Bedding The Wrong Brother (Dalton Brothers Novels) (4 page)

He raked a hand though his golden hair.  “Jesus, Melina—”

“I’m just saying…” she soothed.

“What’s causing all this?  You got your eye on someone specific?”

Her fingers plucked at the chorded edge of one of the sofa cushions.  Despite Lucy’s fervent belief that she’d be settling with Jamie, there was something about the man that called to her.  A sort of off-beat humor.  A serious stare that pierced into you and made you wonder what he was thinking.  And whether he was thinking about you.  The way Rhys’s stare did.  But unlike Rhys, he’d expressed interest in her.  Asked her out for drinks after the conference next weekend.  And she wasn’t going to mess up her opportunity with him. 

Not this time.  “Sort of.”

“Sort of is a wimpy answer.”

She pounded the sofa cushion with her fist.  “Okay, I do.”

“Let me guess.  He’s an academic?”

“Well, of course.  The sex thing is necessary in the beginning—”

“And in the middle and end,” Max said drolly. 

“—but after that, we need commonality to build on.  I mean, he’s not just smart.  He’s sexy, too.  And he’s interested in me.  There’s a conference next week that we’re going to be presenting at—”

Max eyes widened in that expression of disbelief again.  “You’re presenting at a conference?  Since when?  The last time you tried speaking at a public event, you almost passed out.”

“Thank you for that reminder,” she gritted out, but without much heat.  He was right.  She didn’t do well in the spot light.  At the workshop Max was talking about, she’d stepped up to the podium only to become paralyzed with terror.  She’d morphed from confident scientist into Cindy Brady, staring at a blinking red camera light despite the audience surrounding her.  It wasn’t an experience she’d ever sought to repeat again.   That’s why she’d chosen research in the safety and anonymity of her lab.  That’s what she was used to.  That’s what she was comfortable with.  But with Jamie, things were different.  He’d urged her to come out of her shell and surprisingly, she’d agreed, confident that he would step up if it was too much for her.  That alone must mean something, shouldn’t it?  “Anyway, Jamie shouldn’t be as hard to please as…say you or Rhys would be.  If you could just do me this favor…”  Horror overcame her.  “I mean, you kissed me once.  I know it didn’t mean anything but—  well, the idea—   it doesn’t—well, gross you out, does it?”

“What?  Of course not.”  But he was looking panicked now.  His hand moved to rub the back of his neck.  “It’s just, I don’t want you thinking there’s anything wrong with you.  You’re just, you’re just—”

“An amateur?” she suggested.

“Well, I was going to say selective, but given the men you’ve chosen, you obviously haven’t been picking from the cream of the crop.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Please.  I’ve met the guys.”

“They were all smart.  Influential.  Okay, so they’re not tall and handsome and fly to London to perform for the Queen, but—”

 “They were pansies.  And it sounds like this guy you want to bang is a pansy, too.”

“He is not a pansy.  And the others were just uninspired.”

“Melina—”

She shook her head.  “Tell me the truth.  You go for experienced women.  Women who know how to please you in bed.”

“Well, sure, but—“

“In the insect world, bugs mate for one reason and one reason only, because they get something out of it.  I want a mate, Max.  I want to know how to keep one.  So, if it doesn’t disgust you to be with me, can you please do me this favor?”

He seemed to think about it.  “Why me?  Why not Rhys?”

Because I’m not safe with Rhys, she thought.  Not the way I am with you.  With Rhys, assuming that he would even agree to it, it wouldn’t be about simple biology, learning positions and technique, or walking away when the session was over.  With Rhys, she’d lose herself.  She’d start believing in unicorns and flying dragons and mutual passion leading to life-long happiness.  She’d want more than she could have.  “Why Rhys and not you?” she hedged. 

“Come on, Melina.  We both know that of the two of us, I’m the bastard.  I’m the, the—”

“Man whore?”

He cleared his throat.  “Again, I was going to say least discriminating.”

“Be that as it may, you’ve never left me hanging just so you could get laid.”  She held up her hand.  “I know you’re always trying to make excuses for Rhys’s behavior that night, but it was lame.  And you were there for me, just like you’ve always been.  If that’s not enough reason, the fact that you have the most experience is another point in your favor, right?” 

He looked at her oddly.  “Quantity doesn’t necessarily equate to quality.  Believe me, Rhys knows what he’s doing.”

The image of Rhys doing anything to her made her nerves tingle in interesting places and had her thighs clenching together.  “Look, are you going to do it—” 
Do me
, she amended internally  “—or not?”

“I’ll ask again.  Why me?”

“Because I trust you.”

“And?”

“Because you’ll be nice.  During.  And afterward.  At least, I thought you would.  Now I’m not so sure,” she said pointedly.

“Sex with me isn’t nice, Melina.  Sex done right isn’t nice at all.”

She swallowed hard.  It had suddenly gotten hot in here.  “So show me.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll find someone else.”

“Rhys?”

“Argh!  What is your obsession with your brother?  Is this some kind of weird kinky twin thing?  Do you want me to say his name when we’re doing it?”

“No,” he said, obviously struggling for patience.  “I want you to tell me who you’ll go to if I say no.” 

She shrugged.

“What’s that mean?  You’d just do it with some stranger?”

“Haven’t you?”

Fascinated, she watched him turn red.  “We’re not talking about me.  And you’re talking about this as if it’s one of your damn experiments.  You can’t just decide you want to be a sex diva and ask me to teach you how, Melina.”

“Actually, we are talking about you.  And that’s exactly what I’m asking for.”

CHAPTER 3

Dalton’s Magic Rule # 4: Practice with the right tools.

Overnight bag with toiletries.  Check.

Sexy underwear.  Check.

Contraception.  Check.

Hotel room. 

Duh.

Melina stared at the three brass numbers affixed to Max’s hotel room door.  They hadn’t changed in the five minutes she’d been standing there looking at them.  She had the right room.  She had everything she needed.  Let the sex education begin.

Right?

Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and tried to talk herself into sticking the key card into the little slot.  Inserting part A into part B had never been her problem.  It’s what happened afterwards that she clearly lacked skill in. 

Still, she hesitated.

Something about this felt wrong.

Could she really get naked with Max?  Touch him?  Let him touch her?

The image of him looming over her in bed, surrounding her with warm, muscled skin, certainly wasn’t unappealing, but it wasn’t exactly pulling her tractor either. 

Maybe there really was something wrong with her.

“Face it, Melina,” Brian had said to her after she’d found him in bed with one of his veterinary residents.  “A man needs more than a stiff board underneath him when he wants to screw.  You show more passion for the bugs in your lab than you do me.  Take my advice, get some practice in before you try to nab a guy again.”

She hadn’t broken down at the accusation.  In fact, she’d handled herself like the lady she was, even letting him take the dog they’d adopted from the pound a year before.  Then she’d called Lucy and Grace, and the three of them had thrown darts at Brian’s pictures while drinking sangria.  Still, the knowledge that what she and Brian had been doing was “screwing” when she’d thought they’d been making love had haunted her for days. 

And the worst part was, he’d been right.  In previous relationships, she’d tried to be an active lover, only to score low when it came to evaluations.  With Brian, she’d been content to let him take the lead, thinking that’s what he wanted.  Apparently, screwing was more complicated than she’d thought and like it or not, she was going to get the practice that Brian had so cruelly suggested.

In scientific terms, it simply made sense.

Lady in public.  Whore in the bedroom.  She could do that, right?

Five minutes later, still standing in the same location, she thought, apparently not. 

She leaned her forehead on the door and thumped it twice.  The second time, not so gently.

What are you waiting for?

Max was gorgeous.  Sexy.  He cared about her.  Plus, she’d sworn him to secrecy.  Other than Lucy and Grace, who’d expect a full report, no one would know about this but the two of them.  And if he couldn’t bring out her inner slut, who could?

Rhys’s name popped into her head. 

Just like that, the image of her and Max morphed into her and Rhys.  Of course, the picture didn’t change all that much given they were twins, but her reaction to it did.  It was as if it had been two dimensional before, but suddenly had turned real.  She could feel the heat of Rhys’s bare skin, see the sweat dotting his forehead, and hear his groans of pleasure as he moved against her.  Inside her.

And low and behold, she was even on top this time, normally not one of her favorite positions.

Closing her eyes, she valiantly ignored the sudden wetness between her legs.

Yep.  How twisted was that?  They looked identical, but only one of them got her hot.  And it was the one who didn’t even care enough about her to call.

Max cared, she reminded herself.  And they were good enough friends that they could do this.  She’d just look upon it as an experiment.  Two days of trial runs and data analysis.  Then Max would get back on a plane to Vegas or wherever his next show was, and the next time they saw each other, she’d be happy and in love with Jamie.  Maybe she’d even be pregnant if the next Dalton Brothers Tour went on for a while. 

The image of her holding a baby cinched it.  She stuck the card in the slot, waited for the green light, and pushed the door open.

***

In the lobby bar, Rhys watched Max check his watch for about the tenth time.  His brother was acting weird, no two ways about it.  Leaning back in his chair, he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers.  “Spill it.”

“Huh?”

“What’s going on?  You’ve been acting like a nervous Nelly since I got here.  What did Melina say that you couldn’t tell me on the phone?”

Max’s brow quirked.  “Nervous Nelly?”

“You know what I mean, butt-head.  Now what the Hell’s going on?”

“Butt-head?  Your skill with words is mind-boggling.”  At Rhys’s low growl, Max held up his hands.  “All right already.  Will you just ease up?  I already told you it wasn’t an emergency.”

Rhys barely refrained from grabbing his brother by the throat.  “Your exact message was ‘Something weird is going on with Melina.  Get your ass on a plane right now.’  You refused to answer any of my calls, so that’s exactly what I did.” 

“Would you have gotten on the plane if I’d said I needed your advice about something?”

Rhys slammed his palms on the table.  “Damn it, Max, I don’t have time for this.  You have ten seconds to start talking or I’m driving back to the airport.” 

“It’s her birthday tonight.”

Stunned, Rhys stared at him for several seconds before answering.  “Yeah, I know.  That’s why I told you to tell her happy birthday.”  It was also why he’d thrown her present in his suitcase during his frantic rush to get a flight.  Just in case. 

Max lifted his drink—water instead of his usual beer—and took a healthy swallow.  Rhys narrowed his eyes.  What was going on here?     

“All that stuff you said about her wanting the white picket fence and 2.2 kids?  That stuff doesn’t matter,” Max said softly.  “You’re hurting her.”

The accusation caught him off guard but he couldn’t deny it either.  He looked away.

“She’s not an idiot, Rhys.  She recognizes that you’ve pulled away.  That you don’t call.  You don’t visit.  Hell, she’s certain you forgot about her birthday.  And why wouldn’t she?  You two barely say anything to each other anymore.”

Rhys gritted his teeth.  “She works with her bugs.  Visits her parents once a month.  Dates safe, nice guys.  What else is there to know?”

“How about what that so-called ex-boyfriend of hers did to her?”  

Rhys sat straight up.  Was that what Max’s call had been about?  What had been the loser’s name?  Bradley?  Brian?  Yeah, Brian.  Had he hurt her?  Hit her?  A slow but intense wash of anger began to pump in his veins.  “What?” 

Max shook his head in disgust.  “Nothing.  Forget I said anything.”

Rhys stood, braced his hands on the table, and got nose to nose with his brother.  “I’m not forgetting anything.  Tell me.  Did he hurt her?”

Max leaned back and spread out his hands in a welcoming gesture.  “And what if he did?  What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll kill him,” Rhys spit out from between his teeth.

Max stared at him, then grinned.  “I believe you would.”

“What are you grinning at?  I’d think you’d be right in line with me.”

“I know I would.  I’m just surprised you said it out loud.  Where Melina is concerned, you’re prone to changing the subject.”

Straightening, Rhys raked his hands through his hair.  “Since when has there been any question that I care about Melina.  She’s one of the sweetest—”  Sexiest.  Hottest.  Most intriguing. “—women I know and we’ve known her for years.  Hell, Mom and Dad would get in line to beat the guy up, too.”

“Then why?  If you care so much about her, why don’t you finally lay it on the table?”

Rhys shook his finger.  “Oh no.  We’re not having that conversation again.  Stop playing games, Max.  I just want to know if Melina’s okay and whether I’m going to have to kill anyone tonight.”  

Max shrugged.  “She’s okay.  Her boyfriend bruised her pride, that’s all.  She’s more hurt by your callous actions than anything else.  I know you didn’t want to come here, but I’m not apologizing.  You can damn well say happy birthday to her to her face.”