Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (14 page)

As he brushed his mouth against her cheek, he murmured, “Which is it?”

“I want that, but . . .”

He kissed her.

Ressa moaned, grabbing his waist to steady herself, but he ended the kiss too quickly and moved away, watching her with hooded hungry eyes.

“Then we either try this out or don’t.” He stood four feet away now, hands hanging loose at his sides. His gaze focused on her mouth and Ressa shuddered at the hunger she saw there.

We don’t
.

Logic whispered inside her head. She knew better. “I’m something of a mess, Trey,” she said, managing to keep her voice level. “I’m raising a child who isn’t mine. There are complications involved with that. There are other things in my life that are just as complicated, if not worse. I don’t think I’m the ideal woman for a man like you to get involved with.”

“I’m a single father.” He took a step toward her.

“And you’re doing a damn fine job with him. That’s not the sort of complications I have going on.” There was a war going on inside her. Logic and desire, for once, completely at odds.

Trey reached up and fisted his hand in her hair. She’d left it down, and the weight of it was heavy on her neck.

He tugged on the curls, forcing her head back as he moved in closer. “I’ve got four brothers—one of them is a movie star, the other is a former child star and we can’t get together without the damn paparazzi stalking us.”

He brushed a soft kiss across her cheek and she felt that light caress all through her body.

“My son has nightmares, convinced that I’ll die just like his mother did, and sometimes I wake up, convinced he died in the wreck that killed his mother. The night my wife was buried, I went out, got completely wasted and managed to get
in a fight and I don’t remember any of it—the whole night is a black hole, but whatever the hell happened was enough to turn me off alcohol—even the smell of whiskey is enough to make me sick. I know plenty about complications, Ressa.”

She reached up, fisting her hands in his shirt.

“It’s simple . . . either you want to spend time with me . . . or you don’t.”

He made it sound so easy.

“I’m going to ask you again and you just tell me the first thing that comes to mind—after this, I won’t bother anymore.”

Ressa stilled.

He smoothed a hand down her back and then pulled away.

Only a few feet separated them.

It felt like a mile.

“I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee. Would you like to join me?”

Before she could answer, a voice interrupted them.

“Trey!”

At the sound of that voice, Trey closed his eyes. Staring down at the ground, he muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

“Trey? Hello!”

Her answer lodged in her throat, Ressa turned. Next to her, Trey took a deep breath and she had the oddest feeling he was bracing himself.

She slid him one final look and then met the gaze of the woman in front of them.

It was . . . well . . . June Cleaver.

That was all Ressa could think.

She looked like a modern-day version of June Cleaver. Her ebony hair was cut in a short, sleek bob that accentuated a long, elegant neck. Not that her neck needed the extra accent, but there was a strand of pearls that glowed against oh, so, perfect skin. Her cardigan was mossy green and matched her wide eyes. The cardigan that picked up the green in her full-cut skirt . . . a skirt that looked like a watercolor garden. Roses and lilies against a misty background.

Those mossy green eyes looked at Trey and she all but had her heart written in them. If the woman had handed him a letter declaring her love, it wouldn’t have been any less clear.

“Um . . . hello,” she said, her voice soft, breathy before it
steadied. “I thought I’d come see you and Clayton. Since it’s his first day and all. Has . . . school already started?”

“Ah, yeah, well, that’s nice of you, Nadine, but yeah, it’s already started. Clay’s in class, ready to go.” Trey gave her a casual smile.

Casual, maybe, but to Ressa, it looked frayed around the edges.

Nadine shot her another look from the corner of her eye. Some part of her wanted to apologize, just for standing there, and she thought maybe she should just excuse herself—

Trey reached out a hand, rested it on her waist, almost as if he’d read her mind.

“I wanted to be with the two of you.” Nadine’s voice was softer now. Almost a whisper. “He’s been so excited, and you’ve been so worried . . .”

If Ressa hadn’t been standing next to her, she wouldn’t have noticed, the way he tensed, so subtly. But nothing showed in his voice, on his face, as he shrugged. “The first day of school is supposed to be a roller coaster ride, but we handled it.”

She nodded again, looking away. “I can see that. I . . . well. I just want to help, to be there for you. As much as I can.” Another one of those glances at Ressa, and this one lingered.

Unable to stay quiet anymore, Ressa gave her a wide, brilliant smile. “Hi.”

Trey’s thumb stroked her back.

Nadine’s throat worked as she swallowed, her gaze darting off to the side.

“You . . . well, you’ve got the whole morning ahead of you now. It’s going to be awfully quiet at home. Why don’t we go have some coffee?”

Ressa felt, as much as heard, Trey’s sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Ressa said, the words popping out. Her tongue was moving and her brain had
no
idea what was going on. “Trey and I were just getting ready to head out. We already had plans.”

Trey’s hand fisted in the material of her blouse.

“What . . .” Now Nadine’s gaze flew to her. “But . . .”

“Nadine, this is Ressa Bliss.” Trey let go of her blouse, but not of her. He curled his arm around her waist and he moved closer, pressed his mouth to her temple. “A friend of mine.”

Nadine looked back and forth between them. “But . . . I . . .” She blinked and looked away. “We didn’t have any time to talk today.”

“With Clay starting school, the morning routine has to change.” Trey smiled. “It was nice of you to come by, Nadine.”

She nodded and slid another look back at Ressa.

Ressa felt something cold slide through her—those mossy green eyes had gone chilly.

There was something under that June Cleaver mask.

“That woman is working you,” Ressa murmured as she watched the woman climb in her car a few yards away.

“Nah. Nadine’s just . . . lonely. Her husband died a couple of years ago and she’s shy, doesn’t know how to talk to people very well.”

Shy, my ass.
“She’s working you.” Ressa slid away, turning to study him. “And
you
clearly were falling for it. She’s good . . . I think I almost fell for it, too. What’s the deal about your morning routine?”

Scowling, he rubbed at his jaw. “We started having coffee together in the mornings a while back. We just sit on the porch while Clayton eats his breakfast there. It’s not a big deal or anything. It’s not like we’re dating.”

“Maybe not to you. She thinks she’s got a claim on you.”

Trey rolled his eyes and then moved in, cupping her chin. “And is that why you decided you’d have coffee? Or was
that
just to distract her?”

“No.” She swallowed and hoped like hell she wasn’t making a mistake. “I want to . . . have coffee.”

His thumb swept over her lip. “Just coffee?”

“For now.” Then she eased back. “But I’m not joking. That woman thinks you two have something going, Trey. Why else would she show up here? That’s a mom thing—or a serious girlfriend thing.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. “She probably just didn’t think about it.”

“She did.” Rolling her eyes, Ressa muttered, “Men. Sometimes you’re so blind.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She ran her tongue across her teeth. “Well, for one . . . if
we’re going to have coffee . . . or anything else . . . you need to make sure she knows you’re not interested.”

“Nadine knows that.”

Ressa cocked a brow, and as Trey’s face went red, curiosity flooded her.

“We . . . ah . . . look, we tried a date. Once. It didn’t work out. At all.”

Cocking her head, Ressa asked, “Was this before or after the coffee deal started?”

“Before. Months before.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I suspect she thinks you two have had a lot of dates
since
then that have worked out—every morning you have coffee together. You need to make her back off. Have her give you some space . . . What?”

He sighed. “She makes you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. I . . . Fuck. Sometimes when Clayton and I head out for breakfast, just the two of us, she gives me this look and it’s like I kicked a puppy right in front of her.”

“I told you—she’s working you. How do you feel when you keep doing whatever it is she wants? Like just now, when you saw her here? What did you feel?”

*   *   *

How in the hell had the discussion gone from him trying to talk Ressa into coffee to his somewhat annoying and needy neighbor?

Trey did not know.

Ressa eyed him coolly, an arch look on her face, as she waited for an answer.

Trapped.
He winced and looked away. Nadine was a sweet woman. She helped out with everything. She didn’t have any kids, but she helped out with a local Boy Scout troop. She volunteered with Big Brothers/Big Sisters. She headed up clothing drives and made sandwiches to pass out down at a park where some homeless people tended to gather on weekends.

She was a
sweet
lady.

They’d tried one date and he’d only said yes because the few times she’d stammered out her obviously nervous invitation to the movies or dinner, she’d left him feeling like he’d broken her heart when he said no.

They’d gone out to dinner and a movie and when they came back, she’d been the one to make a move.

She’d kissed him.

Everything inside him had gone cold.

There had been absolutely no interest—in fact, he couldn’t wait for her to
stop
kissing him.

Turning away, he rested his hands on his hips and looked up at the clear blue bowl of the sky stretching overhead. “Trapped,” he bit off. Every time he was with Nadine, he had that same sensation. He didn’t know why, but that was how he felt. And it
wasn’t
because of anything Nadine did.

“I’d feel trapped, too, if somebody kept trying to manipulate me into shit I didn’t want.”

He stilled and shot a look over his shoulder, meeting Ressa’s gaze. “What?”

“I’d feel trapped, too.” She shrugged and moved toward him.

She was so close . . .

Reaching out, he caught her waist and pulled her against him.

She didn’t resist.

Leaning back against the truck, he took the soft weight of her body on his and his cock stirred, blood draining down and pooling in his groin.

Her lashes lowered.

A soft sigh shuddered out of her.

“No more coffee,” he said softly.

Then he trailed his fingers up the inside of her ribs.

She was right, he suspected, and it made him feel stupid that he hadn’t seen it before now.

“She’ll make you feel like you kicked a dozen puppies.” Ressa slid her hands up his chest.

“Too bad. If I’m having coffee, I’d just as soon have it by myself . . . or better yet, with you.”

“We are still talking about coffee here, right?”

“Sure.” Then he bent down and nipped her lower lip. “Unless we’re not. But don’t worry, I’ll tell her.”

Mentally, he braced himself for it. He could already see the look in her eyes, too.

“You’re like an open book sometimes.”

He met her eyes.

“You’re thinking about how much you’re going to hurt her feelings, aren’t you?”

There was a zipper under her arm and he lifted a brow. “Well, this very second, I’m thinking about how easily I could pull this down . . . but . . . yeah.”

“You’re going to do it anyway. No matter what you say or how you do it.”

“I can be nice, you know.” He scowled at her.

For a moment, she stared at him.

Then she laughed.

“You are blind. Trey . . . she’s in love with you. And the sooner you make it clear it’s not going to happen, the sooner she can move on.”

There was only one way to describe how he felt in that moment. He summed it up in two words. “Oh, shit.”

The coffee shop was just down the corner from work. The new branch where she worked wasn’t as big, or as high tech, as the branch near the waterfront had been, but the children’s area was nice and they had a great program.

That was always a plus.

By an unspoken mutual agreement, they kept their discussion casual—the sort of talk they would have had if this had been their first date.

Well, technically, it was, even if they were doing things out of order.

Usually the date came before the crazy hot sex.

It didn’t negate that first, mild awkwardness that came with any first date, though, and Ressa was even more nervous because on the drive over, she’d had too much time to think through what a stupid decision this was.

Ressa pointed out, nice and casual like, how much the Norfolk library loved it when local authors came to visit. She hadn’t gotten around to that before, and now, at least, she could say she’d sown the seeds.

Now, as they sat on a low-lying brick container wall, the riot of summer flowers blooming behind them, she sipped at
an iced coffee while Trey actually managed to drink regular coffee. In this heat. She didn’t know how people did that.

He stared toward the library, sunglasses shielding his gaze from the vivid rays of the sun. “How long you worked there?”

“For this branch? You forgot already?” She wrinkled her nose at him when those dark lenses angled toward her. She wanted to snag them off. If he never again hid behind a pair of sunglasses, it would be too soon. “Oh, guess you meant the library in general. I’ve been with them since college, at one location or another.”

“Always wanted to be a librarian?”

“Yeah.” She suspected he wouldn’t be one of the ones who didn’t get it, so she told him the truth. “You know how books are a casual escape for some? Books weren’t just an escape for me—they rescued me.”

His brow lifted, his expression somehow conveying . . .
go on
 . . . all without him saying a word.

She blew out a breath. She could do this—get this part out. If he learned this much of her and didn’t handle it well? Then that would be answer enough and she’d know before she got in over her head.

“I wasn’t . . . a good kid,” she said finally, just laying it out on the table. “My mom died when I was little. I can relate to Clay there. But my dad . . . well.”

She shrugged. “He got in trouble a lot. In and out of jail. I’d live with his sister when he was locked up. He did a stretch of three years, got out when I was seven and seemed to straighten up—or so people thought. He just got smarter. We moved around a lot. He was dealing drugs . . .” She paused and then blew out a breath before she added, “And he used to have me helping him.”

Now she looked up.

Trey didn’t look shocked or appalled or disgusted.

He just sat there. Listening.

She swiped a finger through the condensation on her cup while her gut twisted into ten thousand knots. “There were a few times when he’d get arrested off and on, but he never got charged, never got held. He was killed when I was fifteen. I ended up going to live with his sister.” She smiled now, unable to stop it. “Mama Ang. She pretty much changed my life. And
not just because she introduced me to books. I wasn’t easy for her to live with—at all—didn’t think I needed anybody, kept trying to run away—school was awful . . . but she kept at it, kept at
me
. Six months after I’d gone to live with her, I got in a fight at school. Somebody was on me again, about my dad, and I lost it. Got suspended. Mama Ang locked me in my room. No TV. I could come out for meals but that was it. The only thing in the room was the schoolwork I had to do and books. Eventually, I got bored enough to pick one up. I didn’t even hear her come in the room—she’d been calling me for dinner and I never heard.”

She flicked a look at him. “It was Tolkien. She asked me if I was enjoying it and I lied—told her it was the most boring piece of shit I’d ever read. Mama Ang just laughed. The next day, she brought me more books and told me a whole world lay inside them.”

Ressa paused, thought of the hours, the days, the weeks that followed. “It took a while. It wasn’t some
Reading Rainbow
after school special where I changed overnight, but . . . I found myself spending more time inside a book, getting in trouble less . . . doing better in school. Not on purpose, but it happened. And I liked
me
more. I’d read about these people who were . . . decent. Like Mama Ang. I didn’t understand why they could be like that and I couldn’t. So I told myself I’d just pretend . . . and maybe I’d figure it out on the way.”

“I guess you did.”

Ressa stared at her watered down coffee for a long, long moment. “It took a long, long time.”

“Sometimes that’s how it works.”

Silence fell between them as they drank their coffee under the shade of the tree, the day growing hotter and brighter around them. It was probably a good five minutes before he spoke again. “You know, I never go to this branch.”

Thankful for the change in subject, she smiled at him over her cup. “You’re more than welcome to come. And . . . for the record, you’ve been invited—an open invite to any of the branches. More than once.”

“Uhhhh. . . .”

Ressa laughed, the embarrassed look on his face delighting
her. “Hey, don’t freak out on me. My boss would love to have you come visit—naturally, she’d
prefer
if you came to the main branch, but any of them would make her day. Her month. Her life.” She winked at him. Then she looked down. “I . . . uh. Well, I was supposed to try to talk you into it if I had the chance in New Jersey, but it didn’t ever work out. Seems like you’re not big on public stuff anyway.”

*   *   *

He’d put a shadow in her eyes.

He wanted to take it back, but at the same time, he realized if they were going to try for . . . coffee or anything else, shadows came with it.

Now she was smiling at him again and he wanted to see her smile, then laugh.

And he wanted to kiss her.

The longer he sat there, the more he wanted to kiss her. The more she
breathed
, the more he wanted to close the distance between them and cup her face in his hands, take that wide, lush mouth with his and just . . . have.

Just have.

Take.

Give.

Because he knew he’d give in to temptation if he kept staring at her, he dragged his attention away and focused on the pigeons gathering near one of the windows.

“It’s not the public thing that bothers me, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not too crazy about doing anything where I live, just . . . well, it feels weird. But up until recently it was more of a matter that I just . . . can’t. Couldn’t.”

“Clayton.”

Her understanding, so softly spoken, was just another tug toward her, another strand in a tangled web he could feel spinning around them both. Reaching up to tug his sunglasses off, he dropped them on the concrete and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. Clayton. We don’t have family here. My family would come if I called—man, my mother would be
overjoyed
. She’d probably do backflips. And Travis—my twin—he comes out as often as his job lets him. The others would help if they
could . . .” Then, abruptly, he laughed. “Maybe not Seb. He’s a good kid, but he’s not quite ready to handle the responsibility of taking care of
himself
, much less my son.”

“I have to say this, just once.” Ressa puffed out her cheeks and then heaved out a heavy breath. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here next to a guy who refers to
Sebastian Barnes
as
a good kid
. Man, Mama Ang
practically drools when she sees his name anymore. But he’s a
good kid
.”

Trey slid her a sly look from the corner of his eye. “Well, as long as it’s her drooling, and not you. Gotta say, I’m not too fond of the idea of you drooling over my baby brother.”

“Well.” She winked at him. “He’s prettier, but I think you’re way sexier.”

“Seb is pretty,” Trey agreed. “And he knows it. Any woman who takes him on is going to have to be prepared to fight him for counter space and her fair share of time in front of the mirror.”

The low laugh that escaped her settled down low in his belly, adding fuel to the fire that was already licking through him. Sliding a little closer, he reached up, toyed with one of the fat, round curls spilling down her neck and shoulders. “Vain. A man that pretty is going to be vain. I’m not surprised.”

“Oh, he’s a peacock,” Trey said, nodding. “But Zach’s just as pretty as Sebastian is. He’s not a peacock.”

“Zach . . . he’s got some pretty ink.”

“Ressa . . .”

You’re getting ready to complicate things
. It was a resounding echo in the back of his head, one that echoed and echoed and echoed as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek.

“Yeah?”

Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Quit talking about my brothers. Matter of fact, don’t think about them . . . forget what they look like.”

“And why would I want to do that?” She murmured the words against his mouth.

“Because I’d rather you just think about me.” He kissed her then.

She opened for him on a moan, her mouth parting as his lips covered hers and he had to do that, too, take advantage and slide his tongue inside, tasting vanilla, coffee . . . and under
that,
her
 . . . the taste that had haunted him for the past five weeks.

How did one night turn into such an addiction?

He didn’t know, but it had.

Before he could forget where he was, he pulled back, lingering long enough to press his brow to hers. “You’re getting under my skin, Ressa Bliss. How are you doing this?”

Then he settled back as she blinked at him, her eyes wide, dazed.

He lifted a hand, stroked one finger over her lower lip. Then a slow smile curved her lips, and that smile had his blood pumping hot in his veins. And the look in her eyes—damn—that look, all lazy and lambent. He wanted to bite her, strip her naked, taste her everywhere he hadn’t—

“You’re under my skin, too, honey.” Then she sighed and looked away. “And that wasn’t something I was at all prepared for.”

He shifted on the brick wall, his erection becoming a painful—and noticeable—problem.

“So. Tell me about the other two.”

Half-formed thoughts faded into nothingness as he slid her a look. “Huh—oh. Well, there’s Zane. He’s the oldest.” He studied his coffee for a long moment. “He does photography . . . I think there’s going to be a wedding soon.”

“A wedding?”

He crooked a grin at her. “Yeah. Keelie . . . she works with Zach, the one with the pretty ink . . .” He gave her a playful snarl and she swatted him. “Zane’s been waiting—he does that. He watches. He waits. She finally figured it out. I hear they are like tripping over themselves happy in love.”

“That’s . . . sweet,” Ressa said after a moment. “Are you happy for them?”

“Yes.” He said it without hesitation, without reservation. “Zane’s always been that way. He’ll stand there, watch things, wait for things . . . he never really chased them and sometimes I wondered why, but I guess he had his own timetable. I don’t know Keelie as well as some of the others—I can’t travel to Tucson as often as some of them can, so I haven’t really gotten to know her that well, but if she makes Zane happy, that’s all I need to know.”

“And then there’s the other one . . . your twin, right?”

“You’ve been reading up on us.” He chuckled and shrugged. “You probably noticed you didn’t find much about him. He’s the odd one. Went into accounting.”

“You say that like he decided to stitch together cat skins for clothing and yodel naked on the streets while eating nothing but haggis and drinking only rotgut.” The glint in her eyes said she was clearly amused.

Trey laughed, shaking his head. “Well, accounting confuses me.” Then he shrugged. “I guess it shouldn’t seem so out of place. Mom was going to be a lawyer. Dad dealt with stocks before he retired. The rest of us . . . actors, photographer, writer . . . and there he is, crunching numbers.”

“He’s probably got the more stable occupation.” She wrinkled her nose. “And the most boring one. If it makes him happy . . . ?”

Happy
. He shrugged. “Yeah. That’s the bottom line.” Which was the problem, really. Travis
wasn’t
happy, but it wasn’t like Trey could pull him out of it or anything, could he?

“You’re closest to him, aren’t you?”

He just nodded.

“I always wondered what it would be like, having a sister.” She slid him a look. “I’ve got cousins—none of them are close except Kiara. That’s Neeci’s mama and we don’t have an easy relationship. What’s it like, having a big family like that? Were you ever lonely?”

“There are always times when somebody can
feel
alone,” he said softly. “But when you’ve got a family like mine—and it’s not the size of the family, really, but being close—all you have to do is pick up the phone. Knock on a door. I didn’t always knock when I should have, didn’t pick up the phone.”

She linked her hand with his and for a long moment, both of them were quiet.