troy admired the princess's courage. When faced with his wrath, many a Marine "boot" - new recruit - had looked like they were one second away from screaming for Mommy.
Desiree, on the other hand, looked like she had steel in her spine and ice in her heart.
Then he remembered that her mother would be unlikely to come to Dez's aid anyway. The once-supermodel, now famous only for her numerous addictions and nearly as many ex-husbands, had never cared a rat's ass for the daughter she'd given birth to twenty-four years before. When "the Kiss" had first become big news almost a year ago, Troy had read every article and watched each of the tabloid TV stories, wincing for his younger brother all the while.
But remembering the quotes from Desiree's mother, his gut gave a twist for the girl now facing him down. "I never wanted a child," the beauteous but dissipated Maureen was quoted as saying. "Her father insisted, though, and then we were both disappointed that the baby was a girl."
Stupid-shit people. Both of them. If Troy ruled the world, parenting would be strictly licensed and heavily regulated.
He reached out to grab Desiree's upper arms and pluck her from the tumble of broken glass around her feet. She gasped in surprise, squirming in his hold. The silky ends of her dark hair waved across the top of his hands, and prickles rose along his skin, tickling everywhere.
He dumped her a few feet away and then rubbed a hand over his shaven head. "Are you hurt?" he ground out, sounding meaner than he meant to.
Her wide-eyed gaze dropped from his face to her arms, bared by this tiny, distracting, diabolical T-shirt she was wearing. It was yellow, thin as a handkerchief, and lopped off across her belly button, leaving inches of golden skin between the hem and the waistband of her low-riding scarlet jeans.
"I'll let you know if I have bruises tomorrow," she said.
Aghast, he took a quick step forward. "Did I - " He stopped, noticing her too innocent look. "I was talking about the broken glass, as you very well know," he said. "Were you cut?"
She shook her head, not even bothering to glance down at her feet, clad in turquoise suede boots, with heels higher than a Manhattan skyscraper. "I'm fine."
But she wasn't. For months she'd been hanging around town, making life hell for his little brother and Tanner's friend Finn. Finn called her the "Mad Gift Giver" because she kept trying to come up with appropriate thank-yous for the way the other man had saved her father's life. She'd yet to find a way to pay back Tanner for the havoc she'd wreaked on his.
"You're nuts," he told her, remembering what Tanner had said a few minutes ago. "Thinking my brother would even for a minute consider marrying you."
Her expression didn't change. A beat passed, and then she shrugged. "It was just an idea."
"An idea for what?" he threw out. "What the hell goes on inside your bratty, puny brain?"
That seemed to pierce her cool hide. "Magna cum laude." Her eyes glittered as she tapped her chest.
Her tits were maybe the best he'd ever seen. Round, and her bra must have been flimsy because he could see her hard little nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt. He swung his gaze back to her face, hoping she hadn't noticed what he'd been noticing.
"That's graduated with high honors," she said, her lip curling in a sneer.
"Semper fidelis," he shot back. "That's Marine talk for I can kick your butt into Monday."
Her sneer made way for a smile. "Troy, it is Monday."
He wanted to strangle her. Embrace her. Kill her. Kiss her. From the