HachetteBookGroupsupportstherighttofreeexpressionandthevalueofcopyright.Thepurposeofcopyrightistoencouragewriters

andartiststoproducethecreativeworksthatenrichourculture.

Thescanning,uploading,anddistributionofthisbookwithoutpermissionisatheftoftheauthor’sintellectualproperty.Ifyouwouldlike

permissiontousematerialfromthebook(otherthanforreviewpurposes),pleasecontactpermissions@hbgusa.com.Thankyouforyour

supportoftheauthor’srights.

TotheCinderellasoftheworld…

Mayyoufindyourprince…

PreferablyonewhoknowshowtocleanbetterthanBrock.

ChapterOne

e’ssenile.LastnightheaskedifIbelievedinunicorns.”

BrocksuppressedagroanatBentley’sinsensitivestatement.Nodoubtaboutit,orwayaroundit.

Theirgrandfather,theCEOofWellington,Incorporated,waslosinghisdamnmind.

Butstill,someoneshouldcometotheoldman’sdefense,andeversincehewastwelveyearsold,

thatsomeonehadalwaysbeenBrock.Always.

Hisyoungerbrothers—twins—wereaunitedfrontagainstanythingandeverythingthathappened,

not only within the family, but especially with Brock. It had always been them against the world,
leavingBrocktheawkwardjobofdefendingthemtohisgrandfatherwhilesimultaneouslylivingwith
theeverincreasingaggravationoftheirsex-andalcohol-filledlifestyles.

“His medication…causes…” Brock clenched and unclenched his fists, mainly so he wouldn’t do

somethingstupidlikepunchoneofthem.Sleep.Heneededmoresleep,andalifeoutsideofrunninga
companyhe’dneverwantedtoruninthefirstplace.“Visions,”hefinished.Bitternesstookholdlikeit
alwaysdidwhenhethoughtofthecompany,hisgrandfather,andtheheavyweightoftheworldonhis
shoulders.

“You think visions of unicorns is bad?” Brant, the younger of the twins, gave Brock a disgusted

look.“JustlastweekIfoundhimskinny-dippinginthepool.”

BrockfrownedastheelevatordoorsopenedtothemainofficesofWellington,Inc.“Whyisthat

strange?”

“Alone,”Brantsaid.“Whoskinny-dipsalone?”
Bentleysmirked,pushingpastbothofthem.“Notyou…clearly.”
Brant’slipspressedintoasmuggrin.“Jealous?”
“Oftheskankfromlastnight?”Bentleysnortedandsentoffatext,mostlikelytotheverysame

girlwhohadleftBrant’sbedthenightbefore.Alwaysacompetitionwiththem.“Hardly.”

“Hello, boys.” Mrs. Everly, their grandfather ’s secretary, was like family. She refused to

acknowledgethebrotherswerewellpastthe“boy”stageandhadbeenforyears.

“Hello,”theyallsaidinunison.Bentleyreachedforherhandandkissedthetopofit.
“Yougetyoungereveryday.Amazing,almostlikeyou’reagingbackwards.”Hewinked.
Brock’s patience was already on edge. Running the company for his grandfather was one thing.

Keepingthetwinsfrommakingassesofthemselveswasanother.

“Bentley.” Brock gripped his brother ’s shoulders with a jerk and shoved him toward the door.

“Don’tkeepGrandfatherwaiting.”

Thetwinsexchangedaneyeroll.
“Soresponsible,”Brantsaidunderhisbreath.Itwasn’tmeanttobeacompliment.
“So…old,”Bentleyadded,becausethat’swhathedid.“Brock,whenwasthelasttimeyouevengot

laid?IfyousayanythingpastsevendaysImayneedtodisownyou.”

Ithadbeenmorethanseven.

Waymorethanfourteen.
Butwithacompanytorun…
Andtwobrotherstokeepundercontrol…
Nottomentiontheaccidentthathadnearlytakenhisgrandfather ’slifethislastyear.Resentment

washedoverhim.

Whenwouldheevenhavetime?
Forfun?
Sex?
Women?
Anything?
“You’re not getting any younger,” Bentley interrupted Brock’s depressing thoughts. “Aren’t you

turningthirty-eightthisyear?”

“Isawagrayhairwhenheturnedhishead,”Bennettadded.“Depressingashell.”
“It’s not gray,” Brock snapped, clenching his jaw so tight his teeth ached. “And if you haven’t

noticedI’vebeenbusy.”

“Boys?”Brockflinchedatthesoundoftheirgrandfather ’sboomingvoice.“Boys,isthatyouout

there?”

“He may be losing his mind but he sure hasn’t lost his vocal chords,” Bentley murmured as all

threeofthemsteppedcasuallyintotheofficeandshutthelargewoodendoorbehindthem.

It closed with a resounding thud and Brock felt an ominous current of anxiety travel down his

spine.

Itwasthesamefeelinghe’dhadwhenhewastwelveandhisgrandfatherhadtoldhimhisparents

haddiedinaplanecrash.

The same feeling he’d had last year when he’d gone head to head with his grandfather over an

acquisition—and won. The board had approved his decision. And less than twenty-four hours later,
he’dalmostlosthisgrandfatherinacaraccident.

Asifreadingthedirectionofhisthoughts,hisgrandfatherwinced.Thepainwasstillthere,Brock

knew,evenifGrandfatherrefusedtoadmitit.

CharlesWilliamsWellingtontheThirdwasseatedbehindhisdeskasifhesatonathrone,hismass

ofsilverhairflowingintoadeepcurlthatfelloverhisforehead.Hiswrinkledandtannedfacedidn’t
look older than seventy, though he was pushing eighty-two, only weeks away from celebrating his
birthday.

“Ihavedecided”—hepausedandstoodtohisfullheightofsix-four—“tohaveanauction.”
“Oh?” Brock was the first to speak. Business he could deal with. Numbers he could process.

Anythingoutsideofthatandhewasgoingtoneedadrink.

Orten.
“Whatwouldyouliketoauction?”HepulledouthisiPhoneandstartedanewnote.“Oneofyour

houses? A few of your stallions? Titus Enterprises had a car auction last year that was extremely
profitable.”

Grandfather ’sfacetransformedintoawickedgrin.“Maybetheothertwoshouldsitdown.”
“Ithinkhemeansus,”Bentleysaidunderhisbreath,whileBrantshotBrockaworriedglance.
“Imeantoauction…”Grandfathertookadeepbreathandraisedhisfingertopointatthem.“You.”
Brant,thefastestofthebunch,jerkedhischairtotheright.“He’spointingatBentley.”
Bentley,neverthemorecleverofthetwo,fakedacoughingfitandfellforwardinavainattemptto

kickBrock’schairclosertothemiddle.

Rollinghiseyes,Brocksaid,“He’spointingatallofus.”
“Actually…”Grandfather ’svoicedeepened.“Iwaspointingatyou,Brock.”
Brock had always done everything his grandfather asked. When he graduated high school he’d

beenpressuredintogoingtoHarvard,becausewouldn’titbesowonderfultogotothesameschool
ashisfather?Inhonorofhismemory?

Football,notbasketball.
Chess,nevercheckers.
Itwaseasiertokeepthepeace,tokeepthesmileonhisgrandfather ’sface.Andbecausehe’ddo

anything to keep the old man from more grief and sadness. He’d seen those emotions on his
grandfather ’stear-stainedfacewhenhe’dtoldhimhisparentsweredead.Andeversince,Brockhad
saidyes.

ToHarvard.
Tofootball.
Tobusinessschool.
Totakingoverthecompany.
Tothewomenhisgrandfatherthoughtitbesthebeseenwith.
Butthis?Thiswastoofar.
“Auctionaperson?”Brocktriedtoclarify.“Why?”
Immediatelyrelievedtheywerenolongerthefocusofattention,bothofhisbrothershadalready

directedtheirattentiontotheirphones.

Notevenpayingattention.
Storyofhislife.
Grandfatherlimpedaroundhismassivedesk.GuiltslammedintoBrock’schestinperfectcadence

withhisincreasinglyerraticheartbeat.

Withacurse,Grandfathergrabbedhiscaneandwipedhisbrowwiththebackofhishand.
HiseyeslockedinonBrock.“Please.”
Brockopenedandclosedhismouth.
“It’sforagoodcause,”Hisgrandfatherdidn’tblink,justkeptlimpingtowardBrockuntilhehadto

cranehisnecktostareupatthemanhe’ddoanythingforandhadsacrificedeverythingfor.

The final nail in the coffin was when the older man lowered his chin and humbled himself by

uttering,“Doitforme.”

Fuck.

ChapterTwo

ane!” Esmeralda shouted. “Hurry up! You’re taking way too long! We’re going to be late to the

party!”

“Maybeyoushouldjustgowithoutme,”Janeofferedinwhatshehopedsoundedliketheperfect

balancebetweendepressedyetcontent.Shewasexhaustedfromwork—thelastthingsheneededwas
tobabysithersisterswhiletheydranktheirbodyweightinvodkatonics.

Esmeralda’svoicewasloudandclearasday.“Jane!Ifyoudon’tcomewho’sgoingtofixmydress

ifsomethinghappens?OrwatchoverEssence;youknowhowshegetsshywithguys!Andyou’rethe
bestwingman.”

Janeclenchedherteethtogether.Whatgirlsactuallyhadtheirownpersonalseamstress?Though

Janewasreallymoreofajack-of-all-trades.Andshewasprobablytheworstwingmaninhistory.

“Yougirlsready?”Essenceasked.
“Jane!Hurryup!Wedon’twanttoarrivetoolate.It’srude,andhemaynotnoticeus.”
Jane barely managed to hold in her gasp as Esmeralda and Essence tumbled down the stairs and

presentedtheirdresses.

Esmeralda’stightblackdresshadjustenoughfabrictocoverhersurgicallyenhancedboobsand

barelycoveredherass.

Essence’swasnearlythesamestyle,exceptitwaswhite.
Oneworepurplelipstick,theotherhadongray;theywerealwaysontopofthenewesttrendseven

ifthetrendswerestupid—andugly.

AtFashionWeek,theycouldgetawaywithit.
InPhoenixtheyjustlookedlikeBratzdolls.
“Yeah,Ithink”—Janecoughedintoherhand—“he’llnotice.”
“Aw!”Esmeraldaclappedherhandsandflickedherdarkhairoverhershoulder.“That’ssoniceof

youtosay.”

“Yes.”Essencetwirledafewtimestoshowoffherdresstofulleffect.“Howsweetofyou,Jane.”

With her eyebrows drawn in perfect arches, it was amazing she could even move them. “Jane, why
aren’tyoudressed?”

“IthinkI’mjustgoingtostayin,”Janeanswered,tuggingatherdressself-consciously.Itwasthe

bestoneshecouldfindatthelastminute.Shehadn’tevenknownaboutthepartyuntilanhourago,
and the best she’d been able to scrounge up was a dress she’d borrowed for prom four years ago
fromoneofhersisters.

She’dtriedherbesttomaketheblackcocktaildressappealing.
Butyoucouldn’tfixplain.
Andthat’swhatitwas.
WhatJanewas.
PlainJane.

Hersistersgaveherthesameempty-eyedstare.Arguingwiththemwascompletelyuseless.When

it was two against one, she never won, not that it mattered in the long run. Her sisters typically got
theirwayregardlessofwhatJanesaid.Theywerepushy—buttheywerefamily.

Swallowingbackherinsecurity,shenoddedquickly.“I’lljustgrabmypurse,then.”
Hersisterswhisperedundertheirbreaths,thoughJaneheardeverymeanword.
“Doesn’tshehaveanyotherdresses?PoorJane.”
“Hey,Iofferedtohelphershopandshesaidno.”
Janesnortedquietly.She’dsaidnobecauseEssence’sshoppingstylewasmorelikebuyeverything

namebrandandgointomajorcreditcarddebt.Atonepoint,Janehadhadtouseallofthemoneyher
parentshadleftthemtopayoffthebill.

“PoorJane,”Esmeraldasaidagain.
Shehatedpity.
Especiallytheirs.
Shewouldmoveoutofthehouseifshethoughthersisterswouldn’tstarvewithouther.Well,that

and the fact that they were family and family stuck together. Even if family exhausted you, stressed
youout,andmadeyouwanttoscreamatleastninetypercentofthetime.

“Let’s go!” Esmeralda clapped her hands loudly and they were off…headed to a party that Jane

didn’tevencareabout.

ChapterThree

dmit it. This is one of the best ideas he’s had in years. The sheer publicity alone is priceless.”

BentleytossedbackhisthirddrinkofthenightandslappedBrockonthebackthenshowedhimhis
phone.“Heylook,you’retrending.”

“Iwillliterallybreakyourphoneinhalfwithmybarehandsifyoushowmeonemoretweetwith

mynameand‘auction’inthesamesentence.”Brockbarelymanagedapolitenodinhisgrandfather ’s
directionashegreetedpeoplefillingthelargedowntownnightclubfortheannualWellingtonparty.

He tossed back a gulp of whiskey, watching as his grandfather winced in pain after a particular

heartyhandshakefromajournalistchompingtogetinonthestoryofthecentury.Brockgrimaced.
Thepresshadgonewildwhenthey’dcaughtwindoftheauction.

CNN.
TheWorldNews.
TheNewYorkTimes.
God, every damn newspaper in the universe thought the auction was the most newsworthy thing

they’deverheardof.

Oneofthecountry’srichestbachelorswasallowingwomentobidonhim.
Andallowinghisgrandfathertopickawinnerfromthebidders.
A winner that Brock would date—and even potentially marry. That was the worst part about the

press:givethemacrumbandthey’dmakeafeast.

Brocksureashellhadn’tagreedtomarryanyone.
OneofthenewspapershadhintedatafutureMrs.BrockWellington.
Andthey’dtakenitandran.
Dateastranger?Hecoulddoit.Forthegoodofthecompany.Forthepress.Andmostimportantly,

forhisfamily’sreputation.

HisgrandfatherhadinformedhimthattheBoarddidn’ttrusthisbrotherstodoanythingright—

hell, he agreed with that assessment—but Grandfather had also let it slip that they were starting to
doubtBrock’sabilitytobeateamplayer.

Becausehewasn’tateamplayer.
Hekepttohimself.
Hemadethemhundredsofmillions.
Andtheystillweren’thappy.
Hestaredintohisemptyglass.
“Doitformeandforyourreputationinthecompany.”Grandfatherhadslappedhimontheback.

“You’reastickinthemud.Hell,haveyoueverevenbeentoanyofthecompanybaseballgames?”

No,becausehehatedbaseball.
“Fine,”he’dwhisperedwhilehishandsshook,withrage,withtheneedtohitsomethingthatwould

break.

Theonlysilverliningwasthatthemoneythatwouldberaisedwasgoingtowardcancerresearch

—oneofhispassions—sotherewasthat,atleast.

Itwasstupidityatitsfinest,butBrockhadagreedtodoit.Maybebecausehewasjustasinsaneas

his grandfather. Or, even worse, maybe because he was convinced he would never find love, nor
caredto.

Becausewhathisbrotherssaidwastrue.
Hewasgettingolder.
Andhe’dyettofindawomanwhowantedhimforwhohetrulywas.
Thenagain,didheevenknowhimselfanymore?
He’dallowedhisprotectiveloveforhisgrandfatherdecidehowhewouldlivehislife,hisfuture,

hiseverything.

Withagroan,hestoleBentley’sdrinkstraightfromhishandanddownedtheentirething.
“Coldfeet?”Bentleyteased.
“Gotohell,”Brockfiredback.
Bentley,asifsensinghowpissedoffBrockreallywas,quicklygrabbedafluteofchampagnefrom

apassingwaiterandshoveditintoBrock’swaitinghand.“Lookonthebrightside.Grandfathersaid
ifyoumarriedthegirlhepickedhe’dgiveyoutheranchasaweddingpresent,sothere’sthat.”

Theranch.
Theirhome.
Their safe haven after their parents had died, where their grandfather had pushed aside his own

grieftogivethemthebestlifepossible.Shit,hewasscrewed.

“Hell.”Bentleyletoutalowwhistle.“I’devensleepwithherfortheranch.”
“Who?” Brock was too busy chugging champagne to notice anything except the constant beat of

thetechnomusicandbrightredandwhitelightsflashingaroundthem.Hereallywasgettingold.

“Her.”BentleyglancedatBrock’semptyglassandhandedhimanotherfromapassingwaiter.“Her

lipstick’spurple.”

“How…exciting.” Brock actually flinched when the woman waved his way. “She looks like she

shouldbepokingherheadoutofalimousinescreaming,‘Whatup,bitches?’”

“OhGod,I’dsellmysoultohearyousaythatexactsamephraseinahigh-pitchedvoicewhileyou

ripatyourshirt.Please,it’sjustwhatthispartyneeds.”

Brock’slipstwitchedintoanamusedsmileasheletoutabarkoflaughter.“What?Andstealher

moment?”Henoddedatthewoman,whohadjuststartedconvulsingonthedancefloorwithafriend.
“IthinkI’llletherhavethespotlight.”

Bentleygrinned.“Imaginehowtheydancewhenthey’redrunk.”
“Areyouundertheimpressionthey’resober?”
“Eitherway.Badchoices.”
“Oh,shit!”Brockchokedonhisthirddrink.“TheyjustsawGrandfather.”
Brock prayed to God that his grandfather wouldn’t send the girls his way. Time slowed as

Grandfatherturned,madeaface,anddismissedthem.

BothBrockandBentleyexhaledloudly.
“Drink,” Bentley encouraged. “Maybe the caterpillars will turn into butterflies. Whiskey

encouragesthesethings.”

“I’m only taking this drink.” He gripped it between his hands. How many had he just downed,

anyway? Four? Five? “Because I see no other option. And believe me, I’ve done nothing but try to
thinkofawayoutofthis.”

Bentleycrossedhisarms.“Whataboutno?”
“No.”Brockshookhisheadvehemently.
“YouhavenoproblemsayingittomeorBrantonadailybasis,yettheminuteGrandfatherturns

hisfurryeyebrowsinyourdirectionyouturnintothis…robot.”

Brockstiffened.“Robot?Hardly.”He’dbeencalledworse.Butthatwasbesidethepoint.
Hisbrothersdidn’tgetit;theydidn’tunderstandthepowerbehindasimpleword,andhowitwas

Brock’sfaultthattheirparentsweredeadinthefirstplace.

Becausethefirsttimehe’dsaidthatwordhadbeenafteranargumentwithhisfather.
No,he’dsaid.No.No.No.
Thenextdaybothofhisparentsweredead.
Hishandsshookwiththememory,asifre-livingitalloveragain.
“Allright,then.Soyousaidyesbecauseyouwanttosettledown?WithawomanofGrandfather ’s

choosing?”Bentleychuckled.“ThelastwomanhesentyourwayhadthelongestfingernailsI’dever
seen.”Heshuddered.“Ihadatleastthreenightmares,allofthemincludinghernailsimpalingmy…
well,let’sjustsayIwokeupinacoldsweat.”

Brockshrugged,andhisstomachwarmedasthewhiskeyfinallybegantotakeeffect.“Shewasn’t

sobad.”

“HernamewasPearl.”
BrockshifteduncomfortablyonhisfeetwhileBentleygavehimapointedstare.“Justmarchupto

himandsay‘thanksfortheconcern,butInominateBrantastribute.’”

Smirking, Brock glanced across the room just in time to see Brant press some random woman

againstthewallandkissdownherneck.“Heseemsoccupied.”

“Whenishenotoccupied?Thoughthenightisabityoungforhimtostarthissexualprowl.”
“True.”
The music got louder, seeming to rise along with Brock’s discomfort. “Maybe, one more drink,

andthen…”

Bentleytriedtohandhimyetanotherdrink,thistime,champagne.Brockrefusedit.“Andthen,you

andgrandfathertalk.”

“Yes.”Brockfrowned.“Imeanno.”
“Grow a pair of balls, brother. Your choice is either man up…” He pointed to the two girls

dancing with mindless abandon on the floor. The girl in the black dress bent over, giving them a
hellishviewofherthong.BothBrockandBentleyshudderedandlookedaway.“Orit’spossiblethat
thevisionbeforeyoucouldbeyourfuture.”

“I’lltalktohim,”helied.
“Goodman.”Bentleysighed.“Nowthatmysinglegooddeedoftheyearisdone,I’mofftofind

thefirstwomantocatchmyeye,onewhopossessesallherteethandisofsoundmind.I’mnotpicky;
Ijustneedsex.”

“Shockingthatyougetsomuchasswiththatattitude.”
“Thathurts.”Bentleytappedhischest.“Righthere.”Andthenhesmirked.“Butnotasmuchasright

here.”Hegrabbedhiscrotchwithajerk,thenlaughedandwalkedoff.

WatchingBentleystrutacrosstheroomlikearooster,Brocktightenedhisholdonhisglass.Both

ofhisbrotherswerefree.

Whilehelivedinaprisonofhisownmaking.Withgoldbars.Andamirrorwherehisgrandfather

staredbackathim.

Hereturnedhisattentiontohisgrandfatherandthegroupofpeoplewhohadcrowdedaroundhim.

Hisvisionwasstartingtoblur,butonlybecauseofthelights.Hecouldeasilyholdmorealcoholthan
most.

Then,inasuddenflurryofscreaming,awomanwaspushedontothedancefloorrightintothetwo

crazywomenwithevencrazierlipstick.

Acatfightbrokeoutasoneofthewomenrippedatthenewcomer ’sdressalmosthardenoughto

pulltheentirethingoffandleaveherflashinghalftheclub.Thegirlpressedherhandstoherchest
whilethewomanstandingonherothersidetuggedatthegirl’shair.

Thehell?
Howdrunkwerethey?
Hestartedtowardthedancefloortopullthemapartwhensuddenlythecrowdparted.
Thegirlglancedupathimwithwideeyes.
Hestoppedwalking.
Breathing.
Itwasn’therface…herlips…Itwasn’tthewayherbodylookedpouredintohertightblackdress.
No,itwashereyes.
Asifshewasbeggingforsomeonetosaveher.
Protectivenessslammedintohimandheshovedhisbodythroughtheremainingpeoplewatching

thescene,andpickedthegirlupintohisarms.

ChapterFour

ane was pressed so tightly against the wall she would have sworn her body was starting to blend

intothewallpaper.Mostpeopledidn’tgiveherasecondglance.Thenagain,shewouldn’tgiveherself
asecondglanceeither.

Women with fake boobs and injected lips mocked her while rich men in three-piece suits

completelyignoredher.

Sheself-consciouslytuggedathemoftheshortblackdress.Inalastditchefforttomodernizethe

dress,oratleastaddabitofspice,she’dgrabbedhermother ’slongpearls,wrappedthemaroundher
necktwiceandcalleditgood.

Buttheminutethey’darrivedatthepartyshe’dwantedtodisappear.Hersisterswerealreadysemi-

drunk,thankstothevodkathey’dhadinthecar.AgainstJane’sproteststhey’dtakenshotswhileshe
drove.Andthenshe’dpaidforparkingonlytohearthemwhinethatshehadparkedtoofaraway.

They’dbeenherefortwentyminutesandalreadyshewantedtoleave,oratleastsitdown,butmost

oftheavailablespacewastakenbycouplestalking,eating…kissing.

Shewassurroundedbythebeautifulandrich.
Theonlyreasonhersistershadevenbeeninvitedwasbecausetheywerecompleteandtotalsocial

climbers,andhadmanagedtogainaninvitationfromafriendwhowasanheiresstosomefrenchfry
company.

Awaiterpassedbywithchampagne.
Shegrabbedaglassanddownedtheentirething.Thealcoholdidn’thelphernerves,butatleastthe

bubblessemi-calmedherstomach.

Hersweatyfeetslidinhertoo-bigredpumpsasshepressedharderagainstthewalltoalleviatethe

acheinhertoes.

Themusicshiftedtoaloudtechnosongasthelightswentfromredtoabrightwhite,andwitha

gaspshecoveredhereyesandthenblinkedafewtimestoclearherlineofvision.

The jumbled sweaty bodies moved aside as the music changed to a slow song. There was just

enoughofabreakforhertoseeacrosstheroom.

“Oh.”Itwasallshecouldutter,reallytheonlywordshewascapableofasherbreathingpickedup.

Withoutthinking,shegrabbedanotherglassofchampagnefromapassingwaiter,suddenlyawkward.
Whatwasshesupposedtodowithherhands?

Thickwavyauburnhairfellindisarrayoverhisforehead.Itwaslush,shiny,perfect.Wereguys

bornwithhairlikethat?Orwashissomehowchemicallyengineered?Hisfulllipspressedtogetherin
asecretsmileastheequallyhandsomemannexttohimsaidsomething,theneruptedinlaughter.

Thefirstmanstiffened,thenshookhishead.Hisbroadshouldersseemedtogrowtightasadrum.

Aslightticinhisjawwastheonlycluethathewasirritatedormaybeoutrightangry.

Andthenhisshouldersslumpedashewashandedanotherdrinkandthenanother.
Nervous.Hemustbenervous.Butwhatcouldamanlikethatpossiblyhavetobenervousabout?

He easily towered over most of the men in attendance. Suddenly his posture changed, then he

smiled.

Janefelthermouthdropopeninshock.
Dazzling.
Hewas…likeadukeoralordoraprincefromastorybook.Clearly,shereadtoomanyromance

novels,buthisentirepresencedemandedattention;screamedauthority,importance,andsex.Lotsand
lotsofsex.

Yes,hisvirilitywasatangiblething,asifshecouldreachoutandgraspitwithherfingertips.
“What are you doing?” Esmeralda yelled in her right ear, interrupting her blatant sexual fantasy

about a complete stranger. Great. That’s what her life had come to. And sadly? It was the most fun
she’dhadallnight.

JaneturnedtoEsmeralda,prayedforpatience,andanswered.“Sorry,Iwasjustthinking.”
“You’resoboring.”Esmeraldarolledhereyes.“Nowonderyougotdumped.”
Anotherfunfact?Esmeraldawasmeanwhenshewasdrunk.
Thereminderofthebreakupburnedlikeacid.
Ithadbeenayearago,notthatitmattered.Itstillhurtthatthelastguyshe’ddatedhadtoldherthat

althoughshewascute,shewasn’treallydoingitforhimanymore.

Right.Doingit.
Maybethatwasbecauseshehadn’tdoneanythingforhimorwithhim,andhefoundthatlacking.

But they’d only dated for a few weeks. Did normal girls do that? Put out after a few weeks?
Apparently.

Shewasn’tnormal.
Butifthatwasnormal,maybeshewasbetteroffbeingstrange.
“Jane,areyouevenlisteningtome?”Esmeraldawhined.“Essenceneedsyoutodancenexttoher

forabit.I’mtiredandtipsy.Iwanttosit.Plusyourdressblendsinenoughthatitwon’ttakeattention
awayfromher.”

Noway.What?Whathadshejustsaid?
Janewrappedherarmsaroundhermiddle.“I’msorry,what?”
Withoutwarning,EsmeraldagrabbedJane’shandandjerkedhertowardthedancefloor,causing

Jane to lose her footing and crash directly into Esmeralda’s back. Then, with a ricochet like effect,
sheslammedbackintoEssence.

Janeopenedhermouthtoshoutoutanapology,butEsmeraldawasalreadytoodrunktolistento

reason. With determination in her eyes, she reached for the pearls at Jane’s neck but grabbed the
fabricofthedressinstead.

Her poorly sewn dress ripped instantly, causing the fabric to slink past her strapless bra. A

diagonalslitsplitupherthighalmostallthewaytoherhip.Inanefforttocoverherself,shetooka
stepandtripped,thankstoherclunkyshoes.

Andthenshefelltothefloor.
Hard.
Her sisters watched in horror—but neither of them offered a hand. They were probably kicking

themselves for forcing her to come. Esmeralda leaned over but missed Jane’s shoulder by a mile,
grabbingherhairandgivingitatug,whichonlymadeJanewinceharder.

Bothsisterswerecompletelytanked.
Andshewaslessthantwominutesawayfrombeingtrampledbytheothersweatybodiesaround

her.

Sheglancedup.
Andintotheeyesofthemanshe’djustbeenlustingafter.
OhGod,thehumiliationwascomplete.
Thatoneglancetoldherhe’dseenitall.Sheswallowedbackthethicknessbuildinginherthroat.

Ofcoursetheonlytimehe’dnoticeherwouldbewhenshe’drippedherdressandnearlytookouta
fewguestsonherwaydowntothedancefloor.

Thecrowdgatheredaroundher.
And the sexy man disappeared—probably off in search of a girl with perfect hair, perfect teeth,

perfectclothes.

Shereallyshouldhavestayedhome.
Tearsfilledhereyesasaheelpressedintoherrighthand.Withajerkshetuggedherhandfree,

strugglingtogetuptostandonherwobblyfeet,whensuddenlyshewaspulledtoastandingposition
andthensweptupinstrongarms.

Jane’s eyes were still so blurry from unshed tears she couldn’t make out the man’s face as he

carriedheroutofthecrowd.

Hesmelledlikeheaven.
Shefoughttheinsaneurgetopressherfaceagainsthischestandjust…closehereyes.
Becausehefeltsafe.
Pathetic,whenastranger ’sarmsprovidedmoresafetythanherownfamily.Andyethefelt…right.
Inaworldwherethingsforthepasttenyearshadfeltsowrong.
Hefeltright.
Maybeshe’dhadtoomuchchampagne.
“Areyouallright?”hewhisperedinadeepvoicewithahintofasoutherndrawl.He’dbroughther

intoaprivateroomwherethemusicwasn’tquitesodeafening.

Hesetherononeoftheblackleathercouchesandkickedthedoorshutwithhisfoot,mufflingthe

musicontheotherside.

Blinking, Jane glanced up and gawked, like a starry-eyed teenager. He was the same man she’d

seenearlier,theoneshe’dbeencaptivatedby.“Yes.”

“Yes?” He looked confused. His amazing eyebrows drew together, and a small line creased the

centerofhisforehead.Eventhelinewasgorgeous,justasgorgeousastherestofhim.

His thickly muscled body screamed power. Her hands slid down the front of his chest. Even his

shirtwassmooth.Shedidn’trealizeshe’dbeenbasicallypettinghimuntilhismusclestensedbeneath
herpalm.Ohcrap.

“Imean,yes,I’mfine.”Shetriedtostandthenfellbackdown;herstupidheelwasbroken.“OrI

wasfine,untilIgottrampled.”

Thelineinhisforeheaddeepened.“You’renothurt,areyou?”
Janeshookherheadthenpressedherhandtoherchestandgaspedout,“Mypearls!”
“Waithere.”Heheldouthishands.“I’llgetthenecklace,I’msureit’swhereyoufelland—”
“No.”Janeslumped,defeated.“Theybrokeoffwhenmysis—”Shecorrectedherself,notwanting

toclaimthecraziesintheotherroom.“TheybrokeapartwhenIfell.”

Themansighedloudlyandranhisfingersthroughhisperfecthair.“I’lltalktotheclubmanager

andseeifanyoneturnsthemin.”

Itwasonthetipofhertonguetogivehimallthemanyreasonswhytheywereirreplaceable,but

insteadshesettledwith,“That’sreallynotnecessary.It’snotyourfaultIwasavictimofthetechno
craze.”

Hisupperlipcurled.“Ihatetechno.”
“Metoo.”
“IstheresomethingIcando?Anything?Youpromiseyouaren’thurt?”
“Carefuloryou’regoingtohavemebelieveyougotmetrampledonpurposeinordertotrapme

inaprivateroom,”shejokedasasmiletuggedatherlips.

“HadIknownyouwerewilling,Iwouldn’thavehadtogotosuchextremestoorchestrateit.”
Heappearedstunnedbyhisownanswer.
Herbreathhitched.Washeflirtingwithher?
Hiscrystalblueeyestwinkledwithamusement.
“So…” Her voice was hoarse, like an old woman’s. Great. “I should probably get back to the

party.” Why did she need to go back again? All the reasons seemed to disappear as he maneuvered
aroundthecouchandpoppedabottleofchampagnethathadbeenchillinginanearbycrystalbucket.

“Whydon’tyouandIhaveadrinkfirst?”Hepeeredaroundthetable.“I’llneedtosendforsome

shoes.It’stheleastIcando.”Hisgazeheated.“Shoesareappropriatetopurchaseforastranger.A
dress,I’mafraid…”Thecornersofhismouthtiltedintoasultrysmileashiseyesslowlyrakedover
thescrapsoffabricbarelycoveringherbreasts.“Notsomuch.”

Didpeopledothatthesedays?Justsendforshoes?Whowasthisguy?“Really,it’snotnecessary.

I’ll just stick to the shadows so I don’t scare anyone with my limp and I’ll be okay.” She sounded
moreconfidentthanshefelt,andherlowerliptrembledabit.Nexttimeshewasgoingtoholdher
ground,stayhome,readabook,andbeplainboringJane.Thiswasn’therscene.Notbyalongshot.

He leaned in close, so close she could smell his aftershave again. “A woman like you doesn’t

belongintheshadows.”

Uncomfortable,shetriedtomakelightofthesituationagain.“Wow,aheroandgoodwithwords.I

betyou’rejustaregularhandful,aren’tyou?”

“Me?”Helaughedasifthethoughtwasthefunniestthinghe’deverheard.“No,thatwouldbemy

twinbrothers.They’rethehandfuls.I’m…”Heseemedtothinkaboutit.“JustBrock.”

“Well,JustBrock…”Janeheldoutherhand.“I’mJustJane.”
His hand completely engulfed hers as their palms pressed against one another. He was so warm.

Andbig.

Huge.
Hugehands.Thatmeantsomething,right?
Crap,shewasstillshakinghishand,andhewasgrinningatherasifitwasthefunniestthingthat

hadeverhappenedtohim.Andhewaslookingather.Athereyes,notatthefactthatshewashalf-
nakedonacouch,withabrokenshoe.

Withajerk,shepulledherhandbackandnervouslyreachedtotuckastraypieceofhairbehind

herear.

“So,Brock.”Janelookeddownathisshoes.Thatwassafe.Shoes.Nothingsexyaboutaman’sfeet,

right? Except his were inside shoes that she ventured probably cost more than she’d ever see in a
lifetime.“Aboutthoseshoes.”

“Shoes.”Herepeatedthewordandthenquicklystood.“Right,justwaithere.”
“But,youdon’tevenknowmysize!”
Hiseyesheatedasheeyedherupanddown.“WoulditbetoocheesyifIsaidperfect?”
“Perfect?”sherepeatedlikeanidiot.“Idon’tthinkIunderstand.”
“Theperfectsize.”Hishalf-liddedgazewascausingherstomachtodoflip-flopswhileshetriedto

keepacalmdemeanor.

Withasmilehekneltdownandtouchedherfoot.
Touchedit.
Andthengazedupatherandsaid,“Eight?AmIclose?”
“Eight.”Shenearlystuttered.“Eightandahalf.”
Withanod,hestoodanddisappeared,givingherthebreathingroomsheabsolutelyneeded,only

tore-appearafewsecondslater.

Withoutshoes.
Shefrowned;thenagain,whathadsheexpected?Thathe’dbangsomeplasticBarbieoverthehead

withhiscellphone,stealhershoes,andthentossthemtoJane?

Brock studied her. “Your shoes should be here within the next fifteen minutes. I just sent my

degeneratebrotheracrossthestreet.Saksisstillopen.Thenightisyoung.”

Saks?
ShoesfromSaks?
She’dneverownedanythingfromSaks.Ever.Butsheknewthestore;didn’teverywoman?Still,

themostexpensivethingshe’deverownedhadbeenthepearls.

“That’sreally…”Shewavedherhandintheairandstood.“Notnecessary…youcantellhimthat

—”

Brock reached for her hand and lightly tugged her back. “Sit. It is necessary. And although I

typicallywaituntilthethirddatetobuyawomangifts,Ithinkyournearlygettingtrampledallowsme
tobreakthatrule.”

Stilltense,Janenoddedandtookashakylookaroundthesmall,privateroom.
“Tonewshoes?”Brockgrabbedhisdrinkandlifteditintheairtowardher.
Sheliftedherglassandclinkeditagainsthisthentookasmallsip.Thechampagnewaspinkand

sweet,withatartaftertaste.“It’sgood.”

“Yousoundsurprised.”Brock’slipsliftedinasmile.
Shescruncheduphernose.“I’mnotmuchofadrinker,andItypicallydon’tlikedrinksthatarethe

samecolorasmyunderwear.”

Theminutethewordswereoutofhermouth,shefroze,barelymanagingtosuppresstheurgeto

clapahandoverhermouth.Shewantedsomeonetorunheroverwithacar.

Withachoke,Brocknearlyspitoutthesiphe’djusttaken.Faceflushed,hestaredherdownand

thenwhispered,“You’remakingmeregretmydecisiontosendoutforboringblackshoes.”

“Ididn’t…Imean,pinkisfine.”Stoptalking,stoptalking.“Notallofmyunderwearispink.Ihave

black,too.”

Brock’slipspartedwithagreedyexhale,andhedownedtherestofhisdrink.“Oh?”
Hellinahandbasket.
Whywasshegivinghimarundownofherlingeriedrawer?AsifhewereanaughtySantawitha

checklist in front of him, putting down little marks on the little boxes that read “red lacy thong”?
Check.“Blackboyshorts”?Doublecheck.

“I’mmoreofaboxerbriefsortofguy,”hesaidsmoothly,bringingherbacktothepresent.
“Huh?”
“Toofar?”Hechuckled.“IfiguredifIknewthecolorofyours…Ishouldatleastshowyoumine.”

Heleanedforward.

Hadhesaidshow?
Just how drunk was he? Maybe that was the reason his eyes were zeroing in on her mouth. He

blinked,andthenseemedtoswayabit.

Washeokay?Andwhywashestillstaringathermouth?Didshehavesomethingonherface?
Self-consciously,shepressedherfingertipstoherlipsonlytohavehimsuckinabreathandlift

hisrighthandfromhisthighasifwantingtotouchtheplacewhereherfingershadjustbeen.

“Gottheshoes!”amalevoiceyelledasJanejerkedawayfromBrock.
Whathadjusthappened?Andhowhadenoughtimepassedforsomeonetofindandbuyhershoes?

“Holyshit,you’rehot.”

Sherecognizedthemanfrombefore.HewasaboutaninchshorterthanBrock,buthadthesame

perfectauburnhair.“I’mBentley,andsincethisone’sabouttogetmarried,Ifeellikeit’sonlyfairto
letyouknowthatoutofthetwoofus,I’mthesingle,availableone,who’salso—luckyforyou—been
givenahigherratinginthesack.”

Married?
Hewasgettingmarried?
Andhittingonher?
Or was she hitting on him? After all, she was the one who’d mentioned underwear. Ugh, she

wantedtocrawlunderthetableanddie.

ChapterFive

entley!”Brockbarkedandshookhishead.

“What?”BentleyshruggedthensmoothlywalkedovertoJaneandpulledoutaboxofblackhigh-

heeledpumpsinasizeeightandahalf.“Yourfoot,milady?”

Brockrolledhiseyes.“Giveitarest,Bentley.Shecanputonherowndamnshoes.”
Bentley completely ignored him. “I love a woman’s foot.” He grabbed Jane’s broken shoe and

tossedittothesidewhilehishandsdancedalongthearchofherfoot.Hisfingertipsdancedalongher
skin.Seductionbyfootrub?Thatwasnew.

“It’ssexy,thearch.”Heleanedoverher,hislipspartingjustenoughtogivehertheimpressionhe

wasthinkingaboutkissingher.“Thecurveofawoman’sfootremindsmeofherbody…see?Sexy.”
HeslidtheshoeonaveryterrifiedlookingJaneandstood.“Perfectfit.”

Jane’smouthopenedthenclosedasarosyflushcreptoverherface.“Th-thankyou.”
“Iboughtyoumyfavoritebrand.”
Hereyebrowsarched.HowdidheknowaboutManoloBlahnik?“Oh.”Andthenshenoddedand

saidloudly,“Ohhhh!Thatmakessense!”

Bentley’seyesnarrowed.“Mebuyingwomen’sshoes?”
“You wearing them,” she explained. “That’s great. I mean, good for you. I’m sorry I’m so

awkwardatthingslikethis,butit’sgoodyou’re…youknow…”Shebobbedherheadandsputtered.
“Outand…comfortablewithit.”

“Out?”Bentleyrepeated.“I’mconfused.”
“Ofthecloset,”shesaidslowlythensawthescowlonBentley’sface.“Ormaybeyoujustliketo

dresslikeawoman?”Shestraightenedhershouldersandtriedagain.“Ineithercase,congratulations
onyourchoicetowearwomen’sclothing!”

Brock about died laughing as Bentley’s horrified expression went from stunned to genuine

confusion.

“Youheardher.”Brockheldhislaughterincheck.“Congratulations,brother.I’lltakecareofthe

pressrelease:BachelorPlayboyBentleyWellingtonandhisprivatewomen’sshoecollection.”

Bentleyletoutastrangledlaugh.“Yes,andwhilewe’reatitwhydon’tweremindthepressthatthe

clockistickingonthatauctionofyours?Hmm?”

“Auction?”Janeasked.
“Don’t.”Brockshookhishead.“Youdon’twanttoknow.”
“Butsheprobablyalreadydoes.”Bentleypointedout.“Unlessshedoesn’treadthenews…?”
Theybothstaredather,waitingforananswer.
“I,uh…”Sheduckedherhead,blushingagain.“Ireadbooks.”
“Howpure.”Bentleysmiledandsatdownnexttoher.“Andjustsowe’reclear.”Heleanedinas

thoughhewasgoingtokissher.“Mybatonlyswingsoneway…andIcanassureyou,everytimeIget
thrownapitch,Ihititoutofthepark.”

“Incredible,”Brockmuttered.“I’veneverseenyoutrysohard—especiallywithawomanclearly

not interested in what you’re offering.” Brock gripped his brother by the shoulders, aimed him
towardthedoor,andgaveahardshove.“Go.”

BentleycursedBrocktheentireway.
BrockturnedbacktoapologizetoJanebutshewasalreadytryingtosneakpasthim,bothofher

handsclutchingherdresssoitwouldn’tfalldown.

Whatthehell?
Logic told him to let her go, but her eyes…damn those eyes, he wanted her to stay. “Enjoy the

shoes.”Hepushedhislipsintowhathehopedresembledasmileandtookastepback.Therightthing
alwayswonoutwithBrock.God,hehatedhimselfsometimes.“Jane.”

Sheturnedquicklyandhehadtosuppressagroan.Herlegswentonfordaysinthoseshoes,damn

it.

“Thanks again.” She smiled self-consciously, but at least it was a real smile. “For the save.” She

gavehimanotherawkwardsmileasshepointedbehindher.“Outthere.”

“Anytime,”hemurmuredasshedisappearedbackintothecrowdedclub.
Withasigh,hefellbackagainstthecouchandstaredupattheceiling.Thebestpartofhisnightso

farhadbeenspentwithawomanwhohadnocluewhohewas.

Andhe’dlovedit.
Heglanceddownatthefloor.Asmallsmilespreadacrosshislips.
Janehadleftheroldshoes.
Curiosityhadhimpickingupthewornshoes.Thebrandontheinsidewaswornawayfromuse.
Whatdidheexpecttofind?Hernameandaddresswritteninside?
EverycellinhisbodywastellinghimheneededtoseeJaneagain.Tofindoutiftheconnection

he’dfeltwithherwasreal.

She’dmadehimlaugh.
Andengage.
He’dwantedtohaveanactualconversationthathadnothingtodowithhismoney,hisbrothers,the

auction,orhisgrandfather.

Ithadbeennice.
Shehadbeennice.
Andnowshewasgone.

ChapterSix

ane!”

Janepulledherpillowoverherface,andforonebriefmomentwonderedifitwouldbepossibleto

suffocate herself. Not that she was suicidal, but Mondays with her sisters? They always made her
violent.

“Jane!”Esmeraldascreamedatthetopofherlungs.“It’sseven!I’mgoingtobelateforwork!I’m

starving!”

Godforbidhersisterpourherowncoffee.
Grumbling, Jane crawled out of bed, tossed on a ratty sweatshirt, and ran down the stairs just in

timetogetshovedagainstthewallasEssencemovedbreezilypastherinacloudofcloyingperfume
andcigarettesmoke.

Bothofhersisterssatatthetableexpectantly,checkingtheirphones.
“Eggsokay?”Janeaskedwithfakecheerasshemadeherwayovertothefridge.
Neitherofhersistersanswered.
Her parents had hated Mondays—and early on had established a family tradition by starting the

weekwithahome-cookedbreakfast.Janehadkeptthetraditionalive—longaftershesuspectedthat
shewastheonlyonewhocaredaboutthetradition.

And then one Monday she’d poured them all cereal, thinking she was too tired to keep up the

traditionnooneelseseemedtocareabout.Hersisterscried.

Itwashorrible.
Manipulative,yes.
Butalsohorrible.
Everyone mourned in their own way; it didn’t matter that their dad had been gone a few years

already,andtheirmotherlonger.Itwasstillhardtobewithoutthem.Sometimesitwastheonlything
Janethoughtshehadincommonwithhersisters—theirsadnessoverthelossoftheirparents.

Sighing,shequicklymadetheeggsandfriedsometurkeybacon.
“Finally,”Essencegrumbled,swipingthebaconofftheplate.Herbleachedhairwaspulledintoa

knot on top of her head. “Can you stop off at the dry cleaners and pick up my clothes?” She slid a
receiptacrossthetable.

Janehadtoresisttheurgetoslaphersister ’shandwiththespatula.
“Youknow…”Janesaidasshepulledoutachair.Itsqueakedacrossthewoodfloor,causingboth

sisters’headstobobup.“I’vebeenthinking,aboutthewholecookinganderrandsthing.Whydon’t
wetaketurns?I’mswampedwithwork.”Okay,thatwasalie;shewasn’texactlyswamped.Morelike
overwhelmed.

BothgirlsweresilentandthenEssencereachedacrossthetableandgrabbedherhand.“I’msorryI

yelledatyou.”

Jane’sheartclenched.

“Yeah,” Esmeralda said. “It’s just, you’re so good at those things, and nobody taught us how to

cook.We’dprobablystarvewithoutyou.Besides,you’reinthatcleaningvanalldayzippingaround
townsoit’seasierforyoutorunerrands.We’restuckinanofficebuildingallday.”

“True,”Janeadmitted,“but—”
“Promisewe’llthinkaboutit.”EssencesqueezedJane’shandonelasttimethenpulledaway.“But,

Jane?”

Ohno.
Essence’seyesfilledwithtears.“YoucookjustlikeMomusedto.Andyou’resogoodatit.”
Theroomfellintoatensesilence.
ThesilencemadeJane’sheartachewithmemoriesoflaughterandfoodfights.
No.
At some point she had to have her own life, away from taking care of her sisters twenty-four

seven.

“Yes,but—”
“Soit’ssettled.”Essencestoodandclappedherhands.“You’llkeephelpingusaroundthehouse!

Andcooking!”Herlowerlipjuttedout.“Itmakesusfeellikeafamilyagain.Besides,it’swhatyoudo
forajobanyway.Imean,youownyourowncleaningcompany.Howisthisdifferent?”

Andthereitwas.
Theguilt.
TheotherreasonJanestayed.
Shehadsworntoherfatherthatshe’dkeepthefamilytogetheratallcosts.
“Family,”hehadsaidbetweencoughs,“isallwehaveinthisworld.Iwasneverarichmanwhen

itcametomaterialpossessions.”AnothercoughingfithadensuedasJanetriedtoholdbackthesting
of tears. “But, my Jane, I’ve always had you.” His eyes were blurred with tears. “Your sisters don’t
haveyoursameheart,Jane,andtheywon’tdealwiththislikeyouwill.Ineedyoutokeepthemstrong.
You’retheyoungestbutyou’vealwaystakencareofthem.Don’tletthefamilyfallapart.”

He’ddiedthenextday.
Lungcancer.
Cancerhadstolenbothofherparents.
Janestoodandstartedclearingtheirplateswhilehersisterschatteredendlesslyaboutwork.
It was hard to believe that they were both successful lawyers. On the other hand, maybe that was

whytheyweresogoodatarguingwithher,wearingherdown,makingherfeelsmall.

ThefrontdoorslammedandJanelookedup.
Woulditkillhersisterstosaygood-bye?
Withasigh,sheatetheleftovereggsinthreebites,dumpedthedishesintothesink,andranback

upthestairstoherroomtoputonheruniform.

TornjeansandawhiteT-shirt.
Sheneverdeterredfromit.She’druinedwaytoomanyofherfavoriteshirtsbecauseofmultiple

bleachaccidents.

Humming,sheopenedthecurtainstohersmallroomandsmiled.Todaywouldbeagoodone.She

wouldn’tlettherockystartruintherestoftheday.

Afterall,lastnighthadstartedoutterrible.Butithadendedonagoodnote.Shetouchedherlips.

Brockhadn’tkissedher,butshecouldimaginewhathiskisswouldfeellikeallthesame.Brockwas
sooutofherleagueitwaslaughable,buthe’dtreatedherlikeanequal,somethingshewasn’tusedto
eveninherownfamily.

Pushingthatdepressingthoughtawaysheturnedawayfromthewindowtograbhertennisshoes,

onlytostumbleoverapairofheelsthatcostmorethanshemadeinaweek.

Theywereevenprettierinthedaylight.
Thesoftleatherglistened.
Asmallsmileformedasshepickeduponeoftheshoesandexaminedit.Thesewerethekindof

shoesthatmadeherfeellikeshecouldclicktheheelstogetherandshe’dendupwithadifferentlife.

Alifewhereherboyfrienddidn’tdumpherbecauseshewastooboring.
Alifewherehersistersrespectedher.
Alifewhereshedidn’tlivewiththeconstantnaggingguiltofkeepingthefamilytogether.
AlifewheremenlikeBrockaskedwomenlikeheronadate.
She slipped her right foot into the pump and stood on one leg, then slid her left foot in the

remainingshoe.

Immediatelyshewasremindedofhissmile,hishardmuscledbodyasitpressedagainsthers.
Jane clicked her heels together and whispered, “I wish…” Her eyes filled with tears. “I want…”

Shestumbledoutoftheshoesandstareddownathernakedfeet.

“Ijustwantmorethanthis,”shefinished,lookingaroundtheroomshe’dbeenforcedintosince

bothofhersistershadclaimedthebiggerroomsinthehouse.

Andthenhergazefellonherownreflectioninthemirror.
Straightening her shoulders she stared herself down. There were people worse off than she was.

Shewasjustbeingemotional.

Tearsblurredhervision—thisreactionwassounlikeher.
Maybeitwasthefactthatrightabovetheshoeswasapileofbillsthatsheknewshe’dhavetopay.

Billsthathersistersdidn’tfeelitwastheirresponsibilitytohelpoutwith.

She kicked one of the heels and crossed her arms—actually, her reaction made perfect sense.

Because for one fleeting moment she’d been something more than the Jane who cleaned office
buildingsandbailedhersistersoutofshoppingdebt.

She’dfeltbeautiful.
Powerful.
Howpathetic,thatallittookwasawell-dressedmanwithagorgeoussmileandapairofshoes,to

completelydisarmher.

Andmakeherwantthingsthatgirlslikeherwouldneverget.
Thoseshoeswereacatalyst.
Thoseshoesweretemptation.
Thoseshoeswerethedevil.

ChapterSeven

rockwokeupwithapoundingheadacheandashoeinbedwithhim.

Awoman’sshoe.
Someonegruntedfromacrosstheroom.
Hewasn’talone.
Pastingonacarefullyblankexpression,helookedaround.Shit,hadhesleptwithCinderella?
God,thatsmile.
Thosehips.
Thoselegs.
He squeezed the shoe tighter between his hands as lust hit him hard and fast; even with the

hangoverfromhell,hecouldstillseeaclearpictureofJaneinhishead.

“Uhhhhh.” The groaning was coming from the bathroom. Slowly, so as not to puke all over the

pristine wood floor, he threw the white duvet off his legs and walked to the tune of a jackhammer
betweenhistemples…allthewaytothebathroom.

Afootpokedoutthroughthehalf-opendoor.
Definitelynotasizeeightandahalf.
Norfeminine.
Hekickedatthelimbtogetthedoorfullyopenandthegroanturnedintocursing.Pushingatthe

door,hesawBentleyhuggingthetoiletlikeanewbestfriend.

“Roughnight?”BrocksmirkedlikethecompletebastardhewasasBentleyliftedamiddlefinger

intheairandkeptitthere.He’dtireout,eventually.

Anothergruntsoundedfromsomewhereelseinthelargemasterbathroom.
Brocksteppedaroundthecorner.Brantwassprawledinthebathtub,holdingafluffywhitetowel

closetohischest.

WherewasawhistlewhenBrockneededone?Oracaralarm?Airhorn?Therehadtobeanapp

forthat.

Brantopenedoneeye,thentwo.“SleepingBeautyawakes.”Shirtless,hestooduponwobblylegs,

thensteppedoutoftheclaw-foottubandscratchedhisnakedstomach.“Thatwasaroughone.”

“The shots?” Brock guessed, making his way over to the sink to brush his teeth and find some

aspirin.

“The hookers,” Brant said quickly, causing Brock to inhale an unhealthy amount of toothpaste

beforenearlychokingtodeath.“Kidding.”

Brockchokedevenharder.“Fuckoff.”
“Seeingyouloseyourshitatsevena.m.isoneofmyfavoritethings.”
“You both smell like shit.” And Brock felt like it. “Third drawer down for the unopened

toothbrushes.”Adrawerclosedwithathud,andBrockwinced.“Stopslammingthings!”

Bentley smiled at him in the mirror, and slammed two more drawers before unwrapping a

toothbrush.“Youknowwhat’ssadderthanthefactthatyoucan’tholdyourliquor?”

Brockspatintothesinkthenwipedhisfacewithhisarm.“Twelveshotswithinninetyminutesis

impressive.”

Haditbeentwelve?
Ten?
Diditmatter?
After chasing and losing Cinderella in the crowd he’d completely lost his shit, and drank the

frustrationaway.Whythehellhadn’tshestayedattheparty?

Whydidhecare?
Bentleycompletelyignoredhimandliftedhistoothbrushintotheair.Lightflashedoffplasticthe

colorofblood.“This,thisissad,thisrighthere.”

BrantmovedtoBrock’sleftandsplashedhisfacewithwater.“Redtoothbrushes?”
“Nope.”Bentleyspreadtoothpasteacrossthebristles.“It’ssadyoudon’tneedthesebecausehavea

newwomanhereeverynight.”

Brockrolledhiseyes.Right,becausehehadtimeforthat.
“What?”Bentleysmirked,toothpastefoamingoutofhismouth.“You’reasadlonelybastard.No

wonderGrandfatherthinksheneedstopickoutawillingwomanandslaptheWellingtonnameacross
herforehead.”

Brantnoddedhisagreement.
“Remindmewhyyou’rebothhere?Youhaveyourownapartments.NicepenthousesfullofSTDs

andwhores.”

“Aw!”Bentleylaughed.“Youre-stockedforus?You’resuchagoodbrother.”
Patience.Patience.Patience.Brocklocatedabottleofaspirinandpoppedtwoinhismouththen

handeditovertoBrent,whowasalreadygreedilyeyeingthewhitebottle.

“Youinvitedusbackheretokeepawatchfuleye.”Bentleyusedhisfingerstomakeairquotesand

thenshrugged.“Butlet’sbehonest:youwerejustastankedafterCinderellaleftwithnotraceastoher
nameorsocialsecuritynumber.”

Brockwentovertotheshowerandturnediton.“Iwasn’tupset.Iwasjust…curious.”
Alltalkingceased.
Brock turned to see his brothers grinning at him like he’d just announced he was going to get a

tigerlikeMikeTysonandcallitBitch.

“What?”hegrowled,andthenwincedwhengrowlingsetoffanotherjoltoflightningthroughhis

brain.

“Youcursedlastnight,”Bentleypointedout.“Alot.”
“Iwasdrunk,”Brocksaid,irritatedtofindhimselfonthedefensive.
“Nope.”GodhewantedtopunchthesmuggrinfromBrant’sface.“That’salie…youcursewhen

you’reeitherreallyupsetor…”HesharedalookwithBentley.“Whenyouwantsomethingyoucan’t
have,whichisn’toften.”

“Bullshit!”Brockyelled.Andwincedagainasbloodsurgedinhishead.
Bentleyhelduphishands.“Andwerestourcase.”
“I’mtootiredforthis.”
Bentleyside-steppedBrockthenmadeabeelinefortheshower.
“Likehell!”Brockshovedhisbrotheroutoftheway.“WhenI’mdoneshoweringIwantyououtof

my apartment.” He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor as he got into the
shower.

“Butwho’sgoingtomakeusbreakfast?”cameBentley’svoice.
“Go!”
SilenceensuedandthenBrantappearednexttotheshowerdoor.Hewasholdingupablackshoe.

Shit.“Soeitheryouhavesomethingyouwanttotellus…oryousleptwithawoman’sshoelastnight.
Where’stherestofher?”

Groaning,Brockletthehotwatersingehisbackasheleanedagainstthetileandexhaledroughly.

“It’sthegirlBentleywastalkingabout…Iboughthershoes.Hersbroke.”

“Youdorealizethat’skindofaweirdthingtodoforacompletestranger,right?Youdon’tjustbuy

someone expensive shoes after theirs break, especially not a woman. Buying clothes, even in a
relationship,usuallymeanscommitment.”

“Howdoyouknowtheywereexpensive?”heasked.
“Weren’tthey?”
“Eighthundredandfifty.”Bentleyshoutedfromthebedroom.
BrantwhistledandreturnedhisattentiontoBrock.
“Goaway,”Brockgrumbled.“Bothofyou.”
“Hmmm.”ThatwasBrant’sonlyresponse,andthentherewasblessedsilenceasBrockbreathedin

thesteamfromtheshower.

Shewasjustawoman.Areallypretty,vibrant,girl-next-door,attractivewoman.
Withsevenfreckles.
Damnit.
Smallstraightwhiteteeth.
Anoverlyplumptoplip.
“Damn,damn,damn.”Brockslammedhishandsagainstthetiledwall.
Thereminderoftheauctionhe’dagreedtowaslikeabrickinhisstomach,aheavy,horriblebrick

ofguilt.

TodayheandGrandfatherwouldgooverallofthefineprint.Alistofpotentialwomenandrich

familieswouldbecompiledbasedonpastdonationstoWellingtoncharitablecauses.

From that list, Brock knew his grandfather would pick his favorites, the ones that “made sense”,

justlikeHarvardhadmadesense,andfootball,andwearingthree-piecesuitsattwenty.

Becauseattheendofthedaythatwasallthatmattered.Keepinghisgrandfatherhappy.
The only thing that didn’t make sense to Brock was why they even needed this auction. It was a

simple question—but one that he was too scared shitless to actually ask. What was the real reason
behindtheauction?Didtheyreallyneedgoodpressthatdesperately?

Whenheturnedofftheshower,hesteppedovertheshoe—theelephantintheroom.
Agiantelephant,remindinghimheneededtostartlivinglifeforhimself.
He stared back down at the shoe, and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The girl from last

night…heknewhername,andthatwasastart.Howhardwoulditbetofindoutwhoshereallywas?
Maybehe’dluckoutandshe’dbefromoneofthewealthyfamiliesdonatingtothecause.

Right.Andmaybehe’dgetstruckbylightning.
Butifshewasn’tpartoftheauctionwhatwouldbethepoint?
Because even as his heart thumped yes, yes, yes when he thought about pursuing her—logic

screamedno.

Maybeifhewastojustrandomlybumpintoher,jokeabouthavingheroldshoes?
Goodpick-upline.
Solid.

She’dbeeatingoutofthepalmofhishand.
Withanothergroanhequicklygotreadytogototheoffice.Imagesofawomanwithbrowneyes

andplumplipsinvadedhisthoughtstheentiretime.

ChapterEight

senseofdreadwashedoverBrockasheenteredhisgrandfather ’soffice.

Anditwasn’tbecausehisgrandfatherwaswaitingtosealhisfatewithoutawordofargumentfrom

Brock.

No, hell had started the minute he got out of his car and made his way into the lobby of the

Wellingtonbuilding,andwasfuckingmauledbyenoughreporterstocoverapresidentialnomination.
DemocraticandRepublican.

“Shit.”Therehadbeennoside-stepping,noavoiding.Sohedidwhathealwaysdid,whathe’dbeen

trainedtodo.

Whathehated.
Hesmiled,shookhands,andmadehiswaythroughthecrowdwiththeexcuseofbeinglateforan

importantmeetingwithhisgrandfather.

“Isittrue?”Onereporteraskedshovingamicrophoneinhisface.
“Iswhattrue?”Heaskedthroughclenchedteeth.Andwhythehellwasheevenengaging?
Thereporterworeredlipstickandatightblackpantsuit.
Shegrinnedwidelyasmoremicrophoneswerethrustintohisface.
“Themarriage.”
Twowords.
“Marriage?”Hespattheword.“Therewillbenomarriage.”
The reporter gave him a confused look. “So it’s not true that your grandfather has agreed to

choose a suitable wife for the Wellington Dynasty from one of the many women who attempt to
purchaseyouattheauction?”

That was a rumor the press had started buzzing about ever since they’d learned of the auction.

Therewasnowayinhellhisgrandfatherwouldtakeitthatfar.

“Nomorequestions,”hebarked,jabbingtheelevatorbuttonharderthannecessary.ThankGodthe

doorsopenedandclosedonthewaitingcrowdjustintimeforhimtohaveafull-fledgedpanicattack
astheelevatorsurgedtothetopfloor.

Marriage.
No.
Hewouldn’t.
Hisgrandfatherwasn’tthatinsane.
Washe?
TalkaboutfuckingwithBrock’slife.Thatwouldbe—apricklingsensationrandownhisneckand

arms.

Thatwouldbeexactlylikesomethinghisgrandfatherwoulddo.
Theelevatordoorsopened.
“Hi,Brock.I’lljusttellhimyou’rehere,”Mrs.Everlybegan,butthesmiledroppedfromherface

themomentshegotagoodlookatBrock.

“Noneed.I’mgoingin.”Heslammedhishandsagainstthelargewooddoorsashepushedintohis

grandfather ’soffice.

Asusual,Grandfatherwassittingbehindhisdesk,anewspaperproppedupinfrontofhim.
Grandfatherwasacreatureofhabit.
Brock’sstomachclenchedwithanger.
Ifhewasn’tcareful,hisfuturewasstaringrightathim.
Anditlookedbleak.
Lonely.
Hell,itlookedlikemarriagetoawomanofhisgrandfather ’schoosing.
“Brock!”Grandfatherplacedhisweatheredhandonthemahoganydeskandstoodonshakyknees.

“Sit,sit!”

“IthinkI’llstand,”hesaidthroughclenchedteeth.
“Suityourself.”Grandfathershrugged.
“No.”
“Pardon?”Grandfather ’seyebrowsfurrowedashemovedaroundthedeskandcrossedhisarms.

“Whatwasthat,son?”

“I.Won’t.Do.It.”Brock’sbodyshook.Withrage.Withdread.Heknewtheramificationsofsaying

no,buthecouldn’tcontrolthewordscomingoutofhismouth.

HisgrandfatherheldouthishandsasiftotellBrocktosettledown,“Brock,youseemupset—”
“I’m beyond upset!” Brock took a step backward. “Find someone else. Though God knows why

youthinkthisisgoodpublicity.Wegetenoughattentionfromthetwins,whoseemtolandthemselves
ineverynewspaperandmagazineinthecountry.”

Grandfather suddenly went pale; his hand went to his chest and then with a strangled gasp, he

collapsed.

***

Three hours after Brock thought he’d nearly killed his Grandfather by actually standing up for
himselfhewasstillintheoffice.

TheEMTswerelonggone.
Grandfatherwasgoingtobefine.
Ananxietyattack.
Fromstress.
“Whatwereyoudiscussingwhenhecollapsed?”thefirstEMTasked.
Brock had felt too sick to answer; he just shook his head and asked in a strangled voice. “Is he

goingtomakeit?”

“His heart’s just fine.” The other EMT was giving Grandfather oxygen, or at least trying to.

Grandfatherwasfightinghimeverystepoftheway,sayinghehadjustfeltatighteninginhischest
andthenhotallover.

Andnowtheywerebacktosquareone.
WhatshouldhavebeenabriefmeetinghadturnedintooneofthescariestmomentsofBrock’slife.
“Howareyoufeeling?”heasked.
“I’mfine,Brock,”hisgrandfatherlied.
His grandfather coughed and sputtered into a handkerchief, then stuffed it in the pocket of his

three-piecesuit.Thesoundofhisleatherseatgivingwayfilledtheoffice,asGrandfatherleanedback

in the cushions and placed his hands in front of his face, tapping his fingers against one another,
signalinghewasdeepinthought.

Brocktuggedathissuddenlytoo-tighttie.
“Shallwe…goovertheplansfortheauction?”Grandfatheraskedwithhopefuleyes.Andjustlike

that.

Hegothisway.
Again.
“Sure.”
“Oh”—Grandfather thumbed through a folder on his desk and waved him off—“I guess that can

waitforlater.FirstIwanttodiscusstheranch.I’mpreparingitforyournewfamily.”

Hisnewfamily.
Asin.
Onehechose?Orhisgrandfather?Hewasafraidtoask.Afraidhe’dyellagainandreallykillthe

oldmanthistime.

“Oh?”
“Yes.” Grandfather thumbed through a few papers before his eyes lit up when he found what he

waslookingfor.“Onceyou’remarried,I’llsignoverthedeed.”Heslidapaperforward.“Thisisa
list of all employees currently on payroll. They take care of the horses, chickens.” Since when did
theyhavechickens?“Goats,thecock,andthemeanoldassthatBentleywoninabet.”

“Bentleywonanass?”
Grandfatherletoutaheavysigh.“Hebethisbrother,hisversionofanass,andtheotherpartybet

anactualanimal.Simplemisunderstanding.”

“HowdidInotknowaboutthis?”
“Yourarelycometomyparties,”Grandfathersaidwithatwinkleinhiseyes.
“Parties?Whatparties?”
Whatalternateuniversehadhejuststeppedinto?
Grandfatherignoredhim.“It’sgoodfortheseoldbonestojumpandjiveeveryonceinawhile.”
Jumpandjive?Thehell?
“You’ve been busy,” Grandfather interrupted. Brock shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You’ve

been working yourself into the ground. I want you to take an official vacation until the press dies
downabitoverthiswholeauctionbusiness.”Aguiltylookflashedacrosshisface.“Iassumethey’re
stilldownstairs.”

“Let me get this straight.” Anger started pulsating through Brock’s body once more. “First, you

forcemetoparticipateintheauctioninordertogetuspublicityandgainthetrustoftheboard,and
nowyouwantmegone?”Hisgrandfatherwasn’tmakinganysense.Noneofitmadesense.“What’s
reallygoingon?”

Hisgrandfatherfidgetedinhisseat.Heneverfidgeted.“Thepublicityteamthinksthehypeofyou

disappearingoutofthelimelightwillkeepWellingtonInc.inthepressuntilweauctionyouoffatthe
ball.”

Brockpressedthebacksofhispalmsagainsthiseyesandbitbackastringofcurses.“Ican’tjust

leave.”

Notafterwhathadjusthappenedwithhisgrandfather.
“It’swhatIwant.”Hisgrandfatherstaredhimdown.“It’swhat’sbestforyou.Forthecompany.”

Hiseyeslingeredonapieceofpaperonhisdesk.“Theshareholders…”Tearsfilledhiseyes.“They
don’ttrustyouboystotakeoverthecompany.BrantandBentleysleepwithanythingthatwalks,and

you’re guilty by association.” His smile was apologetic but all it did was burn like acid in Brock’s
stomach.“Theauction…itre-establishesourcontrol.Remindstheshareholdersthatwe’rethefaceof
the company and that this company”—he jabbed his finger onto the desk—“needs the Wellington
men!”

Ohhell.
Andnowitallmadesense.
Grandfather began to sweat and patted his handkerchief across his forehead and sighed. “Titus

Enterpriseshasalsoagreedtoparticipateintheauctionasawaytoshowgoodrelationsbetweenour
twocompanies.”Heshrugged.“Theshareholdershavebeenitchingtomendtherelationshipbetween
usandtheTitusfamilyandI’vekeptmypromisethatIwoulddoeverythinginmypowertodothat.
Thepointis,IpromisedthemTitus,theauction,andyou,andinreturnournamestaysgluedtothis
company.” He looked down and then back up at Brock with an unreadable expression. “Things are
shakywithTitusEnterprisesatbest.Onelittlesnagandthey’llpullout.”

“Idon’tsupposeyou’lltellmewhy.”
“It’s not your concern. I’ve got it handled.” Grandfather shrugged. “A nice little vacation is just

what you need. Besides, what could possibly be keeping you here? Let me run the company—my
company—for a few weeks to get the faith of the shareholders back in our court. They’ll see that
you’rebeingthedutifulgrandsonbyagreeingtobeauctionedoffandwe’llletthepressdowhatthey
dobest.”

“Destroylives?”Brockoffered.
“Don’tbesodramatic.”Grandfatherpulledthepapersintoaneatpileandleanedforward.“Now,

wasthereanythingelse?”

Hewasofficiallybeingdismissed.
Brockstoodandnoddedhishead.“Idon’tlikebeingkeptinthedark.”
“IfIworryaboutyou,you’llworryaboutme,whichinturnmakesmeworryaboutyoumore.”
Brockjerkedbackasifhe’djustbeenslapped.“Youworryaboutme?”
“EversincethatdaywhenIwatchedthelightfadefromyoureyes.Thesamedaytheresponsibility

foryouboyscametorestonmyshoulders.Dothisforme,Brock.I’mnottelling,I’masking.”

Hewantednothingmorethantopushback.Toturnandwalkawayfromthisconversation,from

thislife.Toyellnooverandoveragainuntilhisvoicewashoarse,buthewascaught.

Memoriesofhisparents’deathsfloodedhisbrain.Theshock,thetears,thetwinswaitingforthem

tocomehome,theknowledgetheyneverwould.

Andheknewhisthoughtswerewrittenalloverhisface,becausehisgrandfatherstaredathimwith

pity-filledeyes,asiftosay,“Wecantalkaboutit.”

But he didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to push the whole horrible situation to the furthest

recessofhismindandputitonlockdown,wherehedidn’thavetodealwithit—anyofit.

Because once he dealt with it, healed, and got over the trauma, there was this lingering fear that

he’dforgetthem.

“Yes,”hewhisperedandclosedhiseyes.“Theanswerisyes.”
“Good.”Grandfather ’ssmilewasstrained;helookedlikehewasabouttosaymore,butdidn’t.
God,itwasalwaysthesamewiththem.
Somuchwasalwaysleftunsaid.
AfakesmilereplacedGrandfather ’sworriedone.
Andthereitwas.
Hismindimmediatelywenttoallthefreedomhe’dlose.

Andthegirlwithprettylipsandwideeyesthathe’dprobablyneverseeagain.
“Thelist,”hefoundhimselfsaying,“Fromthelaunchpartylastnight,doyouhaveit?”
“Thelist?”Grandfather ’seyesnarrowed.“Why?”
“Ineedit.”
“Youneedit?”
“StoprepeatingeverythingI’msayingandjuste-mailmethedamnlist.”
He could have sworn Grandfather ’s lips twitched at the corners. “I’m merely curious what you

could possibly want with a list of names—though maybe the idea of settling down with one of the
biddersisstartingtosoundlikeagoodidea?”

Itwasn’talistofnameshewanted.Itwasonename.
Anameattachedtoabeautifulwomanwho’dtakenoverhiseverywakingthought.
Brock stiffened. “Well, I should at least do some homework if you want me to be part of the

auction. Weren’t a majority of the people at the launch event the same ones that are planning on
donating?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Grandfather tapped his chin. “I’ll send you the list. I’m just glad that you’re

takingthisseriously.Thiscompanyisimportanttous;it’syourfuture.”

Brocksuddenlywantedtorun.
Andthenpunchhisfistthroughawall.
Hisfuture.
Right.
“Theauctionissetforthreeweeksfromtomorrow.Thenightwillstartoffwiththeball,butyou

don’tneedtoconcernyourselfwiththat.Ihavemarketingandpublicityworkingonthedetails.All
youhavetodoisshowupwithasmileonyourface.”

“Okay.”
Grandfathertiltedhisheadtotheside.“Wastheresomethingelseyouwantedtosaytome?”
Yes.Therewereamillionthingshewantedtosay.Allofwhichstartedwith“I’msorryIcan’tdo

this” and “I’m sorry they died.” “I’m sorry it’s my fault.” “I’m sorry that you lost your son and
daughter-in-law.”

Becausehewas.
Sofuckingsorry.
“Are you sure?” Grandfather prodded further. “You know you can talk to me about anything,

Brock.”

No, he really couldn’t. Because clearly bad things always happened when he said no, and his

grandfatherwasthegluethatheldthefamilytogether.

And he was being selfish for wanting more for himself when his grandfather had sacrificed

everythingtoraisethreehellionboyswho’dlosttheirparents.

“No.”Brockshottohisfeet.“No,there’snothingelse.”
Grandfathersighed.“That’stoobad.”
“What was that?” It was hard to miss the hopeful look in his grandfather ’s eyes. What could he

possiblyexpectBrocktoask?

“Theweather.”Grandfathernodded.“It’ssupposedtogetbad.Trynottoleavetoolateonyourtrip

totheranchhouse.”

Theranchhouse.
ChillsranupanddownBrocksarms.
Thelasttimehe’dbeentherehe’dbeenabrokenchildsearchingforanswers.

Funnyhowsomethingschanged,andsomethingsdon’t.
Becausesomehowhestillfeltbroken.

ChapterNine

inderellaCleaning,youmakethemess,andwe’llcleanitupbeforeyoucanutter‘bibbidibobbidy

boo’.” Jane seriously needed to consider changing her company’s motto. Yawning, she put a hand
overhermouthtostiflethesoundandscrunchedhernoseatthescent.

Lemon Pine Sol was her perfume these days. She loathed every part of her job—except the way

things looked once she was finished. That, she appreciated. But Cinderella Cleaning had been her
father ’sbusiness.Andithadhelpedgetherthroughcollege.Anditmadesense.

Like everything else in her boring life. It made sense to take over his business, as if it was

somehowkeepinghismemoryalive.She’devenkepthissurfboardkeychain.

Thumbingthelittleboard,sheyawnedagainasthepersonontheotherendofthelinecoughedand

sputtered.

“Sorry.” The man sounded old. Real old. Great. A while ago she’d discovered that her phone

numberwasnearlyidenticaltoonethatbelongedtoamassageservicethatshewasprettysureoffered
happyendings.“Thisoldcoldhasmedown.”

“It’sokay.”Janeletoutasighandturnedofftheengine.ShehadjustpulledintoStarbucks,inneed

ofagiantpick-me-up.“WhatcanIhelpyouwith?”

“Ihavepipesthatneedcleaning,amongotherthings.”
“Ohum,well.”Shemadeafaceandthencringedatherreflectionintherearviewmirror.Mascara

fromlastnightstreakeddownhercheeks.Crap!She’dforgottentowashitoff.“Idon’t…Ithinkthe
number you’re looking for has an eight instead of a seven at the end. This is Cinderella Cleaning
Company.”

Alongpauseandthen,“Iknow.Ineedthingscleaned.”
“Look,sir,Icleanhousesandoffices.”
“Fantastic!”Heseemedoverjoyedattheidea.Washedrunk?“Ihaveaveryoldhousethatneedsa

bitofattention.Iwon’tbeinresidence,buttherewillbesomeonetheretohelpyouout.I’mafraidI
wouldneedyouroundtheclockforanextendedamountoftime.”

“I’m not really a live-in maid,” she said, as visions of being locked in the attic Jane Eyre-style

filledherhead.

“It’sonlyforafewdays.I’llpayhandsomely.”Themanstartedcoughingagain.“Fivethousanda

week.”

“Dollars?”sheshouted,droppingthephoneintoherlapandstaringatitinshockbeforepickingit

upagain.

He chuckled on the other end. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in alternate forms of payment.

Although I do have some chickens. Doubt I could get more than one good egg out of ’em, though.
Five thousand? Good night, they’d probably explode. Ah, but then again, chickens need love, too. I
believeminesimplyenjoytheactoflovemakingmorethantheproductionofeggs.That’sallthereis
toit.”

Janestaredatthephonethenputitbacknearherear.Washetalkingaboutchickensex?
“At any rate…” he sighed. “I’d like to hire you, if you don’t mind. We can go over specifics

tomorrowwhenIsendacarforyou.”

“Ihaven’tsaidyesyet.”
“Youwill.”
“Why?”Shedrewoutthewordslowly.
“Becauseyouneedanadventure,”hesaidsoquietlyshealmostdidn’thearhim.
“Whothehellisthis?”Herskinprickledwithawarenessasshenervouslyglancedoutthewindow.

Washewatchingher?Howcreepy!

“Eh,thinkofmeasyourfairygodfather.”
“Thanks,butnothanks.”
“Fifteenthousanddollarsaweek.”
“Good-bye.”
Shehungupthephonewithshakinghands.
Withinaminute,itstartedringingagain.
Sheletitgotovoicemail.
Thiswascrazy.Right?
Hecouldbeahomicidalmaniac.Luringmaidsorhousecleanersintohishomewiththepromise

ofmoney.

Butstill.
Shecouldn’tdenyshewastemptedbytheideaofanadventure.Orthatshecoulduseabreakfrom

thehamsterwheelthatwaslifewithhersisters.

Especiallyafterthismorning.
Herphonebeepedalertinghertohismessage.
Sheshouldjustdeletethemessage,butcoffeefirst.Coffeealwaysfirst.Withasigh,shegotoutof

the large cleaning van and made her way into Starbucks, walking purposefully toward the counter,
onlytobecutinfrontoftheminuteshegotcloseenoughtoorder.

Andlikeanidiotsheallowedit.
Justlikesheallowedhersisterstowalkalloverher.
Withagrimaceshestareddownatherphoneandnearlythrewitagainstthewallwhenatextfrom

Essencepoppeduponherscreen.

We’regoingtobehomelate!Drinksafterwork!Savefoodforus?
Irritated,shedidn’tanswer.
They didn’t have money for drinks after work—every night of the week! It was bad enough that

hersisterswereprobablygoingtostayuntilhappyhourwasover—buttheyalwaysboughtdrinksfor
theirfriends,too.

Withagroan,shetossedherphonebackintoherpurse.
Janeorderedalargeblackcoffeeandheadedbacktothevan.Buttheminutesheturnedthekeyin

theignitionsheknewsomethingwasterribly,horriblywrong.

The van shuddered, made a crazy choking sound and puffed out enough black smoke to kill a

person.

“No,no,no,”Shesaidaloud.She’djusttakenitintotheshopandthemechanichadwarnedherif

she didn’t fix a few things the engine would die. But the few things had turned into close to five
thousanddollars’worthofwork.Shedidn’thavethatkindofmoney.

Tearsstunghereyes.

Hervanwasn’tawant—itwasanecessityforhertoactuallyrunthebusiness.
She jerked the keys out of the ignition and picked up her phone, chewing her lower lip before

pressingplayonhervoicemailandputtingthephoneonspeaker.

“Weseemtohavegottenoffonthewrongfoot,MissCinderellaCleaning.”Themanhadanother

coughingfit.“Ifyoudothisjobforme,Iwillpayyouthirtygrand,finaloffer.Iwon’tbeattheestate
whileyouareinresidence.Infact,you’llprobablybeboredoutofyourmind.Wehavestate-of-the-
artsecurity,andIbelievetheonlyconcernyou’llhaveiswhentheassgetsloose,whichI’msorryto
report happens quite often, if my ranch hand is to be believed. Then again, he’s old, so maybe he’s
imaginingit.”Anotherlongsputter.“Callmeback,we’llmakearrangements.You’llopenthehouse,
keepitclean,andprepareitforitsnewtenants,allthewhiletakingbreaksoutbythepool.Howhard
coulditbe?”

Janechewedherlowerlip.
Howhardindeed?

ChapterTen

ane!”EsmeraldashriekedsoloudlythatJanewincedbeneaththewarmthofheroldblanket.“Jane!”

Anotherloudyellwasfollowedbystompingupthecreakywoodstairs.

Thewoolblanketwasjerkedawayandtossedontothefloor.
Esmeraldatoweredoverthebed,armscrossed.“It’sseven.”
“Iknow,”Janesaidinasmallvoice.“It’salsoTuesday.YougointoworkatnineonTuesdays.”
Esmeralda’seyesnarrowedintotinyslits.“ButIstillneedtoeat,andEssencewantstogetinearly,

sohurrythehellup.God,Idon’tknowwhyweputupwithyou.”

They’d been fighting with Jane ever since Monday night, when she had gotten into it again with

them about staying out late and spending money that they didn’t have. It didn’t help that Esmeralda
didn’tgetthepromotionshe’dthoughtshewasupfor,whichmeantnopayraise.Essencehadsaidas
muchwhenshegothomelastnight.Herfacewaspalewhenshe’dmentionedthatEsmeraldahadbeen
countingonthemoney.

Janedidn’twanttoknow.
Didn’task.
Becauseshehadasinkingfeelinghersisterhaddonesomethingstupid.Andtheycouldn’tafford

tobailheroutagain.

Janewaiteduntilthedoorslammedafterhersisterthenallowedthetearstofallfreely.She’dbeen

havingthebestdream.

AboutBrock.
Becausenaturallyamanthatgood-lookingjusthadtoinvadeherdreams,aswellaseverytimeshe

thoughtaboutshoes,ordarkhair,ormenwithkindsmiles.He’dbeensonice.

So.Nice.
Typically,shejustcleanedoffices,movingthroughthedaywhilepeoplepassedherby,notgiving

thecleaningladyasecondglance.Shewasokaywiththat;she’dalwaysbeenokaywiththat.

Untilnow.
Untilsomeone…hadstopped.
Untilsomeonebeautiful…hadsmiled.
Gah!
Shepoundedherfistsintothemattressashernamewasscreamedupintotheraftersyetagain,this

timebyEssence.

Shegrabbedhersweatshirtlikeshedideveryotherday,threwitoverherhead,andslowlyambled

downthestairs.

Bothgirlswereseatedintheirspotsatthetable,andJanegotasuddenvisionofherfuture.
She’dbeeightyandstillcleaninguptheirmesses.
Inthesamerattysweatshirt.
Inthesamesadpatheticflip-flops.

Frowning,shegrabbedoneoftheskilletsandtossedinsomebacon.She’dpromisedherfather,but

whatif,bykeepingherpromise…shelosthersoul?Herwilltolive?

“Damn.”Essenceletoutalongwhistle.“Iwouldn’tkickhimoutofbed.”
“Letmesee!”EsmereldasnatchedthepaperfromEssence’shands.“Please.Hedidn’tevenlookat

youtheothernight.”

“Hewouldhave,”Essencegrumbled,“ifJanehadn’tfallenandcausedsuchacommotion.”
“Iwishwehadthemoneytobidonhim,”Esmeraldawhined,andthenbothgirlsfellsilent.
PricklesofawarenessshivereddownJane’sspine.
“Jane,dear?”Essencesaidfirst.“Didn’tDaddyleaveyousomemoney?”
“No,”shesaidquickly,irritatedbytheknowledgethatifshehadaninheritancethey’dexpectherto

forkitoverjustsotheycouldbidonchancetomarryamillionaire.Shedidn’thavetoturnaround
andreadthenewspapertoknowtheyweretalkingaboutBrock.She’dlookedhimupaftertheparty.

Hewasrich.
Butitwasn’tjustthathewasloaded—hewasfamous.
Famousforbeingbrilliant.
Famousforbeingnice.
Famousforbeingaterrorintheboardroom,whichheclearlymadeupforbydoinggooddeeds

duringtheholidayseason.

HespenteveryChristmasatthefreakinghomelessshelterservingturkeydinners.Hewasanactual

saint.

Soshoulditsurpriseherthathe’dboughthershoes?
No.
He’ddoitforanyone.
Shewasnobodyspecial.
Andafewhundreddollarsforshoes?Meantnothingtoamanlikehim—meanwhilemeaningthe

worldtoher.

“Jane?”EssencewrappedherarmsaroundJane’swaistthenpressedherheadagainsthershoulder

thewayshehadwhentheywereyounger.“Comeon,wejustwantalittlebit.Itsaysinthearticlethat
anygirlthatbidsovertwohundredgrandautomaticallymakesittotheball.”

Jane shrugged away from her grasp and choked out a laugh. “Two hundred grand? Are you

serious?DoyouthinkIwouldstillbeacleaningladyifIhadthatmuchmoney?”

Essenceshrugged.“Whoknows?YouwerealwaysDaddy’sfavorite.Hell,heprobablygaveyou

morethanthat,andyou’rejusttooselfishtoshareitwithus.”

Esmeralda tensed, looking between both of them, and then a slow nod from Essence had her

jumpingrightin.“Youalwayswereselfish—firstwithDaddy’sloveandnowwithwhateverheleftus.
Figuresyouwouldkeepitalltoyourself.”

Withasigh,Janeploppedthebaconontoaplateandplacedherhandsonherhips.“IfIhadmoney,

youguyswouldknowaboutit.AllIhaveisthebusiness,andIhighlydoubtit’sworthmorethana
hundredgrand,ifthat.”Shefrowned.“What’sthisreallyabout?”

Thegirlsbothfellsilentandthentheysharedanotheroneofthelookstheywerefamousfor.One

whereJanewasleftout.

Itwasawkward.Tense.
Finally Esmeralda stood. “I should go to work. Thanks for breakfast.” She glared down at the

baconthenpurposefullywalkedbyit,herheelsclickingonthefloor.

“Wait!” Jane called after her. “Are you wearing my shoes?” She pointed to the new shoes on

Esmeralda’sfeet.TheexactonesthatBrockhadboughthertwonightsago.

Essencebreezedpastthem.“Let’sgo!”
”Esmerelda!” Jane yelled after her sister, but her only response was the slam of the front door.

Typical.

Andtypicallyinfuriating.
Ithadn’talwaysbeenthisbad.
Janerememberedtimeswhenthey’dwatchmoviestogether,doeachother ’shair.Butthathadn’t

happenedinyears.

Whathadhappenedtoherfamily?Andwhydiditseemshewastheonlyonewhocared?
Herphoneburnedinherpocket.
Threeweeksawayfromhersisters.
Threeweeksawayfromthis.
Enoughmoneytofixthevan.
Andamuchneededbreakfromwhateverhersisterswereconspiringtodo.
Shepulledherphonefromherbackpocket.
“Hello?”Theoldmanansweredonthefirstring.
“I’lldoit.”Thewordsrushedoutbeforeshecouldstopthem.
“Wonderfuldecision,mydear.Howsooncanyoumakearrangements?”
Janesmiled.“Givemeaday.”

ChapterEleven

hunderrumbledloudlyastheskylitupwithaflashoflightning.Theweatherhadgonefrombad

toworsesincehe’dlefthishouse,andthedrivetotheranchhadtakentwiceaslongasitshouldhave.

Hewasirritated.
Therainwasn’thelping.
Jane’s name hadn’t been on the guest list he’d gotten from Grandfather. Maybe it was the

universe’swayoftellinghimtojustleaveheralone—whatgoodwoulditdoanyway?Askherona
dateandthenendthedatebysaying,“ohandbythewayI’mgoingtohavetoputyouonatimeout
whileIgodrinkwinewiththatrichsupermodelwhobidonme”?

Thunderrumbledlouderasrainpeltedagainstthewindshield.
Brockhadalwayshatedthunderstorms.Theirloud,majesticpowerwasyetanotherreminderthat

hewasaverysmallpartofaverybiguniverse.Somethingthatnormallywouldhumbleamanmade
himfeelweak,remindedhimthathedidn’thavethepowertodoanything,really.

Hisbodychilled,heturneduptheheatedseatandfocusedontherestofthedrivedownthethree-

milelong,tree-lineddirtroadthatleduptothemainhouse.Hehadn’tbeenbacksincehewasachild.

Theplaceheldtoomanypainfulmemories.
Memoriesthathe’dalwayswantedtokeeplockeddown,untilnow.
“Twirls me, twirls me, Daddy!” Brock giggled as his father twirled him around and around.

“Higher,higher,Daddy!”

HisdadsuddenlystoppedandsetBrockbackontohisfeet.Outofbreath,he’dmumbled,“You’re

gettingsobig!”

“Ifour.”
“I’mfour.”HisfatherrepeatedwithalaughashemessedwithBrock’sdarkhairandthenleanedin

witharmsopenwide.“Nowgiveyourdadahug.It’stimetogoinfordinner.”

Brockhunghishead.“Inothungry.”
“I’m not hungry.” His dad said the sentence again, correcting it for Brock. He’d had a speech

problemasachild,wasunabletosaymostofhisR’s,andhadbeenblindasabatbeforeglasses,and
later,contacts.

Brocktookadeepbreathandrepeated.“I’mnothungry,Dad.”
“Butyourmotherworkedveryhardonthismeal,soeventhoughyouaren’thungry,weneedtostill

berespectfulofthetimesheputintomakingthefoodsoyougrowbigandstrong,yes?”

Brocknoddedhishead.
“Now,howaboutthathug?”Hisdad’sarmsopenedwide.
Brockranintothemandhisdadtwirledhimaroundonthegrassonelasttime.
Itwasimpossibletoseetheactualpatchofgrassthatthey’dsooftenplayedon,butBrockknewit

wasthere,fifteenthtreein,totheleft.

Brockbrieflyclosedhiseyesandslowedthecartoastop.Withshakinghands,heputthecarinto

parkandsattherelisteningtotherain.Hestillhadamileorsotogettothehousebutheneededa
minute.Justonegoddamnminutetogethisheadonstraight.

Finally,Brocksuckedinalongsoothingbreath,putthecarbackindrive,andpresseddownonthe

accelerator.Onlytohavethetiressquealinprotest.

“Whatthehell?”Hetriedagainbutgotthesameresponse.Mutteringacurse,heslammedhishand

againsttheleathersteeringwheel.

Brock grabbed his coat and stepped out into the cold, wet rain. Lightning sizzled across the sky

followed by the bellow of thunder as he made his way to the back of the Audi and inspected the
damage.Thetirewascaughtinthemud,whichwouldhavebeenfineifhe’dhadsomeonewhocould
hittheacceleratorwhilehepushed.

“Damnit.”Hewasgoingtohavetowalk.

ChapterTwelve

ane giddily walked around the property, her shirt attaching itself to her body like a second skin.

Rainsliddownhercheeks,thunderrolled,andshewasdeliriouslyhappy.

She’dlefthersistersanote.
Afreakingnote.
Shelaughedoutloudagainatthefreedomshefelt.Theyweregoingtobesomad,butitwasonly

threeweeks.Sheimaginedtheirclotheswouldbepinkfromtheirtryingtofigureouthowtodothe
laundry,andthey’dprobablyloseweightbecausetheydidn’tevenknowhowtopourmilkintoabowl
forcereal.

Arms spread wide, she twirled, over and over again, then nearly ran smack dab into one of the

largeoaktreesthathadbeenplantedontheproperty.

The owner must like trees, because there were hundreds lining the long driveway and a forest

behindtheranch,withtrailsleadingaroundthethirtyacres.

Inallreality,thehousewasadream.
Herdream.
Judgingbywhatshewasgettingpaidtogettheplacereadyforthenewtenants,sheassumedthe

manwho’dcalledherhadmoney,butthehousedidn’tshoutmoney.Sure,thekitchenwasgourmet
andimmaculate,buteverysinglewallhadpicturesofafamilythatshe’dsuddenly,verydesperately
wantedtomeet.

Threelittleboys.
Twosmilingparents.
Andagrandfatherinacowboyhat.
Theywerelucky,thatfamily.
Lightning streaked across the sky. She should probably go inside. After all, she had to meet the

elderlyranchhandfirstthinginthemorning,andshewastired.

Escapingprisondidthattoaperson.
Withanothergiggle,shestartedmakingherwaybacktothehouse.

***

He’dwalkedmorethanamilebeforeBrockfinallymadeittowherehecouldactuallyseethehouse.

Hewassoaked.
Pissed.
Exhausted.
Damnit,he’ddoanythingforawhiskey.
Andanicecracklingfire.
Maybehe’dstealoneofhisgrandfather ’scigarslikehehadthattimewhenhewasakid.Only,that

adventure had ended with him puking hits guts out on the back porch while Grandfather made him

smoketherestofthestashtoteachhimalesson.

Hesmiledatthememoryandpickeduphispace.
Theporchlightwason.Hunh.Well,GrandfatherdidsaythatGeorge,theranchhand,wouldhave

thingsreadyforhim.Hehopedthatincludedahotmealbythefire.

When he finally reached the porch, he sighed in relief, took one step, then felt the barrel of a

shotgunshovedupagainsthisback.

“Whatthehell?”hehissed,wavinghisarmsintheair.
Thegunbobbledbackandthenagunshotrangout,hittingtheporchlightandblanketinghimand

theintruderindarkness.

“St-staywhereyouare.”Thefemininevoicewasshaky,uncertain.“Ihaveagun.”
“Noshit.”She’dnearlytakenoffhisheadwithit!
“Don’ttalk!”
“Fine.”
“I said”—she shoved the barrel of the gun harder into his spine—“no talking. Now…” Her

breathing was ragged. “I want you to take two steps backward and turn around. And go back to
whereveryoucamefrom.Thisisn’tyourhouse!”

“Actually—”Hecoughed,tryingtoclearhisthroat.“Itis.”
“Crap!”Thegunfelltothegroundinaclatterthenwentoff,sendingdirtandpiecesofrockall

overhisfeet.

“Fuck!”
“George!” the woman yelled. “I’m so sorry! You poor thing!” Warm hands wrapped around his

shoulders.“Ohno,andyou’resoold.”

Whatthehell?“I’mnot—”Hebarelygotthetwowordsoutbeforeshestartedbabblingagain.
“Old.No,ofcoursenot,howrudeofmetosaythat.Comeon,upyougo.”Assoonashe’dpicked

upthegunandstraightenedtohisfullheightshescootedaroundhimandmadeherwayupthefront
steps.

“Imean,ofcourseyou’dwanttogreetmeandmakesureIgotsettledin!”Shelaughednervously

asshepushedopenthedoorandsteppedintotheshadowyfoyer.Heputthesafetybackonthegunand
setitontheentrywaytable.

“Stay here, and I’ll just…” Her pert ass moved back and forth as she jogged in the general

directionofthekitchen.He’djustmanagedtofindalamp—thatfloodedtheroomwithlightwhenhe
turned it on, thank God—when she came back with a large ugly black purse and dug through it,
finallypullingoutabottleofpills.

“So…”Shetookafewstepstowardhim.“Ijustneedtograbyouwaterand—”
Withagasp,shedroppedthepillsassheutteredadumbstruck“You?”
Hismouthdroppedopen.“JustJane?”
“JustBrock.”Asmileformedaroundhersensualmouth.“Clearlynotpushingseventy.”
“God,Ihopenot,”hejoked.“Thoughitfeelslikeit.Mycargotstuckinthemud.ThenIgotstuck

inthemud.Ileftmyprideaboutamileback,highlydoubtI’mgoingtogetitbacknow.”

Shemadeafaceassheeyedthemudhewasdrippingalloverthefloor.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Jane’sfeaturessoftened.“Wereyoutheoldmanwhocalledmeabout

thisjob?”

“I’d really like it if you could stop leading every sentence with the word ‘old.’” He gave a half-

shrug.“Youknow,prideandall.”

Aflushbrokeoutacrossherneck.“Sorry.”

“Anoldmancalledyou?”HesatinthenearestchairandtriednottolaughatJane’swinceoverhis

obviousdestructionofsaidchair.“Whydon’tyoustartatthebeginning?Whyareyouhere?”

HermouthformedanOasshecrossedherarms,uncrossedthem,thenplacedthemonherhips.It

wasdamnnearimpossiblenottostareatherbreastsastheywereperkilydirectingalltheirattention
athim.NeverhadhebeensothankfulforwetwhiteT-shirts.

“Well,thisold…”
Brocksighed.
“Sorry,thismancalledandaskedformyservices—”
Brock’seyebrowsshotup.
“No,no,no.”Herblushdeepened.“Notthosetypesofservices.Thatis,Icleanhousesandoffices.

Iownabusiness.CinderellaCleaningCompany.He,um,heneededsomeonetoserveasamaidfor
the house for the next few weeks, get it ready for the tenants and honestly it’s not my normal job
but…”Sheswallowedandlookeddown.“Let’sjustsayIneededtogetaway.”

“Mafia?”Hesaidinadeadpanvoice.
Agiggleescapedherlips.“Close.”Hereyesmethis.“Sisters.”
“Ah,well.Ihavetwinbrothers.Paininmyass,bothofthem.”
“I,uh…”Shetuckedapieceofwethairbehindherear.“Remember.”
“Oldman,yousay?”Hiseyesnarrowed.“AndIimaginehe’spayingyouhandsomely?”
Shebrokeeyecontactandthennodded.
“IfIwereabettingmanI’dsaymygrandfathercalledyou.SoIguess,justahappycoincidencethat

Cinderellalefthershoeatthedanceclubandnowshe’shere…inmyhouse.”Hefrowned.Howthe
hellhadhisgrandfatherbeenabletofindherwhenBrockhadn’tevenseenherontheguestlist?

“Yourgrandfather,”shesaidslowly.“Yourhouse…”Hereyesnarrowed.“Newtenant?”
Hestood, towering overher small frame,and her lips partedas she tooka step backward, away

fromhim.

Whatthehellwashisgrandfatherupto?Andhowthehellwashesupposedtosurvivebeinginthe

samehouseastheonewomanhewanted—butcouldn’thave?Goddamnhisgrandfather!

Brocktookonelookaroundtheroom—atthedozensofpicturesofhisoncehappyfamily—ofhis

parents—liningthewalls—anddeadcenter—apictureofhisGrandfather.

His vision tunneled to black as the meaning of his presence at the house settled fully on his

shoulders.

Another man would be able to raise his hand and brush away the streak of mud from her cheek.

He’d kiss the frown from her face and ask her how it was possible that she’d gone so many years
withoutknowinghowdevastatinganeffectshehadonthemalepopulation.

Onhim.
Buthisrealityhadneverbeenmoreclear.
“It’s my house,” he said finally. Needing to say the words out loud so that she understood and

maybesohewould,too.

“Okay.”
They stood in tense silence. He wasn’t sure what else there was to say so he defaulted—to the

familiar.

“You probably have things to clean.” Apparently being a jackass was how he was the most

comfortable.Heinwardlycursedhimselfashesawherhurtexpression.

“Yes.”Shenodded,breakingeyecontact.“Yes,um,ofcourse.Yessir.”Wasithisimaginationor

wassheshaking?

“I’mgoingupstairstotakeashower.”Hecalledoverhisshoulderandstompedoff.
Leavingtheghostsofhisfamilybehind.
LeavingJane.

ChapterThirteen

ane let out a loud exhale once she was sure that Brock was out of hearing distance. He seemed

biggerthanbefore,moremasculine,ifthatwereevenpossible.Attheclubhe’ddonenothingbutgive
hertheimpressionthathewasakind,generousman.Buthere…heretheywereonhisturf.Anditwas
glaringlyobvioustheywerefromvastlydifferentworlds.

Thiswashishouse.Andshewascleaningit.
She’d physically flinched, as if he’d punched her in the stomach when he’d basically told her to

cleanupafterhim.

Stupid.Shewassostupidtothinkhewouldbeinterested.
Justbecausehe’ddoneanicethingforheratthepartydidnotmeanhewantedtosleepwiththe

help.

Alaughbuiltupinsideherchest,threateningtoescape.Butofcourseshe’dbeattractedtosomeone

likehim,someonewhoembodiedsecurity,beauty,family,everythingshe’dalwayswantedwrapped
upintooneshinypackage.PrinceCharminghewasnot.

Sighing,shemoveddownthehallandintoherbedroom.Thinkingshe’dbetheonlyonestayingat

the house, she’d taken the master. Embarrassed, she managed to stuff most of her belongings back
intohersuitcaseandrollitdownthehalltothenextavailableroom.IfBrockwasgoingtostayhere,
shehadnobusinessbeinginthemastersuite,althoughshe’dbeendreamingoftakingabathinthat
tub—heck,morelikeswimminginit.Butshe’dbefine;alloftheguestroomswerebeautiful.

Withashrug,shepushedopenthedoortotheroomshe’dchosenandwheeledhersuitcasein,then

pulledoutsomeofherclothesandstartedputtingtheminthedresserdrawers.Theroomwasquaint,
around two hundred square feet, with floor-to-ceiling windows on the east wall, and an attached
bathroom.Itwasperfectforher.

Jane located a bulky sweatshirt and hurriedly peeled off her wet T-shirt, flinching at the sucking

sounditmadewhenshepulledthefabricoverherhead.

“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Brock’svoicecamefrombehindherjustastheshirtgotcaughton

oneofherearrings.

Panicked,shetwistedasshetriedtopulltheshirtbackdown,butitwouldn’tbudge.
“Um…” Realizing she was almost facing him now, Jane turned away from the direction of his

voice.“Iwaschangingmyclothes.Whyareyouinmyroom?”

“Yourroom?”Hisvoicerose.“AndhereIthoughtitwasmyhouse.”
Well,thatwasanasininethingtosay!“Sowhyaren’tyouinthemasterbedroom?”
“Idon’tstaythere,”hebarked.
Howwasshesupposedtoknowthat?
“It’sthebiggerroom,andsinceyou’removingin,Ijustassumed—”
“Isthispartofthedeal?Youcleanmyhouseandstripformeafterhours?”
Tearsthreatened.Whatacompletejackass!“I’msortof—stuck.”

“Stuck?”
“AreyoujustgoingtorepeateverythingIsay?”
Hedidn’trespond.
Whatever.
Hewasclearlystillthere.Shecouldfeelhispresence,watchingher.ThankGodshewaswearing

hergoodbra.

Shegaveanothertugandwasabletogetpartoftheshirtbackdown,buttheotherhalfwasstill

stuckonherearringandoverherhead.

“I would help but…” Brock’s voice was closer. Her body buzzed with awareness. “I think I like

watchingyoustruggleahellofalotmore.”

“I’vegotit,”shesnapped,tryingtoputsomedistancebetweenthem.
“Yes.”Hisvoiceheldmildamusementasshetuggedharder.Atthisrate,shewasgoingtopullher

earoff.“Icanseethat.”

“Damnit!”Shestompedherfootandhesuckedinabreath.“Brock?”
“Yes,JustJane.”
“Ithink…Ineedhelp.”
“Youthink?”
“Youdon’thavetobeajackass.”
“IknowIdon’thavetobe…”
Thisnightneededtobeoveralready.Jane’srightarmwascramping,andshe’dbeenflashingpoor

Brockforthepastfiveminutes.

“Here.”Brock’sbreathwaswarmonherneck.“Allowme.”
Withinsecondshe’dlocatedthepartoftheshirtattachedtoherearringandwithasofttug,theshirt

cameoverherhead.

“Hey!”Sheturnedtoyellathimformakinghermorenakedwhenshewastryingforless,butshe

letoutalittlemoaninstead.

Hegrinned.“Problem?”
“You.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she took in his shirtless state, and the

unbuttonedpantshewore.

Hisbodywas…notofthisworld.
Therewasnoway.
Withoutthinking,shefoundherselftouchinghim,pressingherfingertipsagainsthischest,justto

checkthathewasn’tafigmentofherimagination.

Hard.Sohard.
The planes of thick bulging muscle were in direct defiance to the smooth-talking man that had

bought her shoes. When she’d seen him last, he’d been large, intimidating, and very much the
businessman.Now?Nowshecouldclearlyseeeverymuscleripple,andfeltherbodyreacttohimas
shetriedtokeephercomposure.

Shecouldhandlethesingle,richbachelorwhowaskind.
Whatshecouldn’thandle?Aman.Amanwhowasallman,throughandthrough,whohadabody

tomatchallthatdominanceandmasculinegoodness.

“Jane?”Brockwhisperedhername.
Shejerkedherhandawaythentooktwostepsbackward,nearlycollidingwithhersuitcaseasshe

foldedherarmsacrossherbreasts.“Thanks.”

“IfI’dknownthatgettingeye-fuckedwasgoingtobemythankyou,Iwouldhavecometoyour

rescuealotsooner.”

Hereyesnarrowedwhilehefluidlymovedpastherintowhatsheassumedwasabathroom.
Beforeshuttingthedoorheturnedandbarked,“Takethemaster.”

ChapterFourteen

ake the master”. Could he be more of a dick? What the hell was wrong with him, ordering her

aroundlikeshewasaservant?

Damnit.
Allhe’dwantedwastobeawayfromher—herandthememoriesofthisoncehappyhome.
Andthenshe’dgoneandtouchedhim,andallhiswants—everysingleoneofthem—hadsuddenly

shiftedintodangerousterritory,oneheknewwouldn’tbefairtoeitherofthem.

Hewouldbeauctionedofftothehighestbidderinafewweeks.
Hewasbasicallyinacommittedrelationship.
Withacompletestrangerhehadn’tevenmetyet.
Andlustingafteranother.
He swore as his mind rewound images of her pert breasts, rosy peaks straining behind nearly

sheerlace,andherrain-slickenedskin.He’dwantedtorunhistonguedownthesideofherneck.Just
ataste,justone,maybetwo,three.Hell,he’dbeenfivesecondsawayfromtuggingherontothebed
andhelpingheroutoftherestofherclothes.

Hecursedashisbodytightenedpainfully,andthenheflippedthehotwatertothefrigidcoldhe

neededtogethimselfundercontrol.

These were going to be his last few weeks of peace before his grandfather decided yet another

elementofhisfuture.

Hewasn’tgoingtowastethemwantingsomethinghecouldn’thave.
Iftherewasanythinghe’dlearnedinhislife,itwasthattheminuteyougotsomethingyouwanted,

orcaredfor,ithurtthatmuchmorewhenitwasrippedoutofyourhands.

Heknewthatfirsthand.
Becauseeverythinghe’devercaredabouthadbeentakenfromhiminthisveryhouse.
Themasterbedroom.
Hehadn’tsetfootinthatroomsincehisparents’deaths.
Hisgrandfatherhadpreferredasmallerroom—leavingthelargertohisparents—andGod,itfelt

liketheirghostswerestillthere.

Ifhehadithisway,he’dre-dotheentirewestwingofthehouseandbulldozetheshitoutofthe

wallsinanefforttogetridofthememories.

Sighing,hegrabbedoneofthetowelsanddriedoff,thenquicklydressed.Maybebeingherewasa

goodthing.Maybehecouldbattlehisdemonsonceandforall.

***

Somehow he managed to make it out of the shower without jacking off to the vision of a shirtless
Jane.

“Fuck.” He pulled a clean T-shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair. So she was

goingtobecleaningthehouse;itwasn’tlikehewouldseehereverysecondofeveryday.

Anditwasn’teventhatdirty—hisgrandfatherscarcelyusedit.
Maybeshewouldfinishearly?
Besides,shewasanemployee.
Whichmeantshewouldbemakingherselfscarce.
Thatwaswhatheshouldwant.
Heslammedhisfistsagainstthebathroomcounterandglaredathisreflectioninthemirror.Aman

ofthirty-fivestaredbackathim,buthedidn’tseetheman.Hesawtheexterior,theshell,butonthe
inside,heknewwhathefeltlike.

Whatthisfuckinghousemadehimfeellike.
Alonelyboy.
Aterrifiedlonelyboywhoseonlyplaninlifewastopleaseeveryonebuthimself.
Withagrowlheranhishandsoverhisface.Amazingthatallithadtakenwaswalkinginthedoor,

andhisemotionswereallovertheplace.

Jane’spresencewouldn’thelpmatterseither.
Having her clean things, rifle through his family’s stuff—it wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was—

wellhewasn’tsurewhatitwas,buthedidn’tlikeit.

Withasigh,hepickeduphisphoneandcalledhisgrandfather.
Ofcourse,theoldmanansweredonthefirstring.
“Brock!Itakeityou’vemadeit?How’stheass?”
Brockpaused,thenrolledhiseyes.“Ihaven’thadtheopportunitytogreettheanimals.”
“Ashame.”
“Yes,” he said in a dry voice. “My thoughts exactly. Then again I’ve been a bit distracted. You

wouldn’tknowanythingaboutthat,nowwouldyou?”

“Hmm?”
“Grandfather—”
“Don’ttakethattonewithme.Itaughtyouthattone,boy,”Grandfathergrumbled.“She’sonlythere

helping air out the property and clean the rooms, unless you’d rather tend to those things while
you’rethere?”

“Ithardlyneedsadeepclean.”
“Ofcourseitdoes,especiallyafterthechickensgotlooseinthehall.”
Brockfrowned.“Sincewhendidthechickensgetloose?”
“NewYears’.”Grandfatherchuckled.“Tobefair,weweren’tactuallybettingonthecocks,butyou

knowhowpartiestendtogetoutofcontrol.”

Hunh?
“Anyway.”Heclearedhisthroat.“She’llstaymostlyoutoftheway,andIhardlythinkshe’llbea

distraction,allthingsconsidered.Imean,you’repracticallyfamily!”

Brock froze, gripping the phone with his hand so tightly he was afraid it was going to break in

half.“Comeagain?”

“Family,”Grandfathersaidinapainfullyslowvoice.“Godknowsshecouldbe.”
“What!”Brockseriouslyhopedthiswasanotherofhisgrandfather ’smoresenilemoments.
Grandfather burst out laughing. “I recognized her last name when I was looking to hire out a

cleaning company and did some digging. I knew her grandmother—gorgeous lady, just like her
granddaughter.Atanyrate,she’dbeenleftawidowinherprimeandwehadseveralone-nightstands.
Gloriousone-nightstands.Allbeforeyourgrandmother,ofcourse,resthersoul.”

“Allrightthen.”Brocktriedtostoptheflowofinformationfromhisgrandfatherbuttheoldman

wouldn’tstoptalking.

“Thethingsshecoulddowiththatbodyofhers,”Grandfathersighedlongingly.“Suchashame,

suchashame.”

“Ihopeyou’redonetraumatizingmenow.”
Grandfathercoughed.“Never.”
“Didn’tthinkso.”
“ThepointI’mtryingtomakeis,sheshouldn’tbeatemptation.I’msureshe’saprettygirl,butlike

hergrandmother,quitecompletelyoutofourleague.”

“Ithinkyoumeanwe’reoutofherleague,”Brockcorrectedhim.
“No.”Grandfathersighed.“Isaiditcorrectly.Now,makesurethecockstaysinthebarnandtheass

hasenoughfoodandwater.”

Brockgroaned.“That’swhattheranchhandisfor—”
“Oh,Isenthimonvacation;didn’tItellyou?”
Brockfrozeandthenwheezedoutachokedcough.“What?”
“Youneedtogetusedtotakingcareoftheanimals.Afterall,it’syourhouse,orwillbesoon.If

youcan’tmanageafewcocksinthehenhouse,youtrulyhavenobusinessgettingmarriedinthefirst
place,amIright?”

“Pleasestopsaying‘cock’.”
Grandfather made a weird clicking noise with his tongue, sneezed, then uttered a curse before

mumbling.“Cock.”

“Areyoudaydrinkingagain?”Brockasked.
“Of course not.” Grandfather sounded offended. “Though I may still be drunk from last night.

BentleyhadanotheroneofhispartiesandwhattypeofguardianwouldIbeifIdidn’tattendandkeep
myeyeonhim?”

“The normal kind,” Brock said with an irritated edge. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to keep

yourassoutofthenewspapersnowaswell.”

Grandfatherlaughedoutloud.“Sillyboy,whenhaveyoueverneededtowatchoutforme?”
Groaning, Brock had a brief vision of slamming his cell phone against the nearest wall and

followingitwithhisfist,thenhishead.

“Nowthen,makesuretocheckinonthoseanimals.Itwouldbeashameiftheydiedbecauseyou

weretoobusyflirtingwithJane.Remember,outofyourleague.”

Withthat,theconversationended.Brockwasmetwithsilenceasastabofirritationhithimsquare

inthechest.

“Didhejusthanguponme?”Brockstaredathiscellthenglaredathimselfinthemirror.
Could it really be a coincidence that his grandfather had just happened to hire Jane and her

company?Ithadtobe.Therewasnodamnnameonthelistwhenhe’dchecked.Heletoutafrustrated
sigh.

Regardless.Itdidn’tmatter.
HewalkedintothelivingroomandnearlygroanedaloudwhentheGrandfatherclockchimednine

atnight—justanotherreminderthathewasliterallyhisowntickingtimebomb.Heopenedhismouth
tosaysomethingtoJane—anythingthatwouldputthembackonevengroundratherthantheshakyas
hellsituationthathadhimreadytoramhisfistthroughawall.

Whathe’dexpectedtofindwasawomandoingherjob.
Whathefoundinstead?

Awomanonherhandsandkneescleaningtheverysamefloorthathismotherusedtoclean.Inthe

exactsameposition.OnlytherewasnothingfamilialaboutJane.

Rawlustpoundedthroughhissystemasshemovedherhandsbackandforthoverthewood.And

then,hisgazeliftedtothesidetablewhereafewvasesandpictureslinedthewall.

Oneofthevaseswasmissing.
Therewerealwaysthree.
Always.
Andthenhenoticedapieceofcrystalontheground.“Whathappenedhere?”
Jane’shandsjerkedontheragshewasusingforthefloor.“Sorry,Ibumpedintothetable.”
“Sorrydoesn’tbringbackthevase,”heheardhimselfsaying.
“Icanreplaceit.”Shelookedupathimwithwideeyes.“Itwasanaccident.Iwasmovingsomeof

thepictures.”

That, of course, made him look at the pictures, then back at Jane. “It’s not replaceable. Just how

longhaveyoubeencleaning?”Great,nowhewasquestioningher.Andfromtheangrylookinher
eyesheknewhe’dpushedhertoofar.

“Fouryears,”shesaidthroughclenchedteeth.
“Four years what?” He shook his head, clearing the memories of his mother arranging and

rearrangingthosevases.Oneforeachofhersons.

“YouaskedhowlongI’dbeencleaning.”Shestoodtoherfullheight.Shewasn’tverytallbutshe

somehowstillmanagedtomakeherselflookmenacingasshejuttedoutherfinger.“Didyouwantto
seemyreferences,Mr.Wellington?”

Hell.Hedidn’thavetheenergytofightwithherandthelongerhestayedinsidethemorehefelt

chokedbythememories—theloudertheyscreamed,beggingtobedealtwith.

“I’llbeoutside,”hesnapped,turningonhisheel.“Trynottobreakanythingelse,orI’llbeforced

totakeitoutofyourpaycheck.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath as the screen door slammed behind him. She was probably

plottinghismurderrightnow,andhe’ddeserveit.Butshewastheonemovingthings.

Cleaningoutghosts.
Eventhoughshedidn’trealizeit.
Andhisreactionwasinstinctive—evenifitwaswrong.
Acoolbreezepickedup,andnow,thankstohisgrandfather,hehadanimalstofind.
Acock,tobeexact.

ChapterFifteen

esmelledlikepinesoap.

NotPine-Sol,butpinesoap,thekindthatremindsapersonofcozynightssippingwinebythefire.
Notthatshe’deverreallyhadanynightslikethat—atleastnotrecently—butstill,heremindedher

ofwarmth.

Ohheck,itwasn’tevenwarmth;thatwordmadehimsoundboring,likehewastemperate—rather

thanhot,sizzlingtothetouch.

Janeshiveredasthememoryofhishandspoundedthroughherbody.Itwasasifhewastouching

heralloveragain,pullinghershirtfromherbodyandgazingatherlikeshepossessedsomethinghe
wanted.

Toobadhe’dturnedintoacompletetool.
“Areyouokay?”Brock’svoiceinterruptedherscrubbing.
Janestoodtoofast,nearlyknockingoverthebucketofsoapywater,andpressedawethandand

rag to her face, causing dirty water to run down her chin. “I was just…scrubbing.” Great, was he
going to accuse her of doing that wrong, too? It was bad enough that she’d apparently broken a
familyheirloom.

“Scrubbing.”Hewipedhisfacewithhishandsandletoutafrustratedsigh.Hemightbebeautiful

to look at but tension rolled off him in waves. And when he opened that gorgeous mouth, at least
sincethismorning,allhe’dhadtoofferwereangrybitingwords.

Withacurse,heseemedtoforceasmilethatlookedmoreirritatedthanamused.Itwasasmilethat

remindedheryetagainshedidn’treallybelonginhisworld,letalonehishouse.

Hedidn’twantherhereanymorethanshewantedtobehere.
Withhim.
Trapped.
Shetookafewstepsbackandnodded.“I’malmostdonecleaningthemudoffthesefloorsandthen

I’llgobacktomyroom—yourroom.”Shefrowned.“Well,myroomnowand…”Shenoddedagain.
Why? Why was she suddenly afflicted with one ability? Nodding in his direction and embarrassing
herself.

“Why?”Hebarkedoutgruffly.
“Hmm?” She blinked up at his face, trying to keep herself from staring at the way his T-shirt

moldedtoeachandeveryoneofhismuscles.

“Whyareyougoingtoyourroom?”Hesaiditmoreslowlythistime,drawingoutthesentenceas

if she was stupid, which grated on her nerves. It wasn’t like people had never talked down to her
before;shejustdidn’texpecthimto.

Notthemanwho’dboughthershoes.
AndmadeherfeellikeareallifeCinderella.
Better that the dream got shattered before she started the hero worship, she decided. He was just

likeeveryothermanoutthere.

Embarrassmentwashedoverherasshecroakedout,“It’sbeenalongnight.”
“Ithas,”heagreed.
Thestaredownthatfollowedhadhersuddenlywishingshewaswearingasweatershecouldpull

acrossherbody.Brockapparentlywasn’tthetypeofmanwhostared;helookedthroughpeoplewith
alaser-likeintensitythathadawayofmakingherfeelnakedandwaytoohot.

With a gulp, she bent down to retrieve the bucket of soapy water and begged her legs to move

fasterasshescurriedpasthimanddumpedthewaterintothesink.

Ignorehim.
Shecouldignorehim,right?
Afterall,itwasn’tlikehewasgoingtobefollowingheraround,offeringhishelporadviceon

howbesttogetstainsoutofthecarpet.

Thatideawaslaughable.
Heprobablydidn’tevenknowhowtoironashirt.
“Somethingfunny?”camearaspyvoicebehindher,causinghertojumpafootandletoutalittle

squeak.

“Just…”Shegulped.“Nope.Nothingatall.”
Alargemasculinehandmovedintoherlineofvisionandturnedoffthefaucet.“JustJane,Ithink

weshouldtalk.”

Shefoughttokeephershouldersfromslumping.Afterall,sheknewthattoneofvoice,sowellin

factthatshehadthesetypesofspeechesmemorizedbyheart.

Every human voice in existence sounded just this way when relaying bad news. The doctors had

when her father was diagnosed with cancer and there was nothing they could do, so had her
boyfriends who’d gotten bored; even past employers, when upset with her work, had this type of
voice.

Sheshouldbeusedtoit.
Butcomingfromamanlikehim?Amanthatafewdaysagohadbeenlikeadream,adreamshe

could rely on to take her away from the monotony of her life…well, it affected her more than it
should.

Heaffectedhermorethanastrangershould.
“Okay.”Shemanagedtoturnaroundandkeepherfaceimpassive.
Hiscrystalblueeyessearchedhersbrieflybeforehecrossedhisarmsoverhisbulkychest.“Three

weeks.”

Shefrowned.“Yes…”Herheadtiltedjustslightlyasshetriedtodigesthismeaning.“It’sgoingto

bethreeweeksofcleaning?”

“Areyouaskingortelling?”
“Telling.”Shewincedatherairytone.“Isthatwhatyouwantedtodiscuss?TheamountoftimeI’ll

behere?”

Hiseyesstayedgluedtoherfaceandthen,asifshe’dscaredhim,hetookalargestepbackward

andshookhishead.“Youknowwhat?I’mtired,too.We’lltalkinthemorning.Justtrytostayoutof
myway,andI’llstayoutofyours.”

“Don’tworry.”Sheheldherheadhigh.“I’mverygoodatbeinginvisible.”
Heopenedhismouth,thenshutit.
Nothing.
Herprincedidn’tofferupanyexcuseforwhyhewasbeingmeanandshesupposedhedidn’thave

to.

HewasBrockWellington,oneofthemostsought-afterbachelorsinthecountry.
Andshewasamaid.

ChapterSixteen

hatdidamandowhenheknewhewasbeingajackass?Hedrank,ofcourse.

SothatwaswhatBrockdid.
Untiltwoa.m.
Itdidn’thelp.
He even moved from the bedroom to the living room in hopes the couch wouldn’t trigger the

memorieshe’dtriedsohardtolockdown.

Itshouldhavehelped.
But the whiskey seemed to bring alive every single memory that he’d worked so hard to keep

trapped inside this house. He hadn’t realized how messed up his head still was until he saw Jane
leaningoverthesinksmiling.

Hismomhadlovedthatsinkbecauseitwassodeep.She’djokedthatsheusedtowashBrockinit

whenhewasababybecauseitwaseasierthanthetub.

SeeingJanetherehadbeenabsolutehell.
Andtellingherthatsheremindedhimofhismotherseemedliketheworstideainhistory.Sohe’d

donetheonlythingheknewhowtodo.

He’dpushedheraway.
Sohe’dhadashittystarttowhathewasbeginningtorealizewasahauntingvacation.
Toomanyghosts.
Toomanymemories.
Hemanagedtofallasleeparoundthreeinthemorning,onlytotossandturnwithanacheinhis

groin that refused to go away. Finally in a moment of desperation he gripped himself and in a
druggedsleepenvisionedJane’ssweetmouth.

Itwasoverinseconds.
Ashespilledintohishand,inadrunkenstuporheimaginedwhatthenextthreeweeksmightbe

likeifhecouldlivethemforhimself.

Hissightblurredastheideawashedoverhim.
Threeweekswherehisgrandfatherwasn’twatchinghiseverymove.
Threeweekswherehewasn’tBrockWellington,millionaire,butBrockWellington,ranchhand.
Threeweeks…

***

Sunlight heated Brock’s chest and then a loud animalistic bellow sent him flying off the couch and
ontothefloor.

He rubbed his head and blinked his eyes as a giant donkey stared at him from the middle of the

floor.

Thedonkeymadeanotherear-splittingnoiseandglared.

Itwastooearly.
Waytooearlyforadonkeyinthemiddleoftheroom.
Howthehellhaditgottenintothehouse?
“Coffee?”Brockaskedaloud.“Can’tIatleasthavecoffeefirst?”
“Areyoutalkingtoadonkey?”cameJane’ssilkyvoicefrombehindhim.
Brock’sheadachegrippedhisheadlikeavise.“Well,itseemedtheotheroptionwastoignorehim

andIwasn’tsureifthatwouldjustpissthedamnthingoffmore.”

“Fred’s harmless.” She breezed past him and moved into the kitchen while the donkey continued

staringatBrocklikehewastheonewhodidn’tbelonghere.

“Wait.DidyoucallhimFred?”Brockstoodslowly,eyeingthedonkeyforanysuddenmoves.
“Yup,”cameherreply.“Alltheanimalshavenames.Theranchhandsaiditmakesthemfeelmore

likepets.Heleftalistonthefridge.”

“Donkeysaren’tpets.”
Jane’seyestwinkled.“Oh?”
“No,”Brockargued.
Janepointed.“Heseemstothinkdifferently.”
Thedonkeywasdirectlybehindhim;thedamnthinghadfollowedhimintothekitchen.
“Out!”Brockclappedhishands,whichofcoursemadethedonkeyneighorwhateverthehellthey

did—louder,untiltheear-splittingsoundwasdeafening.

“Youdidn’tusehisname,”Janeteased.
Brockglared.“Didyoulethimin?Isthispunishmentforbeingrudelastnight?”
Shesnorted.“Theideadoeshavemerit,butno,Ididn’tsicFredonyou.I’dliketothinkI’mmore

creativethanthat.”

FrednudgedBrocktothesidethenslowlymovedintothekitchenandstoppedinfrontofJane.
“Ithinkhe’shungry,”Janewhispered,pattingFredonthehead.
AslighttwingeofjealousyhadBrockreadytodropkickthedonkeyandpushhimoutoftheway.

Herhandsroamedoverthedonkey’shead.

“Luckybastard,”Brocksaidunderhisbreath.
“Hmm?”Janelookedup.
Brockswore.
“Can you make coffee already?” he barked at a startled Jane, whose face managed to say

everythingshedidn’tasitcrumpledbeforehim.

“Ofcourse.Anythingelse,sir?”sheaskedinadeadvoice.
Shit.
Whatthehellwaswrongwithhim?
Anaggingvoiceinhisheadblamedher—butshewasjusttheunluckytargetanditdidn’thelpthat

everytimehelockedeyeswithherhethoughtofhersoftmouth—oftrailingkissesdownherneck.

Orjustpinningheragainstthewall.
Butinasicktwistoffate,theonlywomanwho’dmanagedtospikehisinterestinyearswasoff

limits.Atleasttosomeonelikehim.Someonewhodidn’tgettochoosehisownpath.

Repression. That’s what was happening. He’d spent so many years being a yes man that he was

finallycracking,sayingthingshedidn’tmean,snapping,andthendreamingaboutkissingthescowl
fromherlips.

She’dprobablyslaptheshitoutofhim.
Andhe’ddeserveit.

“No.” He finally found his voice. “Actually,” he smirked, “Why don’t you make breakfast and

coffeewhileIkicktheassoutofthehouseandmakesurehe’stheonlyanimalthatescapedduringthe
storm?”

Janegrabbedaskilletandslammeditontothestovetop.Whenhecursedsheofferedapolitesmile.

“Headache?”

Heglared.
Smilestillinplace,sheliftedherchin.“Howdoyoulikeyoureggs?”
Hefrowned.
Andthenfrownedharder.
“Ihavenodamnclue.”
“Well,”shesaid,makingherwaytothefridge,“that’shelpful.AreyougoingtofiremeifIguess

wrong?”

“And if I do?” he challenged, suddenly realizing he liked the way her eyes lit up when she was

angry.“Whatthen?Willyouleave?”

“No.”
“Didn’tthinkso.”
“Whyareyoubeingdifficult?”
“Because I finished a fifth of whiskey by myself last night, because this damn house has living

breathingghosts,butmainlybecauseyoulooktoodamngood,andI’msuddenlydiscoveringthatthis
house has a way of shredding every ounce of self-control I possess. So unless you want to find
yourselfnakedandinmybed,Isuggestyoudoyourjobandstaythehellaway.”

Withthat,hestompedoutofthehouse.Luckilyforhim,theasstrottedafterhimasiftheywere

playingaversionofFollowtheLeader.

Thathadgonewell.
Heletoutafrustratedcurse.
Great.NowJaneprobablythoughthewasgoingtojumpherinthenight.Hershockedexpression

hithiminthegut,twistinglikeaknife.

Atleasthe’dbeenhonestwithherabouthowattractedtoherhewas.
Hopefullyshe’dstayfaraway.Howhardcoulditbetojustdoherjobandignorehim?
Furthermore.Why.Was.She.Here?
Hisgrandfatherhadbeenvague.
For some reason he still felt puppet strings digging into his skin, and he couldn’t shake the

suspicionthatJanewasjustanotherwayhisgrandfatherwasmanipulatinghim.

Desperationfilledhim.
Adesperationtobefree.
Andtonotlethisgrandfatherwin.
Andyet…
Wherewouldthatleavehim?
Anotherfuneral?
Anotherobituary?
Anotherghost.
Thedonkeymadeastranglednoiseandkickeddirtintotheaironcetheyreachedthebarn.Brock

letoutafrustratedsigh.

Thedoortothebarnwascompletelyopen.Ahorseneighedandthentrottedouttowardhim.
“Buttercup!”Hesmiled.“Comehere,girl.”

Thehorsestopped,swishedhertail,thenturnedawayandtrottedoff.
“Well,atleastIhaveyou,Fred.”
Therewasnoresponse.
Heturnedaround.
“Fred?”Wherethehellhadtheassgone?
Agaggleofgeesewalkedby,followedbyafewchicks.Justthen,heheardthecock.
LikeinsomehorribleWesternmovie,theroosterstaredhimdownfromtheothersideofthebarn,

wherelightfilteredinfromtheholeintherooflikeaspotlightonthescene.

“Justyouandme,eh?”Brockwonderedifthefactthathewastalkingtothecockmeanthewasjust

asinsaneashisgrandfather.

Thecockkickedthedirt.
Brockdidthesame.
Andthen,thedamnthingchargedhim.
Unsureofwhattodo,Brockstoodhisground,untilitstartedflappingupinhisface.
Heswatteditawayandwhenitstillwouldn’tstopattackinghim,heranbacktothehousetogeta

gun. He’d just come barreling through the kitchen door when he slammed into Jane, sending the
skilletandeggsshe’dscrambledalloverthefloor.

“Sonofabitch!”Brockyelled.
Theroostercrowed.
Jane’seyeswidenedasshelockedontowhatheassumedwasthecockbehindhim.“Thedoor ’s

open.”

“I’mgoingtokillit.”Brockjerkedthescreendoorshutjustbeforetheroosterslammedintoit,

throwingafit.

Afewfeatherswentflying.
“Question.”BrockturnedtoJane,whowasbrandishingthefryingpanlikeaweapon.“Canyoueat

cock?”

Thewordswereoutbeforehecouldtakethemback.
“Are you asking about me, personally? Or people in general? Because I’m sure, given your

reputation,youalreadyknowtheanswertothatquestion,”Janesaidinacheerfulvoice.

Brocklookedheavenwardandthenturnedaround.“Imeanttherooster.”
“Didyou,though?”Sheaskedcoyly.Asilenttauntroseoutofthoseeyes,andthenshepressedher

lipstogetherinawaythathadhimhardinseconds.

Theroosterstartedflappingagain.
“Stillgotthatgun?”heasked.
“Youaren’tshootingthecock.”
Hegrinned.“Cock?”
“Imeanrooster.”Sheblushedbrightred.
“Didyou,though?”
“Veryfunny.”
Shegrabbedsomepapertowelsandstartedcleaningtheeggsoffthefloor.
“Letmehelp.”Hekneltbesideherbutshejerkedawayfromhim.
“I’vegotit.Afterall,youtoldmeIneededtodomydamnjob,right?”
Brockopenedhismouthtospeak,butshedidn’tlethimgetawordinedgewise.
“I’mgoingtobecleaningtheupstairsbathroomsalongwiththetwoextraguestroomsonthefar

endofthehall.Ifyouneedme,youknowwheretofindme.”

Hedidn’twanthertoleave.
Butwhatcouldhedotogethertostay?
Nothing.
Becauseherjobwasnottoentertainhimorsavehimfromfarmanimals.
But then she turned and gave him a half-shy smile, and he knew self-preservation was all that

mattered.

Pushheraway.
Hepastedanarrogantgrinonhisface.“Butwhataboutbreakfast?”
“Thatwasn’tpartofthejobdescription,”shesaidslowly.“Yourgrandfathersaid—”
“I just talked with him last night. He said you’re here to help get the house ready for the new

tenants,right?”God,hewasajackass.

Shegavehimaweaknod.
“AndsinceI’mthenewtenant,don’tyouthinkthatprobablyextendstocooking?You’realready

cleaning,anditispartofyourservice,youknow.”

“Service?”Therewasthatfieryglintagain.Perhapsthiswasn’thisbestidea.Buthejustcouldn’t

seemtostophimselffrombeinganass.

“ItsaysCinderellaCleaningandHousekeepingonyourniceshinyvan.”He’dseenitonhisway

outtothebarnanddoneadoubletakeoverthesillytiaraontheside.Maidservice.Didn’tthatmean
shecooked,too?“Ifyoudon’tcookthat’sfalseadvertising.Atleast,that’swhatI’llsaywhenIgive
youareviewonYelp.”

Hereyeswidened.“Areyouthreateningme?”Herchestheaved.Hetriedtolookaway.Triedand

failed.

“Thatdepends.Willyoucook?”
Herhandsballedintotightfists.“YouknowyoucouldhaveaskednicelyandImighthavesaidyes.

Youdon’thavetobeanass.WealreadyhaveFred.”

“Oh,I’maware.”Hetookasteptowardher.“ButifI’mnice,Imissoutontheopportunitytosee

this.”Hewaspushinghertoofar.Hewastakingeverythingtoofar,buttheminutehercheeksflushed
redwithangerhewantedtotouchher.Wantedtomakethosecheeksflushforotherreasons.

Hecuppedherfacewithhisrighthandandleanedin,hislipslingeringnearherear.“You’repretty

whenyou’reangry.”

“I’mnotjustangry,”shewhisperedinawobblyvoice.
“Oh?”Hepulledback.“Whatelseareyou?”
Shestareddownatthefloorthenswepthergazebackupandregardedhimwithbigbrowneyes.

“Disappointed.”

Janejerkedawayfromhisembrace.Hereachedforheragain,sosheshovedagainsthisrockhard

chest,slappedhimonthecheek,andstormedoutoftheroom.

ChapterSeventeen

anewipedthesweatfromherforeheadandbracedherrubber-glovedhandsagainstthetoilet.She

hadn’tmeanttolosehertemperwithBrockearlier.Shewasn’tthetypetolosehertemper—ever.

She’dlivedwithtwoofthebrattiestwomenintheworldforherentirelifeandmanagedtomakeit

throughthedaywithasmilepastedonherfaceandatleastonegoodthingtosayaboutthem,forthe
mostpart.

ButwithBrock?
Thingsweredifferent.
Hebroughtouttheworstinher.
Andshedidn’tevenknowhim!Withanirritatedgrunt,shescrubbedtheinsideofthetoiletharder.

Howdarehedemandthatshemakebreakfast?Ontopofcleaning?Hehadn’tevenhiredher!

Themoreshethoughtabouthisarrogantattitudethehardershescrubbed,untiltheentirebathroom

wascompletelyspotless.

Itwasashamethatthehousehadonlybeenusedforoccasionalvisitsandparties.
Thebathroomsaloneprobablycostafortunetobuild,withheatedtilefloorsandhugehotel-like

walk-inshowers—theyremindedherofaspa,notthatshe’deverbeentoaspa.Butshe’dseenthem
onTVandreadabouttheminbooks,andthiswaswhatsheimaginedtheylookedlike.

Flawless,sparkling,immaculate.
“Ismygrandfatherpayingyoutostareinthemirrorsallday?”Brock’ssmoothvoicebrokethe

silence.

Janegulpedandclenchedherrubberglovestogetherbeforesheturnedandarchedhereyebrows.

“Iwasjustadmiringmywork.”

Hestaredatherforagoodminutebeforescowling.
“Idon’twantyoucleaningtheroomnextdoor.”
The only thing she knew about the room was that the door had pieces of white paper stuck to it,

like stickers had been ripped off of it. Red designs drawn in marker circled the door knob—she
assumedithadbeenachild’sroom.

“Yourgrandfather ’sinstructionswerespecific.Hesaidtocleaneveryroomandbathroominthe

house.Soyes,Iamgoingtocleanthatroom,becauseasstupidasitmaysoundIdotakeprideinwhat
Ido.”

Thatseemedtogivehimpause;hisarrogantmaskslipped,revealingsomethingshedidn’treally

wanttoacknowledge.

Respect.
Butassoonasshesawit,hestiffened.“I’lltalktohim.”
“But—”
“Ifheagreeswithme,youstayoutoftheroom.”
“What?Doyouhavebodieshiddeninit?”

His face went pale. “You should probably move on to the next bathroom if you want to finish

beforedinner.Afterall,itwon’tcookitself.”

Tearsstunginthebacksofhereyes.
Whathappenedtothemanattheclub?Theonewhohadrescuedher?Boughthershoes,pickedher

upoffthefloorandflirtedwithher?

Suddenly Brock cursed under his breath. “Don’t move,” he whispered. Which was weird. But

weirderstillwasthelookonhisfaceashestaredattheceilingaboveherhead.

Janefroze,butdrivenbycuriosity,sheslowlycranedhernecktoseewhathewasgivingthedeath

stare.

“Isaid,”Brockgroundthroughclenchedteeth,“don’t.Move.”
“But—”
“Forfuck’ssakejuststoparguing!”
Hershouldersslumped.Wasitnecessarytoyellather?
“Two mice.” His eyes narrowed. “And by the looks of them they’ve either eaten their young or

beenfeedingoffthedonkeyforthepastfewmonths.”

“Notthecock?”shemumbled.
Brock’s eyes heated, dipping down to her mouth before flashing with anger. “Clearly you don’t

cleanaswellasyouthink.”

Sherefusedtolettheinsultsting.“It’saranchhouse.Theyprobablysnuckinthroughacrackon

thewall.I’llshoothemawayandyoucanstartfixingthingsup,handyman.”

“Me?”Hesnorted.“No,no,Ithinkthatfallsunderthehiredhelpcategory.Sorry,sweetheart.”
“Hunh.”
“What?”Hefrowned.“What’sthatlook?”
“I just should have expected someone like you to be like this. I bet you get manicures, too…and

sinceyouprobablydon’twanttogetasliver,IguessI’llhavetostepup.Where’syourhammer?”

“Let’sleavemyhammeroutofthis.”
“The real hammer, not the sexual one you’re envisioning in your mind in order to distract me

fromthefactthatyou’reaspoiled,silverspoon-fedcityboywiththebrainofagnat.”

Heburstoutlaughing.“Youthinkyouknowallaboutme,hunh?”
“Not much to know,” she challenged, crossing her arms. “At least from this vantage point.” She

madesuretolowerhereyesandsmirk.“Nothingatall.”

Hetookasteptowardherbutshebackedaway.“I’llbeback.ItseemsIhavearattodealwith.”
“They’remice,”hecalledafterher.
“Wasn’ttalkingaboutthem!”Sheyelledback,makingherwaydownthestairsandoutthescreen

door.Itslammedbehindher.

ThehotArizonasunburneddownonherskin.
Thebastard!
Shetookafewdeepbreathsandglancedbackatthehouse.Couldhebemoreinsulting?
Okay,shesighed.IfIwasamousetrapwherewouldIhide?
After a few minutes rummaging in the barn, where the ass was currently watching her with

terrifyingintensity,shefoundsomeratpoisonandtwomousetraps.

Shewalkedbackintothehouse,grabbedsomepeanutbutterforthetraps,thencarefullywalkedup

thestairs.

Brockhadn’tmovedfromhisspot.Instead,hewasstaringintothebathroomasifhe’djustseena

ghost.

“Move.”Shepushedbyhim.
“Maybeweshouldjustshutthedoor,”Heofferedinaquietvoice.
Shejerkedawayfromhisbody.“Shutthedoor?Andwhat?Letthemicejustspreadthroughoutthe

house?”

Heseemedunsure,andthenwithanodsteppedawayfromherasshemadeherwaybackintothe

bathroom.

Bothmicewerehuddledinthecorner,asifpeopledidn’tbotherthemonebit.
Weretheypetsorsomething?
They looked at her, then at each other, then back at her, and slowly approached like she was

holdingouttreats.

“Ican’tdoit.”Shestoodandslowlybackedoutoftheroom.
“Whatthehelldoyoumeanyoucan’tdoit?”Brockroared.“They’remice.Theycarrydiseases.”
“Theyhavekindeyes!”Sheloweredthetraps.“AndIcan’tberesponsiblefortheirdeaths.”
“You’reserious?”
Shenoddedandshovedthetrapsintohishands.Inhindsight,shecouldhavedoneitmoreslowly,

possiblymoregently,buttheminutethetrapssnappedsheknewitwastoolate.

With a loud roar, Brock stumbled backward, one trap clinging to his fingers, the other hanging

fromhisT-shirtfromwhatlookedlikepartofhisnipple.

Hewasstillyellinginrage.
Janecoveredherfacewithherhands.
Whenhewasdoneswearing,shejerkedthetrapfromhischest,harderperhapsthannecessary.
Hisglaresaiditall.“It’snotfunny.”
Shebitdownonherbottomlipandgrabbedtheothertrapfromhisrighthand.
“There.”Shecouldn’tstoplaughing.“You’reasgoodasnew.”
Nostrils flaring, he brushed up against her, setting her body instantly on fire. “You did that on

purpose.”

“Had I done it on purpose I would have aimed lower,” she said sweetly, blinking her eyes in

innocencewhiletryingtogetoutofthetoosmallbathroomwiththelargemaninit.Regardlessof
howmanytimesheactedlikeajerk,heintriguedherwaymorethanshecaredtoadmit.Becauseshe
couldn’tforgethowkindhe’dbeenattheparty.Andthatguyhadtobeinthere,too,right?

He shook out his right hand and placed both hands on his narrow hips, which only drew her

attentiononceagaintohisbody.

“Just stay out of the room next door.” He brushed past her and went straight down the stairs,

leavingheralonewiththemice,thetraps,andthedistinctimpressionthatifhehadachoicebetween
herandthetraps…

He’dprobablychoosethetraps.

ChapterEighteen

omenaskedtoomanyquestions.

Stupidquestions.
Brockheldtheicepackagainsthissorechestandwincedasthememoryofhislastencounterwith

Janeplayedbackinhishead.

Somethinginsideofhimwassnapping.
Itwasthisdamnhouse.
Thefuckinglivingroomwithallofthepictures.
Thewaythathecouldn’tevenlookatthestairwaywithoutthinkingabouthisfathermakingthema

slidedownthestairs.

Or the Legos that used to be scattered in every single corner until his father tripped on one of

Brock’slatestinventions,onlytofalldownthestairsandsprainhisankle.

Everywherehelooked,hesawhappiness.
Untilthememoryshiftedandhewasthatsamelittleboy,playingwiththesametoys—alone.The

blindsdrawn,thelaughtergone.

“Hell.”Hewipedhisfacewithhishandsandcursed.Itwasn’therfaultshewashere.
Butshewasaneasytarget.
Becauseshemadehimfeelthings.
Shewasatangiblereminderofallhe’dlost,allhe’dneverhave.Shewasdoingexactlywhathis

mother had done in this house—cooking, cleaning, laughing, smiling—and it was fucking killing
him.

Logically,heknewitmadenosenseatall.
Keeptheoldmanhappy,keephimalive.
Buttraumahadawayofstealingalllogicandreplacingitwithsurvival.
Herealized,asheblinkeddownathisphone,that’sallhe’dbeendoing.
Surviving.
Notliving.
TwomissedcallsfromBentley.
Andthreemissedcallsfromhisgrandfather.Forthefirsttimeinhislife,hedidn’tcallbackright

away.Instead,hestaredatthelockedscreenandwaited.

Fortheapocalypse?Fortheskytofall?Forsomething.
Hisanswercamefiveminuteslater,whenhedialedBentley’snumberonlytohearthefamiliarJay

Zringtonefloodthehall.

“DoesthismeanI’mtheprodigalson?”Bentley’scocky-as-hellvoicesaid.“SinceIsteppedover

thethresholdfirst.”

Therewasaloudthump,followedbycursingandlaughter.
Brockstoodandwalkedaroundthecorner.

Thetwinswereonthefloor.
Andtheyweredrunk.
“Whatthehellareyoubothdoinghere?”Betteryet,howdidtheygethereiftheyweredrunkoff

their asses? Brock’s thoughts suddenly turned dark and thunderous as he remembered who was
upstairs. In a few minutes they’d be trying to seduce her into their beds. That’s what they did. And
sometimes,theyshared.

Nochanceinhell.
Shewashis.
Historture?Wasthatit?
“Admitit.”Bentleyflashedhimasmuggrin.“Youmissedus!”
“Yes,”Brocksaidinadrytone.“That’swhyIkeptignoringyourcalls.Ithurttoomuchtohear

yourvoices.”

“You look like hell.” Brant sidestepped Bentley and eyed Brock with more clarity than felt

comfortable.“Howisitpossibleyoulookolderandit’sonlybeenaday?”

Brock groaned. “Seriously, why are you both here? Did you miss the part where this is my last

vacationbeforeIgettossedintoapitofrichwomenwithfaketitsandtrustfunds?”

“Commitment.”Bentleywinced.“I’llmovetoCanadabeforethatbecomesmyfate.”
“He’llfind you anywhere,”Brant said inan annoyed tone. “Believeme. One timeI was taking a

pissinCostaRica,andnaturallyGrandfatherwalksinwithaprostituteand—”

Brockhelduphishand.“Idon’tthinkIneedtoheartherestofthatstory.”
“Yeah,man,notinfrontofSheldon,”Bentleysnapped.
“Whotheever-lovinghellisSheldon?”Brockglancedaroundtheroomuntilhiseyessettledon

the open door, where the donkey he’d been calling Fred was hanging out casually in front of it.
“Something’snotrightwiththatdonkey.”

“Sheldon!”Bentleychargedthepoorassandstartedpattingitshead.Sheldon,clearlyconfusedthat

hewasadonkeyandnotadog,cuddledclosertoBentley.“Howareyou,oldboy?”

Thedonkeymadeanoise.
Brock’smouthdroppedopen.“Ittalks?”
Bentleyshrugged.“Sheldonusedtobeamagician’sassistant,hewaspartofthedisappearingact.

Hecanbasicallyescapeorbreakintoanything.Buthewastoooldtokeepdoingtricks.Iwonhim.”

“Yes,Grandfathermentioned.”
“He’sveryvaluable.Youhavenoideahowexpensiveitistotrainadonkey.”Henoddedseriously.

“Hunh,Sheldon?What’sthat,boy?Youwanttofetch?”

“Donkeysdon’tfetch.”Brantsighed.“ThoughIwagertenbucksSheldonhashisownFrisbee.”
“Gohome.”Brockopenedthescreendoor.“Bothofyou,damnit.”
Bentley’seyesnarrowed.“Cursingalot,Isee.Undersomestress?”
“Hehasbloodshoteyes,”Brantaddedinacoolcalculatingtone.
“Out,”Brockrepeatedhimself.“Seriously,gotorturesomeoneelse.”
“GrandfatherwantstointroduceBranttoawoman.HesaidIwasnext.Ihadbothourassespacked

beforehemicromanagedyetanotheroneofus.”Hesmiledwidely.

“Thepointisthis.”BentleypushedagainstBrock’schest,movinghimfromthescreendoorand

farther into the house. “We need to lay low for a while, and what better place to have some family
bondingthanhere?”

“I can name at least ten.” Brock clenched his teeth, his hangover suddenly coming back with a

vengeance.“Twenty.Hell,gooutofthecountry!”

“Brock,”Jane’svoicecarriedthroughthehouse.“Brock!”
BentleyandBrantbothstared.
“Are you hiding a woman?” Bentley shoved Brock aside and headed toward the sound of Jane’s

voice.Brantfollowed.

Hestompedafterthem,readytouseanymeansnecessarytogetthemthehelloutofthehouse.
HeknewwasfuckedwhenBentleyopenedhismouth.
“Look who we have here,” Bentley said in a husky voice. “Shoe girl…I’d recognize that arch

anywhere.” His challenging glare to Brock said it all. It wasn’t playful and it sure as hell wasn’t
welcome.

Bentleylovedachallenge.
Helovedtakingwhatwasn’this.
AndJane.
Janewashis.
Well,underhisroof.
Damnit.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Bentleycontinuedhisassault,movingcasuallyaroundher,hiseyes

lingeringonherassbeforehefinallylockedeyeswithherandsmiled.

“Well…”JaneblinkedoveratBrock,thenstaredbackatthefloor.“Yourgrandfatherhiredmeto

cleanthehouseandgetitreadyfor…”Hereyesflashed.“ForBrock,soI’mjustgoingthroughall
therooms.”

Brantwhistledthenofferedherawink.“That’sahugejob.Doyouwantustohelpyou?”
Thetwinsdidn’tevenknowhowtodotheirownlaundry,letalonecleanatoilet.
“Bentley,”Brocksnapped.“Aword?”
Hisbrother ’sresponsewasagrin.“Goahead;I’mwaiting.”
“Alone.”
“AnythingyousaytomeinprivatecanbesaidinfrontofJane.Afterall,she’syourfriend,right?”
Brockhadneverhatedawordmoreinhislife.“Yes,”hemanagedtochokeoutashetookinher

nearlysee-throughwhiteT-shirtandass-huggingjeans.“Friends.”

“Youlookfrustrated,”Brantmutteredaloud.“Iwonderifit’sthepressureofrunningthecompany,

theauction,nosex…”

“I knew he would crack one day,” Bentley added. “Good thing we came when we did, right,

Brock?”

“A good intervention is hard to accomplish, but we’ll do what we can.” Brant smirked and then

offeredawinkinJane’sdirection.

Theyneededtogo.
Bothofthem.
Herubbedahandoverhisinjuredchest,whichhadgonefromastingingpaintoadull,roaring

throb.

Janeeyedhishand,thenhereyesnarrowedasaslysmilespreadacrosshermouth.“How’syour

damagednipple,Brock?Ihopetheclampdidn’ttearitcompletelyoff.”

Bentley’seyeswidenedwithshockwhileBrantstartedtoslowlyclap.
“It’snotwhatitsoundslike,”Brocksaiddefensively.
“Isn’t it, though?” Jane flashed him a giant, fake bright smile. “After all, you were the one who

saidtotakecareofthesituation.Iwasjustdoingmyjob,right?”

“Weshouldhavecomesooner,”mumbledBentley.

“Therewasamouse,”Brocksaid,nottakinghiseyesoffJane.
“Themousetoreyournippleoff?”Brantwinced.
“No,theclampdidthat,”Janesaidhelpfully.
“Soyouweredressedupasmice?”Bentleyblinked.
“Whydon’tIgomakedinner?”Janeinterrupted.“Andyoucanexplaintoyourbrotherswhyhalf

ofyournippleismostlikelygone,andhowyou’regoingtostartbeingnicesothehiredhelpisn’t
temptedtosetuptrapsinyourbedwhileyousleep.”

Withthatsheflouncedoff,leavingawhiffofvanillaandsugarbehindher.
“Ilikeher,”Bentleysaidinalow,lust-filledvoice.“Anywomanwhothreatensmeiswelcomeon

top”—heeyedBrockandkepttalking—“orbottom.AslongasI’minside,Idon’tgiveafuck.”

Brockslammedhimagainstthenearestwall.“TouchherandIswearI’llkillyouinyoursleep.”
Bentleyhelduphishandsandsmirked.“Iknewit.”
Brockreleasedhim.“Knewwhat?”
“Youlikethemaid.”
“She’s…”What?Notamaid?Butshewas.Notthatitmattered.ShewasJustJane—sweet,spicy,

beautifulJustJane,andthatwastherealproblem.

“She’ssexy.”Brantpeeredaroundthecorner.“Sowhatifshe’sthehelp?She’saperson.Apretty,

right-in-front-of-you person. According to the press you’ll be marching toward an arranged
marriageinthreeweeks.Whynotenjoyhernow?”

“Goodidea.I’lljustscrewthemaidandthenmarrysomeoneelse;whyhadn’tIthoughtofthat?”

The temptation to run over both of his brothers with a car had never been so strong. What the hell
weretheythinking?Weretheyalwaysthisinsensitive?

A feminine cough interrupted their fight. “I just, um, was wondering if you guys wanted to eat

indoorsoroutdoors.”

“Indoors,” Bentley answered, and he had the decency to look ashamed at being caught talking

aboutherlikeshewasapieceofmeat.“Thanks,Jane.”

Hersmilewasforcedasshenoddedandturnedonherheelandleft.

ChapterNineteen

ane pounded the chicken with the mallet over and over again, picturing Brock’s face with each

whack.

Whywasshesoupset?
Itwasn’tlikehewaswrong.Shewasthemaid.Itwasherjob,itwaswhatshedid,buthe’dmade

herfeel…low,dirty,likeherjobdidn’tmeananything.Likebysleepingwithherhe’dbedoinghera
favor.

Thearrogantprick!
Slam.
Piecesofchickenwentflying.
Slam.
Howdarehejokeaboutsleepingwiththemaid?
Slam.
“Jane.”Awarmhandcuppedhershoulder.“You’rescaringSheldon.”
SheglancedupintoBentley’semeraldgreeneyes.“Wehaveanotherdinnerguest?”
“No,thedonkey.”
“Fred?”Shefrowned.
Bentley’sexpressionmirroredherown.“Didyoure-namemypetass?”
“ThelistsaidhisnamewasFred.”
“Whatlist?”
“Theoneonthefridgewithallthenamesoftheanimals.”Janepointedoverhershoulder.“Atleast

that’swhatIassumeditwas.Nexttoeachanimalisaname.Whyelsewoulditbethere?”

Bentley pulled down the laminated piece of paper and burst out laughing. “My parents put these

together.”Hechuckledharder.“They’reapprovedofwordstosayinsteadofswearing.Soifyouwant
to say ass you say, ‘don’t be a Fred.’” He grinned. “Instead of saying suck my…” He grinned
shamelessly.“YoucansaysuckMr.Feathers.”

Jane read the rest of the names—really read them. The list was like a kid’s glossary for saying

naughtywords.

“It all started when Brock learned the word ‘shit,’” Bentley said with amusement. “And things

quicklywentdownhillfromthere.Weturneditintoagame,andwell,nowyouknow.”

JanetriedtokeepherselffromsmilingatthethoughtofayoungBrockstruttingaroundthehouse

screaming“shit”atthetopofhislungs.

“He’snotalwaysanass,youknow,”Bentleysaidinagentlevoice,hishandcoveringhersonthe

countertop.

“No?”Janeswallowedagainstalumpinherthroat.“Justmostthetime,then?”
“Heboughtyoushoes,”Bentleyremindedher.“Reallyniceshoes.”
“Actually,youboughtmeshoes.”

“Afterhemademe.”Bentleyremovedhishandandofferedawickedgrin.“Buthey,ifyouwantto

switchbrothersI’mallforit.”

“Excuseme?”Janesidesteppedhimtograbthebutteroutofthefridge.
Bentleylaughed.“I’mkidding.”
Janerolledhereyes.
“Sortof.”Heshrugged.“Okay,somaybeliketenpercentkidding?Butapparentlyyouonlyhave

eyesfortheass.”

“Fred?”
“Brock.”
“YouunderstandhowI’dbeconfused,though,right?”SheteasedwhileBentleyflashedheranother

oneofthosegrins,theonesshewasonehundredpercentsurehepracticedinfrontofthemirror.

“Need any help in here?” Something about the way Brant walked into the room was calculating,

likeeverystephemadewasforapurposehealreadyhadinmind,aplan.Hissmilewasequallyas
charminganddangerousashistwin’s.“IthoughtIheardthewords‘ass’and‘shit’,soIfiguredeither
we were talking about Brock or we were talking about Brock.” His grin widened. “It’s one of my
favoritethingsintheworld—brothershaming.”

Bentleyflippedhimoff.
“Notyou.”Brantrolledhiseyes.
Janeagaintriedtofocusonthedinner.Itwasnearlyimpossibletohaveasolidthoughtinherbrain

whenshehadthetwinstalkingandflirtingwithher.

She’d have to be either dead or insane not to notice how devastatingly handsome the men were.

Charismarolledofftheminwaves,buttheyweren’tintimidating.

NotlikeBrock.
Hismerepresencenearlystilledherbreathandhadherwishingformoretimetolookathimand

juststudyhisfeatures—whichsoundedsolameinherheadthatshewantedtoslamherpalmagainst
herowncheek.

Hewasajackass.
Aprivilegedjackass.
“What’sgoingoninhere?”Brock’slowvoicerumbledthroughthekitchen.
Hisdarkwavyhairlookedlikehe’djustspentthelastfiveminutesrunninghishandsthroughit:

mussedandsexy.Shehadtoaverthereyesbeforeherthoughtswentintodangerousterritory.

“Look.”BentleysnatchedthesheetfromthefridgeandhandedittoBrock.“Shefoundyourswear

sheet!”

“That’saloadofhairyantsandyouknowit!”Bentleyyelled.“Howdareyougoatmycock!”
Janegiggledbehindherhand.
“Thatisn’tevenonthissheet,”Brocksaidinastrangledvoiceasheranhisfingersthroughhis

hairagain.Thesimpleactionwassosexyshehadtolookaway.

“Madeitupjustnow.Soundsdirty,right?Goatmycock.”Bentleyshruggedandmaneuveredhis

wayovertoJane,slidinghisarmaroundherbody.“Whatdoyouthink,Jane?Whatwouldalady’s
responsebetothatquestion?Hmm?”Heleanedintooclose,hiseyesfocusedonherlips.“Wouldyou
goatmycock?”

Uncomfortable,sheduckedawayfromhimandreturnedtopreparingdinnerwhileBrockleveled

hisbrotherwithaglarethatwouldhavelefthertrembling,thoughshewasn’tsureifitwouldbefrom
fearorexcitement.Maybeboth.“Allright,nomoretalkofcocksorasses.I’mtryingtomakedinner.
Whydon’tyouguysgosetthetableorsomething?”

Everyonefroze.
Sheglancedateachoftheirpanickedexpressions,finallylandingonathunderousBrock.Hisfists

clenchedandunclenchedasamuscletwitchedinhisjaw.

“Surething.”BentleyandBrantquicklyexitedtheroomwhileBrockstayed.
Hewasn’tsayinganything,juststaringherdownlikeshewasabletoreadminds.
Finally,shesetdownherknifeandsighed.“What?WhatdidIdothistime?”
Brock’seyesnarrowed.“Therewon’tbeanysettingofthetable.We’lleatinthelivingroom.”
“Fine.”Janewastootiredtoargueandneededhimtoleave.Justbeinginthesameroomashim

made her want to launch across the floor and beat him with her fists, and kiss him senseless.
Somethingwasseriouslywrongwithher.“We’lleatinthelivingroom.”

Bentleypokedhisheadaroundthecorner.“Areweusingthechinaor—”
WithagrowlBrockturnedonhisheelandbarkedout.“Don’tsetthetable.”
“But—”
“Isaid”—Brockpoundedhishandagainstthenearestwall—“wearen’tsettingthefuckingtable.”
Thenexttwentyminuteswentbypainfullyslowly.
Thetwinshelpedherservethefood,butthemealwasdeathlysilentexceptforthesoundsofforks

scrapingagainstplates.

Brockwasthefirsttofinish.
Hestoodwithhisplateandstompedintothekitchen.Thesoundofrunningwaterfilledtheair,then

thegarbagedisposal,thennothing.

“I’mgoingtobed,”heannouncedoncehewasbackinthelivingroom.Heheadeddownthehall

andthenadoorslammed.

Twice.
“He’salwaysbeendramatic,”Bentleyyawned,visiblyrelaxingashesetdownhisplateandleaned

backinhischair.“Sorry,Jane.”

“Don’tbe.”Shehidherownyawnbehindherhand.“He’snotmyproblem,normyresponsibility.”
“Hah.”Brant’seyebrowsshotup.“Brockhasneverbeenanyone’sresponsibility.”
Janefrowned.“Whatdoyoumean?”
The twins shared a look before Bentley spoke. “He takes care of people; they don’t take care of

him. Hell, the last time someone took care of him”—he lowered his head—“was when our parents
werealive.He’dskinnedhiskneeafterfallingoffhisbike,andourdadhelpedpatchhimup.Itwas
thelasttimeIsawBrockcryorshowanysortofemotionotherthanirritationandanger.”

What?Howcouldthatbetrue?He’dsmiledattheclubwhenthey’dbeenintheprivateroom,when

he’d given her the shoes. Her thoughts jumbled together as she pressed a hand against her chest.
“You,”Bentleysaidsoftly.“Hesmiledwithyou.”

ChapterTwenty

ewasliterallygoingtogetamedalforbeinganasshole.Itwasn’therfault,butshewastheeasiest

target.Projectingeverydamnfeelingofinsecurityandlossontoherjustseemed…easier,easierthen
dealingwithit.Seeingherinthekitchenhadbeenafuckingnightmare.

Shewaspoundingthehelloutofchicken,forshit’ssake.
Justlikehismom.
Shelookednothinglikehismom—nothing.
And yet, seeing her there made his chest ache and his stomach drop to his knees. And with his

brothershome,thehousewasfullagain.

Itwasalltoofamiliar.
Withacurse,Brocktossedoffthegiantcomforter,pulledonapairofsweats,andwalkedoutof

theroom.Heneededwhiskeyifhewasgoingtohaveanyhopeofsleep.

Lotsofwhiskey.
He’dalwayspridedhimselfonhiscontrol.
Untilher.
Andthehouse.
Both of them were grating his very last nerve. Set the table? Seriously? Like his brothers both

weren’tcompletelyawarethatthelastmealthey’dhadasafamilyhadbeensharedatthatverytable.

With a shudder, he quietly pulled the whiskey from the pantry and poured a heavy dose into a

coffeecup,thenmadehiswaytothelivingroom.Maybehe’dsleeponthecouchagain.

Maybehe’dgetdrunkagain.
And just maybe, he’d forget all about how good Jane smelled and how beautiful she looked—

whilecleaningadamntoilet.

Yeah,hewassoscrewed.
Brocksurveyedtheroomashetookasipofwhiskey.Theleathercouchesweretheonlynewthing

intheentirehouse.Everythingelsewasexactlyhowherememberedit,fromthewoodsysmelltothe
waythewoodfloorscreakedwhenyouwalkedintothelivingroom.

Anotherslowsipandhewassinkingdownontothecouch.
Alittlesqueakeruptedfromwherehetriedtosit,andhejumpedbackup.
“Hey!”Jane’squickmovementswerealmostimpossibletomakeoutinthedark,buthervoice?It

wasclear,smooth,anditsentreallyirrationalfeelingsstraighttohisheart.Everymuscleinhisbody
tensed.

Becausethatwaswhathappenedwhenyoutreatedpeoplelikeshit—peoplewhodidn’tdeserveit.
His body, aware that things were about to get uncomfortable, braced for impact, while his brain

scurried to come up with the right words that would form nice-sounding sentences, sentences that
wouldmakethingsbetterwithoutgoingasfarasanapology.

Dumbstruck,theonlythinghecouldutterwas,“Sorry,didn’tseeyouthere.”

“Youdidn’tevenlook.”Shetuckedherlegsunderthelargeafghanandyawnedbehindherhand.

Herdarkhairwaspulledintoalongbraidthatdrapedoverherrightshoulder.Awhitetanktopwas
visiblebeneathpartoftheblanket.

Herexpressionwastired.
Asthefogclearedfromhisheadhemanagedtositacrossfromherinhisownchair.Buyingtime,

hesippedmorewhiskeyfromhiscoffeecup.“Whyareyououthere?”

Alongpausedescendedoverthemlikeahotitchyblanketbeforesheanswered.“Icouldn’tsleep.”
“Youknow,youcanalwaysswitchtoanotherroomifit’sthebed.”
“It’snotthebed,”sheansweredinawhisper.
“Or…”Helickedhissuddenlydrylips.“IthinkIcanfindyousomeNyQuilorsomethingtohelp.”
Shesmiled.Hecouldseethewhiteofherteethashernosescrunchedupinacutelittleexpression

thathereallyneededtonotstareattoolong—lesthisbodytakeitasaninvitationandsuddenlylaunch
itselfovertothecouch.

“Actually,”shesaid,adjustingherselfonthecouchagain.“It’smorelikeIkeepgettingtextsfrom

myevilsisters.”

“Turnoffyourphone.”
“Ifinallydid,buttherewerethingssaidbeforethephonewentoff,thingsthatmadeitsoIcouldn’t

sleep.”

Hewantedtohelpher—andforsomereason,thinkingaboutherproblemswasahellofalotmore

welcomethanthinkingabouttheghostsfloatingaroundtheroom,staringathim,beggingtobedealt
with.“Here.”Hethrusthismugofwhiskeyinherdirection.

Withafrown,sheleanedforward,herhandscomingintocontactwithhisastheywrappedaround

thecup.Hereleasedthecupintohercare,hishandstinglingfromthesensationofherskinagainst
his.

“Whatisthis?”Shesniffed,thenmadeaface.
“Whiskey.Believeme,ithelps.”
Shesighed.“Ifyousayso.”Onesmallsipandshewascoughing,hereyestearingupasshegotoff

thecouchandhandedthemugbacktohim.

Hiseyesmovedfromhersock-cladfeetupherdangerouslylonglegs,toshortblackshortsthat

nearly gave him a view of perfect ass cheeks. Licking his lips, he grabbed the mug and met her
pointedgaze.“Youdidn’thavetogetup.”

“Well,youlookexhausted.Idon’twantyoutomakeanyextraeffortonmybehalf,onlytoblame

metomorrowforbeingmoretiredthanyoualreadyare.”

Hewinced.“Ideservedthat.”
“Totally.”Andtherewasthatshysmileagain.
Locking eyes on her, Brock sipped from the mug exactly where her lips had been, his tongue

swiping across the ceramic mug unnecessarily. Yup. Losing his mind. Or maybe just that desperate
forher.

Jane’seyeshoodedbeforeshetookacautiousstepbackandfinallygrabbedtheblanket,resuming

herplaceonthecouch.Asafeplace.

Asafedistanceawayfromhim.
Hewasn’tsosurehelikedit.
“Didithelp?”
Shenoddedwarily.
“Good.”

Anotherpausefollowed.Heknewheshouldsaysomething,possiblyapologize,buthewasn’teven

surewheretostart,orhowtogoaboutdoingitwithoutlayingallofhiscardsonthetable.

Sohesaidnothing.
Hewasgoodatthat.
Sayingnothingwhenheshouldsaysomething.
“Theblinds,”hefinallyblurted.“IthinkIhatetheblindsthemost.”
“Theblinds,”sherepeatedinacurioustone.“CanIaskwhy?”
Hesnorted.“Theyalwaysusedtobeopen.”Heflashedherasmile.“Thesunlightstreamsallthe

wayintothekitchen,andmymom—”Hisvoicecracked,damnit.“Shelovedgettingupearlytomake
coffeeandcinnamonrolls.Shesaidthatshesawheaveninthisroom—knewwithoutashadowofa
doubtthatitexisted,becauseofthelight.”

“That’sbeautiful,”Janewhispered.
“Shewasbeautiful.”Heglaredhardatthestupidwoodenblinds.Theywereobjects,stupidobjects,

but they still held power, made him feel weak. “They were closed the day they died. And they’ve
stayedthatwayeversince.Ihatethem.Theyremindmethatthingsaredifferent.Theyremindmeof
thedaymylifechangedforever.”

Janedidn’tmove.
Nordidshesayanything.
Hekepttalking.“Itwasanaccident.”Hestareddownathishands.“Fuck,Ihatetheword‘accident’,

likethatmakesthedeathparteasier.Athunderstorm,followedbyaplanecrash.Thetwinswerelittle,
soGrandfathertoldmefirst.HewalkedintothisroomandshatteredtheperfectworldIlivedin.”

Heswallowedandglancedbackupattheblinds.“Theywereclosedthatday.Iknewsomethingwas

differentbecausetheywereclosedandmymom,shealwayshadthemopen.Funny,howsuchasmall
thingcanstaywithyou.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Jane cleared her throat. “My sisters

hateme.”

“Thatcan’tbetrue.”Heshiftedinhischairsohecouldseeherbetter.“Whywouldtheyhateyou?”
“Iwasborn?”Sheofferedwithaforcedlaugh.“Idon’tknow;theyalwaysmakecommentsabout

howmydadfavoredme,butIthinkhejustsawalotofhimselfinme.Iactuallycaredaboutwhathe
cared about, and our relationship was different because I was the youngest.” Her voice broke.
“Anyway,ImayhavetakenthisjobwithoutfullytellingthemwhereI’dbeandhowlongI’dbegone.”

“Sothey’reworriedaboutyou?”
Jane slumped forward. “No, it’s more like they’re pissed that nobody’s home to do all of their

laundry and cooking. The last text I got called me a selfish bitch for refusing to think about their
needs.”

Brockfrownedsohardhisfacehurt.“Howoldarethey?”
“Twenty-sevenandtwenty-five.”
Brockburstoutlaughing.“Whydon’ttheyjustordertakeout?”
“Thankyou!”Janethrewherhandsintotheair.“That’sexactlywhatIsaid,butapparentlylooking

uptherestaurantsintheirtinylittlephonesaftergettingtheirnailsdoneis,andIquote,‘super-duper
hard.’ Then they started freaking out about having a delivery guy at the door who was probably a
collegedropoutandlookingtorobthem.”

Brockshookhishead.“Theysoundlikeareal…treat.”
“Youhavenoidea.”
Guiltslammedintohischest.“AmIrightwhenIsaythiswassupposedtobemorelikeaworking

vacation?”

Shegavehimasilentnod.
“Wherethetenantwouldn’tbeajackasslikeyoursisters?”
Anothernod.
“Shit.”
“It’snotmyfault,youknow.”
“Whatisn’t?”
“Theblinds.”
Heblinked,andthenblinkedagain.“I’mnotblamingyoufortheblinds.”
“Youare.” A sadsmile spread acrossher lips. “I don’tknow you wellenough to know anything

aboutyourpersonalityexceptyou’reangry.Andwhetheryou’reangryatyourself,me,thehouse,the
blinds,theonlypersonit’shurtingisyou.”Sheshrugged.“Itwouldn’thurttostoptryingtocontrol
thememories.Maybeinordertogetthroughthegrief,youneedtofacethem.”

“Sometimesit’seasiertoofferadvicethanitistotakeit.”
Janevisiblytensed.“It’sgettinglate.IthinkI’llheadtobed.”
“Jane,wait.I’mso—”
“No you’re not. You’re not sorry. Don’t pretend to know my story, and I won’t pretend to know

yours.Itwasn’tmyplace.Iapologize.”

Theblanketslidoffherbodyintoapoolonthefloor.Shelefthimalone,staringattheblinds.
Theystaredbackathim.
And he wondered if the blinds were just that: a symbol of the day he’d decided to let his

grandfathercontrolhislife—solelybasedonthefearofatwelve-year-oldboywho’dfelthehadno
otherchoicebuttoholdontothemanwhopromisedhimeverythingwouldbeokay.

Theblindsstillstared.
And he stared right back, challenging them—wondering if he pulled them open, what exactly

wouldhappen?

Wouldtheskyfall?
WouldGrandfatherdie?
Orwouldhislifebeexactlythesame?
Hestoodandwalkedovertotheblinds,liftingashakyhandtothestringthatheldthemclosed,and

thenjerkedhishandaway.

Somememorieswerebestleftburied.

ChapterTwenty-One

ane woke up with a knot in her neck and a dizzying feeling of anticipation. Talking with Brock

hadn’tbeenawiseidea,mainlybecauseshewasremindedthatunderneathallthatfear—theveryfear
shesawinhiseyeswhenhespokeofthepast—wasadecentguy.

Hewasintherenexttoalltheyellingandinsults.
Well, she’d always loved a good project; finding a new home for a rescue dog, walking an old

ladyacrosstheroad,bringingfoodtothehomeless.Helpingamanshewasinsanelyattractedtoget
overthedeathofhisparents…

Sheclenchedherfists.
No.Sherefusedtohelphim.
Hedidn’tdeserveit!Andwhatwouldcomeofitifshedid?She’dhelphimseepasthisdemons,

he’dbecomethemanhewassupposedtobe,andthey’drideoffintothesunsettogether?

Morelike,he’dthankher,giveherahug—thatwas,ifitactuallyworkedandhedidn’tstrangleher

first—andhe’drideoffintothesunsetwithBarbie’stwin.They’dhavebeautifulchildren,whointurn
wouldhavebeautifulchildren,andpeoplelikeherwouldwatchfromthesidelines.

Sheswallowedthegiantlumpforminginherthroat.
Somethingneededtochangeinherlife—anditstartednow.
Withtremblinghandssheturnedonherphoneagainandgaspedastextsfloodedherinbox.
Allofthemfromhersisters.
Itseemedlikethey’dgonefromangrytounderstandinginaninstant.

Esmeralda:JaneI’msosorry,justcomehome.Wemissyou!

Essence:HUGS!
Esmeralda:Bestsisterever!

Janegroanedintoherhandsandcontinuedreadingthemessages.Afterfiveorsixkindmessages

theystartedturningthreateningandmanipulativeagain.

Esmeralda: You can’t just leave like this. You’re our family. What would dad have said? It’s so

selfish!

Guilt spread through her body. In a way, it was selfish of her to leave them, but she was going

crazy!Theywerechokingthelifeoutofherandtheydidn’tevenseemtocarehowtheywerehurting
her.

Shewasjustreadytotextbackwhenanothermessagepoppedup.
ItwasapictureofEssence.
AndshewaswearingJane’spearls.
Theonesthathadbrokenalloverthenightclubfloor.Buthow?She’djustassumedtheyweredone

for.Ithadbeendarkintheclubandbodieshadbeeneverywhere.

Essence:Thisjustgotdelivered,butsinceyou’regone…
Janetextedfuriously.
Jane:Mypearls!Whosentthem?How?
Essence:Oh,soNOWyourespond?Whenthere’ssomethingyouwant?
Tearsblurredhereyesasshetypedback.
Jane:No!Ihadmyphoneoff.Please!I’llbehomeinafewweeks!Justkeepthemsafe.
Essence:Nopromises.
EmotioncloggedJane’sthroatasshetouchedthescreentoherphone.Itwasn’tthefactthatthey

wereexpensive—itwasthefactthatthepearlshadbeenhermother ’s.

Giventoher.
ThenexttextwasapictureofEsmeraldawearingJane’sshoes,theonesBrockhadgottenforher.
Esmeralda:Theylookbetteronme.
Sheknewit.She’djustknownthatEsmeraldahadtakentheshoesthatday,butshe’dbeentooweak

tofightheronit;shedidn’twanttostartafightsheknewshecouldn’twinorfinish.

Butnow.Sheturnedthephonebackoffandlettherealityofhersituationwithhersistershither

fullforce.

Brockhadn’trealizedit,buthewasright,andshehadbeentalkingaboutherselfasmuchasshe

wastalkingabouthim.Sheneededtofaceherdemons,herghosts,anddealwiththemonceandfor
all.

It was amazing how easy it was to see how her sisters manipulated her, now that she was away

from them. It was as if a fog had cleared, and she could see that the only reason they kept her
around…

Wasforthem.
Herfatherwouldn’twanthertolivethatway.
Itwasarevelationshe’dneverhadbefore,anditwasthefirsttimeinthelastfiveyearsthateven

thoughherbodywassore,herheartfeltlight.

Shewasgettingpaidthirtygrand.
Thatwasmorethanenoughforhertobeabletoeitherbribethemtomoveout,orsellthehouse

andmoveoutherself.Theonlyproblemwouldbegettinghersisters’approvaltosellit.

Her shoulders slumped. It would never work. She adored that house—she’d grown up in that

house.Tojustletthemhaveit—trashit?

Thethoughtmadehershudder.
Shequicklypulledherhairbackintoabun,tossedonapairofrippedjeans,agraytanktop,and

whiteConversesneakers,hercleaninguniformfortheday.

Except.
Brock.
Nomatterhowhardshetriedshecouldn’tgethisdefeatedexpressionoutofhermind,ortheway

helookedather,noticedher,evenwhenheseemedannoyedwithhimselfforbeingthattransparent.

Hewasn’tareasontoputonmakeup.
Afterall,heseemedangrywhenevershedrewhisattentionandthelastthingsheneededwasmore

angerfromhim.

She shook her head and glanced one last time in the mirror. Large brown eyes with matching

brownhair,astrongjaw,blackeyelashes.

Makeupwouldhelp.
She moved past the mirror, stopped, started walking again. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered,

finallyswipingonsomepinklipstickfromthenearbydresserandrubbingherlipstogether.

Thelipstickwasforher.
Nothim.
Neverhim.
Itmadeherfeelconfident.Likeshe’djustputonasuitofarmor.
She walked into the living room and paused. The blanket from the night before was still draped

acrossthefloorandpartofthecouch.

Lastnighthe’dlookedather…reallylookedather.Maybeithadbeenherimaginationbuthislips

seemedtolingerovertheceramiccupwhentheylockedeyes.

Sheshiveredandwrappedherarmsaroundherchest.Thedarkroomwassuddenlytoosmall,too

depressing.Sheglancedaroundforthelight,buttheminutesheflippedtheswitch,theblindsseemed
tocomealive,beggingtobepulled.

Well, he couldn’t get any more angry with her. His conflicted expression flashed in her mind. A

minuteagoshewastryingnottomakehimangryandnowshewasgoingtopokethebear.

Withasigh,shegrabbedeachofthestringstotheblindsandpulledthemcompletelyup.
Lightimmediatelyfloodedtheroom,openingitup,makingitfeelbigger—massive,actually.And

justlikeBrockhadsaid,thelightfloodedallthewayintothekitchen,creatingabeautifulstreakof
sunlightasifheavenreallywaslookingdownandsmiling.

Withagrin,sheskippedovertothekitchen,doingafewtwirlsinherConversesontheway.
“Sheusedtodothat,”camearoughvoice.“Danceinthesunlight.”
Nearlytrippingintothewall,Janerecoveredandturnedaround.AsleepyBentleywasmakinghis

wayintotheroom.“Idon’tremembermuch,butIdorememberthat.”

“I’msorry.”Janefelthorrible.
Bentley frowned. “Why would you feel sorry for dancing in streams of sunlight?” His face

transformedintoagrinbeforehegrabbedherbodyandpulleditagainsthis,twirlingheraroundthe
room.

“Youknowthequickstep?”Sheletoutabreathlesslaugh.
“Grandfather raised me right.” He winked, tugging her body across the floor directly into the

sunlight.

Aburstoflaughterescapedherashebentherdownandhislipshoverednearherneck.
“Careful,” he warned, eyes locking with hers. “You’ll make me think you want me more than

Brock,andIwouldhategettingstrangledtodeath.”Heleanedintowardhermouth.“Thenagain,it
maybeworthit.”

“What.The.Hell.”Brock’svoicewasdeafening.“Ishappeninginhere?”
Bentleypulledhertoherfeetandturned.“Dancing.Youknow,whereyoumoveyourfeetandhold

awomancloseenoughtofeelthetipsofherbreastspressagainstyourchestand—”

“Bentley, I swear I really will kill you if you finish that sentence,” Brock barked, his eyes

thunderousashelookedbetweenthetwo.

Suddenlyfeelingguilty,Janebackedslowlyawayfromthetestosteroneandwentintothekitchen.
Sheknewexactlywhatshewasgoingtomake.
Luckily,she’dgottenafewgroceriesfromthestore,includingafewfrozentreats.
Twentyminuteslaterthesmellofcinnamonfilledthehouse.
The timer went off. She grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the tray of cinnamon rolls out, then

slowlybegantodrizzleicingacrossthem.

“Arethose”—Brockwassuddenlybehindher,andshecouldfeeltheheatofeverywarmmasculine

inchofhim—“whatIthinktheyare?”

Shegulped.Hewasgoingtoyell.Shejustknewit.
Tensing,shegavehimajerkynod.
“Andwasityouwhoopenedtheblinds?”
“Y-yes,”shestammered.
Hishandsmovedtohershouldersandthensliddownherarms.Withasharpinhalehewhispered

gruffly,“Thankyou.”

Andthenhewasgone.
Herarmshowever,keptthememoryofthewayhishandshadcaressedherbody.
Ittookafewminutesforhertoregainhercomposure,andbythenallthreemenwereinandoutof

thekitchenastheygrabbedcoffee.Eachofthemtriedtoswipeicingofftherollsastheypassedby.

“Letthemcool!”sheyelledwhenBrockcameinforthesecondtime.
Heheldhishandsintheair.“Iwasjustgoingtoaskwhentheywouldbeready.”
“They’rereadywhenthey’reready!”Sheshovedhimoutofthekitchen.
“Heartlesswench!”Bentleyyelled.“Giveusfood!”
“Manhungry,”Brantgrowled,slamminghishandagainstthetable.“Manneedfood!”
Sheshookherheadandtriedtokeepthelaughin,butwhentheyallstartedarguingsheknewitwas

useless;theywerewalking,talkingchaos.

Finally, she grabbed a few plates and piled the cinnamon rolls high, then deposited them in the

middleofthetable.

Handswentsurgingforward.
Withinminutes,allofthecinnamonrollsweregone.
Eventheicingwasallbutlickedfromtheplate.
“So, I have a completely nonsexual proposition for you.” Brant leaned back and patted his

stomach.“Livewithme,bakeforme,I’llmakeyouaveryhappywoman.Cars.”Hespreadhishands
wide.“Money.Furs.”

Bentleynoddedencouragingly.“You’llbeourkeptwoman.Butyouhavetobakeeveryday.Don’t

worry,we’llgiveyouasafeword,justincasethingsgettoocrazy.”

“Whoneedsasafewordforcooking?”Brantasked,lickinghisfingerwhilehewinkedatJane.
“Food’serotic.”Bentleyblinked.“You’realmostascluelessasBrock.”
Brockgroanedslowlyandstartedbanginghisheadagainstthetable.
BothmenignoredhimandcontinuedtoargueaboutwhatJane’ssafewordshouldbe.
“Potato!”Bentleysnappedhisfingers.
“There’s nothing liberating about a damn potato!” Brant argued. “How about ‘cherry’?” He

smirked.“Getit?Cherry?”

Brockstoodabruptlyandstartedgrabbingalloftheplates,makingmorenoisethannecessaryas

hefumbledwiththeforksandleftthediningarea.

“Bettergohelphim,Cherry.”Bentleywinked.“Fuckme,Ilovesexynicknames.”
She knew he was kidding but she was still embarrassed. With a weak wave of her hand she went

intothekitchen,onlytofindBrockdoingthedishes.

Forsomeonewhohadbeendoingnothingbutcleaningupafterotherpeopleherentirelife,itwas

likewatchingporn.

Hisdenimshirtwasrolleduptohiselbows;tannedforearmsflexedashedippedadishintothe

waterandbegantowipe.

Awhimperescapedherlipsbeforeshecouldstopit.

Helookedupatthesoundandasmilespreadacrosshisface.“ImaginewhatwouldhappenifIhad

alarger…plate,”heteased.

Herfaceprobablydidlooklikeacherry.
Clearingherthroat,shegrabbedoneofthewetdishesandstarteddryingit,onlytohavehimpull

thetowelfromherhandsandjerktheplateawayfromher.

Great,hewasmadagain.Justwhenshe’dgottenhimtosmile.
Hislargebodyloomedoverhers,hisblueeyesflashedandthenhismouthslammedagainsthers.
Shewasn’treadyforit.
Thenagain,sheimaginedashistongueslidpastherlips,awomancouldneverbepreparedfora

kisslikethis.

Itwasasifhewasclaimingher,consumingher,andtheverylastthingshewantedtoscreamout

was“Cherry.”

His body pressed so hard against hers she could feel his arousal strain against his jeans. Jane

grippedhisshirt,bunchingitinherhandsashedeepenedthekisswithagrowl,onlytoabruptlypull
away.

Chestheaving,hewhisperedahoarse“thankyou”beforewalkingoutofthekitchen.
Shedidn’tmove.
Shecouldn’t.
“Everything okay in here?” Bentley poked his head around the corner then grinned. “Oh, never

mind,Icanseethingswentjustfine.Needtogotakeacoldshower?”

Janeglared.
“Don’t deny it. I can practically smell sexual arousal when it hits the air. Just remember to use

protection;I’mtooyoungtobeanuncle.”

“Don’tyouhaveajob?”Hervoicewasstupidlyweak.
“Yup.”Henodded.“AndI’msogoodatitandsorichthatIrarelyneedtobeintheoffice.Lucky

you.”

“Yes,justwhatIwasthinking.Luckyme.”
He smirked. “Do you want help with the rest of the dishes? I can dry while you overanalyze the

panty-meltingkisshejustgaveyou.”

Searingheatblazedhercheeks,andsheturnedaroundandshovedherhandsintothesoapywater.
Bentleygrabbedaplateandstarteddrying.“Didheusetongue?”
Watersloshedovertheedgeofthesink.
Bentleytiltedhisheadandnodded.“Thatslickbastard.Hedark-horsedme,didn’the?”
“Hunh?”Sheblinkedoverathimanddippedaplateintothehotsoapywater.
“Brock’stheDarkHorse.Hejuststakedhisclaimandranliketheassheis,butit’sgoodtoseehim

actually do something for himself for once.” He was quiet. “Damn, must have been some kiss if
you’restillthinkingaboutit.”

“You’rereally,reallyaggravating.”Sheignoredthequestionjustlikesheignoredthetighteningin

herstomach.Brock’skisshadbeen…everything.

Ugh,shewasinsomuchtrouble.
Shehadovertwoweeksofsuffering,knowingwhathislipsfeltlikeonhers?Whathisbodywas

capableof?

“You’reabouttobreakthatdish.”Bentleyprieditfromherhandsandstartedwiping.“Whydon’t

you go fix your lipstick, since half of it is currently sitting nice on my brother ’s mouth, while the
otherhalfissmearedjusthere.”Hepointedtohercheek.“NotthatI’mnotahugefanofasexed-up

woman;Ijustwantyoutobeawarethatmenareattractedtothatlook,theoneyoustillhave,soifyou
don’twantBrocktoattackyouagain,youmaywantto”—heliftedashoulder—“fixit.”

“Th-thanks.”Shebackedawayslowly,tuckingherhairbehindherear.Howhaditcomeoutofits

bun?Whenhadthatevenhappened?

Bentley’ssmilewasslow,dangerous.“Youknow,onceyougoBrockyounevergoback.”
Shesighed.“Itwouldbebadenoughiftherewereonlyoneofyou,butthere’stwo.Literally.”
“Ain’titgreat?”Hewinked.
“I’lljustgodealwith…this.”Shepointedtoherhead.
“Good.Oh,andJane?”
Shestoppedandturnedbackaround.“Hmm?”
“Brocklikesponytails.”

ChapterTwenty-Two

rock kicked the side of the barn over and over and over again. The cock clearly thought it was

beingthreatenedandcamebarrelingtowardhim,wingsraised,beakout.

“Hell,”herasped,jumpingoverthestallwallandjoiningButtercup.
Right.He’djustkissedtheshitoutofawomanthathehadnobusinessmessingwithandnowhe

wasinahorsestallhidingfromacock.

Asifsensinghisdistress,Buttercupneighedandnudgedhisshoulderwithhersoftnose.
“Sorry,girl.”Hepattedherhead.Thelasttimehe’driddenherhadbeenyearsago,butwhoever

hadbeentakingcareoftheranchwasdoingagoodjob.Thebarnwasstillabitrun-downbutitwas
clean,thehorsesclearlyfatandhappywithplentyofroamingroomandthebestoatsmoneycould
buy.

Butstill.
Hefeltguilty.
Damnit,hewassotiredoftheconstantguilt.
Guiltmadehimsayyeswhenhewantedtosayno.
Guilt had him turning into a complete madman when it came to Jane. Hell, he’d mauled her and

thenrunaway.

She’dmadethosecinnamonbunsforhim.Heknewthat.Hejustdidn’tknowwhy—especiallyafter

he’dbeensuchanasstoher.Blamingherforthingsthatweren’therfault.

Withasigh,hepattedButtercup’snoseagainandranhishandsdownthesideofherbelly.“Wanna

goforaride,girl?”

Maybeitwoulddistracthimfrommarchingbackintothehouse,strippingJanenaked,andhaving

hiswaywithhernexttothecinnamonrollcrumbs.

Hisbloodheatedatthethought.
Buttercupkickedherhoofasifexcitedtogetoutandrun.Therewasmorethrillthenhesitationon

hispartashegentlyplacedasaddlepadonherbackthenpositionedthesaddlebeforetighteningthe
firstcinch.Whenhewasfinishedheputthebitintohermouthandranhishanddownthesideofher
nose.

“You ready, girl?” Fear slid into his chest, warning him against riding a horse he hadn’t ridden

sincetheweekofhisparents’accident.She’dbeenyoungthen,soyoungthathe’dprobablyhadno
businessgettingonherinthefirstplace.Andnowshewasoldenoughthatitwasamiracleshestill
lookedsogood.

Heglancedbackatthehouse,thenatthehorse.Whatotherchoicedidhehave?Goingbackintothe

houseonlymeanttemptation,andifhedidn’tmoveawayfromthecockitwasgoingtoattacktheshit
outofhim.HeopenedthegateandhoppedontoButtercup.

Andeverythingclickedintoplace.
Memoriesofridingher.

Thetrailstheyusedtotake.
Being on the back of his horse made Brock feel the most centered he had in a while, especially

afterkissingagirlwhomadehimwantalifehewouldneverhave.WasthatwhatitwasaboutJane?
Thefactthatwhenhewaswithherhewastemptedtowantmoreandactuallybelievedhecouldhave
it?Somehow,kissingherhadmadehimfeelmorealivethanhehadinmonths—years.Itfeltfreeing.
Shewasfreeing.

Buttercup let out a little snort as she started to gallop across the field, to where his grandfather

usedtotrainhisoldhorsesbackwhentheranchwasactivewithhorsebreeding.

“Goodgirl.”Hepattedthesweatyhorsefleshandbreathedindeep.
“ThoughtImightfindyououthere,”amalevoicecalled.
Frowning,Brockturnedaroundandburstintolaughter.
Thetwinswerebothattemptingtorideoneoftheshortesthorsesinthebarn.Itsgirthmadeupfor

whateveritlackedinheight,buttheideathattheywerebothabletostayonitwithoutthehorsebiting
themwasimpressive.

“Whatthehellisthat?”Hepointedtothescruffybayhorsewithshortlegs.
“Oh, this bad ass thing?” Bentley rubbed the horse’s neck. “Don’t listen to him, Frodo, he’s just

pissedbecausehisdickisn’tballsdeepin—”

“Finishthatsentence,Idareyou.”
“In his hand?” Brant said with a laugh. “By the way you look really sexy out here, your hair

blowinginthewind.Ialmostorgasmedtwice.”

Brockrolledhiseyes.“Whyareyouguysfollowingme?”
“Oh, that.” Bentley kicked Frodo’s sides and the poor horse trotted forward, its eyes wide. “We

cametotellyouwhatajackassyouare.”

Brockgroanedoutloud.“IsthisaboutJane?”
“It’s sure as hell isn’t about us.” Brant shrugged. “You’re lucky Bentley’s off his game or he’d

swoopinandstealherbeforeyoucouldmakeupyourmindifyou’remanenoughtoevengoafter
her.”

“Whatthehell!”Brockyelled.“Sheisn’tsomeprizetobewon,andshesureashellisn’tupfor

grabs!Notbyeitherofyou.”

Brant narrowed his eyes at Brock. “Are you actually going to grow a pair of balls and go after

her?”

Brock growled. “Back the fuck off. I mean it. She isn’t like the girls you normally date.” He

clearedhisthroat.“She’sbetterthanthat.”Theideathattheywouldevencontemplateactuallydoing
morethanhittingonhermadeBrockwanttopunchsomething.

“Sheseemedembarrassedthatyoujusttookoffaftermakingoutwithher.Probablyisn’tusedto

all the attention only to have the guy who just kissed her run out of the house like she has Ebola,”
Bentley said softly. “And stop looking at me like I’ve grown another head. I’m a manwhore, not
heartless.”

“Ididn’t,”Brocksaiddefensively.“Ijustneededtothink.”
“Weknow.”Brant’seyesflashed.“Butwegrewupwithyousoweknowhowyoudealwithshit.

She,however,doesn’t.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where you two are the ones lecturing me.” Brock shifted

uncomfortablyinthesaddle.Theywereright.Andhehatedit.

“So.”Bentleyrubbedhishandstogether.“Who’sgoingafterthegirl?Firstmanbacktothehouse

wins?”

“First man to the house, my ass.” Brock leaned over the horse’s neck as they glided across the

pastureandmadeitbacktothebarninrecordtime.HemadesureButtercuphadfreshwaterandgave
herahandfulofoatsbeforeputtingherinherstall,promisingtotakethesaddleoffoncehemade
sureJanewasokay.

Buttercupseemedtooimmersedintheoatstocare.
Longstridestookhimupthestairsandintothehouse.
Thekitchenwasspotless.
NoJane.
“Jane?”heyelled.
Nothing.
Hetookthestairstwoatatimeandsworeashespottedher,bentoverinfrontofhim,washingthe

floorwitharag.

Hegulped.“Nomops?”
Her ass was pointed straight at him, and so help him God he wanted to take a bite out of it. He

grippedthewallwithonehandandletoutaroughexhale.

“Thishardwooddeservesmoreattentionthanasimplemop.Iwanttogetinallthecrevices.”She

didn’tstopmovingherhandsbackandforth.

Hisdickachedwitheachmovement,asifshewasstrokinghiminsteadofthewood.Whatthehell

was it about this woman? This small, intimidating woman with her silky brown hair and chocolate
eyes?

Sheletoutalittlegrunt,turningonherhandsandkneestogetthesectiondirectlyinfrontofhis

feet,andslowlysheraisedherhead,cheeksflushed.

His breathing slowed as she moved one hand back and forth across the wood, and the smell of

lemonsoapandwaterfilledhisnostrilsashewatchedherwork.Piecesofhairpokedoutofherbun,
kissingherneckandshoulders.Herhandmovedabitfaster.

Heclenchedhisfreehandintoafist.
Shewasstunning.
Fromherfrecklestohertoes.
Damnit.
“You’re really good at that.” Brock wanted to slap himself in the face, or run headfirst into the

wall.Didhereallyjustsaythatoutloud?

Shesmiled.“Cleaninghardwood?”
Hardwood.Yeah,hiswoodwasdefinitelyhard.Fuck.Ifhekeptwatching,hewasgoingtoexplode

onthespot,likeateenageboy.

“Cleaning,”hesaidwitharasp.
“Iloveit.”Shesmileddownatthefloor,herbodyvisiblyrelaxing.“Iknowsomepeoplethinkit’s

demeaning,butthere’snothingbetterthanremovingthedustandgrimeandseeingwhat’sbeneatha
dirtysurface.There’salwayssomething,youknow?Somethingbeautiful.Nomatterhowitstarts,it
endsbeautifully.Ithinkobjectsdeservethat,just…”Shesighed.“Justlikepeople.”

“You’reafixer.”Healmostgroaned.Washehernextproject?
“Iliketothinkofmyselfasahelper.Afterall,youcan’tfixothers,onlyyourself.”
“Andme?”Hejusthadtoaskasheleaneddowntoherlevel.“AmIworthcleaningup,youthink?”

Hehatedhowvulnerablehesounded,howweakthequestionmadehimandhowhungryhewasfor
herresponse.

“Obviously.” She stopped moving her hand and glanced up at him. “Or you wouldn’t be brave

enoughtoevenask.”

Heleanedforward,cuppingherfacewithhishand.
Hermouthtrembled.
“Brock…”
“Don’tsayno.”
“But—”
“Please?”
Heloweredhisheadjustassomethingbithimintheass.Orpeckedhim.Hefellagainstthecouch

withacurse.

“Forgettoclosethefrontdoor?”Janeaskedinanamusedvoice.
Hekickedtowardthecock.“Goaway!”
His volume seemed to only encourage the rooster as it made an ear-splitting noise and flapped

towardhimwithafurythatwouldonlybematchedbySatanhimself.Featherspuffedintotheairwith
eachangryflap.

“Sonofabitch!”BrockgrabbedJane’shandandtriedtorun,butthefloorwastoowet.Hewent

down,andtookJanewithhim.

Thecockflewatthemboth.
Aloudwhistlestoppedtheroosterfromkillingthem,andthenanotherwhistlehadthecockturning

aroundandflappingtowardthestairway.

“Savedyourlife,”Bentleysaidinaboredtone.“ButwhatcanIsay,I’mgoodwithmycock.”He

winkedatJane.

BrockofferedJanehishandbutshewaswincingasifshewasinpain.
“Areyouokay?”heasked.
Shenodded,butthenpointedtoherfoot.“IthinkImayhavetwistedmyanklesometimebetween

the cock rising into the air for the final kill and running to escape whatever swift death he had
planned.”

“IfIhadadollar…”Bentleyjoked,movingtowardthemovertheslipperyfloor.HetouchedJane’s

ankle, giving Brock the sudden urge to growl and punch his brother in the face. “It’s starting to
swell.”

“No!” Jane shoved him away. “I swear it’s fine. I can still work.” She tried to stand. “See? No

problem!”Tearswelledinhereyes.

Despite her claim, Brock lifted her into his arms and carried her into the master bedroom.

“Bentley,getmesomeAdvilandice.”

“Onit.”Bentleywasimmediatelygone.
“Please.”Jane’slowerliptrembled.“Ireallywanttostayandwork,Please?”
Brocksighed.“Jane,youcan’tworkwithasprainedankle.”
“Ican!”Hernostrilsflared.“It’sjustastupidankle.I’llbefine.”
Brock pulled off her socks and made a face when he saw the purple and blue bruising that had

alreadymovedpastherswollenankleuptohercalf.“Yeah,I’mgoingtohavetosayno.”

“But—”
“Youneedtostayoffyourfeet.”
Shesighed.“Fine.Ifyoujusthelpmepackmythings,Icanbegonethisafternoon.”
Heblinkedinconfusion.“Tothehospital?Idon’tthinkthat’snecessary.”
“No.” She groaned, lying back against the pillows. “Home! I can’t do my job, therefore I can’t

stay.”

“Thehellyoucan’t,”Brockfiredback.“I’msureitwillonlytakeafewdaystoheal,whichleaves

youplentyoftimetocleanlater,right?”

Sheworriedherlowerlip.“Iguess.It’sjust,it’sareallybighouse.”
“Ithinkwecanfiguresomethingout.Afterall,thetwinsarebored;whynotletthemhelpmeclean

whileyouhealup?”

Janefrozethenlickedherlips.“You?Clean?”
Brock tried not to be offended. “Of course I can clean! What do you think, I have a maid or

something?”

Shearchedhereyebrows.
“Okayfine,Ihavemaids,buthowhardcanitbe?”
Sheglared.
“Shit,Ididn’tmeanitlikethat.Ijustmeant,Icanfigureitout,it’snotrocketscience.”Heswore.

“I’mnothelpingmycaseatall,amI?”

Janeshookherheadandsmiled.
“IrespectwhatyoudoandIwilltrymyhardesttobejustasgoodwhenIruboutthewood.”
Janegiggled.“Ruboutthewood?”
“Ohhell.”Brockgroaned.“Imeantscrub,clean.”Histhroattightenedasheswallowedandtriedto

getthevisionofheronherhandsandkneesoutofhismind.

“Sureyoudid.”
“Bentley!”Brockyelled.“Wherearewewiththatice?”
“Needtocooloff?”Janeteasedinabreathlessvoice.Hereyeswereonhismouth.Maybeshewas

re-livingthekissjustlikehewas—oranticipatingmore.

Brockeyedherupanddownthenswore.“Youhavenoidea.”

ChapterTwenty-Three

anesmiledwhenBrockfussedoverherankle,makingsuretoputatowelbetweenherskinandthe

icepack.Truthfully,ithurtbad.Enoughthateverytimeshetriedtostandtoprovetothemshewas
fine,ashotofpainwouldrunupherleg,stealingherbreathaway.

Allbecauseofanout-of-controlcock.
“Ithinkhe’sjealousofme,”Brockannouncedwhenhewalkedbackintotheroomwithatrayof

food.“Thecock,Imean.”

Janegrinned.“Howdoyoufigure?”
“Everytimehegetsreallyaggressive,it’swhenI’mwithyou.”
“Hasthecockalwayslivedhere?”
“Olderthandirt,thatcock.”Brocksmirked.“Mygrandfatherboughtittoprotectthehens,butit

refused to stay in the henhouse. The damn thing used to strut around the ranch like he owned it. I
honestlythoughtitwouldbedeadbynow,butapparentlyhe’sasstubbornasGrandfather.Youknow
howtheysaydogsresembletheirowners?Clearlythey’venevermetDiablo.”

“Diablo?”Janeasked.“YounamedthecockDiablo?”
“SatansoundedtootameandBeelzebubwasn’tquitestrongenough,soDiabloitis.Ifiguredifhe

hadanamewecouldstopusingtheword‘cock.’”

“Youshouldmakehimacollar.”
“He’dbeimpossibletolivewith.”Brock’ssmilewaswide,andhisdimpleswerewreakinghavoc

onheralreadyweakenedbody.“Now,doyouwantcreamandsugarinyourcoffee?Orblack?”

“Black,”sherasped,reachingforthecupatthesametimeasBrock.Theirfingersbrushed,andshe

jerkedback.“Sorry.”

“I’mnotgoingtotossitinyourfaceifthat’swhatyou’reworriedabout.”
Shewentwithit;bettershelethimassumeshewasstillafraidhehatedherthanadmitthatshewas

soattractedtohimshewasn’tsurehowtobreathesometimeswhenhelookedatherthewayhewas
now.Likesheexisted,likeshewasimportant.“Sorry;oldhabits.”

Hemadeafaceandsippedsomeofhisowncoffee.“Doyouwantto…”Helickedhisfulllipsand

ranhisfingersthroughhislonghair.“Shit.”

“DoIwanttoshit?”Shegiggled.
Hisfaceactuallyreddenedabit.“That’snotwhatImeant.”
“Iknow.”
“Someone’sfeelingbetter.”
“Advil,”shelied.Itwasthecompany.Again,hedidn’tneedtoknowthat.
“Yeahwell,don’tputitpastBentleytotrytosneakmusclerelaxersintoyourfood,orMolly.”
“Molly?You’rekidding.”
“Grandfatherstillclaimsthereasonhewenttothehospitalwasdehydration,notthedrug;never

mindthatthedrugcausesdehydration.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jane held up her hand. “Your grandfather? The one pushing eighty-two? Was

takingMolly?”

Brockshrugged.“Hewasatarave.I’velearnednottoaskquestions.”
“Buthe’sold.”
“Doesn’tstophimfromdoingwhateverthehellhewants,believeme.”Brockstareddownintohis

coffeeasiflostinhisthoughts.

Jane wasn’t sure what to say. Bringing up the auction seemed like a bad idea. She didn’t want a

reminderthathewasgoingtobewithsomeoneelse,andthatsomeoneelsewasn’ther.Thelastthing
shewantedwasforBrocktobethinkingaboutit,too.

Becauseforafewbriefmomentstoday,she’dimaginedwhatitwouldbeliketosharemorekisses

inthekitchen.She’devengetchasedbyDiabloeverydayifitmeantshecouldbewithsomeonelike
him.

She pushed the thought away, because that was all it was—a fleeting thought that could so easily

turnintoadream,whichmeantthatwhenitdidn’tcometrue,itwouldhurt.

Sheshivered.
“Areyoucold?”Brockquicklystoodandwalkedovertothechair,grabbingalargeblanketand

tuckingitaroundherbody.

“Youdon’thavetostay,youknow.”Shekepthervoiceeven.“Iknowyouprobablywanttorelax

and…”Sheliftedashoulderintotheair,notfinishingherthought.

“Diablo’s blocking the door,” Brock said. “And the twins are making dinner. Actually, Bentley’s

eatingthedinnerBrant’stryingtomake.Thepointis,Ihaveallthetimeintheworld.”

Andhewasspendingitwithher.
Shechewedherbottomlipashisgazelowered.
“Checkers?”sheblurted.
Brock’sexpressionrelaxed.“Sure.Justdon’tgetmadwhenIkickyourass.”
“Hmm.WhatdoIgetifIwin?”
“Oh, she likes to gamble.” He flashed her a tempting smile that she felt all the way down to her

toes.“IfyouwinI’llgiveyouonefavor.Youcanaskforanythingbutmoney.”

“Iwouldneveraskformoney.”Shesaidinahorrifiedvoice.
Brockstudiedherwithanintensitythathadhernearlysquirminginherownskin.“Iknow.”
She broke eye contact. “And if you win, I’ll give you a favor. Clearly you can’t ask for money

becauseIdon’thaveany.”

“Iwouldnevertakemoneyfromawomananyway.”
“You’remakingmewanttobetmoneynow.”Shesnorted.
“Don’tgetyourpantiesinabunch.”Hewinked.“Allright,let’splay.”
Shenoddedandrubbedherhandstogether.“Preparetohaveyourworldrocked.”
Janecouldhaveswornsheheardhimwhisperunderhisbreath.“Toolate.”

ChapterTwenty-Four

e’sgoingtolose,”Bentleyannounced,tossingmoremoneyintothepot.HeandBranthadstarted

betting once they heard that Brock and Jane were playing checkers, and now they were sitting on
Jane’sbedroomfloorbeingannoyingasusual.

Theyhadgonefrommakingasimplefive-dollarbettofivehundreddollars.
Which, all things considering, was pretty tame for his brothers, given the last thing that Bentley

hadwonwasanass.

“Shh,youjusttakeyourtime,”BrantcoachedJane.“Inandout,thereyougo,deepbreaths,make

yourdecisionthenstickwithit,stickittohimhard.”HegaveBrockawickedsmirkandmouthedfuck
you.

“Don’tlistentoBrant,Brock.Justfocus.”
Janemovedherblackcheckerforward.Itwasabadmove;hecouldeasilyjumpit,soclearlyhe

wasmissingsomething.Heglancedaroundtheboard.Impossible.She’djustgivenhimthegame!

Andthiswastheirtie-breakinggame.
Thefirstshe’dwon.
Thesecondhe’dwon.
“You’vejustlost.”Brocksmiledarrogantly.
Herpokerfacestayedcompletelyunreadableasshegavehimanoncommittalshrugandglanced

downattheboard.“Thenmove.”

Hemovedhisredchecker,hoppingovertheblackandstealingit.“ThewayIseeit,youhavetwo

left.Ihavethree.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She smiled sweetly and then, very quickly, jumped one of her other black

checkers,onehehadn’tnoticedbecausehe’dbeensofocusedonthatdamnedstupidmoveshe’djust
made. All in all he lost two checkers. Leaving him with a lingering thought that he’d completely
underestimatedherabilityatboardgames.“Whatwasthat?Aboutlosing?”

“Sonofabitch!”Bentleyyelled.“Thehell,man!Itoldyoutofocus!”
“Youmeanyousawthat?”Brockroared.
Bentleyhelduphishands.“Rulesarerules,noaudienceparticipation.”
“Thankyou.”Brantgrabbedthepotofmoneyonthefloorandthrewitintheair.“Hey,ifwehave

dollarbillsIbetthecockwilldanceforus.”

Brockrolledhiseyes.“AndGrandfatherwondershowyouguysendupineverynewspaperinthe

country.”

Bentleyshrugged.“We’rehotandrich.Twoplustwo,man;twoplustwo.”
“It’sgoodthathumilityrunsinthefamily.”JanenoddedwhileBrantgaveherakissonthehead

andapatontheback,likeshe’djustwonhimafreakingcarorsomething.

“How’stheankle?”Bentleymovedtoherside.Therewereentirelytoomanypeopleinthisroom.

Brockwantedtoshoveeveryoneoutbutthatwouldlookbad.Himforcinghisbrotherstoleavesohe

coulddowhat?Kissheragain?Stareather?Watchherkissablelipspout?

“It’sgood.”Janeyawnedbehindherhand.“Sorry,alltheexcitementmusthavewornmeout.”
“Checkers. Almost like running a marathon with your hands.” Bentley winked. “Lay down; it’s

dudes’nighttocleanup.”

Brockhadnochoicebuttostand.
Andfollowhisbrothersoutoftheroom,shuttingthedoorquietlybehindhim.
Buttheminuteheturnedfromthedoor,bothBrantandBentleygavehimdumbfoundedlooks.
“What?”Hecrossedhisarms.“Whyareyoubothlookingatmelikethat?”
“You’reanidiot.”Brantshookhisheadslowly.“Didyoureallyjust…leave?”
Brockglancedbackatthedoorthenbackatthem.“Shesaidshewastired!Sheyawned!”
“Thatdoesn’tmeanyouleave!”Bentleyslappedahandtohisforehead.“You’resuchanidiot.”
Brantjustcontinuedshakinghisheadindisappointment.
Brockliftedhishandsintotheair.“WhatthehellwasIsupposedtodo?Fluffherdamnpillow?”
“Yes!”Theybothyelledinunison.
“Offeramassage,”saidBentley.
“‘Doyouneedaglassofwater?’”offeredBrant.
“‘Moreblankets?’”addedBentley.
“Howaboutafuckingbedtimestory?”
“What’s that? You want me to stay with you until you fall asleep, get naked under the covers?

What?Youwantmetotouchyoursweatynakedbodyand—”Bentleyhadalwaysbeenthestoryteller
inthefamily.

Brantcoughed.
“Sorry.” Bentley exhaled. “I got carried away.” He pointed in Brock’s direction. “Stupidity does

thattome.”

Brockranhishandsthroughhishairandturnedtore-openthedoor.
“No!”Brantshovedhimback.“It’stoolate.Nowyouseemcreepyandunsure.”
Bentley nodded his head in agreement. “Completely wasted opportunity. I’ve never been so

disappointedinabrother,andIlivenextdoortothisasshat.”

“Thanks,man.”Brantnodded.
“Anytime.”Bentleyflashedasmile.“Brock,gotobed.Thinkaboutallthebadchoicesmadeinjust

thepasttenminutesandforfuck’ssakefixthem.Doyoureallywanttospendthenextseventeendays
withoutseeinghernaked?”

“It’snotaboutthat,”Brocksaiddefensively.
“Evenbetter.”Brantsuddenlygrewserious.“Evenbetter.”
“Whatthehellisthatsupposedtomean?”Brockclenchedhisfists.
“It means”—Bentley stood between them, pressing a hand against Brock’s chest—“that it’s about

damntimeyoudosomethingforyou.Notforus.Notforourdeadparentsandsureashellnotfor
Grandfather,butforyou.Andthatgirlinthatroom?She’sforyou.”

Stunned,BrockcouldonlygapeatBentleyasifhisbrotherhadgrowntwoheads.
“There’salwaystomorrow,”Brantencouraged.“’Night,guys.”
“Thereisn’t,”Brockwhisperedunderhisbreath.“Wearen’tpromisedtomorrow.”
Bentley paused in the hall, his expression pained. “Then why the hell are you allowing someone

else to control your life? If you died tomorrow, what would people remember about you? How
easygoingyouwere?Howcontrolled?Howrich?Isthatwhatyouwant,boringBrock?”

Theoldnicknamewasasolidhittohischest.Hisbrothershadn’tcalledhimthatsincecollege.

“Well?”Bentley’seyebrowsshotup.“BoringBrockwouldwalkaway,butIdon’tthinkthat’swhat

youwantanymore.”

“It’sallIknow.It’sforhim.Forthem.”
“Never for you.” Bentley sighed. “Look, man, I get it, believe me. I get the pressure, but do you

everwonderwhoputitthereinthefirstplace?BecausethewayIseeit,itsurewasn’tGrandfather.It
was a scared twelve-year-old boy who took the baggage and cheerfully carried it out the door,
refusingtoletanyonehelphimalongtheway.Andforwhat?Didanyonethrowyouaparade?Did
anyonenoticehowharditwas?No,justyou.”

“Whenthefuckdidyougetsowise?”
Bentleylaughed.“Let’snotletthatgetaround.IfGrandfathereverfoundouthe’dauctionmeoff

next.Godhelpthepoorwomansaddledwithmefortherestofherlife.”

“Nothingwrongwithcommitment.”
Bentleypaled.“Weallhaveourdemons.”
“Goodnight,Bentley.”
“Night…BoringBrock.”
Brocksmiledtheentirewaybacktohisroom.
Tomorrow,afterall,wasanewday.

ChapterTwenty-Five

yingawakeinbed,staringupattheceilingandwishingshe’dpackedsomesortofsleepaid—not

thatitwouldwork,becauseforthemostpartsheknewthereasonbehindthenosleep—wasbecoming
anewhabitforJane.

Brock.
Ifonlyshecouldwalk.Maybesleepingonthecouchwouldhelp,ormaybeshe’djustraidBrock’s

whiskeycloset.

Afteranotherhouroftossingandturning,shefinallymadethedecisiontohobbledownstairs.So

whatifittookanhour?Atleasttheslowjourneywouldexhausther.

Once she sat up in bed she was careful not to put any weight on her foot. Rather, she hobbled,

loudly, toward the door. Her tank top and shorts didn’t really hide anything but it was dark and
everyoneelsewouldbesleeping.

Shehoped.
Ordidshe?
RejectingthethoughtofBrocksittinginthelivingroom,waitingforher,sheopenedthedoorand

glanceddownthehalltotherightandtotheleft.

Allclear.
Withawince,shehobbledafewfeetthenlostherbalance,nearlyfaceplantingagainstthewalland

knockingoutatooth.

“Needhelp?”askedanamusedvoicetoherleft.
Slowlysheturned.Brock’ssmilewaseasy,wide.
“I’mfine.Iwasjust…”ShesearchedforabetterexcusethanIcouldn’tsleepbutshehadnothing.

“I’mhavingtroublesleeping.”

Hiseyestwinkled.“Metoo.”
Shewasquiet.Whatwasshesupposedtosay?
“Whiskey?”Heofferedhisarm.
She stared down at it then back up at him. Decision made, she slid her hand through. He started

walkingthemdowntherestofthehallway,thenwithaheaveshewasinhisarmsashecarriedher
downthestairs.

She’d always thought of herself as curvy, not light as a feather, but Brock carried her like she

weighednothingmorethanacupofrice.Sherememberedhowstronghe’dfeltwhenhe’dpickedher
upattheparty—howgoodhesmelled.Memoriesoftheirfirstmeetingsurfacedashisbodyflexed
aroundhers.

Hedepositedheronthecouch,wentintothekitchen,andreturnedwithtwomugsofwhiskey.
“Thanks.” Her voice was rough, edged with the tension already coiling in her belly at Brock’s

proximityandherownsuddenchangeofheart.Maybeitwouldbebestifhewasstillangrywithher,
projectingallhisfeelingsontothehelp.Atleastthenshewouldn’tfallforhim,right?

“Iseewhyyoucouldn’tsleep.”Hislightsoutherndrawlwrappedaroundherlikeliquidheat.“If

youstareanyharderatthewallit’sgoingtocrack.”

Janeimmediatelylookeddownintohermugandtookaslowslip,carefulnottocoughandspew

whiskeyalloverhim.“Justalotonmymind.”

“Wanttotalkaboutit?”
No. Because talking meant bonding, bonding meant hurt later on down the road. And she didn’t

want to focus on the future, a future where she wouldn’t be able to sit in the world’s most perfect
ranchhousewiththeworld’smostbeautifulmanandsipwhiskeyoutofanicebrownmug.

“Tellmeabouttheauction.”
Thatdidit.Hissmilefellandacoldexpressionchilledhisfeatures.Hesatbackandtookagiant

swig of whiskey that seemed to go on forever. He finally set his empty cup down and made a face.
“It’sforcharity.”

Shealmostlaughedoutloudathisdisgustedexpression.“Andyouhatebeingcharitable?”
“Hardly.”Hesnorted.“I’dmuchratherthrowmillionsofdollarsatacharitybyhostingadinner;

eventheballthattheoldman’sthrowingisagoodidea.Tenthousanddollarsaheadisagoodwayto
bringinmoneytothefoundation.It’sthewholeauctionpartthat’s…”Hecursed.“Areyousureyou
don’twanttotalkaboutyou?”

“You’remuchmoreinteresting.”He’dbroughtupablanketandshetriedpullingitoverherankle,

butbeforeshecoulddoitherselfBrockwasatherside.Hepulledtheblanketoverherandwithinthe
samebreathheliftedherfoot,satdownnexttoher,andplacedherlegoverhislap.

Jane’sbreathhitchedasheranhisfingersoverherankleinasmoothcaressbeforelockingeyes

withher.“Isthisokay?”

She gave him a jerky nod, mentally groaning at how eager she must look for his touch, his

proximity.

Oh,thiswasbad.
Sobad.
Hishandstartedtomoveuphercalf.Oh,thiswasgood,soverygood.
“Youweresaying.”Somehow,miraculously,shefoundhervoiceashecontinuedtolightlyknead

themusclesinhercalf.

“Theauctionisstupid.Plainandsimple.”
Shefrowned.“Thenwhydidyousayyes?”
Hishandfrozeandhewentcompletelystill.“Sayingnowasn’tanoption.”
“But…”Hereyesnarrowed.“Youalwayshaveachoice.”
“Itwouldseemthatway.Ibelievethat’showlifeissupposedtowork—you’reincontrolofyour

owndestiny,youalwayshaveachoice,butwhatpeopleneveradmitisthatalthoughyoucansaynoto
something,theremightbehorribleconsequences.Whichbasicallymeansit’snotreallyachoice.The
word‘choice’isjusttheresothatitseemsfair,sothatitlooksgood,sothesituationlooksbalanced,
whenit’sneverbeenbalanced,notforalongtime.”

Janewasn’tsureiftheywerestilltalkingabouttheauctionorsomethingelse.
“So,whatdoyouthinkabouttheauction?Don’tlieandsayyouhavenoopinionaboutit,either.”
Asmileteasedthecornersofhermouth.“Clearlyyouknowmewell.”
“Allwomenhaveanopinion.”
“Andallmenareledbytheirstomachs.”Shewinked.
Helickedhislips.“Amongotherthings,yes.”
“I, uh…” She twisted her hands in her lap, suddenly nervous. “I think that it’s nice that you’re

willing to put your future in the hands of a grandfather with a desire to go to raves at the age of
eighty-two.”

Brockgroanedashisheadfellbackagainstthecouch.“Ugh,tellmeaboutit.”
“It’s…cute,”shesaid,tryingtomakehimfeelbetter.
“Cute,”herepeated,stillnotlookingather.“Cute.”
Hesaiditafewmoretimesbeforeglancingather.
“What?”Sherubbedherlipstogether.
“Amanmyagedoesn’twanttobecute.”
“Yourage?”
“Hey,you’retheonethatcalledmeold.”
“You’rethirty-five.”
“Iknowmyage,thankyou.”
“Somaybeaccordingtomytwenty-twoyearsyouseemold.That’sallImeant.”Shesmiledashis

facepaled.

“T-twentytwo?”Hestaredather.Hard.“You’retwenty-two?”
“YousayitlikeI’mdiseased.”
Hismouthdroppedopenandclosed.“Isuddenlyfeellikeacradlerobber.”
“Because I’m a child?” She pulled the blanket closer, needing the protection, thinking that if she

couldjustburyherbodyintoit,hewouldn’tseehowhiswordsaffectedher.

“Shit.” He took one look at her expression and leaned across the couch and cupped her face. “I

didn’tmeanthat.Ijust…ittookmebysurprise,that’sall.”

Tearswelledinhereyes.“I’msorry;maybeI’mmoretiredthanIthought.Ishouldprobablygo

backtobed.”

“I’lljoinyou,”Brockaddedthenstumbledoverhiswords.“Imean,I’lltakeyou.Damnit,sorry.

Clearlywe’rebothtired.”

Shedidn’thaveachancetosayanythingmorebeforehepickedherupandcarriedherslowlyup

thestairs,carefulnottobangherankleonthewall.Oncetheywerebackinherbedroomheplaced
heronthebedandpulledthecoversoverher,hiseyessearching,yearning,asrawemotionragedlike
awaracrosshisdarkfeatures.

Didhewantsomethingmorefromher?Didhefeeltheelectricpullbetweenthem,too?Somany

timesitseemedlikehehadmoretosay,likehewantedtopullherintohisarmsanddevourher.Just
thethoughthadashiverrunningdownherspine.

Godknew,shewantedhim.
Eventhoughsheknewshewouldendupwithouthimintheend,itdidn’tmakeherfeelingstoward

himgoaway,thoughshewishedtheywould.

“I’m sorry, Jane,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear over and over again, as if he

couldn’tstoptouchingher.“LikeIsaid,Iwassurprised,andapparentlyIturnintoanasswhenI’m
caughtoffguard.”

“Mostoldpeopledo,”shejokedinadeadpanvoice.“Ithinkthey’reafraidofheartfailure.Either

thatortheirhearingisalreadygoingsotheygetdefensive.”

Hiseyesdarkened.“Veryfunny.”
Shelaughedintotheblankets.“Ithoughtso.”
“KeepmakingfunofmeandI’llthrowyouovermyknee.”
Shestilled.
Hissmilefrozeandthenturnedverydangerous,sodangerousshecouldfeeltheimpactofitall

overherbody.

“Ishouldgo,”hewhispered,stillnotmoving.
“Probably.”Herthroatworkedhardtoswallowasheleanedoverthebedandpressedakisstoher

forehead. His lips slid down to her temple and then her cheek. An inch from her mouth he waited,
hesitated.

Herbodyburnedformoreofhiskisses,moreofhistouch.
But she didn’t know what to do. The last man who had kissed her had told her she was frigid

becauseshewouldn’tsleepwithhim.

WouldBrockbethesame?
Hewasusedtowomengivinghimwhateverhewanted—she’dfallshort.
Finally,shesankbackintothepillows.“Goodnight,Brock.”
Heletoutaheavysighandpulledback.“Goodnight,JustJane.”
Whenhewasalmosttothedoor,shecalledout,“Don’tforgettoremovethedentures!”
With a curse, Brock stumbled into the door and then turned around and glared. “What did I say

aboutteasingme?”

Feelingbravernowthathewasfartheraway,shearchedherbrow.“MaybeIlikebeingpunished.”
Hegrippedthedoorwaywithhislargehandsandswore.“Nowshetellsme.”
“IfiguredyouwerealreadyleavingsoIwassafe.”
“Icouldalwayssprintbacktowardthatbed.”
“Butyouwon’t.”
Hesighed.“Nottonight.ButJane?”
“Yes?”Wasthathervoice?Allhuskyanddesperate?
“Tomorrowisanewday,isn’tit?”
“Yes,”shecroaked,“Itis.”
“Sweetdreams.”
“Youtoo.”
“IfyouthinkIcanleaveyourroomandactuallysleep…”Heshookhishead,thengaveherasad

smile.“Cheerstoanightoftossingandturning.”

ChapterTwenty-Six

henextmorning,Brockyawnedoverhisscrambledeggsandtoast,thenyawnedagainashetooka

longdrawofcoffee,andonelasttimeashestabbedhissausagewithafork.

“Long night?” Bentley said with a grin. “Dreaming about all the possibilities that didn’t actually

happen? Dancing like little erotic ballerinas in your head? Ones who rhyme with shame? Lame?
Game?”

BrockletoutagruntandflippedoffhisbrotherjustasBranthelpedJanetothetable.Brocknearly

jumpedtohisfeet,knockinghischairbackwardagainstthefloor.“You’reup?”

JanethankedBrantbykissinghimonthecheek,andsatinthechairacrossfromBrock.Therutting

bastard,thoughtBrock.“Yes,sorryIsleptin.”

Damn,ifthat’swhatsleepinginlookslike,signmeup.Fromherbrightchocolateeyestothepink

spreadingacrosshercheekbones,shelookedstunning.

Hegrippedhisforksodamnhardhewassurpriseditdidn’tbendinhalf.
“Pity,it’ssuchnicesilverware,too.Somemightsayanantique.”BentleygrinnedatBrock’shand

whileJanegavethembothaconfusedlook.

“Youclearlysleptwell,mybeautiful,sexy,sweet—”BentleystoppedtalkingtheminuteBrockslid

aknifetowardhimandglared.“Jane?”

“It’stooearlyforviolence,”Brantmuttered.
“Um, I slept okay.” Jane stared down at her empty plate, a smile curving her lips like she was

keepingasecret.

Brockfoundhimselfgrinningather,likehehadarightto,likehe’dspentthenightinherarms,

when really he’d taken a cold shower and slept with half a bottle of whiskey. Thus the hangover
currentlypoundingonbothsidesofhishead.

“Glad to hear it,” Bentley sighed. “I was worried you’d be all hot and bothered.” He paused,

sharingalookwithBrock.“Youknow,becauseofalltheblanketsI’msurethisjackasspiledontop
ofyoubeforeabandoningyou.”

“Oh,Brockdidn’tabandonme.”Janeshrugged.“Wesharedamidnightdrinklastnight.”
“No,” Brant said in a dry tone. “That’s a shock. What did he do? Pound down your door and

demandyoupourwhiskeyintohiscupbecausehelackstheintelligencetodoithimself?”

Brockgroaned.“Idon’tknowwhyIputupwitheitherofyou.”
“Familystickstogether,”Bentleypointedout.“JustaskGrandfather.”
Theroomfellsilentandtense.
“Jane.”Suddenlydesperatetospendmoretimewithherawayfromhisbrothers—eventhoughhe

knew nothing could come of it—he stood. “Why don’t you eat a few more bites and I’ll start the
cleaning.”

BentleychokedonhiscoffeewhileBranthidalaughbehindhishand.
“What?” Brock shrugged. “I’m going to help her. What are you jackasses going to do? Take a

selfieandpostitonInstagram?”

Bennettremovedhishandfromhismouth.“Didyoujustsayselfie?”
“DoesheevenknowwhatInstagramis?”Bentleyadded.“Jane,domeasolid;checkthewindow

andseeifoneofthepigsisflying.”

Brockclenchedhisteeth.“IknowaboutInstagram.Ijustchoosenottotakepicturesofmyselfwith

theworld’slongestselfiestick!”

“Knownasmypenis.”Bentleygrinnedthenraisedhishandforahighfive.Branthititandgave

BrockanapologeticlookwhileJaneburstoutlaughing.

Great;hewasbacktobeingBoringBrock,gettingoffendedanduncomfortablewhilehisbrothers

laughedathisexpense.

“Whydon’tyoustartwiththegameroom?”Janesaid,completelyignoringhisbrothers.“AndI’ll

haveoneoftheguyshelpmeup.”

Thehelltheywould.
Brocksat.“I’llwait.”
“’Coursehewill.”Brantsighed.“Haveyouevenfedtheanimalsyettoday?”
Brockgavethemablankstare.
“Fine.”Bentleystood.“We’lldoit.We’llstartwiththepigs.Butifyouhearscreamingyoubetter

comerunning.I’veheardtheyeathumans,andIcan’tpromiseIwon’taccidentallypushBrantintothe
mudforaphotoop.”

“Itmaybeworthallthecomments.”Brantnoddedthoughtfully.“ThinkofallthesexIwouldget.

I’dbeahero.”

“Yes.” Bentley blinked in confusion. “A hero for surviving a pig attack. God, I can see the

headlinesnow!Millionairefallsintopigpen,getsup,andwalksrightout!MIRACLE!”

Brantslappedhimonthebackoftheheadastheybothmadetheirwayslowlyoutofthekitchen

andoutofthehouse.Thescreendoorslammedbehindthem.

JanewasstillstaringafterthemwhenBrockpiledfoodhighontoherplate.“Eat.”
“AmIeatingforfivepeople?”
Hefelthimselftense.“No,Ijust…You’resmall,youneed…”Whywashesobadwiththewords?

Why?“Fat.”

“Ineedfat,”shereplied.
Hewinced.“Somethinglikethat.”
“Okay.”Shepressedherlipstogetherasthoughshewastryingtosuppressasmile.“Thenfatitis.”

Pokingherforkintoagrease-ladensausage,shedevouredhalfherplatebeforefinallyannouncing
shewasdoneandthathemightneedhisbrothers’helpgettingherupstairs.

“I’msureIcanhandleit.”
Janemadeaface.“Areyousure?BecauseIjustateenoughforthreepeople.Ireallydidn’tmeanto

takeyouuponthewholefat-eatingbutthefoodwasincredible!”Janeseemedgiddy;herfacelitup
likeshe’djustbeentakentothemostexpensiverestaurantintheworld.“It’sjust,nobodyevercooks
forme.Thelastpersontomakemebreakfastwasmy—”

Asifhe’djustbeensucker-punched,Brock’sbreathstilled.“Yourboyfriend?”
AfterapausewhereheprayedtoGodhewaswrong,sheanswered.
“Mother.”Janelickedherlips,anervoushabithewascomingtodespisesinceitremindedhimof

kissingher.“ShewasbigintowaffleseveryMondaymorning,andduringtheweekshemadesausage
andpancakes.Frenchtoastwasalwaysmyfavorite.”Shestraightenedhershouldersandthenwiped
underneathhereyes.“HernamewasRosie.Shedied…fromcancer.Itwasalongtimeagobutagirl

alwayswantshermother,youknow?”

Ofcourseheknew.
Heknewbecauseaboyneededhisfather.
Hethoughtthatmightbewhyhe’dlatchedontohisgrandfathersocompletely.
“I’msorry,”hewhispered.
“LikeIsaid,itwasalongtimeago.Ijust…”Hersadnessshiftedtoasmile.“Ihaveasoftspotfor

waffles.”

Brockstoredthatinformationforlater.
Damnit,he’dcookforhereverydayifhegotthatreaction.Maybehedidn’tneedtobeapoetora

wordsmitharoundJane;mayberelatingtoJane,gettinghertolikehim,hadmoretodowithaction.

Actionhecoulddo.
Afterall,hisbrotherswerethetalkers.
He’dalwaysbeenthedoer.
His thoughts jumbled as he realized he was no longer flirting with the idea of pursuing her, but

activelyconjuringupawaytoseduceher.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

anetriedtocalmherjitterystomachwhileBrockputonHGTVwithoutherevenasking,andthen

wrappedablanketaroundherwhilehegrabbedhercleaningsuppliesandgottowork.

He stared down at the supplies like he wasn’t sure which to use first and then glanced over his

shoulderandwinkedather.Hisexpressionchangedashetooktwostepstowardherandthenpulled
theblanketoverherfeetmakingsuretheywerecompletelycovered-asifshecouldcatchachillwith
amanlikehimpayingattentiontoher.

“Are you comfortable enough?” His eyebrows drew together as he leaned over her, his massive

frame dwarfing hers. “Do you have everything you need?” He seemed genuinely concerned as he
reachedforheranklebutthenpulledbackandlookedaway.

“I’m…perfect,”shewhispered.“Andthankstoyou,wrappeduplikeaburrito.”
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile as he backed off and went back to the cleaning

supplies.

Sure,herfavoritechannelwason.
ButBrockwascleaning.
Andshewassupervising.
MusclesflexedbeneathhisblackT-shirtashemovedaroundtheroom,firstvacuuming—sending

her apologetic looks every time he got close to her and the TV—and next, grabbing Windex and
startinginonthewindows.

Theroomwassodustyhe’dneedtovacuumtwice.
Butshedidn’twanttotellhimthat.Infact,itwouldhavebeensmarterforhimtovacuumlast,but

again, interrupting the dream currently taking place in front of her very eyes seemed like a stupid
idea.

Hedidn’tmovefast.
Hewasn’tgraceful.
But he moved with a purpose, like he’d been given an important job and he was going to see it

through. Her entire body clenched as his large hands moved across the glass, muscles still flexing.
Shealmostwonderedifthewindowsweregoingtocrackunderthepressure;itwasn’tasifhehada
lighttouch.

Thoughsheknewhimcapableofone.
Shivering,shepulledtheblanketcloser.
Whywasheevenhelpingher?
Wasitoutofpity?Orbecausehereallydidwanthercompany?Maybeheevenblamedhimselffor

theroosterattack?

“So.”Brockmadehiswaybackovertoheraftercleaningthelastwindow.“There’sstilldust.How

istherestilldust?”

Shegrinned.“Youneedtodusttomakethedustgoaway.”

“Iknewthat.”
“Iknow.”
“Iwasjustchecking.”Hedidn’tmove,hissmilegrowing.“AndwherewouldIfindthe…duster?”
“Close.”
“Damnit,”hemumbled.
Shewouldnotlaugh.Notwhenhelookedthatembarrassedandmiserable.“Youknow,whydon’tI

dustthecoffeetableandshowyou?”Sheleanedover.“It’srightinfrontofmesoitwon’tbehard.”

Heswallowed,hiseyesshutteringclosedbeforeheletoutaraspybreath.“Allright.”
Frowning,shewaitedforhimtograbhercleaningbucketandbringitover.Onceitwassettledin

frontofher,shegrabbedthePledgeandoneofthedustingragsandwenttowork.

Thewoodwasbeautifulbeneathallthatdust,exceptforsometinymarksontheedgeofthetable.It

lookedlikesomekidhadtakenaknifetoitinordertokeeptallymarksforsomesortofgame.

“Soyoujustsprayit?”Brockasked.“Andthen…”Hemadeamotionwithhishand.“Rub?”
“Yes,that’saboutascomplicatedasitgets.”
“Isithotinhere?ShouldIturnontheAC?”Hestoodabruptly,nearlystumblingintothetable.
“Actually,Iwaskindofcold,”shesaidhonestly,pullingtheblankettighteraroundherselfagain.

“Butifyou’rehotI’lljustcoverupmore.”

“No!”heshouted.“Imean,no,it’snotabigdeal.”Hiseyesflickeredtoherchestandthenbackup;

hewasclearlyembarrassed.“I’lljustfinishupthetable.”

“Great.”Sheleanedoveragain,andhiseyesflickeredclosedashemumbledacurse.“Brock,are

youokay?”

“Hmm?”Hisgazelockedonhers.“Yup.Fantastic.”
“Okay.” She leaned over again and sprayed the Pledge on the remaining dusty parts of the table.

onlytohavehimbiteoutanothercurse.

“Hey,Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Don’ttakethiswrong.”
“Okay…”Herguardshotstraightup.
“ButeverytimeyouleanoverthetableIcanliterallyseedirectlydownyourshirt,andasmuchas

youjokedlastnightaboutmebeingold,I’mstillahot-bloodedmale.Andthesightoftwoperfectly
rounded breasts keeps taking my attention away from the task at hand, so if you could just…” He
gentlyreachedforherandpushedherbackagainstthecouch.“Stay.Righthere.ThenIcanfinishup
beforeIlosemyfuckingmind.”

Stunned,hermouthdroppedopen,andthenshelookeddown.V-neck.Duh,shehadn’teventhought

aboutit.

Brockfollowedhergaze,hiseyesheating.
“Jane.”Itwasawhisper,itwasaquestion,andthenhismouthwasonhers—harsh,forceful,butso

invitingshewhimperedatthecontact—andwhenhishandsreachedforherbreasts,sheleanedeven
moreintohim,begginghimwithherbodytotakewhatshecouldn’tvoicealoud.

Itwasabadidea.
Hewasabadidea.
Taken.
Readytobemarriedoff.
Butinthegameroom,onthecouch,hewashers.
Soshekissedhimbackwithasmuchpassionasshepossessed,herhandsdiggingintothefrontof

hisshirtwhilehisteethnippedatherbottomlip;hishipsgroundagainsthersuntilwithagroanhe
pressedherbackagainstthecouch.

Hishandsslidbeneathhershirt,unhookingherbrawitheaseashenudgedherthighsapart.
“Youfeelsosoft,”hemurmuredagainsthermouth.“Perfect.”Anotherplunderingkiss,histongue

flickinghersbeforehislipssliddownherneckandsucked.“Sodamngood.”

Withamoan,shepressedascloseasshecouldagainsthim,nearlyridinghisleginanefforttoget

moreofhim.

“That’sit,”heencouragedwhilesheclawedathim.
“Brock!”Bentley’svoicepiercedtheair.“Didyouneedhelp?”
Brock froze above her, his face filled with irritation. “Open that door, Bentley, and I’m selling

everycaryouownandreplacingitwithaHonda!”

Silence.
“Youdon’tmeanit.”Theknobturned.
Jane’seyeswidenedinalarmasBrockquicklymovedawayfromherandtossedtheblanket…over

herhead.Right,likethatwasgoingtolooknormal.Shepulledtheblanketoffherfaceandtriedin
vaintofindherbrawhilefranticallypullingherhairbackintoaponytail.

Bentley entered, took one look at both of them and smiled. “Clearly things were dirtier than we

thought?”HetiltedhisheadatJane.“Ormaybenotdirtyenough?”

“Out!”Brockbarked.
“But—”
“Go!”
“Fine,” Bentley grumbled. “I’m leaving. I just thought you should know that Grandfather called

andwantedtoknowhowthemaidwasworkingout.Itoldhimthatyou’vebeenhelpinghersincethe
cockattackedandshesprainedherankle.Hewasconcernedaboutherfinishingthejob.”

“Whatdidyousay?”BrockgrabbedBentleybytheshirtandgavealittleshake.
Bentleyhelduphishands.“Chill.Itoldhimthatwhileshe’dhurtherankleshewouldmakeafull

recovery, that she refused to sue, and that you were taking care of the situation. Because that’s all
you’redoing,rightBrock?Takingcareofthesituation…”HepeeredaroundBrockatJane.

Feelingsuddenlymorenakedthansheactuallywas,shecoveredherselfupwiththeblanket.
Whathadshebeenthinking?
Itwasdaylight!
Andhisbrotherswerebothwithinshoutingdistance!
ThelastthingsheneededwastobeseensprawlednakedacrossBrock’schest.
Itwasbeyondunprofessional.
Tearsburnedthebacksofhereyes.
Shewasbeingstupid.
Andparanoid.
“Thanks,Bent.”Brocksighed,runninghishandsthroughhisalreadymussedhair.
Bentleysalutedhimthenaddedquietly.“Fortherecord,anygirlthatcangetBoringBrocktobend

therulesisakeeper.”

BrockbitbackacurseasBentleyshutthedoor.
“BoringBrock?”Janeasked.
“It’saboutasbadasitsounds.”
“Well,I’mPlainJane,so…Iunderstand.”
Heturned.“You’veneverbeenplainadayinyourlife.”

“Ithinkyou’vealreadylearnedthatyoudon’tneedtogivemeprettycomplimentstogetmetokiss

you.”

“You have seven freckles. You press your lips together to keep yourself from saying things you

shouldn’t.Youhumwhenyouclean,andthoughI’mnotsurewhatthetuneis,it’sfamiliar.Whenyou
eat,youwatchpeopleratherthanyourownfood,andI’mjustgoingtocomeoutandsayit:youeat
sausagelikeananimal,themosteroticthingI’veeverseen.”

Janecoveredherfacewithherhands.“Itwasflatteringuntilyousaidthatlastpart.”
Brocklaughed.“Seeingawomandigintoherfoodlikeshehasn’teateninweeks?It’soneofthe

mosteroticvisionsI’veeverhad.”

Emotionflashedacrosshisfaceashemadehiswayovertoherandkissedheragain,pullingaway

withhernameonhislips.“Jane,Iwantyou.”

“ThoughtIwasjustthehelp.”Thewallsaroundherheartstartedtoslip;shefeltitinthewayher

bodyroseagainsthim.Alreadyhe’dnoticedthingsabouthernobodyeverhad,andhe’dfedher,and
hewashelpingher,andhewasbeautiful.Wasitsowrongtowantthat?Forherself?Onceinherlife?

“You’re more than that, and you know it.” His eyes locked on to hers as his deep voice washed

overher.

“You’regettingauctionedoffintwoweeksandyouknowit.”
Hepaused,hisexpressiongoingcompletelyicecoldbeforehelookedawayandthenbackather.

“AndifIwasn’t?Whatthen?”

“Then…”Shebitdownonherbottomlip.“I’daskyoutokissmeagain.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight

rockpacedbackandforthinthebarn,keepingawaryeyeonthecock,whowascirclinghimand

flappinghiswings.

Finally,hedialedhisgrandfather ’snumber.
“Brock?”Grandfatheransweredonthefourthring.“How’smyfavoritegrandson?”
“BrantwasyourfavoritelasttimeIchecked.Don’ttellmeyou’reswitchingsidesnow?”
Grandfathercoughedloudlythensniffed.“Well,Ithinkitbesttoalwayskeepyouguysguessing.I

finditkeepsthetwinsinline.”

Brocksnorted.
“Whatwasthat?”
“Nothing.”
“So,whatcanIdoyoufor?Ihaveameetinginafewminutes,andbeforeyoustartaskingwhatit’s

about, it’s just to tie up minor details for the ball. I’ve ordered your tux. You’ll be in all black, of
course.Amatchingset,youandI.”

“Andthetwins?”Brocktriedtokeeptheirritationoutofhisvoice.
“Theycanwearwhatevertheywantaslongastheyaren’tnaked.”
Andthereitwas.Brock,ofcourse,neededtomatchhisgrandfatherbecausehewasacarboncopy.

Butthetwins?Theycoulddowhateverthehelltheywanted!Granted,apartofhimknewhiswasn’ta
fairassessment;hisgrandfatherjustdidn’twanttodealwiththetwins.

“Issomethingwrong?You’remorequietthanusual,”Grandfatheraskedwithanothersniff.
Brock sighed. “Nothing, I just…I was thinking. The auction is a great idea, for charity, but you

werekiddingaboutmeactuallymarryingoneofthosewomen…right?ImeanIknowthatthepress
tookthatideaandranwithitbut…”Pleaselaugh,pleaselaugh.

Grandfatherlaughed.
Brockexhaledloudly.
“Ithoughtyouunderstoodhowthiswasgoingtowork,”Grandfathersaidquickly.
Thesenseofdreadwasback.“Iassumedfromthenoteslastweekthattheauctionisgoingtotake

place halfway through the dinner at the ball. You’ll pick from one of the five women who bids the
most. I go out on a date with them, take pictures, and…” He gulped. “We get good publicity. The
shareholdersgettoseeusasaunitedfront,thepressgoeswild,andeveryonewins.Ididn’tthink,I
mean…marriage…”

“Ofcourseyouwon’thavetomarryrightaway!Butyouneverknow.Youmayfallforoneofthe

girls. The media is having a field day about where you’ve gotten off to, so everything is working
according to plan.” Grandfather lowered his voice. “Brock, I’m not trying to upset you, but things
couldgetbad…”

Brockgulpedandclosedhiseyes.“Howbad?”
“IfIdie—”

Brockinhaledsharply.“Areyousick?”
“Not now.” Grandfather sighed heavily. “But if I die and you and your brothers aren’t cemented

within the company, the shareholders will push you out. Right now the only thing keeping them
satisfiedisthepublicitytheauctionisbringinginandtheideathatWellingtonIncorporatedandTitus
Enterprisescouldonedaymerge.”

Brockwasn’tsosurehowhefeltaboutanypotentialmergerwithacompanythatupuntilnowhad

alwaysbeenacompletepainintheass.Grandfatherkeptontalking.“Theauctionisashowofgood
will.Besides,youaren’tseeinganyone.Youhavetomarrysomeoneeventually.”

Brockrolledhiseyes.“I’maperson.Withfeelings.IwanttomarryapersonIhaveactualfeelings

for.”

Grandfathergasped.“I’veneverheardyouadmittosuchathing.Whatisthisreallyabout?”
Brockstaredbackatthehousethenkickedatthedirt.“Akiss.”
Withacurse,hisgrandfatherspokeclearlyintothephone.“Well,bestpushthatkissandanyothers

outofyourhead.Akissisakiss,andwhatyoudowithyourtimeuntiltheballisfine,aslongasit
doesn’taffectourcompany’simage.Thisisfront-pagenews.Thelastthingweneedisforthemedia
tocatchwindthatyou’rekissingthemaid.Thattypeofnewsisnotwhattheshareholdersneedtosee.
Doyouunderstand?”

Historywasrepeatingitself.
Thewayittendedtodo.
The“no”wasonthetipofhistongue,readytoslideforward,butatthelastminuteBrockretracted

andutteredthedreaded,“Yessir.”

Onlythistime.Itwasatotallie.
Heunderstood,allright.Heunderstoodthatnomatterwhathesaid,hewouldn’twin,andthefear

ofsayingnostillmadehimwanttopuke,sohesaidyes.

Buthedidn’tmeanit.
“Good boy. You always were the serious one, the one who understood how important our

reputationistothecompany.Myfatherstartedthiscompanywithhisbarehands!Ican’t”—hisbreath
hitched—“Ican’timagineitgoingintoanyoneelse’shandsbutyours.IknowI’mhardonyou,butit’s
becauseIseesomuchofmyselfinyou.”

“Right.”Themorehisgrandfathertalked,thesickerhefelt.Itwassuchabackhandedcompliment,

becauseallhe’deverwantedwashisgrandfather ’shappiness.Ithadalmostalwaysbeenattheexpense
ofhis,butheknewinhisheartthathisgrandfatheronlywantedthebestforhim.Theproblemwas,
theyhadverydifferentdefinitionsof“best.”“Ineedtogo.”

“Metoo.Seeyouintwoweeks!”
Brockstaredathisphone.
Sliditintohispocket.
Eyedthecock,andalmostaskedthedamnbirdtojustendhim.
ButtercupnuzzledBrock’sneckasifsheunderstoodexactlywhatpainedhim.
IfhisgrandfathereverfoundoutwhatBrockhadplannedforthenextfewweeks,he’dshoothim.
But with each step he took toward the house, he realized fully that he was walking toward

somethinghewanted.Notsomethinghisgrandfatherwantedforhim.

Anditfeltgood.
Empowering.
Even if he still hadn’t been able to utter “no” to his own Grandfather—his heart still screamed

“yes”toJane.

Andfornow,ithadtobeenough.

***

WhenBrocksteppedintothekitchen,allheadsturnedtowardhim.

Bentley was sticking his finger into a large bowl of frosting while Brant held a cookie over his

head.

Janestoodonhertoes,tryingtograbthecookiefromhisbrother ’shand.
Andsomehow,theasshadfounditswayinsideandwasstandingbythekitchentablewatching.
“Giveherthecookie,Brant.”
“No.”Brantheldithigher.“I’msavingherthecalories!”
Shesmackedhimonthearm.“It’sjustonemoresugarcookie!”
“Youheardher,man.”Bentleygrinned.“HanditoverorI’mnotbakinganymore.”
Brock was sure he’d heard wrong. He knew that his brother could cook but baking was a whole

differentbeast.“Youbaked?”

Bentleynodded.“It’snotrocketscience.”
“Youbaked…cookies?”
“Hemakesameancarrotcake,too,”Brantadded.“Don’tbetooproudofhim;helearnedtocook

becausehefoundoutthecougarslikeditwhenamanknewhiswayaroundthekitchen.Thinkofitas
hisforeplay.”

“You’re a conniving bastard. You know that, right?” Brock nodded toward Bentley, who seemed

completelyunfazed,likeitwasnormaltotakeupahobbysoyoucouldhavemoresex.

BrantloweredthecookietoJane’sheightanddangleditinfrontofherface.“IfIgiveyouthis,

whatwillyoudoforme?”

“Well, I don’t know about Jane, but if you give her the cookie I won’t strangle you. So there’s

that,”Brocksaidinanirritatedvoice.

“He’sgotatleasttwentypoundsonyou,Brant.I’dgiveoverthegoods.”
Jane grinned in triumph as Brant shoved the large cookie into her mouth, patted her head, and

glaredatBentley.“Makemore.”

“Don’tpressurehim!”Janesaid,mouthfulloffood.“Wedon’twantthemburning.I’vehadfour.I

couldeatthemuntilIgetsick.That’showgoodtheyare.”

Suddenlyjealous,Brockfrownedhardathisbrother.Whatthehellkindofgamewasheplaying

at?DidheknowthatfoodwasJane’sweakness?Hesureashelldidnowwithallthatmoaningshewas
doingeverytimeshetookabiteofthedamncookie.

Thewayshemoaned,thewaysheenjoyedeventhesimplestoflife’spleasures,hadhimrealizing

thatshewasn’tlikemostwomeninhissocialcircle—womenhisGrandfatherwouldchoose.Those
typesofwomenatesaladwithnodressing.AndBrockhadasneakingsuspicionthatifheofferedone
ofthemacookiethey’dtakeitasaninsult,whereasJanewouldaskformore.

Adabofchocolatewasonthecornerofhermouth.Brocktriednottostare,buthecouldn’thelpit.

Shelookedmoredeliciousthanthecookieshewasdevouring.Withoutthinkinghereachedoverand
swipedthechocolatewithhisthumbandproceededtolickthechocolatefromhisfinger.

Jane’smouthdroppedopen.
Hehadnoself-controlwhereshewasconcernedandheknewthatifhekepttastingher—he’dbe

completelylost.

Hedidn’tevenrealizehehadmoaneduntilBentleyslappedhimontheback.“Problem?”
“You’re…”BrocknarrowedhiseyesasJaneletoutanotherbreathysighandfinishedhercookie.

“I’msuddenlyreallygratefulforyourcookies.”

“Wasthatacompliment?”
Brockclenchedhisteeth.“Don’tgetusedtoit.”
Bentleysnorted.“Oh,Iwouldn’tdreamofit.”
TheystareddownoneanotheruntilJane’smoanssubsidedandshefinallywasabletospeakagain.

“Ineedmorecookies.”

“Iwillliterallypayyoufivehundreddollarstobakemorecookiesforus.”Brantslappedcashout

ontothetable.“ButmakedoublebecauseJaneiseatingthemfasterthanIcangetmyhandsonthem.”

“Whataboutme?”Brockasked,feelingleftout.“Ididn’tevengetany!”
“Youhatesugar.”Bentleyshrugged.Janeletoutaloudgaspandcoveredhermouth.
Strikeone.
“No,Ijustdon’tlikecottoncandy,”Brockgrumbled.
AnothergaspfromJane,soclearlythatwasstriketwo.
Bentleyshookhisheadslowly.“Maybeit’sbecauseyourchildhoodwascutshortbythedeathof

ourparents?Nodoubtitcausedyoutogrowupmorethanus.”

Theroomfellsilent.
Brant looked down at his shoes, his face unreadable, while Jane locked eyes with Brock. Her

expressionwassad—notnecessarilypitying,butcloseenough.God,hehatedpity.

Almostasmuchashehatedbeingayesman.
“Hey.” Jane slowly made her way over to him. “Bentley said something about horses. Do you

think…”Hercheeksburnedbrightred.“MaybeIcouldgetonone?”

Damnit,shewascutewhenshewasnervous.
Cutewasdangerous.
Cutemadeyouwanttocare.
Cutemadeyouwantmorethanonefleetingnightofpassionwhereyouleftinthemorningwithout

sayinggood-bye.

Andsuddenly,theconversationhe’djusthadwithhisgrandfatherwasthrustintotheforefrontof

hismind.Hadn’thisintentionbeentokisshersenselesswhenhemarchedbacktothehouse?Ithad
been,untilhisbrothershaddecidedtoseduceherwithbakedgoods.

“Here.”Bentleywassuddenlyathissidewithasmallbackpack.“Ihavealltheessentials:screwtop

wine,cheeses,crackers,grapes,andafewcookiesImanagedtohidefromBrant.”

“Bastard,”Brantmuttered.
Brock took the bag, wondering what Bentley as about, but as always, Bentley was the king of

hiding what he was really feeling, which made it damn near impossible for Brock to know if his
brotherwasbeingconnivingorcaring.

“Thanks.”BrocktookthebagandputitoverhisshoulderwhileJanesmiledandlimpedtowardthe

door,openingitforbothofthem.

“Careful,”Bentleysaidinaquietvoice.“Just”—helickedhislips—“It’sprivatepropertybutyou

neverknow…Ifthepressfindsyouhere…withJane,Grandfatherwillhaveastroke.Wealreadyhave
enoughtoworryaboutwiththeauctionloomingoverthefamily—thelastthingyouneedisthemedia
somehowcatchingwind.”

Tensing,BrockgaveajerkynodthenfollowedJaneoutside,passingacuriousBrantontheway.
Jane was next to the barn, the rooster by her feet. It looked like the damn cock had decided he

wantedtobefriendsratherthanenemies.

“He’snotsobad.”Shelaughedstillstandingononefootandleaningonthebarnwall.

ThecockflappeduptowardBrock.Hestumbledback.“Yeah,completelytame.”
Janelaughedagain.“So,whichhorseisyours?”
“Buttercup.”Brockfelthischestswellwithpride.“Mygrandfathergavehertomerightbefore…”
Herhandtouchedhisshoulder.“Before?”
“Beforemyparentsdied.Andthenaftereverythinghappened,healwaystriedtoencouragemeto

rideher.Grandfatherhopeditwouldbringmeoutofdepression.”

“Didit?”
“I’m a firm believer that animals can sense your emotions. Take Diablo, for example. He thinks

I’m going to steal his hens and he attacks. Animals have the potential to heal, as long as you
rememberthecardinalrule.”HegrabbedablanketandthrewitoverButtercup,thenreachedforthe
saddle.

Janetookastepback,hereyesraptwithfascinationashebuckledthesaddle.“What’sthecardinal

rule?”

Brock’sfingersstoppedmovingashelookedoverhisshoulderatJane.“They’restillwild.”
Jane’seyesgrewwide.“Doesthatapplytohumansaswell?”
“Jane,areyouaccusingmeofbeingwild?”
“Well…”Shecrossedherarms.“Idefinitelywouldn’taccuseyouofbeingtame.”
“Idon’tthinkanyone”—hereachedfortheharness—“haseveraccusedmeofbeinganythingbut

boring.”

“Really?” Jane’s eyes narrowed. “No staying out late in high school? Partying in college? Wild

raveswiththatgrandfatherofyours?Orgies?”

Brock’s hand slipped at the word “orgy.” Sighing, he gently put the bit in Buttercup’s mouth.

“Sorrytodisappoint,butifIranforcongress,mygrandfatherwouldprobablyhavemoredirtthan
me.I’mclean.”

“That’s too bad,” Jane said, surprising him. “Sometimes my most favorite days that I can think

backonaretheoneswhereIwasdirty.”

His heart picked up speed as her eyes lit up with amusement. “You know, mud pies, that sort of

thing.”

“Sure.Becausethat’swhereathirty-five-year-oldman’smindgoes:mudpies.”
“Ifigured,”sheteased,liftingashoulderintheair.
Damnit,healreadyfeltthefamiliarstrainofhisdickagainstthebuttonofhisflyasshegiggled

andranherhandsdownButtercup’sfacethenbrushedakissacrossthevelvetofhernose.

Clearinghisthroat,heattachedthebackpacktothesaddleandheldouthishand.“Areyoureadyto

ride?”

Itwasthewrongthingtosay.
Completely.
However,sheliftedherchinup,hereyesbothchallengingandexcited.“Areyou?”
Heletoutagroanandtuggedheragainsthim.“Youknowamancanonlytakesomuch.”
“Cleanliness?”
“Yeah.”Heeyedherupanddown.“That’sright.”
“So.”Shelinkedherarmsaroundhisneck.“Howdoweridethisthing?”
Buttercupneighed.
Janejumpedbackonheronegoodfoot,nearlyfallingonherass.
Brocksmiledandreachedforherhipsandlifted.“Upyougo.”
“Ahh!”Janeletoutalittlesqueak.Theminuteshewasinthesaddle,herhandsfoundthehornand

grippedtight.“It’shigh.”

“You’llbefine.”
“Superhigh.”
“Iknow.”
“Thishorseistall.”
Buttercupneighedlikesheknewshewasgettingacompliment.
“I’llberightbehindyou.”
“You better be.” Jane clenched her teeth. “You know when Bentley mentioned this, I wasn’t

imaginingI’dberidingGoliath.”

“YouhavenoideahowdesperatelyIwanttocommentonthat,butIthinkitmightmakeyoublush

again.”

Shelaughed,butitwasanervouslaugh,onethatsaidhe’dbetterhurryhisassupbeforesheburst

intotears.

He heaved himself up behind her and grabbed the reins and she automatically slid backward. A

grunteruptedbetweenhisclenchedteethatthesoftcontactofherass.

Hewasgoingtomurderhisbrother.
Thiswasahorribleidea.
Notbecausehewasn’tenjoyinghimself,butbecausehewasenjoyinghimselftoomuch,outside;

whereanyonecouldseethem,andnowhewasparanoid.EspeciallyafterBentley’swarning.

Shemoved,justslightly.
Terribleidea.
Allhewantedtodowastakeherbacktothehouseandkissher—everywhere.Becausehermouth,

as tempting as it was, wouldn’t be enough. Already he’d tasted and wanted more. Her neck, her
fingers,herthighs—hewantedhismoutheverywhere.

Anotherslightmovementhadhiminwardlygroaning.
Hisbodyburnedasshethrustbackagainsthim.Itwasallhecoulddonottotakeherrighthereon

thishorse.Camerasbedamned.

“Comfortable?”Histeethwerestillclenched;hegrippedthereinsasifhislifedependedonit.
“Yes.”Hervoicewaswobbly,unsure.
“ShallweseehowfastButtercupcangallop?”heteased.
“S-sure.”
“Relax,”hewhisperedinherear.Thetemptationtolickherneckwasutterlyridiculous,butthereit

was.“We’regoingtowalkniceandslow.”

“Ilikewalking.”
“Good.”Hepulledonthereinsandwhistled.Buttercupambledoutofthebarn,andpastthecock

who’dsuddenlygonesilentasthehorsewentby.

“Oh,oh,wow.”Janedughernailsintohisarm,whichshe’dhadinadeathgripsincehe’dgotten

onbehindher.“Thisis,thisis—”

“Nice?”
Shelaughed.“Yeah,reallynice.”
“Doyouwanttogofaster?”
“Maybe…”
“Comeon,livealittle.”
“WherehasBoringBrockdisappearedto?”
“Eh,Ilefthimbackinthebarnwiththecock.”

Jane let her head fall back against his chest as she laughed. “The poor cock is going to commit

roostercide.Poorguywillbesobored,whatwillhedo?”

“Didyoujustcallmeboring?”
Sheshruggedandthenglancedoverhershoulder.“I’vejustnoticedacertainlackofcolor.”
“Iwearcolor,”hesaiddefensively,lookingdownathisblackT-shirt.“Ijustdidn’tbringanything

likethatwithme.”

“Mmm,Isee.”
“Allright,you’veaskedforit.”
“Oh?”
“Ihatetodothis,butyoubetterholdon.ClearlyIhavesomethingtoprove.”
“Brock—”
“Hold tight, Jane,” he whispered in her ear, just as he dug his heels into Buttercup’s sides. The

horsetookoffatagallop.Thankfully,ridingahorsewaslikeridingabike:youdidn’tforget.

Jane let out a loud gasp. Earlier Brock hadn’t thought she could grip him any harder—he was

wrong.He’dhavenailprintsinhisarmsfordays.Butshewassafewithhim;hewouldn’tletherfall.

Jane’shairwasblowinginhisfaceanditsmelledlikeraspberries.Heinhaleddeeply.
Trouble.Hewasinsomuchtrouble.
Becauseforamoment,thetemptationtolookbeyondthenexttwoweekswasalmosttoomuchto

resist.TheremightbealifewherehewasabletohaveJaneinhisarmslikethis,wherehewouldn’t
beparanoidabouthisGrandfatherdyingoverasimpleword—orworriedthatacamerawouldcatch
himkissingawomanheactuallyhadfeelingsfor.

Hehadoncelovedthisranch.
Andshewasmakinghimloveitagain,butshewaspartofit.TheranchwithoutJanewouldjustbe

ahouse.

Shemadeitfeellikehome.
Hell,hewassohappyhe’devenletthecockstay.
Outdoors,ofcourse.
Eventually,heslowedButtercuptoawalkandJaneunclenchedhisarm.
“Whatdoyouthink?”
Shequicklywipedathercheek.
Hefroze.“Damnit,areyoucrying?DidIscareyou?”
“No.”Shewipedherothercheek.“It’sjust…”Sheleanedawayfromhimandhepulledherback

againsthischest.Notachanceinhellshewasgoingtogetawayfromhim.“Ifeltfree.”

Brock’sstomachclenched.
Heknewthefeeling.
“Doyoufeeltrapped?”
Shenodded.
“Metoo,”headmitted.Sheslidherhandintohis.
Theyrodeinsilencedowntotheriverthatdividedthepastureandtherestoftheproperty,where

theykeptafewheadsofcattleforbeef.

“Iblamemyselfformyparents’death,”hesaidquietly.
JanegrippedhishandasheledButtercupthroughthegrass.Thehorsewasstillbreathingheavy

fromtherun.

“Weargued.Isaidnotosomethingmyfatheraskedmetodo.Somethingstupidthatwasn’teven

important.Andtwenty-fourhourslatertheyweredead.”Hestaredintoherbigbrowneyes.“Ihaven’t

beenabletosaynoagain.AndI’vefelttrappedeversince.”

“Itwasn’tyourfault.Youwerehowold?Twelve?”
“Isaidno.”Hesqueezedherhandtighter.“Ihatethatword.”
Sheblinkeddownattheirjoinedhandsandthenbackupathim.“Doyoustillfeeltrapped?”
“Notrightnow,”hewhispered.“Notwithyou.”
BrockslidoffButtercupfirst,andreachedupforJane.Shegrabbedhisarmsandslowlysliddown

hisbody.

Theirmouthsalmosttouched.
His body burned for her in a way he’d never experienced before. It was a completely foreign

feeling,wantinghernotjustinhisbed,notjustinthepresent,butinthefuture.

Sheclearedherthroatandsteppedback,hersmilenervous,pinklipstrembling.“IfBentleypacks

asgoodashecooksweshouldhavesomegoodsnacks.”

Heknewthatlook,thelookshewasgivinghim.Afterall,heworeitoften.Itsaidnottoprod,not

toaskquestions,ignoretheelephantintheroomeventhoughit’ssobbinginthecorner.

So he obliged her, though it killed him to do so. But selfishly he knew the minute he started

diggingmoreintoherlife,she’ddothesametohim.Andpartofhimpreferredtokeepthefuture,the
auction,allofitlockedaway,oratleasttemporarilyforgotten.

Wherehedidn’thavetodealwithit.
“I’ll grab the bag.” His voice cracked and he watched as she quickly turned around and started

pettingButtercupagain.

The moment floated away, and he kicked himself mentally for allowing it to go. After all,

momentswithherwereprecious,theywereshort,andthesandwasveryquicklysiftingthroughthe
hourglass.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

hewasgettingtooclose.

Shewasstartingtowanthissmiles,hiscaresses,hisinappropriateremarks.
Shecravedthem.
Notjusttheattention,butthefactthatsomehowtheywerebuildingsomethingtogether.Justtohave

itrippedawaywhensheleft.Whenhewasauctionedoff.

Wasitworthit?Pursuinghim?Allowingmoretouches?Kissing?Spendingthefewnightstheyhad

lefttogether?Woulditbeworthit?Orwouldsheregretknowingwhatitwouldbeliketobeinhis
arms…Wouldshespendtherestofherlifecomparingeveryothermantohim?

Brock’smusclesflexedashepulledthebackpackfromthehorsethenpatteddownButtercup’sside

andwhisperedinherear.

Holycraphewassexy.
Hewasgruff.
BothapolishedCEOandapparentlyacowboy.
Aregularprinceofindustry.
Withapauper.
Hah.
Shereachedforherphonetotakeapictureofthesceneryinfrontofherthenrememberedshe’d

turneditoffafterreceivingallthenastytextsfromhersistersandleftitinherroom.

Brockspreadoutasmallblackandredquiltedblanket,thengrabbedthebackpackanddroppedit

inthemiddle.

“Wine?”
Shenodded.
Heopenedthewineandhandedheraplasticcup.“So,whatdoyouthink?”
“Hmm?” She took a long sip, frowning over the cup as Brock eyed her up and down in

appreciation.

“Riding.”Hegrinnedwolfishly.
Shelookedawayandsmiled.“Itwasokay.”
“Justokay?”Heleanedforward.“Carefuloryou’llhurtButtercup’sfeelings.”
“JustButtercup?”Shetiltedherhead.
“Mine too.” His voice was gravelly, buzzing with sexual tension as he leaned forward and very

slowlypulledhercupfromherhandsandkissedheronthecheek.Hisbodywasbracedabovehers.
“I’mgoingtotasteyouagain.”

“Youwereright.”
“What?”Heblinkedasifconfused.
“YoudidleaveBoringBrockwiththecock.”
“Itirritatesthehelloutofmethat‘Brock’rhymeswith‘cock.’Justlayingitallouttheresoyou

know.”

Shegiggled.
“Andnowyou’relaughing,andI’mtryingtokissyou.”
“Don’ttry,”shewhispered.“Justdoit,beforeIlosemynerveandlimpbacktothehouse.”
“Done,”hesaidjustbeforeheslammedhismouthagainsthers.
Withagaspshehungontohisshoulderstokeepfromfallingbackwardagainsttheblanket,even

thoughtheideahadmerit.

Hishandsreachedforherbody.
Theywereapair:Brockgraspingatherinanywayhepossiblycould,Janeholdingonfordear

life,prayingthatthekisscouldgoonforever.Itwasn’tjusthistaste,orthepossessivewayhemarked
her with his lips with each caress—maybe it was the combination of everything, of the desperation
theybothfelt.

Tobefree.
Histongueslidagainsthersandashiverrandownherbody,justasaraindropfellontohercheek.
Brockpulledback,hisexpressionheated.“I’mnotstoppingatonekiss.”
Janebrushedtheraindropawayonlytohaveanothertakeitsplace.
Brock glanced up and swore just as the sky opened up and a downpour rained hell all over the

beginningsoftheirromanticpicnic.

Hejumpedtohisfeet,butJaneremained,herfacetiltedupattheskyasthecoolrainfellagainst

herbody,eachdropslidingdownherskin,makingherfeelalive,readyforanything.

Maybetherainwasanomen.
Asign.
Afterall,didn’trainmeanfreshchances?Startingover?
Her gaze blurred as she took in Brock’s wet form hovering over her. His thick black eyelashes

blinkedslowlyashishazeleyeslockedonhers,neverwavering.Hisfulllipswereslightlyswollen,
hischinliftedindefiance—readytochallengeher,maybe?

Orhimself?
“Mudpies?”shewhispered,needingtobreakthetensesilencewithsomething.
“Mudwrestling?”hecountered.
“Toughchoice.”
“Believeme.”Heheldouthishandtoher.“Iknow.”
Withagrinshetookhishandandstood.Secondslaterheliftedherupintohisarmsandtwirled

heraroundthewetgrass.

Sheburstoutlaughingashejoggedovertoapileofdirtthatwasquicklyturningintomudandset

heronherfeet.“Howdowedothis?”

“OhIforgot.Youwerebornanoldman.”
Heshovedherlightly,makingherlaughlikeshewasateenager.
“Youneedtostoptalkingtothetwins,beforeoneorbothofthemendupdead.”
“You’dkillthem?”sheaskedinmockhorror.
“It’softenatemptingthought,theonlythingthatusedtohelpmefallasleepatnightwithasmile

onmyface.”Hiscrookedsmilehadherhearthammeringinherchestuncontrollably.

“Andnow?”
“Now, she asks.” He smiled down at the dirt and slowly leaned over, pulling some mud into his

handandslappingitintohisotherlikehewasclapping.“Now,mythoughtsarealothotteratnight,
scorching,uncontrollablyerotic,andifI’mbeinghonest,damneduncomfortable.”

“Hot,yousay?”Shegrinned,leaningdownonherhaunchestograbsomemud.
“Very.”Henodded.
“Letmecoolyouoff.”Shewinked,thensmearedmudonhisface.“Better?”
He bit back a curse then fell against the dirt laughing. “Completely healed of any sort of sexual

fantasy,yup,thanks.”

“I’matyourservice.”
Heletoutagroan.“Justkidding.Stillhot.”
Laughing, she trailed more mud down his chin with her finger, then captured his lips in hers

without even giving a second thought to what she was doing, initiating whatever this was between
them.

He cupped her face with his dirty hands, as if she was precious, as if she was everything, and

pressedhisforeheadagainsthers.“Whataboutnow?Notthen,butnow?”

Shefrowned.“Whatareyouasking?”
“Now.Givemenow.”
“Andforgetaboutthefuture?Isthatwhatyou’reasking?”
“Borderlinebegging.”Hisvoicerasped.“Letmeworryaboutthefuture.AndIsweartoyouI’ll

figuresomethingout—butletmetasteyounow—letmehaveyounow.”

Out of fear, Jane hesitated. She wanted him more than anything, but…she wanted more than a

fleetingkissormoment.

“Trustme,”hewhisperedacrossherlips.
Histonewasgentle,desperate.
Soshesaidyes.
Eventhoughherheartsimultaneouslyscreamedforhertobecareful.

ChapterThirty

rock couldn’t get the afternoon ride out of his mind. They’d returned to the house soaking wet,

andwhilethetwinsbothgavethemlooksofcompleteinnocence,heknewbetter.Hell,heknewtheir
mindssometimesbetterthanheknewhisown.

Sendingthemoffhadbeenacompleteset-up.
Togetthemoutofthehouseandalonetogether.
Aset-uphewasgratefulforandhaddesperatelyneeded.
Hejustdidn’tknowwhatthenextmoveshouldbe.Heknewwhathewantedittobe,butignoring

thefuturewaslikeignoringaburninghouse—eventuallyitwasgoingtocrumblearoundyou.And
thelastthinghewantedwastotakeherdowninthesameflamesthatweregoingtoconsumehim.

Histhoughtsdarkened,andbythetimehewasdoneshowering,itwasalreadynearingdinnertime.
Laughterfromdownstairsgavehimpause.Thehouseusedtohavelaughter;hell,ithadbeenfilled

withit,overflowingtothebrim.Infact,nearlyallofhismemoriesfrombeforetheaccident—ifhelet
himselfgothere—wereoflaughter.

Memoriesthatnolongerrefusedtostayburied.
Buthewasstartingtorealizeitwasn’tnecessarilyhispresenceinthehousethatwascausingthem

toresurface—buthers.

Shebroughtlifebacktodeath.
Didn’tshesaythatwasherspecialty?Lookingatsomethingthatotherswouldpassby,pickingit

up,cleaningit,andmakingitshine?

Hisgutstillclenchedwhenhethoughtabouthisparents’deaths,abouthisgrandfather ’sordersto

marryoneofthewomenofhischoosing.

Butitwasbetter.
Forthefirsttimesincehewastwelve,itwasbetter.
HetookthestairsafewatatimeandfrownedwhenhesawthatBrantandBentleybothhadtheir

bagsbythedoorandwerehuggingJane.

“Areyousureyoucan’tstay?”sheasked,herexpressionsad,causingalittlekicktoBrock’schest.
“Sorry, beautiful.” Bentley winked. “We’ve got women to conquer, millions to make, a world to

takeover.”

Brockrolledhiseyes.
Brantbarkedoutalaugh.“Roughlytranslated,we’vebeensummonedbyGrandfather.”
“Oh?”Brockaskedashewalkedintotheroom.“Andwhatdoeshishighnessneed?”
“Moregrandsonstotorture.Apparentlyhe’sgotlast-minuteauctioncraphewantsustotakecare

of,”Brantgrumbled.“Shit-for-brainsBentleyvolunteeredus.”

Bentleyrolledhiseyes.“Theworsthecandoisauctiononeofusofflikehe’sgoingtodowith

Brock.”

Jane’ssmilewassadassheglanceddownatthefloor.“Well,itwasreallyfun.I’m…I’llmissyou

guys.”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t good-bye.” Brant kissed her hand. “Just good-bye for now. Oh, and you

can’tcollectBrock’slifeinsuranceunlessyou’remarried,somysuggestionistogethitchedbefore
yousmotherhimwithapillow.Atleastfiftymillion.That’sallI’msaying.”

“Great,”Brocksaidthroughclenchedteeth.“Thanks,guys.”
“Anytime,”Bentleysaidbrightly.“Bye,man.Itrustyou’llbeonyourbestbehavior?”
“When is he not?” Brant piped up immediately. “Boring Brock would never do anything to

disappointthefamily,wouldyou?”

Angersurged,bubblingtothesurfaceasBrockclenchedhisfistsandgrittedhisteeth.
“That’swhatIthought.”Brantnoddedwithasmirk.“Seeya!”
Thescreendoorslammed.
Hisbrothersweregone.
Butasthecarstartedpullingawayinthedriveway,hisangergrew:theangerthathehadnocontrol

overhislife,thatinacoupleofweekshewouldgetthesamesummons,thathehadbeenlivingthis
waysincehewastwelve.

“They’regone.”Janecameupbehindhimandwrappedherarmsaroundhiswaist.
Brockletoutapitifulgroanandclosedhiseyes.“We’realone.”
“Itwouldseemso.IguessIshouldgetbacktocleaningthen,”shesaidinateasingvoiceasshe

pulledherarmsaway.

Hecaughtherhandsandtwistedaroundtofaceher.“No.”
Damn,thatwordfeltgood.
“Didyoujustfireme?”
“No,I’m”—hegrippedherchinwithhisthumbandforefinger—“I’mre-assigningyourduties.”
Shewinced.
“Thatcameoutwrong.”
“Justalittle.”
“Jane,I…”Heslidhisfingersdownherneck.“Tellmeyouwantthis,too.”
“Yes.”
Neverhad“yes”soundedorfeltsogood.Heexhaledthebreathhe’dbeenholdingandtookastep

back.“Good,thenyouhavetwominutestoremoveeverystitchofclothingonyourbodyandmeet
meinmyroom.”

Janegapedandthennarrowedhereyes.“What?Noplease?”
“Now.”Hisvoicelowered.“Please.”
Hisvoicewasn’tsoothing;itwasn’tinquiring.Hewastakingcontrol.
Anditfeltincredible.
“Jane.”Hiseyebrowsrose.“Youhaveninetyseconds.”
Shehobbledoutoftheroomwithalaughandupthestairsjustasasmirkspreadacrosshisface.
Hisphonewentoffinhispocket.
HeglanceddownatthetextfromBentley.
Don’tbeayesman…unlessyou’relookinginthemirror,thensayyes.OrwithJane.Sayyeswith

Jane.We’llkeepGrandfatheroccupied.

Well,maybehisbrothersweregoodforsomething.
Hestaredathisphonethenputitbackinhispocket,andthenveryslowlytookthestairsoneata

time,pullinghisshirtoverhisheadanddroppingitbeforewalkingintothebedroom.

Even though he’d told her what he wanted, he was surprised to see Jane waiting for him,

completely naked as requested, a stern expression on her face. It was cute as hell, and he found
himselffallingalittlebitharderinthatmomentasshearchedaneyebrow.Thenhenoticedshewas
tremblingslightly.

Heprayedthiswouldn’tendbadly.
Foreitherofthem.
Becausehisheartwasalreadyinvested—andifherswasn’t,hewasgoingtotryhisdamnedestto

convinceittobeatforhim.

ChapterThirty-One

aneshiveredasBrock’sgazedarkened.Hisslowperusalofherbodyleftherfeelingsonervousshe

almostranintothebathroomandslammedthedoor.

Shewasshy!
Shedidn’tnormallytakechancesorstripnakedbecauseamanhadaskedherto.
Whattheheckwasshedoing?StandingnakedinfrontofBrock,amanshe’donlyknownafew

days.

Thiswasn’tlikeher.
Buthemadeherfeelbrave.
Hemadeherfeellikehewassomeoneshe’dbeensearchingforherwholelife.
“You’rebeautiful.”Hetookastepforward,hisabsflexingwitheachinhale.Hewasshirtless,all

goldenskinandmuscles

“Wait.”Shequicklycoveredherselfup,thenslowlyremovedherhandsandsighed.“Iuh,weneed

somesortof…rulesorsomething.”

“No.”Hesaiditsoquicklythatshenearlystumbledbackward.Thenheranhislargehandsacross

hershouldersandlower,cuppingherbreastsgentlybeforemovinghisfingersdowntoherhipsand
pullingherbodyagainsthis.“Doyouwantthis?”

“Y-yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” He captured her mouth again and again, his kiss going from

aggressivetosoftinamatterofseconds.Hishandsspreadacrossherass,fingersflexingagainsther
skinashedeepenedthekiss,hislipshungryintheirpursuit.

Hekissedherlikehewantedher.
Hetouchedherlikehecouldn’tgetenoughofher.
Janereacheduptotouchhisface.Ashadowofabeardwasalreadymakinganappearance,giving

hisskinaneroticroughnessthatmadeherclenchherthighstogether.

A small area of chest hair drew her attention away from his face. She trailed a finger down the

middle of two impressive pecs to his perfectly chiseled abs. They didn’t make men like Brock
anymore,oneswhoweren’twaxedandfake,orsothinandwirythatacurvywomanwouldbeafraid
ofbreakingthem.

Inhisarms,shewassmall,perfect.
“Keep doing that and this is going to be over really fast,” he grumbled as she trailed her hands

alonghissides.

“Sorry.”Shegulped.“IguessIdidn’tthinkmytouchwouldcause—”
“This.”Hegrabbedherhandandpresseditagainsthiserection.“Butit’smorethanyourtouch;it’s

everydamnconversation,everylook,everysmile,causesthispainfulneedtobeinsideyou,tofuck
society and my grandfather and every other person on this godforsaken planet that dares to tell me
what I should be doing with my life rather than being in this bedroom, right now, with the only

womanwho’severmademewanttosayno.”

Witheachword,heseemedtogrowbeneathherhand,untilshewassurehewasgoingtospring

freefromhisjeans.

Withagruffcurse,hebackedawayfromherandswallowed.“Youdothattome.Tellmeyouwant

thisasbadasIdo.”

“Ido,”shewhispered.
Hereachedforherhipsandthenslidhishandbetweenherthighs.Sheletoutamoan.“Youfeelso

good.”

“Letmemakelovetoyou.”Hisvoicehadchanged,shifted,ashisfingersstartedtopressintoher.

“Please?”

Anotherjerkynodandthenshewasreachingforthebuttonofhisjeans,helpinghimundresswhile

standingtherelikeanakedhussy.

Heshovedoffthejeans,almoststumblingintoherinanefforttobefreefromthem.Hisboxers

werenext.

“Comehere,”hegrowled,hismouthhotonherneck.Hepinnedherhandsbackagainstoneofthe

bedpostsashetookanippleintohismouthandsucked.Herbackpressedagainstthehardpostashe
assaultedherwithhismouthmakingitimpossibleforhertoescape.

She’dalwaysbeeninsecureaboutherbreasts,thinkingtheyweretoosmallforhercurvybody.In

factshe’dbeeninsecureabouteverything.

ButBrockdidn’tseemtomind.
Notatall.
Andintheprocessofhimkissingher,touchingher,sherealizedshedidn’tmindeither;notatall.
Hisfacewasrough,thefrictionofitagainstherskinwasoneofthemosteroticthingsshe’dever

experienced. It was hard to remain standing with all the wonderful sensations flowing through her,
andshestartedtotremble.

“I’mjustgettingstarted.”Hekisseddownherstomach,andhisgazemovedoverherbodyinwhat

lookedlikereverence.

Apprehensive,shewatchedashekneltinfrontofher,awickedgrinonhisface.
“Wh-whatareyoudoing?”
“Youshouldwatch,”washisanswer,rightbeforeheloweredhismouthbetweenherthighs.
“No.”Shesqueezedherlegsshut.
Itwasabadidea.
But she didn’t know that until he reached between her legs again and hooked one over his large

shoulder, holding it down, giving him a better angle, making it impossible for her to think as his
tonguetastedthemostsensitivepartofher.

Whatwasshedoing?
Shewassoexposed!
Butitfelt.So.Good.
Herhipsgroundagainsthim,hernailsdugintohisshoulders,bothpushinghimawayandpulling

himcloser.

He wasn’t just kissing or exploring her, but sucking, coaxing, making her so unaware of her

surroundingsthatallshecouldfocusonwashim,andhowhemadeherfeel.

Awaveofanxietywasreplacedwithpleasureasherbodypulsedwiththerhythmofhismouth.
Andthen,shebroke.
Shatteringnotjusteverythingsheknewaboutherself,oraboutsex,butabouthowitshouldfeel.

Withtherightperson.
WithBrock.
Hismouthslidtoherrightthighashereleasedherleg.
“I’mnotdone,”hesaid,andtremorsofpleasurestillrockedthroughherasheslowlybackedher

uptothebedandliftedherontoit.“Laydown.”

Shedidn’tneedtobetoldtwice.Theminuteshelaiddownshejerkedhisheadtowardhers,kissing

himashardasshecould,suckinghislipsbetweenherteeth.

Heletoutahiss,deepeningthekisswithsomuchaggressionitwasalmostpainful.
“Brock…”Sheclungtohimasifherlifedependedonit.“Iwantmore.”
His eyes darkened. He pulled away from her and grabbed his jeans. Her heart sank in

disappointment;washeleaving?Rejectionwashedoverher,immediatelyfollowedbyshame.

Andthenhepulledsomethingoutofhispocket.
Shewasanidiot.
Heglancedupather,takinginherworriedexpression.“Jane,Iwasn’tleaving.Ijustdon’tthinkan

unplannedpregnancyshouldbepartofthisplan.”

Shejustnodded,feelingtoostupidtoactuallyusewords.
“Hey,lookatme.”Hecuppedherface.“Onlyacompleteidiotwouldwalkoutofthisroomright

now.”

“Whichiswhyit’ssosurprisingyou’restillhere,”sheteased,findinghervoice.
Hegrinned.“Cute.”
“Ithoughtso.”
His eyes flashed as he tapped the packet against his fingertips, “Now, stop talking so I can keep

exploring,becausewehaveallnight,andI’mnotnearlyastiredorhungryasIthoughtIwas.”

“Youate?”sheasked,confused.
Heglanceddownathernakedbody.“Ihadareally,reallysweetappetizer.”Hismouthfoundhers

again.“ButI’maglutton,andIwantthemaincourse.”

Maybeweeksfromnowshe’dregretthis.
Butnowshenoddedandwhispered.“Thentakeit.”

ChapterThirty-Two

ewasgoingtoburninhellforallthethingshewantedtodotoher…forthethingsthathewas

goingtodotoher.

God,helovedherhips;theyfithishandsperfectly.Hecouldspendyearsgettinglostinhercurves,

inthewaysherespondedwithlittlemoansandgasps.

Most of the women he had been with had been older, experienced, jaded, meaning they faked

orgasmsandscreamedsoloudyou’dthinkthattheyweretryingtogetapartinthenextFiftyShades
movie.

Jane’sresponsesweregenuine.
Thisgirl,thathadheldhimatgunpoint,calledhimold,andlaughedwhenhesaidhe’dclean.
Hisgirl.
Possessivenesswashedoverhimasheslidthecondomonandwatchedhereyesgrowbig.Shewas

nervous.

“Stay with me,” he whispered as gently as he could, because, really, truth be told, he was dying,

dyingtobeinsideher,dyingtofeelher,dyingtowatchherfallapart.

Sherespondedwithajerkynodandhecuppedherface,capturingherlipsagainandagain.They

wereredandswollen,andhercheekswereflushedfromrubbingagainsthisface.

Hehadalreadymarkedher.
Hewantedtohowl.
Oratleastpounceonherandclaimher.Itwasabsolutelyprimitive,thewaythathewantedtomake

everymaleintheworldawarethatshewashis.

“Relax,” he soothed. He could feel the tension flowing off her, and he could only assume it was

becauseshefeltit,too.Heknewthisthingbetweenthemwasn’tjustaboutsex.Theseweren’tfleeting
emotionsthatwouldjustgoaway.

Histeethcapturedherearlobebeforehekissedhiswaydownherneck.Slowly,hepressedhimself

inside her tight entrance, nearly blacking out as her body bucked off the bed. A moan of pleasure
escapedherlipsasshehookedheranklesbehindhisback.

Shewasscorching.
Burninghiminchbyinchashegrittedhisteethandkepthimselffromthrustingcompletelyinto

herandbreakingherinhalf.

“You’reso…hard.”Sheexhaledwithwhathehopedwasasatisfiedsigh.
“Kindofthepoint.”Heletoutadarklaugh.“Butgladyouapprove.”
“Ido.”Shereturnedhiskiss,grabbinghisface,losingcompletecontrolasherhipsbuckedagainst

his.

BrockWellingtonwasamanofcompletecontrol.
Amanwhoknewwhatwasexpectedofhim.
Brock Wellington died in that moment, and was replaced quite possibly with the man he was

alwayssupposedtobe.Crazed,passionate,slightlydrunkonthefeelingoftheperfectwomaninhis
arms…Hisdestinyfeltaltered,hisworldchanged.

Shemeteachthrust,hernailsdiggingintohisskinasherheadfellbackagainstthepillows,her

bodyarchingintohis,responding,pullinghimtighterinsideherheat.

Janeletoutagaspashefilledheronelasttimeandstopped—hisbodythrobbingforrelease.
Itwasamomenthewishedhefreezeintime—thelookonherface,thefeelofherbodybeneath

his,andtheabsolutecertaintyhefeltinhisheartthatthiswasexactlythefuturehewanted—forboth
ofthem.

Afuturetogether.
Whenher eyes opened,he found hecouldn’t hold back, notanymore, as withone last thrust she

foundherrelease.

Hisorgasmfollowedimmediatelyafter,andheyelledthefirst“yes”he’deverreallymeant.
Forher.
Forthem.
BrocklookeddownatJane,kissedhersoftly,thensmiled.
“What?”Shewasoutofbreath.“Whyareyousmilingatmelikethat?”
“Because.” He shrugged. “We still have nine days alone, unless you count the animals, but I’m

goingtobemorecarefulaboutlockingdoorsfromhereonout.”

“Oh.”Shenodded.“Sowe’regoingtohavesexlikeninemoretimes?Isthatwhatyou’resaying?”
“Nine? Woman, you’ll be lucky to get any work done outside of this bedroom for the next two

weeks.”

“Oh,no.”Herfacefellinmocksincerity.“Ihopemyemployerwon’tbeangrywithme.”
“Hemaypunishyou.”Brockkeptastraightface.“Hardtimeinthebedroomfornotcleaningthe

bathroomsjustright.”

Shesmirked.“Slavedriver.”
“Hereallyis.”
Shefellintoafitoflaughterwhenheslappedherassplayfullythenrosefromthebedtograba

towelandstarttheshower.

Theybothneededtowashoffthesweatandeverythingelse.
He was in his room, so he at least had clothes at hand, but she would want to put on something

comfortable.

“Be right back,” he called over his shoulder while she stretched out on the bed. Damn it, he was

readyforheragain.

Hequicklyranintoherroominsearchofsweatsorsomethingshecouldwearsothatshewouldn’t

havetorunaroundnaked—eventhoughthat’sexactlywhathewanted.Butheknewshe’dwanttobe
comfortable,ormaybehejustwantedhertobecomfortable.Becausesuddenlyallthatmatteredwas
her.

Hiseyeslockedonthedresser.Hewalkedoverandopenedthetopdrawerandcursedashepulled

thedraweroutfarenoughthatitfell.

Jane came running at the sound, a towel wrapped around her body. “Are you okay? What’s

wrong?”

“Getout,”hewhispered.
“But—”
“Isaid”—herasped—“getthehellout!Now!” He kicked the dresser. Jane’s perfume flew off the

top,smashingathisfeet,fillingtheroomwithherscent.

Hereyesfilledwithtears.
Andsheran.
Good.Sheshouldrun.
Hecouldn’tcontroltheragethatfilledhim.Bracinghimselfagainstthedresserhelookeddownat

thedrawer.

Itneveroccurredtohimthathisgrandfatherwouldkeepthings.Keepmemories,storethemaway

forBrocktofind.

Plaidshirts.
Harmlessplaidshirts.
Andstuckbetweenthem,thestuffeddoghisdadhadgivenhim—thedaybeforehe’ddied.
Thedayofthefight.
“ButIdon’twantto!”Brockhadyelled.“Youcan’tmakeusmovetoCalifornia!Ibelonghere!”
Hisfathersighed.“Brock,it’smyresponsibilitytokeepmywordtoyourgrandfatherandheneeds

someoneintheLAoffice.”

“Fine.” Brock crossed his arms, “Then you go! I’m staying here!” He threw the stuffed dog his

father had given him back into his face. “No!” He stomped his foot. “I won’t go. I hate you! I hate
you!”

Hisparentsdiedtheverynextday.
Hefelltohiskneesamidstthebrokenpictureframesthathadjoinedthesmashedperfumebottles

ontheflooranddidn’tevencarethatshardsofglasswerepiercinghisskin.Hewelcomedthepain.

Theghostswerefree.
Andtheywererelentless.
Hisparentsweregone.
Allhehadwashisgrandfather
Andhisbrothers.
Lifewouldbesomucheasieriftherewasamaptogetthroughit,butwhenhewasn’tgivenone,

he’dfollowedtheonlyfamilyhehadleft.

Andwasledtothisplace.
Acrossroads.
Hekneltamidstthebrokenglassandmemoriesforthenexthour,feelingguiltyashell,andsad.
Becausethatwasthethingaboutdeath.
Ithauntedtheliving.
Untiltheymournedit.
Andthemoreitwasignored.
Thebiggeritgrew.
Untilsurvivalwasdamnnearimpossible.
ItloomedoverBrock’sbodylikeaviciousstorm,andhedidn’thaveadamncluehowtogetover

it.

Whichwaswhyhesaidtheyes.
Hisyes’swerebecauseofthisstupidstuffedanimal.
Andthepicture.
Heheldontothemfordearlifeandstared.
Anhourlater,herealizedthatJanehadreturned,andputablanketoverhisshoulders.
Whenhefinallyacknowledgedher,shehandedhimamugofsomethingandliftedashoulder.“I

madeitadouble.”

“I’msorry.”
“Iknow.”
“No,I’mreally,reallysorry.”
“Iknow.”Hersmilewasn’tpresent—herstrength,however,sheworelikeabeautifulsuitofshiny

armor.

“It’snotyou.”
“Drinkthewhisky,Brock.”
Hesighedandtookthemug.“Yes,ma’am.”
The grandfather clock chimed from downstairs as if to remind them that time wasn’t exactly in

theirfavor.TheysharedalookasJanereachedacrossthespacebetweenthemandgavehimherhand.

ChapterThirty-Three

ane’shandswerestillshakinglongaftershe’dlefttheroomandgonebacktohis.Shewasinsane.

She’djustlosthervirginitytoamanwhoalreadyhadpartofherheart,andhe’djustyelledather

andhadhadwhatseemedtobeanemotionalbreakdownoveradresserdrawer.

Thepainobviouslyhadtodowithhisparents.Shewasn’tsureifsheshouldpushhimandgethim

toopenupagainorifsheshouldjustleavehim.Oneofhermajorpersonalityflawswasaneedto
makeeverythingbetter,everyonehappy,evenifitwasatherownexpense.

She’d already showered and was limping around trying to find her cleaning bucket, to no avail,

whenshefeltwarmhandsbracehershoulders.

Jumpingafoot,shenearlyfellagainstthewallbeforeturningaroundandfacingBrock.
The lines on his face seemed more pronounced. He’d never appeared old to her, but in that

momentheseemed…haunted.

“Jane,I’msosorry,”hesaidagain,hanginghishead.
Sheshrugged.“Weallhaveourthings,right?”
His expression didn’t change. Instead he just stared at her, as if she was a complicated math

problem,oraRubik’sCube.Hisfrowndeepened.“Jane,it’smorethanthat,it’s—”

“Death,”shewhisperedhoarsely,lookingdownathershoes.
Brock nodded silently, his chin dipping toward his chest before he exhaled and reached for her

hand.“Comeon.”

She let him pull her away from her work because being with him, being there for him, this

complicatedman,wasthemostimportantthingshecouldthinkofdoing.

Hewrappedanarmaroundherandhelpedherwalktowardtheendofthehalluntiltheycameto

themastersuite.

“Myparents’room.”
Shegasped.“I’mstayinginyourparents’oldroom?”
Hisnodwasjerkyashiseyesroamedfromlefttoright,asifitwastoopainfulforhimtolookat

anyonethingfortoolong.

He’dcleaneduptheglassonthefloorbuttheplaidshirtsremained,alongwiththestuffeddog.
Shehobbledovertothedogandpickeditup,holdingitclosetoherchest.
“Oneofmydad’slastgifts.”
“Iwouldn’ttakeyouasastuffedanimalkindofguy,”shesaidwithabitofhumor,squeezingthe

dogagainstherchest.

“I was twelve.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “My parents were often away on

business, so my dad always gave me a stuffed animal before he left, a different guard animal each
time.Iwasalwayssostressedabouttheresponsibilityoftakingcareofmybrothersthatmydadsaid
itwasonlyfairIhavesomeonetolookafterme,too,formetoleanon.”

PainslicedthroughJane’schest.“Whataboutyourgrandfather?”

“He’ssostrong.Alwayshasbeen.”Brockshrugged.“Ifeltweaktellingmygrandfatheritscared

meeverytimemyparentsweregone,thateverytimeIwavedgood-byeIwasafraiditwouldbethe
last.”Hissmilewassad.“Mygreatestfeareventuallyhappened.Igavepowertoit,anditdestroyedus
all.”

“Bullshit.”ThewordescapedJane’smouthbeforeshecouldstopit.
“Jane, you don’t understand. My dad gave me my dog before he broke the news that we were

moving.Isaidsomeuglythings,horriblethings.Itoldhimno.ItoldhimIwouldn’tdoit.Ithrewthe
dogathim.SaidIhatedhim.”Justrepeatingthewordsseemeddifficultforhim,likehewasre-living
themomentsoveragain.

“Istillcallbullshit,”shesaidinastrongvoice.
Brock’seyeswidenedabit.
Tobehonestshesurprisedherselfabit,too.
Huggingthedogcloser,sheshookherhead.“That’sstupidityatitsfinestandyouknowthat.”Her

heart broke for the boy who had held this dog close then thrown it out of anger. Of course he was
angry.Theranchhadbeenoneofhisfavoriteplaces.Sheknewthatnow.

“DoI?”
“Yes.” She turned on her good leg and poked him in the chest. “Believe what you want, but

accidents are just that: accidents. And I highly doubt your parents would want you sitting here
mourningtheirlossratherthanlivingyourlife.”

Heblinked.“Andwhatwouldyourparentssay?”
Shegulped,hernostrilsflaring.“Itookoverthefamilybusiness.I’mprettysuremydadwouldbe

proud.”

“Andwhataboutthesistersituation?”
Shebrokeeyecontact.“Weallhaveourweaknesses.”
“Is it bad, do you think,” he asked, pulling her into his arms, tilting her chin up, “that both our

weaknessesjusthappentobefamily?”

Jane slumped against him. “I had really good intentions. Good intentions that turned into this

habitualneedtomakesureeveryonearoundmewashappy.”

“Everyoneexceptyou,”Brockpointedout.“BecauseIhighlydoubtyou’rehappymakingtoastfor

twobitchysisters.”

Shesmirked.“Theyarebitches.Butthey’remybitches.”
Hechuckledsoftly.“Don’tbeangry,buthearingyousaythatkindofturnedmeon.”
She swatted him with the dog and pulled away. “And you? Do you think your parents would be

proudofthewayyou’veallowedyourgrandfathertoruleyourlife?”

“Ithink…”Hepaused.“TheywouldbeproudofthewayI’vekeptthefamilytogether,andkeptthe

twinsoutoffederalprison,yes.”

“Andyourhappiness?”Sheglancedoverhershoulder.“Whataboutthat?”
“Thethingabouthappinessisthis.”Heslidhisarmsaroundherandpulledherclose.“Sometimes

it’sintheplaceyouleastexpectit,likeinahousefullofghostsandwithagirlwhocarriesbleachin
herpurse.”

“HowdoyouknowIcarrybleachinmypurse?”
“Youlikethingsclean,”hesaidandsmiled.Arealsmile.“Luckyguess.”
Shetensedinhisarmsassherealizedhowwellhealreadyknewher,howhewasinchinghimself

intoherlifeandmakingitnearlyimpossibleforhertostopwhatwashappeningbetweenthem—not
thatshewantedto.Buttheveryfactthathehadsomuchpoweroverheralreadywasterrifying.

“Jane,I’msodamnsorry.Ihopeyouknowthat.You’re…you’reperfectandIyelled,ruiningthe

entireevening.HoldingyouinmyarmsfeelssorightthatIdon’teverwanttoletgo.”Hislipsfound
herear.“I’msorryIyelled.Iwasjusttakenback,butnowthatthescentofmyfather ’sshirtshasworn
off,andthedogdoesn’tlookasthreatening,Igetit.They’rejustthings.Sometimesthingscatchyou
offguard,though.Iwaspreparedforthepicturesinthehouse—oratleastIthoughtIwas,eventhe
blinds—butthedog?Itjustremindedmeofthatmoment,amomentthatI’vealwayswishedIcould
takeback.AmomentI’vealwaysblamedmyselffor.”

She burrowed her head into his neck and sighed. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry, I wish I could

makethepaingoaway.”

“Youalreadyhave.”Hesmiled,“Besides,IthinkI’dratherspendmyenergymakinglovetoyou

thanfightingghoststhatyouseemtobeabletopushawaywithonekiss.”

“Youcan’tfightaghost,youknow.”Shetriedtoignorethewayherbodywasalreadyresponding

andyearningformoreofhistouch.“Youmakepeacewiththem.”

“Imayneedhelpdoingthat.I’mnotreallysurewhatpeacelookslike.”
Janehungherhead,fullyawarethatwhatshewasgoingtosayappliedtoher—andhersituation

withherfamily—asmuchasitappliedtohim.

“Peacelookslikelettinggo,Brock.”

***

Jane was behind on cleaning, which meant that she needed Brock’s help more than she wanted to
admit,becauseitalsomeantshehadtospendmoretimewithhim.

Andshewantedto,shereallydid.
Butthemoreshegottoknowhimthehardershefell,eventhoughshetriednotto.Notbecauseshe

didn’twanttofallforhim,butbecauseapartofherwasafraidthathewouldleave—orthattheend
wouldn’tbehappy.Eventhoughhiskissespromisedafuture,shewasstillafraidtohopeforone.

He was funny—really funny, but in a way that wasn’t flashy. He didn’t need to be the center of

attention,eventhoughheoftenwas.Hewashappystandinginthebackground.

Justlikeshewas.
Itwasn’tfair.
Itfeltlikeeverytimehekissedher,hetookpiecesofherheartaway.Andsheknewthatwhenhe

returned to his normal life he would either have to explain her to his grandfather and hope for the
best, or realize that maybe a maid wasn’t the best type of match for someone like the great Brock
Wellington.

Shewasn’tsureifshecouldtakethatlossontopofthedeathofherfather,therealizationthather

sistersweren’tevergoingtocareforherthewayshecaredforthem,andthestartofalifewhereshe
mighthavetogoagainstherfather ’sdyingwish.WhatifshelostBrock,too?Itwouldbreakher.

Shewasn’tjustfallingforhimromantically,buthe’dbecomeafriend,someoneshecouldtalkto.

Afaceshelookedforwardtoseeingeverymorningandkissingeverynight.

Ithadbeentwodayssincethey’dinitiallyslepttogether,followedbytwomoregloriousnightsin

bed.

Andnowtheyonlyhadoneweeklefttogether.
The days were already going too fast, folding into one another. Before she knew it—before she

was ready—they would both pack their bags, shake hands and drive their separate cars back to the
city.

“You’vebeenscrubbingthatsamespotonthefloorforthepastfewminutes,”Brocksaid,castinga

shadowoverher.“Ithinkyou’vedonethebestyoucando.Maybemoveon?Eitherthatorkeepgoing
andyou’llendupinChina.”

Shetossedthespongebackintothebucketandturned,handsonhips.“Areyoutryingtotellme

howtodomyjob?”

“Absolutely.”Henodded.“Afterall,I’maprofessionalcleanernow.”
“Oneroom,Brock.Youcleanedoneroom.”
“Anditshines.Youcaneatoffthosedamnfloors.”
Janeshookherhead.“Youdidn’tevenfinish!”
“Priorities,Jane.”Hedippedhishead,brushingakissacrosshermouth.“Iwasdistracted.”
“Andnow?”sheasked,breathless.“Youwanttodistractme?”
“Isitworking?”Hekissedheragain.
“Brock!”Shepushedagainsthischest.“Ihavetowork.”
“You’refired.”
Shegasped.
“WasitsomethingIsaid?”
Angry, she turned away and kept cleaning. The room filled with tense silence but she kept

scrubbing;thistimeshemovedtoadifferentspot.

“Jane?”
Scrub,scrub,scrub.Hottearsrandownhercheeks.
“Jane?”Brockkneltdown.“Shit,Jane,don’tcry.I’msorry.Iwasteasing.”
“Well,it’snotfunny.”Sherefusedtolookathim.“DidyoueverwonderwhyItookthejobinthe

firstplace?Yes,itwasanescapefrommycrazyfamily,butIneedthemoney.Don’tfiremebecause
youwantmoretimeforsex.Iknowyouwerejoking,butitjust…itjustremindedmethatwe’refrom
twoverydifferentworlds.Youmaythinknothingofit,butit’smylife,Brock.Thisismylife.”

“Damnit,Jane.Iwouldnever…YouknowIcareaboutyou.Ireallywasteasing.”
Shenodded.
Hereachedforher.“Hey,lookatme.”
Sheshookherhead.
“Jane…”
“Brock…”
He finally grabbed hold of her and turned her to look at him. His face was apologetic, and so

handsome it hurt to stare at him. “You aren’t fired.” He sighed. “But…” He leaned forward and
whisperedinherear,“Ithinkyoumissedaspot.”

Withagaspshethrewthespongeathisface.
Itsplashedagainsthischest,leavingawetmarkacrosshisnicewhiteshirt.“Oops,itslipped.”
“Oh?”Hiseyebrowsshotup.“Itseemstomelikeyoutookatleasttwosecondstoaim,butsure,it

slipped.”

“Completely.”
“Liar.”
Shesplashedsomeofthesoapywaterintohisface.“See?Allclean.”
“One.”Hisvoicewascalm,toocalm.“Two.”
“Brock!”Sheheldherhandsoutinfrontofher.“Calmdown.”
“Three.”Hestood.
Shetriedtoscurrybackward,buthewastoofast.Suddenlyhewasonherandthebucketwasin

midair.

“Youwouldn’t.”Sheliftedherchinindefiance,justashedumpedtheentirebucket’scontentsover

herhead.

Shecouldn’tevensee,butshecouldhearhislaughter.“Oops.”
“Youbastard!”sheroared,wipingathereyes.Shelockedhergazeontohisamusedfaceforafew

secondsbeforerunningovertothekitchenfaucetandgrabbingthesprayer.

“Now,Jane!”Brockhelduphishands.“Don’toverreact—”
Shesprayedhimdirectlyintheface.
Hecursed,blindlyreachingforher,andthenslippedonthealreadywetfloor.
She burst out laughing and continued spraying him, then yelped when he grabbed her body and

broughtherdownontopofhim.

Theylaughedashekissedher—softlyatfirst,thenmorefiercely,hisfrantichandsgrippingher

shirtandtuggingitoff.Hismouthfusedtohers,histonguefightingfordominanceagainsthersashis
handsslidbeneathhershortsandcuppedher.

Shehissedoutabreathasheslowlyremovedhishandsandslidherwetshorts,thenherunderwear

downherlegs,pausingatheranklesbeforehepulledthemoffcompletely.

Apparently all it had taken was a few marathon sessions with Brock and she was a hussy now,

completelynakedonthefloorafterhe’dstrippedherbare.

Heranahandupherthigh,butshestoppedhimwithbothhands.Alookofconfusionwashedover

hisfeaturesbeforeshelaughedandheldupafingerasiftosaynotsofast.

“Myturn,”shewhisperedbrazenly,unbuttoninghisjeansandslippingherhandinside.Hegroaned

out a curse as he moved against her fingers. He was so warm and hard that she felt her own self-
controlsnappingashegrittedhisteethandlockedeyeswithher.

Itwasterrifying.
ThewayBrocklookedatherasifhe’dneverseenanythingsobeautifulinhisentirelife—theway

heopeneduptoherbothphysicallyandemotionally,andthewayhemadeherfeelwithjustonelook.

Onelookthatheldpromises.
Onelookthatheldafuture.
“Wait,”hegentlypulledawayfromherandstruggledoutofhiswetjeans.Whenshelaughedathis

awkwardpositioningonthefloor,heglancedback.“Areyougoingtojustsitthereandmockmeor
helpamanout?”

“Ithink…”Sheleaneduponherelbows.“Ichoosemocking.”
“I’mkillingthemoment.”
“Actually,Iwasthinkingyouweremakingitmoreentertaining.”
Hislipstwitchedintoasmilebeforehegottohisfeet,kickedoffhisjeansandboxersinoneswift

movement.Reachingforherhandshebroughthertoherfeet,thenliftedherontothekitchencounter.

The cold granite was a shock to her skin as he hooked her ankles around his naked body. She

forgotthesensationwhenhesuddenlyfroze.

“What?” She asked, cupping his face with her hands then running them down his muscular

shoulders.

He swallowed. “I think you’re incredible.” He leaned in closer, his mouth grazing hers. “I think

you’re absolutely stunning.” His lips teased hers in a draining kiss that had her heart erratically
slammingagainstherchest.“IthinkthatI’llnevergetenoughofthis.”Hekissedherharder.“It’snot
justyourtaste…”Hislipslingeredontheslendercolumnofherneck.“It’syou.Jane,it’syou.”

“It’smewhat?”Hervoicewaswobblywithemotion.
“You’reeverything.Icouldseeyounakedeverysecondofeveryday,feelyourbodybeneathmy

hands, watch you explode with ecstasy every waking moment and it would never be enough.” He
grippedherhips,pullinghertotheendofthecounterandfillinghercompletely.

Shekissedhimhardashemovedinsideher.Anticipationbuiltuntilshethoughtshewasgoingto

losehermind.Itwasalmostmorethanshecouldhandle.

Because even as they made love she could tell things were shifting yet again, and they were on

unevenground.Bothdesperatelytryingtoholdontosomethingtheyweren’tsuretheycouldhave.A
futurethatwasn’tcertain.

Desperationfilledher.Shelongedtobeownedbyhim.Tobelongtohimandonlyhim.
Herheadfellbackashestretchedher,thrustinginside,fillingheroverandoveragain.
“I’llalwayswantyou,”hevowed,kissingherneckashishandsmovedtoherhips,thumbsdigging

intoherskin.

“Me,”shesighed,“too.”
“Damnit,stopbeforeIlosecontrol.”
Shekissedhimagain.
“Me,”shesighed,“too.”
With a primitive moan he buried into her as she drove her hips toward his body in a desperate

attempttofeelmoreofhim.

Herreleasesurgedacrossherbodyandshewentlimpinhisarms.
Hisbodyjerkedandthenspasmedashebrushedanotherkissacrosshermouth.
Saggingagainsthim,shewastoolostinblisstodoanythingbutrevelinthefeelofhimstillinside

her,hisheartbeatasitslammedagainsthischest,thenslowed.

“HeyJane.”Brockpulledbackandlookedintohereyes.“Thefloor ’sdirtyagain.”
Sheslappedhimweaklyagainstthechest.“Wellthen,bettercleanit,Brock.”
“Ivotetoleaveitthisway,withyourasscheeksimprintedonit.Hell,let’sbuildamonumentand

—”

Sheshuthimupwithhermouth.Astheylostthemselvesinoneanothersheignoredthetickingof

thegrandfatherclockinthelivingroom.

Justlikesheignoredthewildyearningshehadtokeephimhereattheranchforever.

***

Brockignoredhisgrandfather ’scallsforthenextthreedays.Theywerealmostworsethantheloud
clangingoftheclockinthelivingroomorthedamncockeverymorning.

Reminderswereeverywhere.
RemindersthatheonlyhadthreemoredayswithJane.
Reminders that he had to confront his grandfather. The thought of it made him break out into a

coldsweat,butthethoughtofnoJanewaslikeaphysicalpain.

Thehotshowerpeltedhisback,givinghimthewakeupcallheneededafterspendingthenightin

Jane’sarms.

Itfeltright.
Sleepingnexttoher.
Beinginsideher.
How the hell could he even date another woman, let alone marry another woman? How could

another woman ever measure up to the way Jane made him feel—like he wasn’t some lost boy
pretendingtobeaman?Shelistenedtohim,understoodhim,challengedhim.God,shewasperfect.

“Brock.”Jane’ssmoothvoiceinterruptedhisthoughts.

Suddenlyshewasinthebathroom,completelynaked.“Damn.”
Ablushlituphercheeks.“Needsomecompany?”
“Need.”Heexhaledslowly.“Want.”Brockheldouthishands.“Comehere,beautiful.”
Her hips swayed as she slowly approached the glass shower door then slowly opened it and

steppedin.Herbrownhairwassplayedacrosshershoulders,herlipsfull,readyforhim.

“Thisisanicesurprise,”hemurmured,pullingherintohisarms.
She shivered and then kissed him before saying, “I had a run-in with the clock downstairs and

panicked.”

Hesighedasaheavinessrestedonhisshoulders.“I’msorry.”
Herfacebrightened.“Wehavenow.”
Itfeltlikehischestwascrackinginhalf.“Thatwedo.”
Theydidn’tsayanymore;wordswerepointlessanyway.Wordscouldn’tandwouldn’tsolvetheir

problem,andhonestly,hejustwantedtotouchher,feelher.

Brock pressed his mouth to hers and slowly entwined their hands as hot water ran down their

nakedbodies.Steambillowedaroundthemashelickedadropletofwaterfromherchinandmoved
hismouthslowlydownherneckuntilhewasfacinghergorgeous,lushbreasts.

God,wouldheevergetenoughofher?
Her hands hit the glass and slid down to brace herself as his mouth found her nipple—teasing,

sucking—he’dneverforgetthewayshetastedorhowsherespondedtohismouthnomatterwherehe
kissedher,suckedher.

“Brock.”Herchestroseandfellasshegavehimahalf-liddedstare.“Thatfeels…amazing.”
“You’reamazing.”Hepulledbackandstoodtostareatthewomanwho’dcompletelythrownhis

worldupside-down.

Thewomanhewantedmorethananything.
Evenifthatmeantfacinghisworstfear.
“Comehere.”Hemoldedhismouthoverhersasshereachedforhim,hergreedyhandsgrasping

athiminawaythatwasenoughtomakehimlosehisdamnmind.

“Turnaround,”hesaidgruffly,grippingherhipswithoutwaitingforherresponse.
Janegaspedasheusedhisfeettoslideherlegswiderapartandthenbentherforwardandthrust

intoher.

Shegaspedandthenpushedback,meetinghisthrusts.“Yes!”Herwethairslappedagainstherback.

Theviewfromhisanglewasenoughtomakeanymanblackoutfromecstasy.

“I’mgoingto—”
“Jane.”Heclenchedhisteeth.“Comeon,baby.”
Shecriedout,slammingherhandsagainsttheglasswall.
Andherealized—hecouldn’tspendaday,aweek,ayearwithoutthiswomanfallingapartinhis

arms.

***

Later that day they fell into their usual routine: she cleaned around the house and he made sure the
cockwasn’tbullyingtheotheranimals.

Thehensweremorethanhappy.
Thecockglaredathimbutotherwiselefthimalone.
Buttercupateheroatsandneighedwhiletheassroamedfree—itwasimpossibletokeepthedamn

thinglockedup.OnedayBrockwasgoingtoputacameraoutinthebarnjusttoseeiftheassreally

wasassmartashewantedeveryonetobelieve.Onmorethanoneoccasionhe’dfoundthedamnthing
standinginthemiddleofthelivingroom.

WiththeTVon,noless.
AlwaysTheTodayShow.
Always.
Hisdayshadfallenintoaroutine,oneheliked,onethatdidn’tincludegoingtohisgrandfather ’s

meetings,makingsureheshookhandswithmenhedidn’tgivetwoshitsabout.

Between board meetings, golf, charity dinners—his life had become something he didn’t

recognizeanymore.

Untilnow.
That Brock—the one who lived in the city, who was boring, and a complete copy of his

grandfather—hedidn’texistoutattheranch.Andyethewasterrifiedthatoncehereturnedtothecity,
he’dlosewhathe’dfoundhere,whathe’dfoundwithJane.

WithaheavysighhemadehiswaybackintothehousetofindJanestaringinhorrorattheTV.
“The guest list is in for the first annual Bachelor Auction.” The newscaster looked like she was

goingtoburstwithexcitement.“Andthenamesonthelistjustmaysurpriseyou.Hereareourpicks
forthewomenwhowillbidthemost,thoughallwecandoisspeculate.It’sstillfuntoseewhomight
winoutandwhogetsthecharitydate,alongwithachancetostealBrockWellington’sheart!Rumors
aboutthebachelor ’sdisappearancehavebeenrampantandtheonethatrefusestodieisthesuggestion
that he’s taking time away from the speculation to decide who he’s truly interested in. Is Brock
Wellington planning on settling down? And is he using the auction as a way to find someone who
matcheshiminlooks,wealth,andpower?Weagreethatthesewomenaresuretomakeanymanwish
hewasgettingauctionedoff!”

Brockgulpedasthescreenflashedpicturesofthewomen.
“Supermodel Tamara Sanderson, actress Julie Zellman, and co-founder of the country’s fastest

growing fashion app Di Fashion, to name a few! We want to know, who would you pick? Take the
pollandyoucouldwinatickettothecharityballthisSaturdaynight!Ticketsaretenthousandahead;
don’tmissthisonceinalifetimechancetoattendCinderella’sBall!”

Brockquicklyfoundtheremoteandchangedthechannel,onlytodiscoverthestorywasthereas

well.Apparentlyhewasbreakingnews—again.

Hehitthepowerbutton,andtheroomfellintoanawkwardsilence.
“Sorry.”HelockedeyesonJane.Shewashunchedover,chewingherbottomlip,hereyesfilled

withtears.“I’msorryyouhadtoseethat.”

“It’sokay,”shecroaked.
“Comehere.”Heheldouthishands.
Sheshookherheadandtookastepback.
“Jane?”
“Ic-can’t.”Shecrossedherarms.“Ium,missedoneofthebathroomsupstairs.Ishouldgocleanit

and—”

“Jane!”
Sheturnedandran—well,triedtorunconsideringheranklewasstillhurt.She’dmadeithalfway

upthestairsbeforehecaughtuptoher.

“Stop.”Hepulledherintohisarms.“Juststop.”
“Youhavetogoback.”Shestaredathischest.
“Yes.”Itkilledhimtosayso.“Butyoudo,too.AsmuchasIwanttostayhereforever…wehaveto

faceourghosts.Weren’tyoutheonewhosaidthat?”

Janenodded.“I’mgoingbacktomylife,Brock,but…willyoubeapartofit?”
He closed his eyes and breathed out a curse. “Jane, just give me a few days to talk to my

grandfather.It’sbeenalongtimecoming,butIcan’tjustdropthisnewsonhim.Imean,thinkofhis
heartand—”

“Hisheart?”Janerepeatedloudly.“Hasheeverhadaweakheart?”
“Well,hemayhavehadananxietyattackovermenotdoingtheauction,butwethoughtitwasa

heartattackatfirst,”Brocksaiddefensively.“Andhe’salwaystalkingabouthisimpendingdeath.”

“Brock,areyoulisteningtoyourself?Areyouseriouslygoingtodowhateverhesaysfortherest

ofyourlifejustbecauseyou’reworriedhe’sgoingtodietheminuteyousayno?”

Angerswelledinhischest.“Youdon’tgetit!He’sallIhave!”
“Whataboutme?”
“That’snotwhatImean.You’redifferent.”
“IthoughtIwas,but…”Sheshrugged.“Brock,ifyoudenyhim,he’snotgoingtodie.”
“Youdon’tknowthat.Youcan’tknowthat.Accidentshappen.Remember?”Heshookhishead.He

knewhisargumentmadenosense,noteventohimanymore.“Look,allI’maskingforistime.”

“Wedon’thavetime.TheballisonSaturday.TodayisThursday.”
Hegulpedandlookedaway,clenchinghisteethtogether.“Can’tyouatleastgivemetime?Imean,

youofallpeopleshouldknowhowharditistostanduptofamily.You’vebeenadoormattoyour
ownsistersyourentirelife!”

Jane’slowerliptrembledashereyesfilledwithtears.“You’reright.ButI’mwillingtomakethat

changeandit’sbecauseofyou!I’mwillingtofightforme,tofightforus.Areyou?”

“Jane.”Brockfeltlikehisheartwasbreaking.“I’mjustaskingfortime.”
“Time.”Shesighed.“ThenIguessthat’sit.”
What had just happened? Why did this feel like good-bye? He blinked hard at her. “So, you’re

okay?”

“No,Brock.I’mnotokay.I’mleaving.”
“Whatthehell?”heroared.
“Yousaidyouneededtime,”shefiredback.“SoI’mgoingtogiveittoyou.Spendthenextfew

daysthinkingaboutwhatyouwant,or”—sheseemedtoshrinkinsideherself—“ifyoualreadyknow,
youcanjustgoback,andtellyourgrandfatherhowyoufeelbeforeit’stoolate.”

“It’snotjustaboutmyfeelingsanymore.”Hesatdownandranhishandsthroughhishair.“IfallI

hadtodowassaynotomygrandfather,Icouldmanageit.”Hiseyesburnedwhenhetookinhersad
expression.“Jane,itterrifiesme.Butforyou,foryouIwouldriskit.”

Shegulpedandsatdownnexttohim,slidingherhanduphisthigh.“Thenwhatisit?Whataren’t

youtellingme?”

“TheshareholderswanttopushGrandfatherout.Idon’tknowtheexactdetailsbutIdoknowthat

forhimtosaysomethingtome,itmustbebad.He’susingtheauctionasawaytoshowaunitedfront
—me,him,thetwins.ThefaceofWellington.Thepublicityalonehasmadethemchangetheirtune,
enoughthattheyseematleastpartiallysatisfied.TheothersnagwehaveisTitusEnterprises.We’ve
hadseveral…”Hetriedtothinkofthecorrectwords.“We’vehadseveralsourdealingswiththemand
the board has been itching for a better business relationship with them.” He locked eyes with her.
“Guesswho’sco-sponsoringtheauction?”

Jane’seyesfell.“TitusEnterprises.”
“Right.”Hislaughwasbitter.“Andthey’reabsolutelythrilledthatthefutureleaderofWellington

isgoingtotakeonefortheteam.”

“You,”shewhispered.
“Me.”Henodded.“Wellington,Inc.iseverythingtomygrandfather.Sayingnomaynotkillhim;

you’re right. But losing this company to a bunch of greedy shareholders who would run our name
intothegroundwould.”

“Iunderstand.”Janestood.
“Just…”Brockdidn’treleaseherhand.“Givemetimetothinkofasolutionthatkeepseveryone

happy…andliving.”Histryatajokemisseditsmark;ifanythingherfacefellmore.

“Brock.” Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve known me three weeks. You’ve been with your

grandfather,andthiscompany,yourwholelife.”Sheliftedashoulderinahalfshrug.“Ican’texpect
youtosacrificeeverythingforamaid.”

Hesuckedinabreath.“You’renotjustamaid.”
“Okay,thehiredhelp.”Sheofferedasadsmileandcuppedhisfacewithherfreehand.“I’llwait

foryou.”Tearsspilledontohercheeks.“AndIhopeyoucancomeupwithasolution.”

“Youdon’thavetoleave.”
“Maybe we both should. I’ll go back home and face my own ghosts.” Her brave smile wasn’t

making him feel any better. “And you can go try to find a way to keep the company and your
grandfather.”

“Andwhataboutus?”
“We’llbefine.”Itwasalie.Evenasshesaidit,heknewshedidn’treallybelieveherownwords.

Hischestclenched.Didshereallyhavethatlittlefaithinhim?

Thenagain,evenashesattherehatinglife,hatingtheircircumstances,heliterallyhadnocluehow

tofixthem—andstillkeepher.

Shelefttwohourslater.
Brocksuddenlyunderstoodwhatitwasliketofeeltrulyempty.Hisparents’deathhadalteredthe

courseofhislife—butafewweekswithJanehadchangeditaswell.

ChapterThirty-Four

ane held back the tears that threatened the entire drive back to Phoenix. She was proud of herself

whenshefinallypulleduptoherhousethateveningandhadmanagedtoshedonlyone.

Newlife,newlife,newlife.
Shehadtoconfronthersisterseventhoughitwasthelastthingshewantedtodo.Sheneededalife

of her own, a life that didn’t involve walking on eggshells. And Brock was right; would her father
reallyhavewantedhertolivethiswayinordertokeepthefamilytogether?She’dtried.Butnow,she
neededtocreatealifeforherself.

AndshehopedtoGodthatBrockwouldfindawaytocreateoneforhimself—withherinit.
She’dalreadycalledBrock’scrazygrandfatherandconfessedshe’dleftearly,inhopeshewould

stillpayherforthetimeshedidclean.Whenheaskedaboutherankleinjurysheassuredhimthatshe
onlyneededhalf-pay.

Hestartedtoarguebutsheheldfirm.Shewantedtobefair.Shehadn’tdonealltheworkalone.
Reluctantly,hetoldherhe’dhaveamessengerdropoffherchecklaterthatevening.
Atleastthatworkedoutinherfavor.
She’dexpectedBrocktofollowher.
Tocallher.
Tosaysomething.
Anything.
But he didn’t chase after her and confess his feelings, and there were no texts from the prince

statingthathe’dstormedthecastleandfixedtheshatteredhappyendingintheirfuture.

Just.Nothing.
She straightened her shoulders and took a deep, long breath, before grabbing the handle to the

doorofherhouse.

Locked.
Sincewhendidhersisterslockthehouse?
Confused,shegrabbedherkeysandshovedtherightoneintothekeyhole,onlytohaveitonlygo

inhalfway.

Thedoorknoblookedthesame.
Hadtheyseriouslychangedthelockstopissheroff?
Weretheythatimmature?
Sheknockedasloudlyasshecould,thenrangthedoorbellrepeatedly.
Afterafewminutes,duringwhichsheseriouslyconsideredtryingtobreakthedoordown,itflew

open,revealingacrazed-lookingEssence.

“Jane,”shespat.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Jane tried to shove the door open. She was exhausted and in no mood to argue. “I live here.

Remember?”

“It’s been almost three weeks,” Essence said in that same irritating tone. “For all we knew you

couldhavebeendead.Younevertookourcalls,remember?”

Janeremembered.Ithadbeenthemostpeacefulthreeweeksshe’dhadinyears!
“Iwasworking,”Janefinallyanswered.“IgothiredtodoajobandnowI’mhome.”
“Oh,weknow.”Essence’ssmilewascruel.
“I don’t understand.” Jane gulped as dread washed over her. What had her sisters done now?

FinallyEssencemovedasideenoughforJanetoenter.

Andwhatshesawnearlymadehercollapseinaheap.
Thenewswason.
Thecameraswerepointedtowardtheranch.
AndimagesofJaneandBrock,kissing,wereplasteredalloverthescreen.
Shecoveredhermouthwithherhandsastearsfilledhereyes.Whenshegrabbedtheremoteand

changedchannels,itjustgrewworse.Everynewsstationwasreportingaboutthemaidwho’dseduced
thebachelorweeksbeforetheauction.

Buttheworstpartwasyettocome.
Because when the camera went back to the reporter, the reporter was standing in front of her

house.

Withbothofhersisters.
“She turned off her phone. We had no idea she was this…conniving. I mean the auction is days

away!She’ssupposedtobehelpingoutandputtingfoodonthetable,and”—Essencewipedawaya
fewfaketears—“shehasn’tspokentousindays.We’resoworried!”

Thereporternoddedherheadandturnedtowardthecamera.“Itlookslikethebachelorhassome

explainingtodo.Afterall,he’ssettobebidonthisweekend,andrumorshavebeenrampantaboutan
impending marriage to one of the lucky ladies. Sources say that he’s just returned to the city and
refusestotalktoanymediaoutlet,butwedidgetastatementfromBentleyWellingtonintheformof,
“Leaveourbrotherthebleepalone.”TheTVbleepedoutthecurseword.

OhBentley.
Themediawaslosingtheirmindsoverthestory.
With shaking hands she turned off the TV. Esmeralda had come into the room and both she and

EssencestartedyellingatJaneattheexactsametime.

Butitwasn’ttheiryellingthatcausedtearstoslipdownhercheeks.
Oreventhefactthattheworldprobablyassumedtheworstofher.
It was a simple truth that Brock would have to go through with the auction, and even though it

killed her, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. There was no way his family could
survive this scandal and keep Wellington, Inc. under their control—under Brock’s control.
Wellington.Inc.andhisfamilywereeverythingtoBrock—whichinturnmeanttheywereeverything
toJane,too.

“We’re going out.” Essence announced even while she was still shouting. “Oh, and the dishes

probablyneedtobedone.Goodtohaveyouhome,sister.Hopeitwasworthit.”

Theyleftinaflurryofperfumeandmean-spiritedlaughter.
Janestayedonthecouch.
Andcried.

***

With her sisters gone and no message from Brock, she wasn’t really sure what to do with herself.

Disheswerestackedhighinthekitchenandaweirdodorwascomingfromthefridge.Everywhere
shelookedwasabsolutechaos.

Soshedidwhatsheknewbest.
Shecleaned.
Notbecauseshewasrevertingbacktowhatwasfamiliar,thoughitlookedthatway,butbecauseit

soothedher,helpedherthink.Andnomatterwhathersistersdid,itwasstillherhouse;shewasstill
proudofitandwantedittolookgood.

Besides,theonlyotheroptionwastocrysomemoreandopenupatuboficecream.
Whyhadn’thecalled?
She was just getting ready to start on the dishes when a knock sounded at the door. Jane jumped

halfafootandthenrantothedoorlikeherlifedependedonit.

Butwhenthedoorswungopenitwasn’tBrock.
Themanstandingthere,however,lookedlikeanolderversionofhim.
Janetookacautiousstepback.“CanIhelpyou?”
The man narrowed his eyes into tiny slits; the moon glistened off his thick silver hair. “I think

that’smyline.”

“I’m sorry; what did you say your name was?” She probably looked horrible, with mascara

strainedcheeksandredpuffyeyes.Thelastthingshewantedrightnowwastohavetodealwithsome
psychonewsreportergettingapictureofherandsplashingitallovertheInternet.Notthatitwould
matter.

BecauseBrockstillhadtodotheauction.
Tosavehiscompany.
Tosavehisfamilyname.
Ugh.Thiswassuchamess.
Part of her didn’t blame him for not calling, but another part was heartbroken he hadn’t at least

sentheratextorcalledherandletherknowhewasfixingthings.

“Ididn’t.”Themanpeeredaroundher.“MindifIcomein?I’mabitchilled.”
Yeah,shewasn’tbuyingthat.Itwasatleasteightydegreesoutsideeventhoughitwasstartingtoget

dark.

“Sorry.”Shestartedtoclosethedoor.“Idon’tknowyouso—”
“Ah,butyouknowmygrandson.”
“Grandson?”Shecountered,crossingherarms.Afterall,she’dneverseenthismanbefore,though

hisvoicedidsoundvaguelyfamiliar.Andtherewasdefinitelyafamilyresemblance.

Theman’smouthtwitchedbeforeitbrokeoutinawidesmile.“Youarewellacquaintedwith…the

arrogantone.”

“YoujustdescribedeverymanIknow.”
“Yes,well.”Herockedbackonhisheelsandglanceddownthestreetbeforelookingbackather.

“Somethingscan’tbehelped,Iimagine.”

“Look,sir,Idon’tcareifyou’rethePresidentoftheUnitedStates.Idon’tjustletstrangemeninto

myhouseand—”Heshovedpastherandclosedthedoor.

“Heywaitasecond!”Sheranbyhimtograbherphone,justincasesheneededtocallthepoliceto

givethemaplayby-play-ofhermurder,buttheelderlygentlemanpulledapieceofpaperoutofhis
pocketandplaceditonherkitchentable.

“Ibelieve,”henodded,“thiswastheagreed-uponamount.”
Frowning,sheglanceddown.

Itwasacheck.
Writtenouttoher.
FromWellington,Inc.
SignedbyBrock’sgrandfather.
Suddenlyeverythingfellintoplace.
Exceptfortheamountonthecheck:Onemilliondollars.
Sheshookherhead.
“No.” Jane suddenly felt faint. “I’m pretty sure there weren’t that many zeros in the amount we

agreedupon.”She’dneverseensomuchmoneyinherentirelife.

Anditwasmadeouttoher.
Shecoulddoanything.
Startover.
Kickhersistersoutofthehouse.
Putmoneyinherbusiness!
Hireemployees!
Thepossibilitieswereendless.
Butamilliondollars?
Somethingwasn’tright.
“AsmuchasIwanttojumpupanddownrightnowthatyou’vegivenmeacheckwiththatmany

zeroes,I’mgoingtohavetoaskwhatthecatchis.”Shesatdowninanearbychairandputherheadin
herhands.“Whatareyoureallydoinghere?”

Heseemedtoassessherfromheadtotoe.Hisperusal,almostmockinginthewayhiseyesslowly

tookherin,soveryclearlyseemedtofindherwanting—fromthewayhercheekswerestreakedwith
makeup,totheplainclothesshewaswearing—thenhisgazefelltothekitchenandthesurrounding
mess.

Tearsblurredhervision.
Yeah,shewasmakinganawesomefirstimpression,wasn’tshe?
“Jane.”Hepulledoutachair;itscreechedacrossthedirtytilefloor.Themanseemedtoobigtobe

sittingathersmallkitchentable.Hefoldedhishandsacrossthewornwoodgrain,nearlyruininghis
expensivesuit’ssleeveonanopenpacketofdiscardedsoysauce.“WhatwouldyousayifItoldyou
I’dgiveyouamilliondollarstoneverseemygrandsonagain—thearrogantone,aboutyeatall.”He
heldhishandwayupabovehisheadandwinked,hisindifferentmaskslippingtorevealakindsmile.
“Carriestheweightoftheworldonhisshoulders,pronetobarking,yelling,shouting.”Heshrugged.
“Andthosearejustthepositiveattributes.”

Janeattemptedasmile,butfailedateventhat.
“So?”Heleanedback,thechaircreakingunderhismassiveframe.
Janeleanedforwardandutteredasimple,clear“no.”
His mouth spread into a wide grin. “Money could buy you everything you need—including

happiness.Soonyou’dforgetabouthim.Itwouldbesoeasy,Jane.Soveryeasytocashthischeck.
Brockdoesn’teverneedtofindoutaboutit.”

“Myanswer”—hereyesneverlefthis—“isstillno.”
Hetiltedhishead.“Twomillion.”
“Three?Four?Seven?”Shecounteredwithaproudsmileonherface.“Youcan’tplaceapricetag

onwhatI’vefoundwithhim.Andmyanswerisstillthesame.”Hervoicewaswobbly;maybeitwas
fromthestressofthedayorjustthefactthatBrock’sgrandfatherwastryingtogiveherhushmoney.

Alonetearsliddownherface.Shequicklywipeditawayandslumpedbackinherchair.“Sorry,

it’sjustbeenareallylongandhorribleday.”

“Somedays…”hesighed,“arelongerthanlife.”
Shenodded.Suddenlyshewassooverwhelmedwithexhaustionitwashardtokeephereyesopen.
Embarrassingly enough, her stomach chose that moment to growl. She hadn’t eaten since that

morning.

“Food.” Brock’s grandfather nodded at her in a knowing way. “Sometimes all you need is a full

stomachforthingstostartlookingbetter.”

“AndhereIthoughtitwastime…orsleep.”
Heslowlyreachedoutandpulledthecheckback,thenfoldeditandstuffeditinhispocket.“When

yousleeponthings,itmakesthosethingsdisappearuntilyouwakeup,morefrustratedthanbefore.
When you give them time, you allow yourself the possibility of hesitation. I don’t believe in
hesitation,notanymore.”Hisfacefell.“Action,sweetheart.Ibelieveintakinglifebythehornsand
maneuveringit.”

“Obviously.”Shenoddedtowardthepockethe’djuststuffedthecheckinto.“Andwhatwouldyou

gainfromsendingmeaway?”

Hewasquietforamoment,thensaid,“Inordertogainyousometimeshavetolose.”
“Irefusetolosehim.”Shestood.“Ithinkyou’veoverstayedyourwelcome.”
“Ah…”Hestood.“Iguessyou’reright.Anoldmanneedshissleepandayoungwomanhasalot

tothinkabout.”

Shelaughedbitterly.“There’snothingtothinkabout.I’mnottakingthemoney.”
He ignored her, or seemed to, as he walked around the table and wrung his hands. “Here.” He

reachedintoaseparatepocketandheldoutacheck.Thisonewaswrittenforthirtythousanddollars.

Janefrowned.“I’msorry.Idon’tunderstand?”
“Take what is owed you. From our original agreement.” His eyes twinkled as she touched the

checkwithherfingertipsandstaredatitagain.

“Oh.”Hesnappedhisfingers.“Andonemorething.I’mstillauctioninghimoff,butthatdoesn’t

meanyoucan’tbidonhimandwin.IthinkI’dliketogettoknowyoubetter,Jane.”

Bitternesswashedoverher.“It’stengrandaplateand—”
“Isit?”Hegrinned.“Imagine,tengrand.Andlookwhatyouholdinyourhand.”Heshruggedhis

largeshoulders.“Ifyoureallylovehim—”

“WhosaidIlovedhim?”
“You did.” His wise eyes didn’t even blink. “When you said no. Amazing the power that word

holds…Ithink,noIhope,thatBrocksoonunderstandsitsmeaningthewayyouhave.”Hehesitated
butthentookastepforwardandkissedheronthecheek.“Goodnight,Jane.I’mgladIfoundyou.”

ChapterThirty-Five

emanagedoneday,onedayofhellbeforeBrockpackeduphisshitanddroveintothecity.The

ballwasthefollowingevening,andheneededtotalktohisgrandfather.Hestillwasn’tsurehowhe
wasgoingtobreakthenewsorhowhewasstillgoingtokeepeveryonehappyandkeepJane.Hejust
knewhehadtodoit.

Trafficwashell,sothedrivetookforever.
AndbythetimehemadeittotheWellingtonoffices,hewasadvisedthathisgrandfatherwasout.
He wasn’t given a return time, or an address where his grandfather could be found, so he went

home.

Onlytofindhisbrotherssittinginhisapartmentdrinking.
Well,atleasthewashome.
“Dipshit!”Bentleyopenedhisarmswide.“So,howwasit?Tellmeeverything.Didyoumakelove

under the moonlight? Take long walks with Buttercup? Tease her mercilessly under the stars?” He
smirked.“You’rewelcome,bytheway.Howdidgrandfathertakeit?”

Brockwassilent.
Brantrolledhiseyes.“Toldyouhewouldn’tdoit.”
Bentleylookedlikehisheadwasgoingtoexplode.“Youbastard!Youhadher!Abeautiful,nice,

funnywomanwhoactuallyknowshowtodolaundry,andyoupassedherup?Forwhat?Amodel?”

“DoIknowyouatallanymore?”BrantglaredatBentley.“Youwoulddotheexactsamething.”
“Right,butI’mme.ThisisBrock!”
Theybothglaredathim.
“Ihaven’thadachancetotalktoGrandfatherbecausehe’snotintheofficeandnotreturningmy

calls.SoIcamehometoshowerandthinkabouthowbestnottogivetheoldmanaheartattackwhen
ItellhimI’mnotgoingthroughwiththeauction.Ican’tdoit.Iwon’t.”

“And Jane? How does she feel about all of this?” Bentley asked again, his voice grating on his

everylastnerve.

“She’sprobablyfreakingoutoverwhyIhaven’tcalledheryet,butIhadtoclosethehousedown,

traffictookfuckingforever,andbythetimeIwasabletoevenlookatmyphoneitwasdead.”Brock
stepped around his brothers and made his way into the bathroom, bracing his hands against the
granite countertop. He shook his head. “Why are you guys here, anyway?” He glanced at their
reflectionsinthemirror.Bothofthemlookedguilty.

Bentley’s throat worked into a tight swallow. “Grandfather said, and I quote, ‘You’re next,’ so

we’rehiding….”

“Again.”Bennettsighed.
Brock’s lips twitched in amusement. He would have laughed had his heart not still been busy

crackinginsidehischestwitheverybreathhetook.HejustwantedJane.Andinordertoholdherin
hisarmsheneededtofigurehiswayoutofthisclusterfuck.

Oneofthetwin’sphoneswentoff.
“Holyshit.”Bentleybreathed,anddroppedhisphoneontotheglasstablebeforerunningoverto

theTV,grabbingtheremote,andturningiton.

Stunned, Brock could only stare as the news station showed pictures of him kissing Jane at the

ranch.Whatwasworse,hecouldseehernamesplashedalloverthescreen.

Thisimagewasfollowedbythesightofherhorriblesisters.
Hisheartclenchedandthenarighteousanger,swiftandstrong,slammedintohisbody,makinghis

bloodboilandhisteethclench.

He’dpursuedher.
Andyetthereportersweremakingherouttobesomesortofsocialclimbingwhore.Themorehe

watchedthesickerhefelt.

“Turnthatshitoff.Now,”heroared,grabbinghisphone.“Fuck!”
“What?”Brantstood.
“Myphone’sdead.”
“Usemine.”Branttossedhis.
“I don’t have her number memorized!” Brock yelled, chucking the phone back at his brother.

“Damnit!”Hekickedthesofa.Repeatedly.

“Calmdown.”Bentleyheldouthishands.“Wecanfigurethisout.”HemotionedforBrocktosit.
“Thisisbad.”LeaveittoBranttostatetheobvious.“Butwecanfixit…”
“No,”Brocksaidinahollowvoice.“Ineedtofixit.Thereisno‘we.’”
Bentleyscowled.“Doyoureallythinkwe’regoingtoletyougothroughthisalone?Whenthere’s

awomanyouloveoutthereprobablycryinghereyesoutbecauseshethinksyou’veabandonedher
—”

“Nothelping,”Brantsaidinalowvoice.
“Letmefinish!”Bentleysnapped.“Brock.”Hekneltdowninfrontofhisbrother.“Think.You’re

thebrainsbehindmostofGrandfather ’sasinineideas;therehastobeawayout.”

Brocksuckedinabreathasthepressureofhisfamilysettledheavilyonhisshoulders.Itwastime

tobehonest.Withbothofthem.“Theauction,”Heswallowed.“It’sfortheshareholders.”

“Comeagain?”Bentleyfrowned.“Whatthehelldotheyhavetodowithanything?”
“Everything,”BrantansweredforBrock,thentookaseatnexttohimonthecouch,hisexpression

grim.“They’repushingGrandfatherout,aren’tthey?”

“How’dyouknow?”Brockasked.
“Justcallitintuition.”Brantlookedaway.Clearlyhewashidingsomethingbutitwasn’tthetime

orplacetoaskhoworwhy.“So,theauctioniswhat?Awaytomakeeveryonehappy?”

“Goodpress.”Brockstoodandbegantopacethehardwoodfloor.“Themedia’sobviouslygoing

wild over the idea; we’re bringing money in for research and finally playing nice with the Titus
family.We’reremindingtheshareholdersabouthowmuchthepresslovestheWellingtonnameand
providing free publicity for the company. It shows we’re team players and that the company isn’t
goingtogotoshitwhenGrandfatherleavesittous.”Hepaused.“Allofus.”

Bentleypaled,whileBrantkeptlookingaway.
Wasitguiltthatkeptthetwinssilent?Orsomethingmore?
Theroomwasthickwithtension.
“Wait!”Bentleyjumpedtohisfeet.“TitusEnterprisesissponsoringtheauctionwithus?Right?”
“And?” Brock shrugged. “Grandfather ’s been pining after them for years. They’re basically our

counterpart, only the grandsons have actually settled down and made something of themselves,

whereaswe’reallstillsingleandyouguysmanagetobecomefrontpagenewseveryweekend.”

Brantrolledhiseyes.“ThefactthatJakeTitusishappilymarriedwithkidsisenoughtomakeme

wanttothrowupalittle.TheguywasworsethanmeandBentleycombined.Besides,thatmarriage
doesn’tcountuntilhe’smadeitpastsixyears.”

But Bentley had a knowing look on his face, his eyes wide. “The point is that Nadine Titus has

alwaysbeenknowntohaveasoftspotforlovestoriesandmatchmaking,right?”

“Hunh?”Brockwasevenmoreconfused.
AsmirkcrossedBrant’sface.“Ithinkthat’sasolidplan.”
“Wait?WhatamImissing?”Brockstoppedpacing.
“Everything,brother.”Bentleyslappedhimontheback.“Damnneareverything.”
“WillitsaveJane?”
BentleybracedBrockwithbothhands.“Andyou.”

ChapterThirty-Six

ane woke up to her phone going off. She nearly fell out of bed in an attempt to grab it, thinking

maybe,justmaybeitwasBrock.

InsteaditwasatextfromEssence,sayingthatsheandEsmereldahadstayedthenightatafriend’s

houseandnottoworry.

Thethingaboutit,though?Shewasn’tworried.Notatall.She’dstoppedworryingtheminuteher

sistershadprovedtheycaredaboutthemselvesmorethanher,sinceshewasleft,asusual,topickup
thepieces.Thepresshadn’tleftherhousesincenewshadbrokenthatshewasbackhome,whichjust
sohappenedtobeafewhoursafterBrock’sgrandfatherleft.

NewspapersandTVshowswantedtointerviewher.
Shecouldunderstandhersisterswantingtododgethepress,buthonestly,leavinghadjustgiven

themanexcusetodojustwhatthey’dnormallydo.

They’dleftamessinthehouse.
They’dhadnoregardforherfeelings.
They’dmanipulated.
Andifsheneededmoreproofofhowlittleconcerntheyactuallyfeltforher,shehadallofthetext

conversationsfromwhenshewasattheranch.

Herheartslammedagainstherchest.
Theranch.
Brock.
Shestillhadn’theardfromhim,butatthesametimesherefusedtobelievethingswereover.
Sighing,shewasjustreadytoputherphonebackdownwhenitrang.
Fumblingwiththedevice,shepressedanswerandhadittoherear.“Jane?Jane,isthatyou?”
Esmeralda’svoicemayaswellbenailsonachalkboard.“Hey,”Janeanswered.
“I’mstillpissedatyou.”Esmeraldasighed.“But,whatever.Ijustwantedtoletyouknowthatwe

forgiveyou.”

“Forgiveme?”Janerolledhereyes.Washersisterserious?“Forwhat?”
“Leavingus.”
“I left to take a job!” Jane slammed her hand against her forehead. “Because that’s how I make

money!”Weretheyreallythatdense?

“Right,butyoudidn’tansweryourphone,leftthelaundry,didn’teventhinktogroceryshop.You

knowIhategoingtocrowdedsuperstoreslikeWalmart!Ihadatraumaticexperiencethere!Youknow
that!”

Jane bit her tongue. It was more that Esmerelda just hated doing anything that she thought was

beneathher—groceryshoppingfitthatbill.

“Anyway,weforgiveyouandweactuallywantedtodoyouafavor.Wethoughtitwouldbefunto

getreadyfortheballtonight.”

“Didyousayball?”
“Yeah,why?”
“Theballthatcoststenthousanddollarsaplate?Thatball?”Janehadafamiliarsickpunchtothe

gut.Theydidn’thavethemoneyforit—notatall.

“Are there any other balls where rich men are getting auctioned off?” Esmeralda laughed. “Of

coursethatball.”

“Butyoudon’thavethatkindofmoney!”
Esmeraldawassilentandthensighed.“Look,Itookoutanewcreditcard.Godknowsyouwon’t

beabletomarrytheguyafteryoupubliclyshamedyourselflikeawhore.Besides,weneedmoney!”

“Esmeralda!”Shefoughttokeepthetearsin.“Howcouldyoudothat?Why?It’sjustaparty!We

don’thavethemoney!”

“Butyoumademoneyatthebigjobyouwerejuston,right?”Esmeraldalaughed.“We’llpayfor

therestonthecreditcard.Allwereallyneedisyourportion.”

“My…portion,”Janesaid,fuming.“Idon’toweyouguysanything.”
“You took the job to support the family, right?” Esmeralda said plainly. “So support the family.

Plus,thinkofthenetworkingEssenceandIcoulddoataplacelikethat!Wecouldgetsomanyclients,
meetsomanypeople.Really,youwouldbedoingitforus.Forallofus.Afterall,didn’tDaddywant
ustoworktogetherasateam?”

“Aboutthat.”Janeglancedaroundherroom—atthememoriesthatfilledit,thewallswithposters

ofbandsandsingers,thestickersthatstilllitteredherceiling.“IthinkI’dratherflysolo.”

Esmeraldawassilent,thensaid,“Butweloveyou.”
“No.”Janeclosedhereyesastearsburned.“Youloveyou.”
“Jane!”Esmeraldashouted.“Don’tdothistous!”
“I’m sorry. I just…I can’t. I can’t support you spending money, my hard-earned money, on

somethingfrivolous.Fromhereonoutyou’reonyourown.”

“You’reaselfishbitch!”Esmeraldayelled.“Nowonderhe’sstillgoingthroughwiththeauction.

Whowouldwantafrigidvirginfor—”

Janehungupthephonebeforeshesaidsomethingshecouldnevertakeback.
Her childhood room suddenly felt too small, choking the life out of her. A memory surfaced of

herfather.

“Knock,knock.”Daddywalkedinwithanapronoverhisworkclothes.Heheldatrayinhishand,

andarosewaslaidacrosstheplateofeggsandFrenchtoast.Agiantcupofcoffeesatonthefarright
side.“Ifiguredyou’dneedthis.”

Shedidn’ttrustherselftospeak,soshenoddedherheadandlookedaway.
“Theydon’tdeserveyou,sweetheart,”hewhisperedoncehesetthetrayonthebedandtiltedher

chintowardhim.“Girlsareficklecreatures.Iloveallthreeofyou,butsometimes,wesaythingsthat
are hurtful. Things we don’t mean. Promise that you’ll see through that and try to keep the family
together.” He coughed; the tray trembled in his hands as he sat on her bed. “Just promise to try.
Familyisallwehave.”

“Ipromisedtokeepeveryonetogether,”Janewhisperedaloudasthememoryfaded.
But was that what her dad had meant? To be a maid to her own family? No. And she’d already

made her decision to stand her ground. So, with shaking hands, she grabbed a suitcase and started
packing.

ChapterThirty-Seven

rockfrownedatthetext.

Shewaslate.
Hetriednottobeirritated.Afterall,heneededheriftheirplanwasgoingtowork.
Brockwas checking hisphone again whenthe door to hislimo flew open,revealing a flurry of

leopard print and expensive perfume. She flashed him a knowing smile and slid across the smooth
leatherseat.Herbrightredlipstickwaslikeahomingbeaconinthedarkcar.

“Well,”shehuffed.“I’mlistening.Whatexactlydoyouneedfromme?”
Everything.Heleanedbackandtookadeepbreaththenfacedtheonewomanheknewcouldhelp

keephisfamilyinchargeofWellington,Inc.

Butthiswasn’tbusiness.
No.Thiswaspersonal.
Brockexhaled and facedthe one womanhe knew who couldeasily destroy aman with a simple

snapofherfingers,andsaid,“Iloveher.”

Hereyebrowsshotuptoherhairlineandanexcitedsmilecrossedoverhersoftfeatures.“Really?”
“Yes.”Heswallowed.“SodamnedmuchIcan’tloseher.ButIalsolovemygrandfather.”
“Whichleavesusatanimpasse.”Shetappedherchinwithalongredfingernailandsmirked.“Ido

loveagoodromance.”

Didn’theknowit.Rumorshadbeenrampantoverthelastfewyearsonhowshe’dsetupherown

grandsonsandbasicallyforcedthemintoblissfulmarriages,allwithoutmissingabeat.

Whichwaswhyhe’dcometoher.
Wellington, Inc. needed her partnership in order to please the shareholders, and if she agreed to

helphimwithJanehe’doweher.Thiswouldgivehermorepowerthanshealreadyhad,butheknew
she’d like that, and he was betting it would make her more willing to form an alliance with
Wellington,Inc.,ifonlybecauseshe’dfeelshehadtheupperhand.

Besides.Hewoulddoanything.Anything.
ForJane.
“WhatwillyougivemeifIhelpyou?”Shesobered,herexpressionsuddenlyallbusiness.
Brockmetherstareandpaused,thensaid,“Adamnedgoodshow.”
Atthatshethrewbackherheadandlaughed.“Likegrandfather,likegrandson?”
“I’dliketothinkI’mlessstuffy…”
“Ohhoney.”Hervoicedroppedintoahuskywhisper.“Youhaveabsolutelynoidea.”
Yeah,thatwastoomuchinformation.
“Soyou’llhelpmewinthewomanIlove?”
“Oh,I’llhelpyouallright,andI’lldoitoutofthegoodnessofmyheart.”Shepattedhimonthe

shoulder.“AndforthesimplefactthatwhileIdespiseyourfamilyascompetition,Iwouldbeboredto
tearswithoutit—plus,thatgrandfatherofyours.”Sherubbedherhandstogetherandsmirked.“He’s

quite…wonderful,isn’the?”

“Whenheisn’ttryingtocontroleveryoneandeverything?Yes.”Brockspokewithoutthinking.
“Ohhoney.”Shepattedhishand.“That’sjustusgrandparentsworryingaboutthefuture.Besides,

somethingtellsmethatmyinvolvementwillmakehimhappierthanyoucouldpossiblyimagine.”

“Oh?”Thatpiquedhisinterest.“Howso?”
Hersmilewaswarm.“Becauseitwillmakeyouhappy—anddespitewhatyouthink—that’sallhe’s

everwanted.”

Brockdidn’tknowwhattosaytothat.
She seemed to pick up on his hesitation and shrugged. “You’ll have to make sure the media

believesit.Ihopeyouhaven’tbeenhavinganysecretrendezvouswiththegirl,ortextssinceyou’ve
returnedfromtheranchthattheycangrabaholdof.”

Heexhaled.Atleasthe’ddonethatright.“No,no.I’vebeenwaitinguntilIspokewithyou.Until

youagreed.”

Sheharrumphed.“Well,nowthatIhave,it’sjustgoingtogetharder.Nodirectcontact.”Shedrew

outtheword‘direct.’“Untilthenightof,gotit?Nofunnybusiness.Thelastthingweneedisforthis
tolooklikeaset-up.”

“Iswear.I’lldoanythingforher.”
“I know.” She winked. “That’s what makes this so romantic.” She paused. “You do realize the

favorsI’llhavetoowepeople,thenegotiationsthatwillhavetotakeplaceinorderforthistofully
work?”

Brockswallowedbackhisanxiety.“Ido.”
“Well,Ihavebeenknowntomanipulateinmyday…IguessthisjustmeansI’mbackinthegame.”
Hesuddenlyhadthesinkingfeelingthathe’dre-createdamonster.
“Yourgrandfather…”
“Leavehimoutofthis,”Brocksnapped.
“Hmm.”Shemerelystaredathim.Hard.Asiftryingtofigurehimout.“Youknow,heisn’tasbad

asheseems.”

Brockletoutabreathhedidn’trealizehe’dbeenholding.“Iknow,Ijust.Ican’tloseher.”
Thecornersofhermouthworkedintoabrightsmile.“Thenleaveittome.TrustmetodowhatI

dobest.”

“Andwhat’sthat?”
“Why…”Shewinked.“Everything,ofcourse.”

ChapterThirty-Eight

heauctionwastomorrow.

Janetriedtoignorethepaininherchest.
Clearly,hewasgoingthroughwithit.
Withouther.
Twodayshadpassedandthere’dbeennowordfromBrock.Shewantedtotrustthathewasdealing

withit,but,really,partofherwasalreadysodepressedthatshestillhadn’theardfromhimthatall
shewantedtodowassobintohericecreamandwatchcrapTV.

WithagrimaceshewalkedovertothefreezerandpulledoutsomeRockyRoad,thentookaseat

on the couch. After the fight with her sisters they’d come home, grabbed some of their things, and
toldheryetagainnottowaitup.

Shewasprettysuretheywerestillgoingtotheauction.
Withouther,unlesssheusedthemoneythatwasburningaholeinherpockettobuyatickettothe

dinner.

Shegroaned.
Didshereallyhaveachoice?
Herownsistersweresacrificingeverythingtogo.
They’dseeBrock.
Brock.
Anothergroanescapedherlips.Whyhadn’thetextedher?
Hadhestooduptohisgrandfather?
Washehappy?Sad?
Whythehelldidshecare?Shewassad.ShewaseatingRockyRoad.
Withafrustratedsighshedugherspoonin.
Andthen.
Herdoorbellrang.
“No!”sheyelled.“Notmore.”Probablybecauseeventhoughshewasgoingcrazy,thelastthing

shewantedwasforanothervisitfromthemedia.They’dbeenrelentlessallday,sinceitwasthenight
beforetheauction.

Thedoorbellsoundedagain,thensomeoneknockedsohardthatshethoughtthey’dbreakthedoor

down.Sheshotupfromthecouchandstompedovertothrowitopen.

“Bentley?”
“Jane.”Hesmiled.Hereallydidhaveakillersmile.
“Um?Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Gettingyoursizes,ofcourse,”hesaidashehandedheragarmentbag.“Forsomereasonwomen

keepleavingtheirclothesinmyapartment.AsifI’dinvitethemback.Ha.Anyway,let’sseeifanyof
thesefit.”

“Wait,what—”
“Trustme,”Bentleyshrugged.“Canyoudothat?”
ItwasthesamethingBrockhadsaidtoher.
“ButBrock—”
“Trust him, too.” Bentley said gently, although his gaze was a bit harsh, as if he didn’t have the

patienceforhertoarguewithhim.“Now,let’sgetyououtofthoseclothes.”

Shejerkedbackandeyedhimupanddown.“Somethingsneverchange.”
“Shit.” Bentley rubbed his temples. “That came out wrong. What I meant was, let’s see if any of

thesefit.Sowecanfigureoutwhatkindofdresstoget.Please?”

“For?”Janerubbedherarmsandsteppedbackintothehouse.
“Cinderellahastogototheball,don’tyouthink?”
Sheshookherhead.“Bentley,thisissweet,you’resweet,butIhaven’theardfromhimintwodays

and,eventhoughIhavethemoneytobuyaticket….”Hadshereallylosttrustinhimthatfast?When
hesworehe’dmakethingsright?

“His phone was dead on day one and he’s been…advised.” Bentley chose his words carefully it

seemed.“He’snotsupposedtomakeactualcontactwithyouuntiltherighttime.He’sworkingona
solution to this whole mess, believe me. And you’ve had the media camped outside your house for
Godknowshowlong.It’sasimplequestion,Jane.Doyoutrusthim?”

She stared Bentley down. He seemed genuine, but oh how her heart hurt. “Yes,” She finally

whispered. “I do.” Tears threatened again. “But the company, it’s everything to him, and not letting
youguysdownandhisgrandfather;don’tevengetmestartedonthatpieceofworkand—”

Bentleypressedafingertoherlips.“DoyoucareforBrock?Possiblylovehim?”
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Ah! Why couldn’t she stop crying! Three weeks shouldn’t have

affectedhersomuch—butBrockhadfoundhiswayintoherheartandnoamountoftearsorlogic
thathewasdoingwhathehadtodomadethepaingoawayorthesadnessatpotentiallylosinghim.
And really, what was she losing him to? A nameless face? Not really. The messed-up part was that
reallywhenshethoughtaboutit,shewaslosinghimtohisgrandfather.

“Thoughtso.”Bentleygrinned,bringingherbacktothepresent.Heremovedhisfingerandthen

letoutawhistle.ToherhorrorseveralpeoplepiledoutofablackSUVandstartedshufflingintoher
house.

“Isthisnecessary?”
Hiseyestwinkledandthatpracticed,devastating,panty-meltingsmilewasbackinfullforce.“For

aWellington?ForJane?Fortheprincessoftheball?Absolutely.Besides,mybrotherwouldhaveme
bytheballsifIdidanythingashalfassedassendingyoutothemall.”

***

“Shouldyoumaybestopatthestopsigns?”Janegrippedthedoorhandleandheldonfordearlife.

“Speedmakesmefeelalive!”ThedriveroftheUbercarBentleyhadhiredchuckledandthentook

ahardrightfollowedbyanotherhardleftthathadthetiresscreechinginprotest.“Ahhah!Iknewwe
wereclose.”

Theywereinanabandonedparkinglot.
“To where you plan on murdering me?” Jane scooted next to the door just in case she had to

actuallymakearunforit.TwohoursaftertakinghermeasurementsBentleyhadinsistedonsendinga
carforher.Inhiswords,sheneededtopickoutadress.

Butstill.

NoBrock.
AndyetBentley’swordsbouncedaroundinherhead.TrustBrock.WhichmeantBrockwasinon

allofthis,butshestilldidn’tevenknowwhatthiswas?

At Bentley’s insistence, she purchased a ticket for the ball. His instructions were clear. “Your

moneyisyourown.”

Whatdoesthatevenmean?
ShouldshebidonBrock?
Well,duh,ofcourse;butthirtygrandwasn’tgoingtowinheranything!
Nothingmadesense.
Doubtcreptinthecornersofhermind.
Andthenthedriverputthecarinparkandturneditoff.“Parkinglotsaretoooutintheopen,now

aparkinggarage…”Hetappedhischinandgrinned.“Icouldcommitacrimethere,Isuppose.”

Janemadeamentalnotetostayoutofeveryparkinggaragewithinthecitylimits.
Thevandoorslidopen,agorgeousAsianwomanwithbrightredlipsticksteppedout.“Rightoff

therunway.Butsomemayneedadjustments.”

CuriositygotthebestofJane,soshegotoutofthecarandpeeredbehindthegirl.Thebackofthe

vanwasfilledwithatleasttwenty,maybethirty,gorgeousballgownsineverycoloroftherainbow
andineverytypeofmaterialshecouldimagine.Silk,satin,tulle.

Withagasp,shecoveredherface.“Thosearebeautiful.”
“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart.” Suddenly Bentley walked up, his swagger even more

pronounced.“Pickone.Ohhell,picktwo.Nothing’stoogoodformydate.”

“Yourwhat?”Shetriedtohideherdisappointment,butitwasimpossible.
Bentleywrappedamusculararmaroundherandsmiledharder.“Now,Iwantyoutopickonethat

screams sexy. Brock’s favorite color is black—shocker, I know—but he gave me strict instructions
for you to make sure it’s what you want, not what he wants, not what I want, not what anyone else
wantsbutyou.”

JanewasstillstuckonthefactthatBrockhadgivenhisbrotherinstructions.Hehadtocare.Hejust

had to. And in her heart she knew he did; she just didn’t understand why a simple text message or
phone call would hurt anything. The media was still hounding her. Maybe he was afraid something
wouldleak?Ugh;andnowBentleywasescortingher,insteadofBrock?

“Brockknowsyou’remydate?Andhe’sokaywithit?”
Bentley rolled his eyes. “Women are so damn complicated.” He pointed to the dresses and then

backather.“Justbecauseyou’rearrivingattheballonmyarmdoesn’tmeanyou’releavingonit.
Makesense?”

“No.”Janeshookherhead.“Notatall.Infactnoneofthismakessense!”
“Trust.Remember?”Bentleysmiled.“Nowhurryup.Ihaveplacestobe,womentoseduce.”

ChapterThirty-Nine

looklikeIbelonginprison.”Brockcomplained.Brantnoddedhisheadinagreement.

“I’lladmit,”hisbrothersaid,“thestripesareabit…bold.”
“You think?” Brock pointed down at himself. “Do you have anything less…” He scowled as his

gazefelltothestripedpants.“Loud?”

JeanPaul,themanhelpingthem,gaspedaloud.
BentleyandBrantcringedandmovedclosertoBrockwhilethepersonalshopperforPradabegan

pacinginfrontofthem,apinchedexpressionbetweenhiseyebrowsashestartedcursinginFrench.

“Shouldwetellhimweunderstandhim?”Bentleysaidoutofthecornerofhismouth.“Orjustlet

himkeepgoing?”

“Ihearyou!”JeanPaulstoppedpacingthenglancedup,hiseyeshopeful.“Idohaveonesuitleft.

It’sperfect.”

“Not to be a jackass, but you said that about the stripes,” Brock muttered, glancing back in the

mirrorandshuddering.

“Here.”JeanPaulreturnedwithablackgarmentbag.“Verynew,veryclassic.Ablackandwhite

three-piecetuxedowithablacktie.Theshirtisawhitesilk.I’lladmitthecoattailsareabitlongbutI
thinkyou’llfindthecutagreeabletoyourfullfigure.”

“Thehell,”Brockmuttered.“Didhejustcallmefat?”
“Good thing Jane loves all sizes,” Bentley said helpfully. “Plus more cushion for the pushin’…

right?”

“Pleasestoptalking,”BrockpleadedwhileJeanPaulunzippedthegarmentbaganddidalittleta

dawithhishands.

“Dibs,”Bentleycalled.
“Damnit!”Brantyelled.
“Guys, I thought we were here for me? Also: born first, getting auctioned off, you lose.” He

touchedthesmoothsilkshirt.This,hecouldwear.

Afewhourslater,hewasbackathisapartment,thegarmentbaghanginginhiscloset,therooms

silent.

He’dtoldthetwinshewantedtimealone,andnowhewaslonely.Imaginethat?Idiot.
HewassodamntemptedtojusttextJaneandletherinonhisplan,butJanedeservedmorethana

text.Hewantedtosweepheroffherfeet,surpriseher,doitinfrontofthewholefuckingworld.And
unfortunately her reaction had to be real—the plan depended on it. If it looked fabricated, people
wouldaccusethemofsettingthewholethingup.

He picked up his phone and swiped past her contact, even though it made his chest hurt just

thinkingaboutthepainhewasputtingherthroughbynotcalling—andhithisgrandfather ’snumber.

Hisgrandfatheransweredonthesecondring.“Son,youbetterbedead.I’muptomyearlobeswith

balldetails.Everythinghastobeperfectasyouknow,andthemediaisinafrenzyoverthatkisswith

themaid!”

Shit.
Themediarefusedtoletitgo.
Which led to questions about the ball being rigged—which in turn had driven Brock to ask the

notoriouswomanhe’djustspentthelasthourtalkingtoforhelp.

Theirplanhadtolookreal.
Heknewit,forthesakeofthecompanyandforJane.
Butthatkiss.
Hewouldn’ttakeitback.
Hecouldn’t.
Itwaseverything.
Hismouthburnedwiththememory.
“Fruit of my loins!” Grandfather yelled, interrupting Brock’s daydream. One more day. Just one

moreday.“You’vecausedmoredramathanthetwinstogether!Childbirthwasneverthisdifficult.”

“Are you talking to me?” Brock asked. “And you didn’t actually birth the children, as far as I

know…”Herolledhiseyes.

“Good thing, or I probably would have given up and walked out of that damn hospital. Your

grandmotherwassuchasaint,pushingoutGodknowswhatthroughher—”

“Allright,that’senoughbondingfortonight,”Brocksaidgruffly.“Weneedtotalkabouttheball.”
Grandfathersighed.“Itiswhatitis,thatisunlessyouhavesomethingonyourmind?”
“Why?”Brockblurtedbeforehecouldstophimself.“Whywouldyouputthecompanybeforeme?

Beforethetwins?”

Grandfathersighed.“IguessIwouldhavetoanswerwithaquestion.Why,Brock,doyoualways

feelyouneedtoputmebeforeyou?”

Brockopenedhismouththenshutit.
“That’swhatIthought.”Grandfathersighed.“I’veseenthenewsaboutyouandthemaidandyetI

haven’theardfromyou.Whyisthat,Iwonder?”

“Because.”Brockclearedhisthroat.“I’vefoundawaytohaveboth.”
“Both?”Grandfather ’svoicesoundedlikehewasfrowning;hisbrowswereprobablyfurrowing

in confusion like they always did when he was forced to solve a puzzle that didn’t magically solve
itself.

“Yes.”Brockchuckled.“Both.Myfamily.AndmyJane.”
“YourJane,hmm?”
Brock closed his eyes and continued. “I’m keeping my word, to both of you, in the only way I

knowhow.”

“Isthatwhyyoucalled?”
“Icalledtotellyouthatifitgoesbadly…ifmycrazyplandoesn’tworkout…Istillchooseher.”

God,ithurt.Hurtlikehelltosaythat.

Hesuckedinabreath.
Waitedforhisgrandfathertodie.
Waitedfortheskytofall.
Waitedforanearthquake.
But all the old man did was sigh and say. “Well then. I guess that’s that.” The line went dead,

leavingBrocktowonderifitwasanotheromenforhisfuture.

Death.

Whenallhewantedwasalife.
LifewithJane.

ChapterForty

hepressattentionwasgettingworse.

Well,whatdidsheexpect?Theballwastonight.Ofcourseitwasgettingworse,withspeculation

about Jane being there even though she didn’t have the money to bid on Brock. There were also
rumorsthatshewaspregnantwithhislovechild,amongstotherthings.

Itmadehersicktoherstomach.
Bentley had said that he was going to stop by for some last minute details, but he was clearly

runninglate.Herdressandshoeswereupstairswaitingforherandshestillhadhourstokillbeforea
team of highly trained professionals—Bentley’s words, not hers—would be at her house to do her
makeupandhair.

Maybeitwashernerves.
Orthefactthathersistersstillhadn’tcontactedher.They’dsaidtheywerestayingwithafriend,

butthey’dneverstayedawaysolong.Thenagain,she’dnevermadethemangryenoughtowantto
before.

Weretheystillplanningongoingtotheball?Oratleasttrying?Becausethatwassonottheplace

whereshewantedtohaveaconfrontationwiththem,notthatshe’dbeabletohelpitinthefirstplace
iftheywantedtostartsomething.

Whenhadlifebecomesostressful?
Oh right, the minute she’d said yes to a crazy old man and fell in love with his even crazier

grandson.

With nothing to do but basically sit on her hands and try not to have a nervous breakdown, she

slowlymadeherwayupstairstounpackfromtheranch.

Sadness had kept her from unzipping her suitcase for fear that her clothes and the smell of the

ranchwouldremindherofBrocktoomuch,anditwashardenoughasitwastonotthinkofhim.He
waseverywhere—onthenews,radio—youcouldn’twalkdownthestreetwithouthearingorseeing
somethingabouttheauction.

Withshakinghandsshepulledopenthesuitcaseandasmilespreadacrossherface.
Shebrushedherhandagainsttheplaidfabricatthetopofthesuitcaseandhersmilegrew.
Maybeallmemoriesweren’tbad.
Eveniftheywerepainful.
And in all her stress and sadness—she’d forgotten something important—something that even if

Brockrejectedherandneversawheragain—shewantedtodo.

Shegrabbedthepresentandrandownthestairsjustasaknocksounded.Throwingthedooropen

toabored-lookingBentley,Janegrabbedafistfulofhisshirtandjerkedhimintothehouse.“Iwant
hisaddress.Now.”

“Idon’treallythink—”
“Now!”

“It’ssixa.m.!”Bentleyyawned.“Six!Inthemorning!”
“Iheardyouthefirsttime.Address!Please?It’simportant!”
“What’sthat?”Hepointedattheobjectinherhands.
“SomethingforBrock.”
Bentley’seyesnarrowedandthenamockinglookcrossedhisface.“Wow,that’s…romantic?”
“Shutup.”
Hesmirked.“Fine,I’llgiveyoutheaddressifyoupromisetobeonyourbestbehaviortonight.”
Shescowled.
“Nohittingonme,grabbingmyass,flirting,orfallinginlove.I’mwellawarethatthesepasttwo

dayshavebeenthebestofyourlifebut—”

“Yeah,I’mgoingtogoaheadandstopyourightthere.”
“Sometimes love can’t be helped, or explained.” He winked. “Okay, fine, you’re immune to my

charm. Damn aggravating—not that I’d want to steal you out from underneath one of my favorite
brothers—butlikeIsaid,somethingscan’tbehelpedandI’mcompetitivebynature.”

“Areyoudoneyet?”
“No.”Hesmiled.“Okay,fine,bereadybysixandremembertojust….gowithit.”
“Gowithwhat?”
“It,”hesaidslowly.“Gowithit.”
“Whatexactlyis‘it’?”
“You’llseewhenitorshepresentsitself.Okay,nowI’veconfusedmyself.Handoverthatweird-

lookingshirtfluffythingandI’llmakesureitgetstoBrock.I’mnotentirelysureIcantrustyouwith
thataddressyet;besides,it’sforthebest.”

Well,itwasn’texactlywhatshewanted,butitwouldwork.“Thankyou.”Shekissedhischeek.
Hetouchedthespotshe’dkissedandshrugged.“See?You’reinlovewithme,can’tbehelped.”
“Goaway,Bentley.”
Hetiltedherchintowardhim.“Givethemhelltonight,Jane.Andremember,trusthim.”
Andwiththathewasgone.

ChapterForty-One

rockwokeuptothepiercingsoundofarooster.Thecockwaseveninvadinghisdreamsnow.

Fantastic.
“Wakeup!”Apillowslammedacrosshisface.
Twice.
Onthethirdswing,hegrabbeditandthepersonattachedtoit,shovingthemoffthebedandonto

thefloor.

Brantletoutacurse.“SeeifIevermakeyoucoffeeagain.”
“Youmadecoffee?Doyouevenknowhow?”
“It was touch and go for a few seconds before I finally just walked to Starbucks.” He shrugged.

“Butit’sbasicallythesamething.”

“You’reanidiot.”
“Thankyou.”Brantseemedgenuinelytouchedbytheinsult.
Brockrolledhiseyes.“SomeonebetterbedyingandwhythehelldidIheararooster?”
Branthelduphisphone.“Farmanimalapp.I’mthinkingofbuyingthecompany.”
“Pleasedon’t,”Brockgrumbledashegottohisfeet.
TheywalkedintothekitchenwhereBentleywasreadingthepaper.
“Whyareyouguysalwaysatmyhouse?”BrocksnatchedapieceoffruitasBentleyslidhimhis

coffee.“Seriously,areyouthatlonely?”

“Yes,”Bentleysaidwithoutlookingupfromthepaper.“That’swhywebotheryou,becausewe’re

lonely.”Hesmirked.“It’smorelike…”Afteralongdrawn-outsigh,heheldouthishands.“Wemade
the mistake of bringing some girls home and…” He flipped his hand into the air. “We may have
swappedgirlsinthemiddleofthenight.”

“Oldesttrickinthebook,”Brantsnorted.
“Right,”Bentleyagreed.“Butsomehowtheyfoundoutandonceweaskedthemtoleave…allhell

brokeloose.Oneofthemstartedsmashingwinebottlesonthefloorthenchuckedoneatmyhead.”

BrantbitoutacursewhileBentleykeptontalking.“Wefinallygotthemtoleave,butoneofthem

came back and our doorman let her up, the bastard. She spray-painted

WHORE

in bright red graffiti

acrossourdoors.”

Brockletoutalowlaugh.“Oh,that’sfantastic.Soyourapartmentsareshameprisons?”
“Basically.” Bentley didn’t look apologetic. “So we’re going to hang with you until things die

down.Imean,they’llgetoverit;theyalwaysdo.”

Sighing,Brocktookalongdrinkofcoffeeandsethiscupbackdownonthetable.“Youguyscan’t

keepgoingonlikethis.”

“Sure we can.” Brant finally set the paper down. “After all, my life goal includes dying of heart

failureduringsex.”

“It’sgoodtohavedreams.”Bentleyburstoutlaughing.

“Bothofyouaregoingtoburninhell.”Brocksnorted.
“HopefullyGrandfatherwillhavepavedthewaybythen.”Bentsmirked.“Now,areyoureadyfor

tonight?”

Brockpaused,hiscoffeeinmidair.“Ithinkso;asreadyasI’lleverbe.Grandfatherdoesn’tknow

what’sgoingon;hejustknowsI’mgoingtotryandkeepmywordtohimwhilestilltryingtobewith
Jane.God,IhopethatNadineholdsupherendofthebargain.”

“Shewill.”Brantcamearoundthetableandsat,proppinghislegsuponthechairacrossfromhim.

“She’sobsessedwithagoodlovestory.Herpoorgrandsonsareproofofthat.Thewomankidnapped
astatesenatorinthenameoflove.This?Thisshouldbeawalkintheparkforher.”

“Areyougoingtomakeaspeechbeforeallhellbreaksloose?Orjustlayitalloutthere?”Bentley

asked.

Brockrolledhiseyes.“Ihaveaplan.I’mstickingwithit.TheendgoalisJane.Anythingbeyond

that?Afuckingspeechtomakepeoplehappy?I’moverit.IwantherandI’vefoundawaytogether
andtomakesurethatGrandfather ’shappy.SheneedstoknowIloveher.That’sallthatmattersnow.”

ThedoorbellsuddenlyrangandBrockcursedashestompedovertothedoor,jerkingitopen.
“DeliveryforBrockWellington.”Themessengerhadagiantblackbox.“Justsignhere.”
Brocksignedandbroughttheboxintothehouse,closingthedoorbehindhim.
Heopenedtheboxandsaw…plaid.
“Whatthehellisthat?”Brantpointed.
Frowning, Brock picked up the homemade plaid pillow and inhaled. It smelled exactly like his

father.Theywerehisoldshirts.

Theonesfromtheranch.
Anotewasstuckbetweenthepillows.

ImeanttogivethesetoyouattheranchbutIforgot.

Icouldn’tsleeponenightanddecidedtomakethemintomemorypillows.Thatwayyoualways

haveyourfatherwithyou.Ithoughtitmayhelpfighttheghostsbutjustincasethatdoesn’twork,I
stuffedthedoginthebottomofthebox.Rumorhasithe’saguarddog.

Love,
PlainJane

Fingerstrembling,Brockdroppedthenoteandtookastepback.She’ddonethis.Forhim.
Shelovedhim.
“Shelovesme,”herepeatedoutloud.“God,Icouldn’tstandanotherdayofthissecrecy.”
Hewashavingahardtimebreathing—swallowing—functioningasanormalhumanbeing.Allhe

coulddowasstareattheboxandwonderhowinthehellhewasgoingtobeabletowaitanothereight
hoursuntilhesawheragain.

Andtellherhowhefelt.
Andchooseher.
Foralltheworldtosee.
Funny, how bidders had donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to be at his side, but what she

offeredhimwasmorepriceless.

Becauseshewastheonlywomanwhohadofferedsomethingmoneycouldn’tbuy.
Herheart.

ChapterForty-Two

ane gaped at the glam squad currently setting up around her living room. A hairstylist, a makeup

artist, and two other people who looked like their assistants were all running around in a rush of
excitement.

Aglassofchampagnewasthrustintoherhandandthenshewasshovedintoatallmakeupchair,

brightlightsturnedtowardher.

“Hmm…”Thegirldoinghermakeupfrowned.“Thelightingisn’tgoodenough.Someoneopen

uptheblindsandawindoworsomething.”

Awindowwasopened.
Freshairblastedin.
Finally,Janerelaxedandletoutasigh.
Gettinghermakeupdonewasgoingtobeadream.She’dneverhaditdonebeforeand—
Asecondteamarrived.
Theyallhadwhitecoatson.
Aterrifyinghushcameovertheroom.
“Sheavirgin?”Oneaskedinacheerfulvoice.
Alleyesfelltoher.
“No,”Janesaidinaquietvoice.
“Waxingvirgin,”Anothermanclarified,eyingherupanddownwithexcitement.
“Waxing?Whatdoyoumean,waxing?”
Severalpeoplechuckledandthenherrealhellbegan.
She was waxed within an inch of her life; at one point tears welled in her eyes. When she

complainedtheestheticiansimplyheldherdownandsaid,“You’llbefine.”

“ThehellIwill!”sheroared.
“We’vegotascreamer,”theestheticiansaidthroughclenchedteethasanotherwomanenteredthe

livingroom.ShehelpedtoholddownJane’slegs.

“Isthislegal?”Janeexclaimed.
“Don’tmakeusbringtheducttape.I’vedoneitbefore.Idon’twanttohavetoresorttoitagain.”

Thewomanhadaterrifyingeyebrowarchthatjustwouldn’tquit.

Andshewasonlyhalfdone.
Thelastthingsheneeded,Janeconcluded,wastobehairyononesideofherbodyandsmoothon

theother.

Theanticipationwastheworstpart.Shejumpedeverytimethesugarwaxballthingywasapplied,

mainlybecauseeverytimeitwasspreadonherskinittuggedhairandthentuggedagain.

Twotugs.
SohelpherGod,shewasgoingtodieonthewaxingtable.
Sheshiveredasanothertugnearlysentherintoascreamingfit.Womendidthis?Andpaidactual

moneyforit?

“Don’tmoveunlessyouwantthesculptingandshadingtobeoff,”thewomandoinghermakeup

snappedonceshewasoffthewaxingtableandinthemakeupchair.

Waseveryonegrumpyinthebeautyindustry?Wasthatathing?
Justasshewasrelaxingagain,abrushtuggedatherhead.“We’rerunningoutoftime.Ineedto

startinonthis…mess.”

Theladyapplyinghermakeupsnorted.“Goodluckwiththat.”
“Hey!”Janesaid,andanotherhardtughadhereyeswatering.
“It’salotofhair.”Themanranthebrushfromroottotip.“Butsilverlining,it’sreallyhealthy.”
“Idon’tdyeit,”Janesaidproudly.
“Ohhoney,weknow.”Themakeupartistsmiled.“It’svirginhair.Icanspotitamileaway.”
“Is—isthatbad?”Janeself-consciouslytuggedafewstrands.
The makeup artist laughed loudly. “No, it just means no hair stylist is going to want to be your

first…Toomuchpressure.”Shescruncheduphernose.“Now,slumpyourshouldersagainandI’m
puttingyouintheharness.”

“There’saharness?”Janesqueaked.
Themakeupartistnodded.“It’sinmytrunk.”
“Okay, then.” Jane held as straight and still as she could, hardly breathing as the woman did her

makeupandthemean,demon-possessedmanbrushedoutherhair.

Itwasgoingtobeareallylongafternoon.

***

WhenBentleysaidhe’dpickherupatsix,whathe’dreallymeantwasthathewasgoingtoarriveat
herhousearoundfive-thirty,bringhisownchampagne,pourhimselfaglassortwo,andthenyellat
themakeupartistformakingherlooktoobeautiful.

HewasjustbeingBentley.Whichwasathinginandofitself.Themoretimeshespentwithhimthe

morehefeltlikeabrother.Areallygood-lookingannoyingolderbrotherwholikedtodrinkandhit
oneveryfemalehesaw.

She had no way of even knowing what she looked like. The team had refused to let her see a

mirror. Satan’s minions simply said that they were under strict instructions to keep her away from
everyshinysurface.

Whichofcoursemeantthatshehadthreeofthesquad,theguyincluded,helpingherintoherdress.
Nothingaboutherbodywaslefttotheimagination.
Nothing.
Notonesmallbit.
Her shame was complete when Doug, the hairstylist, was pulling at the skirt of her dress and

wantedtomakesurethattheliningwaspulledtightenoughsoitdidn’twrinkle.

Whydiditmatter?
She’dactuallyaskedthatoutloudandgainednothingbutshockedsilence.
They weren’t human, these people. They seemed to express emotion only toward inanimate

objects:thecurlingiron,forexample.Dougwentonandonaboutitstechnologyforatleastahalf
hour while her makeup artist Leah gasped and moaned like she was…well, like she was having a
sexualexperienceorsomething.

Dougwasluckytostillhaveahead.
Consideringithadbeenbetweenherthighsabouttenminutesearlier,inspecting.

Whenshe’dsaidsomethingabouthimlookinginplacesheshouldn’tlookheveryloudlytoldher

shehadthewrongequipmenttoattracthim.

“NotthatIdon’tappreciatetheview.”Heslappedherthigh,makinghershamecomplete.
“Stop!”Leahsighed.“You’llmakehergetallflushedandIdidadamngoodjobonhermakeup!”
“Sorry.” Doug made his way out from underneath her dress and smiled brightly, his white teeth

nearlyblindingasheranahandoverhisshavedandtattooedhead.“Youlookkiller.”

“Thanks.”Janefeltalaughbubbleupinsideher.“CanIseemyselfnow?”
“Aw,sweetie.”Dougliftedherchinwithasinglefinger.“Notachanceinhell.Nowoffyougo!”
“Off?”
Bentleyyelledfromthekitchen.“Shebetterbereadyinfiveminutes!”
“Ready!”Janecalled,turningthecornertofindBentleypouringanotherglassofchampagne.He

slowly examined her, his expression blank until his eyes landed on her face. He lifted the flute of
champagneinasaluteandchuckleddarklybeforehandingherhisglass.

“He’sgoingtolosehisdamnmind,”hewhispered.“Youknow,IthinkIlikethissneakingaround

business.”

“Oh?”Janetookalongsipofchampagnethenloopedherhandthroughhisarm.
“Yes.”Bentleynodded,thenleanedin.“YousureyouwantBrock?”
“Positive.”Shegiggled.
“Fine.” He sighed. “Then I guess I’ll just have to pretend to be completely enamored with your

sexyassandgorgeousmouth.”

“IfBrockheardyousaythat,he’dkillyou.”
“Emptythreats.”Bentleywhisperedinherear.“Tonight,he’sgoingtofalltohisknees.”Hepulled

back.“Themancaresaboutyou—andnow?Sowilltherestoftheworld.”

Janelaughednervously.“Ihopeyou’rerightaboutthis.Itrustyouguys.”
“Good.”Heeyedherupanddownagain.“Good.”
“Areyouokay?”
“Fine,”hesaidquickly.Thenhissmilefadedandhelockedeyeswithher.“Seriousmoment.”
“Um,okay.”
“You’reabsolutelystunning.Don’tletanyoneconvinceyouotherwise.Holdyourheadhigh.You

belongthere.AtBrock’sside.”

Shedidn’ttrustherselftospeak.Janenoddedandexhaledloudly.“Thankyou.”
“Noproblem.”Heheldouthisarm.“Now,let’sheadtothecarriage,Cinderella.”
Janelaughedastheywalkedoutside,herheelsmakingaclickingsoundagainsttheconcreteasher

golddressswishedoverherhips.Atleastsheknewthedressfit.

She’dpickeditout.
Itwasaboldchoice.
Withitsslitallthewayupherleftthigh,allshehadtodowastripandpeoplewouldgetmorethan

aneyeful.

TheplungingnecklinecoveredherbreaststhentwistedaroundtoherbackinaGrecianmanner.

Everythingaboutthedresswaselegantandsimple,modernyetveryromantic.

MaybesomethingCinderellawouldwearinthiscentury.
Hershoeswereamatchinggold-strappedsandal,alittlehighforhertastebutstillbeautiful,with

diamond-encrustedbucklesacrossherankles.

Shewassobusylookingdownathershoesthatwhenshelookedupshewasmomentarilystunned.

“Isthat…”Shefrowned.“Buttercup?”

“Shhh,”Bentleywhispered.“She’sincostume.”
“Does she not like costumes?” Jane whispered back, momentarily wondering if she’d left her

sanitybackinsidethehouse.Whyweretheywhisperingaroundthehorse?

“Shedoesn’twantyoutorecognizeher.Watch.”Bentleywavedheroff.“Oh,lookyonderatthat

beautifulyoungstallion!Garbedinblackandgoldwiththefamilycrestonitsnoblehide!”Thenthe
oddestthinghappened;Buttercupliftedherheadandstiffenedintoaposewithonelegliftedintheair,
headheldhigh.

“Noway.”Jane’seyeswidened.
“Shejustwantstoimpressyou.Wellingtonsareproudthatway.”BentleynoddedandeyedJaneup

anddownagain,thensaid,“You’reabsolutelypositiveyouwantthebroodingbrother?Imean…”He
stoodchesttochestwithher.“Positive?”

Hisvoicelowered.
Hesmelledamazing.
Hewasn’tBrock.
“Yup!”Shenodded.
“Had to offer you an out.” He sighed. “Now, let’s go.” The door to the gold carriage to which

Buttercuphadbeentetheredopened.

“It’sarealcarriage.”Janesaiddumbly,glancingaroundtheopen,gold-encrustedcarriage.Itwas

beautiful,likesomethingyou’dseeinahistoricalmovie.

Orreadaboutinabook.
It was a real horse-drawn carriage. The seats were a plush black leather, there were two fur

blankets with matching pillows on each seat, and it was painted a rich gold with a red ‘W’ in the
middleofthedoor.

Sitting in the opposite seat was Brant. “Wow.” He smiled wickedly. “Brock’s going to lose his

mind.”

“Thanks.” She blushed and took his hand as Bentley followed in after her. “So I get two dates

tonight?”

“Brantdoesn’tdate.”Bentleysaidinaboredtone.“Hedoesn’tlikegettingwomen’shopesup.”
“Seriously?” Jane frowned. “And one date is enough to make them think you’re going to marry

them?”

At the mention of marriage Brant’s face darkened. He didn’t respond. Bentley cleared his throat

andslowlyshookhishead.

Clearlytherewasastorythere,onehedidn’twanttotell.
“Andnow,”Bentleyquicklychangedthesubjectasthecarriagestartedtomove.“Youhaveagift.”
Theboxwassimple.
Black.
Shepulledoffthelidandgasped.
Apairofglasshigh-heeledshoestwinkledinthemoonlight.Blackleathermaterialwasbraidedin

anelegantdesignacrossthetopoftheshoebeforeadjoiningtheglassheelintheback.

Asimplenoterestedontopoftheshoes:

ForCinderella—trynottobreakaheelattheball.

Love,Brock.

Herpearlssatneatlybetweenthetwoshoes,setintheshapeofaheart.
Howhadhegottenthepearlsbackfromhersisters?Diditmatter?Tearswelledinhereyes.He’d

said“love.”

Love.
Andpearls.
Andshoes.
Moretearsstung.
“Well,I’llbedamned,”Bentleylaughed.“Insteadofsendingmeforshoes,hewentshoppingallon

hisown.”Morelaughter.“Brockhatesshopping.Lookslikethejackassgrewsomeballs.”

“Oh,he’salwayshadballs,”Janesaidwithoutthinking.
Brantsnappedhisattentionbacktoher.“Thisisafuntopic,mybrother ’sballs.”
Her cheeks heated. “Let’s, uh, just put on the shoes. Or I’ll put on the shoes and…” She tried to

reachherfeetbutherdresswastootight.

“You’re either going to rip your dress or flash us both, which will most likely earn both of us

blackeyes.”Brantrolledhiseyes.“Here,letmehelp.”

“Thanks.”ShebeamedasBranttuggedoffherheelsandreplacedthemwiththebeautifulblackand

glassshoesthatBrockhadgivenher.

Theshoeswerebeautiful.
Butwhatmadehersmilewasthefactthattheywereblack.Haditonlybeenamonthagowhenhe’d

teasedheraboutblackshoesandshe’dblurtedoutinformationaboutherunderwear?

“Damn,I’veneverseenawomansothrilledtohaveapairofshoesbefore,”Brantsaidunderhis

breath.

“It’snotjusttheshoes.It’swhattheyrepresent.”Shegrinned.“Imean,thethoughtbehindthem.”

Brant’sexpressionwascompletelyblank.“Comeon,haven’tyouevergivensomeoneagiftthatheld
memories?Orahiddenmeaning?”

Brant’sexpressionhardenedbeforeheofferedaneasysmileandlookedoutthewindow.“Idon’t

wastemytimewithgifts.WhyshouldIwhenI’mneverwiththesamewomanmorethanonce?”

Bentleylaughedsoftly.
“We’rehere.”BrantheldouthishandtoJaneandsmiled.“Youreadyforthis?”
The carriage stopped in front of Warehouse 215. The entire outside of the structure had been

transformedwithhangingcandlesandflowers,makingtheambiancemagical.

Bentleyfollowedafterthemandgrabbedherotherhand.“Ibelieveyouhaveaprincetosteal.”
Janepressedahandtoherstomach.“That’snotmakingmefeelanylessnervous.”
Thetwinsmerelysmiledandescortedherinside.
Directlyintothearmsofawomanshe’dneverseenbefore.Sheworebrightredlipstickandtalked

waytoofastandbeforeJaneknewwhatwashappeningshewasshowingherlicensetoanotherlady,
whodouble-checkedhernameontheguestlist.

“Oh look, there you are!” Jane frowned at the flamboyantly dressed woman, who still held onto

herarm.Sheexaminedtheguestlistandthennodded.“Okay,noweverythinglooksreadytogo!”

“Oh,Ialmostforgot.Here.”Janehandedoverhercheckforthirtythousanddollars.Itwasallshe

hadtobidwith.

Thewomanstillholdingontoherarmsnortedoutalaughandnoddedtotheladywiththeguest

list.“Justaddittoheraccountandwe’lldealwithitlater.Thankyou!”

ThenextpersoninlinesteppedupandJanewastuggedawaybythepretty,elderlywoman.Witha

giantsmileshewhisperedtoJane,“Waittenminutesbeforecomingin.”

“What?”Janefrowned.“Why?”
“Honey,”Thewoman’sredpoutedmouthdippedintoafrown.“Cinderellaalwayshastomakethe

perfectentrance.”ShewinkedandabandonedJanejustlikethetwinshad.

Whattheheckwasgoingon?

ChapterForty-Three

fBrockhadtolistentoonemorewomantalkaboutthestateoftheworld,ortheeconomy,orthe

irritatingfactthattheycouldn’tparkcloseenoughtothewarehousewheretheballwasbeingheld,he
wasgoingtotakeacuefromhisbrothersandstartdowningshots.

BentleyeyedBrockoverhiswhiskeywithasmuggrin,thenliftedhisglassintotheairinasilent

toast.

TheyweresupposedtohavearrivedwithJaneahalfhourago.Thetwinswerehere,butwherewas

Jane?

Sofarthere’dbeennosignofhisgrandfather.
Wherethehellwerethey?
Panic set in when he realized that if for some reason his grandfather saw Jane first…What if he

saidsomethingtoherthatmadeherrun?Whatifhewasmeantoher?Washisgrandfathercapableof
that?

MaybeitwasjustBrock’sownnervesabouttheplanforthatevening.Hejustwantedeverythingto

beoverwith.AndJaneinhisarms.

“He’slate,”avoicetohisrightsaid.
Brock turned and came face to face with the CEO of Titus Enterprises. She and his grandfather

wererarelyinthesameroomtogether.

Theycouldn’tstandoneanother.
Theirfightsalonehadmadenationalnews,wheninafuryshe’dthrownapencilathisheadduring

acharityboardmeeting.

IftheWellingtonsweretheKennedysofthesouth,thentheTitusfamilywastheVanderbiltsofthe

Pacific Northwest. Both companies had set out with the mindset of world domination, and both
companieshadhadtheirshareofscandal.

Thenagain,withawomanlikeNadineatthehelmofTitus,itwasnoshockatall.Herdangerously

low-cut silk ball gown had a bright red bow wrapped around her neck and matched her lipstick
perfectly.Withheavyeyelashesandbrightblondhair,shelookedtobesomewherearoundhermid-
sixtiesratherthanpushingeighty-nine.

“Well?”Herpenciledbrowsdrewtogetherinafurrow.“Where’sthatdamngrandfatherofyours?”

Sherolledhereyes.“Charlesneverdidunderstandthepointofbeingpunctual.Why,lasttimewewent
todinnerand—”

Brock’seyesnarrowed.“Dinner?Yousharedameal?Brokebread?”
“Yes, and I only managed to stab him twice.” She adjusted her short black velvet gloves and

shrugged one shoulder. “He took all of my silverware before I had the chance to inflict more
violence.Thebastardjustkeptpouringmemorewine.”

“Howhorribleforyou.”
“Dreadfulman,gettingawomandrunkforhisownpleasure!”

Brockcoughedintohishand.“Thisisn’tawkward,thisconversation.”
“Boy, ain’t nothing awkward about a man and a woman engaging in a nice meal and having the

consensualthreeS’s.”

Brockstaredather,thentowardthedoor.“I’malmostscaredtoaskthis,butwhythreeS’s?”
“Oh.” She touched his arm lightly. “How sad. Do you not understand how to woo a woman

properly?Nowonderyouneededmyhelp.”Shegrinnedbrightly.“Youknow,Ihavesomeincredible
lithographsoftheKamaSutraand—”

“Nothanks.”Hetookastepawaywhileshepouted.
“Oh, I see.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “You haven’t conquered young Jane yet. Are you a

virgin?”

Sheyelledthelastpart.Sheclearlywantedtoembarrasshimandcreateascenebecausethat’swhat

shedidbest.

Hegroanedashenoticedthecuriousstaresfrompeoplearoundthem.
“Hilarious,”hemurmuredwhileshelaughedtoherself.“Keepyourvoicedown.”Thelastpartwas

saidonahiss.

“Scared of breasts.” She nodded knowingly. “Well, boy, they aren’t gonna smother you if that’s

whatyou’reafraidof.Worsecomestoworst,holdyourbreath.”

“Greatadvice.I’llbesuretopassitalongtosomeonewhoactuallyneedsit.”
“Asphyxiationduringcoitususedtobeathing,youknow,backintheseventies.”
Whywasthewomanstilltalkingaboutsex?God.Shewasalmostmoretroublethanshewasworth.

Hetookagulpofchampagne.

“WhenIworetheknittopswithnobra.”
Brock spit out his champagne in shock then wiped his mouth, while Nadine kept talking about

breasts.Then,thankfully,hisgrandfatherappeared.

Thiswasit.
“Such a wicked handsome man.” Nadine sighed next to him. “Too bad he has the manners of a

bastardsonofawhore.”

Shesaiditsopolitelyonewouldthinkshewasalmostcomplimentinghim.
Brock glared as his grandfather slowly and very casually made his way toward them. “I trust

everything’sinorder?”

Nadine let out a snort. “Good to see you, Charles.” She drew out the ‘s’ in his name and leaned

forward, her somehow still perky breasts parted like the Red Sea as her dress nearly came off her
chest.

“Nadine.”Hisgrandfathersaidthroughgrittedteeth.“Newdress?”
“Yes.”Shebeamed.
“Didyoustealitfromateenager?”
“Yes.” Nadine scowled. “That’s exactly what I did, right after cheer practice, where I performed

splitsintheairandmadelovewithJohnnyinthelockerroom.”

“BringhimupagainandI’llstrangleyou.”Hisgrinwasstillinplacebuthisfacewasred.
“Johnny?”Brockrepeated.
“Yourgrandfathercertainlydidn’tpeakuntil…afterhighschool.”Nadinegiggledbehindherhand.
His grandfather took a menacing step toward Nadine but Brock stopped him. “Are we ready to

begin?”Andthenhisbreathcaughtinhisthroatastheloveofhislifewaltzedintotheroom.“Jane.”

Shemovedthroughthecrowdwithsomuchgraceithurttowatchher.
AndBrock’sheartnearlystopped.

“Holyshit.”HesuckedinandchokedonthesamebreathwhileJanelookeddownatherfeetthen

upathim.

Theglassslippers.Well,hisversionofthem,anyway.She’dwornthem.
“She’sabsolutelylovely,Brock,andmymy,whatanentrance!”
Blood roared in Brock’s ears as the entire room fell silent. Jane was looking at him, walking

towardhim.Shewashis.

Hergoldsilkdressshimmeredunderthelights.
God,shewassodamnbeautiful.Yethecouldn’tmakehisfeetmovetowardher.Hewasgluedin

place,paralyzed,stunnedbyherbeauty.

Beautythathe’dalwaysseen.
But tonight it was perfectly highlighted: her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, the front was

braidedtotheside,coveringpartofherearwheresinglediamondearringstwinkled.

Theglovessheworewentpastherelbows.
Everythingaboutherwas—magical.
Herlipswidenedintoashakysmileasshetookafewmorestepstowardhim.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Nadine hissed. “You need to speak.” Had she just clapped at him?

“Goon,shoo!”

Jane bit her bottom lip and then let out a laugh as she finally made it to his side. “There’s

somethingreallystrangeaboutthatwoman.”ShepointedherauctionpaddleinNadine’sdirection.

“Don’tpoint.She’llthinkit’saninvitationtocomeover.”
“Toolate,”Janewhispered.“Sorry.”
“Hello, dear!” Nadine spread her arms wide. “I’ve heard so much about you!” She gave Jane an

overlyobviouswink,asifaskinghertoplayalongandpretendtheyhadn’talreadymetatthedoor.
“Why,Charlesjustwon’tshutupabouthowyoucleanedhishomeandsleptwithhisgrandsonwhen
we’re—”

Brock’seyesnarrowedinonhisgrandfather,who’dstartedtuggingathistielikeitwaschoking

thelifeoutofhim.

Thecrowdgatheredaroundthem.
Good,that’swhatheneeded.HeneededpeopletothinkNadinehadabsolutelynoassociationwith

Janewhatsoever—thoughshedidn’tneedtoyellallthegorydetails.

“Whenyou’rewhat?”Brockaskedinnocently.
“Discussingbusiness,”Nadinesaidbrightly.“Why,sometimesittakesalldayandnighttogetjust

therightcontractnegotiated.”Hereyeslitup.“Infact,Charles,Iwashopingtostealyouawaythis
evening.”

“Leavetherapewhistle,thegun,andtheSwissarmyknifeathome,andwe’lltalk,”Henoddedto

herpurse.“Oh,andIwasn’tbornyesterday.Thepensstay,too.”

“Youknow,forbeingnineyearsyounger,yousurearen’tveryadventurousin…”Hereyeswent

fromBrocktoJane.“Er,thecharityboardmeetingswe’rebothon…andsuch.”

“Maybe because I prefer for the focus of board meetings to be singular, on one person, rather

than…objects.”

“Oh,Charles.”Shesighed.
“Shouldweleaveyoutwoalonenow?Withthepens?”Brockasked.“Becausethingsjustgotreally

weirdandI’mprettysureyou’retalkingaboutsexwithmygrandfather,whichbytheway,istotally
fine,aslongasyounevertalkaboutitagaininfrontofmeorJane,oranyotherobjectthatmayor
maynotbescarredforlife.”

“Thecock.”Janenodded.
“Yes,I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutorefrainfromspeakingaboutit,eveninfrontoftheassand

therooster.”

Nadine’slipstwitched.“Youremindmesomuchofmygrandsons.Shouldwesetupaplaydate?”
“Sure…”Brockbackedawayslowly.“LetmejustseeifIcanfindmyLegos.”
“Perfect!” She winked and looped her arm with Grandfather ’s. “Now, we’ve embarrassed you

enough.Enjoytheball.”

Grandfather walked off then paused and turned. “Brock, you promised that you would still

participateintheauction.”HeeyedJane.“Idon’tknowwhatshe’sdoinghere,butunlessshebidson
you—”

Brock stared down his grandfather. “I told you I was choosing both. Maybe it’s time you let me

decidethecourseofmylife.”

GrandfathereyedhimandthensettledhisgazeonJane.WhenhefinallywalkedawayBrockcould

haveswornhisgrandfatherwaslaughing,butwhatdidhehavetolaughabout?

WhenhelookedbackatJane,herfacewastight.
“Trustme,”hewhisperedinherear.“Andyoulookbeautiful.”
Sheexhaledthenpressedherhandstoherhips,smoothingherdressasifshewasnervous.“It’snot

toomuch?”

“It’sperfect.”Hereachedforherhandandpulledherintohisarms.“Now,youhavetheshoes,the

dress,thepearls.”Hegrinned.“Butyou’remissingonething.”

Shefrowned.“What?”
“Weneedtofindyouaprince.”
“Hmm,Idon’tthinkIknowanyprinces.”
Hetwirledherinhisarms.“IcanalwaysgogetBentley.I’msurehe’dstepin.”
“Idon’twantBentley.”
“Brantthen?”
Shesmirked.“Nah,he’stoohandsy.”
“ThenIguessyou’restuckwithme.”Hebentoverherhand.“MayIhavethisdance?”
Shecurtsiedlow.“Ithoughtyou’dneverask.”

ChapterForty-Four

rock’ssmilemeltedallherdefenses,makingherfeelbeautifulandsecure—althoughshewasstill

a bit nervous. She still hadn’t seen her sisters and she feared that they’d approach her and say
somethinghurtfulorembarrassing.Probablyboth.

Brock’ssmiledeepenedasheslowlyexaminedherfromheadtotoe.
Thismaninasuitwasadangerousthing,thewayhisbroadshouldersfilledouttheblackjacket.

Thestyleremindedherofsomethingshe’dseeninanoldhistoricalmovie.

Whichreallydidmakehimtheprince.
Hisauburnhairhadaslightwave;itwaspartedtothesidebutsheknewitwouldsoonfallpreyto

hishands,sincethatwashisnervousthing:runningahandthroughhishair.

“I’m glad you came.” Brock’s voice was deep, his eyes locked on hers. “Even though you’re

technicallyherewithtwoothermen.”

Brock’sgazeshiftedtohermouth,asifhewantedtokissher.Shestrainedtowardhimjustasthe

musicstoppedplaying.

Thedancefloorwasn’ttoocrowded.Peoplewerestaringatthem,probablybecausehewasabout

togetauctionedoff,Janeconcluded.

Herstomachclenched.
“So.” She cleared her throat. “What exactly am I supposed to be doing? I feel like I should be

helpingwhateverplanyouhaveherebutI’mcompletelyinthedark.”

“Well.” Brock cleared his throat. “Unbeknownst to the twins, we’re actually auctioning them off

for charity as well. There will be five bachelors total. Brant, Bentley, and”—he grinned smugly
—“Thomas and Lucas—Titus. They’re Nadine’s cousins and when given the option to get on her
goodside,Iknewtheywouldn’tsayno.”Hepausedandthenwhispered,“Igolast.”

Janenodded,carefultokeephersmilefrozenonherface.
“Andthen…”Brocksighed.“Thewomanwhobidsthemostwinsadatewithme.Eachofthetop

fivebidderswinssomething,butIonlyhavetogooutwithoneofthem.Ofcourse,mygrandfather
stillhashismindsetonmarriage—atleastaccordingtothemedia,butonlybecauseitmakessense:
richgood-lookingwoman,richgood-lookingman…Peopleareidiots.”

Jane’sthroatwentdry.
“But,”Brockpulledherintohisarms,“it’snotgoingtohappenthatway.”
“Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”Janeasked.
“Becausetechnically it’s notgoing to bea real auction. It’sfixed.” He eyedher boldly. “I…” He

reachedforherhandsandsqueezedthem.“Ithinkit’sprettyclearwhoIchoose…andit’sagirlina
golddresswithsevenfreckles.”

“Eight,”shecorrected,abitbreathless.“Youforgottheoneonmyass.”
Brockburstoutlaughing.“Imayhavetodosomeinspectinglater.”
“But,Brock,”Janesaid,suddenlyserious.“Whatwillhappenifthisdoesn’tworkoutthewayyou

wantitto?”

“Letmeworryaboutthat,”hegrowled.
“Butsee,that’sthething,”Shepulledawayfromhim.“Idoworry,becauseIdon’twanttobethe

reasonpeopledon’ttakeyouseriouslyortrustyou,orbackoutofadeal.”

“Jane—”
“Youwouldresentme.Maybenotnow,maybenottomorrow,butyouwouldresentme.Ithinkwe

haveenoughbaggagebetweenthetwoofus.Thelastthingweneedistoaddmore.”

Brock’seyesnarrowed.“Whatexactlyareyougettingat?”
“Nomatterhowthisturnsout,youhavetogothroughwitheverything.Imean,ifIdon’twin.”
“Youwillwin.”Hisvoicewasurgent.“Andifitdoesn’tturnoutthewayI’veplannedit,thenfine.

Fuckthemall.IloveyouandIchooseyou.”

“Butyourgrandfather,”Janesaidinasmallvoice,hereyesfindingthemaninquestion.Shecould

still remember the way he’d tried to convince her to take the million-dollar check and his almost
relievedexpressionwhenshedidn’t.

Somethingwasn’tright.Shejustdidn’tknowwhat.
“Jane, did my grandfather get to you? Is that what this is about? Did he try to pay you off? Or

threatenyou?”

Janefroze.“Well.”
“Jane.”Heexhaledloudlyandplacedhishandsonhershoulders.“Whatthehelldidhedotoyou?”
Her face flushed. “Well, he did offer me money to stay away from you. Enough money that I’d

neverhavetocleananothertoilet.Ever.ButthenheseemedrelievedwhenIturnedhimdown.”But
thatmadenosense.Whywouldhegotoallthattrouble?Somethingwasn’taddingup.

“Jane!”Bentleyelbowedhiswaytowardher,hissmilewide.
“We’lltalkaboutthislater.”Brockkissedhertemple.“Afteryouwin.”
Bentley’ssmilewidenedasheapproached.“Shecleanedupwell,amIright?”
JanerolledhereyesandstooduponhertiptoestokissBentleyonthecheek.Atthelastminutehe

turnedsohismouthbarelygrazedhers.“Sorry,couldn’thelpmyself.”

Brockcursedbesideher.“DothatagainandI’mcuttingoffyourdick.”
“Ooh…”BentleywinkedatJaneandtookalongsipofhischampagne.

“Remember, I offered to take you off his hands. Until you have a ring on your finger, offer still
stands.”Hisgazeheated.“Besides,he’stheonewiththetemper.I’mallaboutlove…sexualhealing…”

“I’ll do my best.” She shoved him away playfully as Brant approached the group. He had three

differentshadesoflipstickspreadacrosshisneck.

“Suchaselfishbastard.Leavesomeforus,too.”BentleycommentedonceBrantwasinfrontof

them.

Branteyedherupanddownagain.“Fortherecord,Brock,Iapprove.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Jane stepped into his arms. Brant always smelled like women’s perfume.

Always.Evenattheranch,whichreallymadeherwonderifhedidn’tjustwearitsothatotherwomen
gotjealous?

“Fruitofmyloins!”Charlescalledouttohisgrandsons.“Gather’round,mylittlechickens.The

auctionisabouttostartandIhavesomethingtosay.”

Thegroupfellsilent.
Nadine’slipswereformedintoanadoringsmileassheblinkedupatCharles.
“Tonight, Brock goes to the highest of the five bidders.” Jane tried to keep herself from tensing

whenhelookedherway.HiseyeslingeredonherthenbrieflyflickeredtoNadine.“Nowthatthat’s

settled…”CharleseyedBrock.“Whydon’twegotothestageandgetthingsstarted?”

Brockfroze.
Janesqueezedhishand.
“Brock?”Charlestiltedhishead.“Iseverythingallright?”
“No,”Brocksaid,andturnedtoJane.“Butitwillbe.”

ChapterForty-Five

justlovemeamanmarket.”NadineclappedherhandsnexttoJane,thenfluffedupherhairwithher

biddingpaddle.Itwasn’tshockingatallthatNadine’snumberwas666.

Jane’spaddlewasnumberone.
Shesmileddownatit.
When she glanced back up at the stage Charles was making his way across it, smile wide as he

approached the podium. “I’m very pleased to bring to you the first annual Bachelor Auction!”
Applauseeruptedalloverthebuilding,whileaverysmugBrockwinkedinherdirection.

Janeinclinedherheadtowardhimandsmiled.Hewasreallygoingtodoit!
“You.”Hemouthedtheword.
Charlescontinuedtalkingaboutthecancersocietyandwhyitwassoimportanttodonatetoacause

sodeartohisheart.

Cancerwasabitch.Janeknewthatfirsthand.
WhenCharleswasdonetalking,Brocksteppedforward.Heprobablyhadaspeechprepared,but

beyondthat,shehadnoideahowshewastoproceedexceptforliftingthepaddletobidonhim.

“Jane.”Brockgazedacrosstheroomtowardher.“Wouldyoustand,please?”
Loud whispers erupted from the crowd as Jane locked eyes with Brock and repeated the word

“trust”toherselfaboutfifteenmoretimesbeforefinallyrisingtostand.

Nadineelbowedhersharplyintheribsandwhispered.“Well?Areyoujustgoingtositthereand

gapelikeafish?Stand,girl!Present!AndfortheloveofGodliftyourtits;yourslouchishorrific!”

Janeboltedtoherfeet—mainlytokeepNadinefromrepeatingwhatshe’djustsaid,onlylouder—

andbeamedbackatBrock

Wasthispartofhisgreatplan?
Because she wasn’t really sure how pointing her out to everyone sitting there was a solid idea.

Especiallysinceherfacehadbeenplasteredalloverthenewsashis“before-auctionfling.”

“The Rosie Breast Cancer Foundation has special meaning to me, and to this young lady here. I

only hope that with the money raised tonight, we can help find a cure for such a terrible disease.”
Brock’ssmilegrewashecontinued.“Youngwomentakentoosoon,daughtersstolen,andmothers.”

Choking tears clogged her throat, and Jane had to focus really hard not to break down in sobs.

He’dremembered.

“Motherswhomustleavetheiryoungdaughtersbehind,”Hissmilewassadwhenhelookedback

ather.“Theauctionmaybeasillywaytoraisemoney,somemaysayit’sstupid,asinine,thedreamof
an old man popping too many blood thinners.” Everyone laughed, including Brock’s grandfather.
“But it’s so much more. This annual auction will bring in millions for cancer research, this silly
auction, may help cure breast cancer one day. If we had this cure today then this young lady right
here,Jane,wouldnotbestandingalone,withouthermother.”Hesmiledwarmly.“Sotodaywehonor
Jane, we honor the fallen mothers, daughters, sisters, wives who could not be present because they

werestolenfromus.”

Tears filled Jane’s eyes as a warm hand grabbed hers and squeezed. “I take it you knew Rosie?”

Nadinewhisperedkindly.

“R-rosie.”Janefoughtthelumpinherthroat.“Wasmymother.”
“Oh,dear.”NadinewrappedanarmaroundJaneandsighed.“Ididnotknowyourmother,butIam

one.Andusmothers,grandmothers—we’reallgiventhatsamegenefromGod.Theonethatallows
ustoinflictfearintothemostwickedoftoddlers,givesustheabilitytomulti-taskandstillenjoylife,
the ability to love through the mud, sweat, tears, the strength to wake up every day and breathe life
intotheworld,tomakeitabetterplace—soknowwhenIsaythis,Idonotsaythislightly.Isaythis
with the utmost wisdom from years of being a woman.” She paused. “Your mother would be so
proud,babygirl.”

TearsspilledoverJane’scheeks.“Thankyou.”
“Now.”Nadinegaveheronelastsqueeze.“UseallthatmoneyIdepositedintoyourghostaccount

andbuyyourselfaman.”

“Ghostaccount,”Janerepeated.“Idon’tknow…”Shakingherheadshestareddowntheobviously

senilewoman.“Whatdoyoumean,‘ghostaccount’?”

“Well,theaccount!”Nadinewavedherhandintheair.“Theoneyousignedforwhenyouwalked

in!Didyouthinkthirtygrandwouldwinyourman?Maybehispinkytoe.”Shesnorted.“Butyouwant
thewholething,amIright?”

“Um,yesplease.”Janeburstoutlaughing.Wasthisreallyhappening?Itwaslikeshe’dsteppedinto

afairytale.

“Just think of me as your fairy godmother.” Nadine winked. “When Brock mentioned that he

neededmyhelp,Icouldn’ttransferthemoneyfastenough.Oh,he’llpaymebackonedaysoit’snot
likeI’mlosingoutonanything,andevenifhedidn’t—it’sforlove.Right?”Nadinewinked.“Besides,
hadanyonetoldyoubeforehandthatwewereplanningthis,yourshockwouldn’tlookrealwhenyou
actuallywin.It’swhyItoldhimnottotextyouormakedirectcontact,whyweenlistedBentley,that
rogue,tohelp.Ihaveplansforhim,too.Justyouwait.”

Everythingsuddenlymadesense.
Bentley.Brock.Trustingbothofthem,andhowNadinefitinwitheverything.
“But, I still may not win. I mean if Brock is going to be a high bid…I would need…a lot of

money.”

“Eh.”Nadinecoughedintoherhandandwavedtowardthestage.“Dear,IdobelieveBrockandI

havethoughtofeverything.Now,let’shavesomefun.”

Jane looked up to see Brock smiling down at her. “Now, let’s get the First Annual Bachelor

Auction started.” He nodded to his grandfather and took a step back as Charles grabbed the
microphone.

“Item number one.” Charles paused and then looked up at Brock with a mixture of shock and

amusementashecalledoutfromthecardshewasholding.“BentleyWellington.”

Someone in the crowd gasped and then several people started clapping. Jane felt herself relax.

Brock’splanjustmightwork!

“Fivehundreddollars!”Charlesyelled.“DoIhearfivehundreddollarsforBentleyWellington?”

HewasshakinghisheadindisbeliefatBentley,who’dappearedonthestage.

Nadinelaughedbehindherhand.
Therewerefivemenonstage.
ThreeofthemwereWellingtons.

Tearsfilledhereyes.
Theyweredoingthisforher.
ForBrock.
Jane raised her paddle out of kindness. Bentley looked ready to kiss her feet and proclaim true

love—damn,thatmanwasadangertowomenwithhiskillersmile.

“Watchthis,”Nadinesnickered,liftingherpaddle.
Bentleywentcompletelypale,andhismouthdroppedopenashegaveJaneapsychotic,wide-eyed

look.

“Bidmeup,dear,thisishowthesethingswork.”Nadinesaidoutofthesideofhermouth.
Janeliftedherpaddle.
Bentley,onceagainrelieved,exhaledloudly.
OnlytopaleagainwhenNadineraisedherpaddle.
Thiswentonforagoodfifteenminutes.
“Most stressful moments of that boy’s life,” Nadine murmured. “Although I find I’m quite

enjoyingmyself.”Sheliftedherpaddleagain.

Janeburstoutlaughing.“Youreallyshouldputhimoutofhismisery.Helookslikehe’saboutto

haveastroke.”

“Oh,fine.”Nadinecoughedintoherhand,andinstantlyanotherpaddleroseacrosstheroom.
“Tenthousanddollars.”
Jane’seyeswidenedasanelderlyladyshoutedfromthebackoftheroom.“Who’sthat?”
“My first choice,” Nadine smiled warmly. “She’ll be so great for our Bentley. He’ll have to see

pastafewthingsfirst,butIhavefaiththatitwillgogreat.”

Janefrowned.“Theladylooksyourage.”
“Oh, Prudence isn’t bidding for herself.” Nadine laughed. “She has a lovely granddaughter that

needsalittlecheeringup.”

“Cheeringup?”
“Goingonce,twice,”Charlessaidinthedistance.“Sold!ToPrudenceMcCleery!”
Nadinesighed.“Yeswell,eversinceMargotlostherlegshe’sbeenimpossibletolivewith.”
“Lost,”Janerepeated,“herleg?”
“Justone.”Nadineshrugged.“Shehasanother.Butsometimeswheninpainwefocusontheloss,

notthegain.”

“But—”
“Ohlook,Brant’sup!”
Bentleywalkedoffthestage,sweatmarksmarringhisarmpitsashetuggedoffhistieandmadea

beelineforthebar.Helookedlikehe’djustseenaghost.

“Thisone’sagooddealmoredifficult,”Nadineraisedherpaddlewhentheopeningbidwentout,

thenelbowedJanetodothesame.

Brant’sexpressionwasstone.Hedidn’tshowhisemotionslikeBentleydid,soJanehadnoideaif

hewasangryorjustinhismentalhappyplacedrinkingshotsfromsomepoorwoman’sbreasts.

Brantwaswalkingtalkingsex,andsocompletelyunapologeticaboutitthattherehadtobeastory

there.

OnesheknewshewouldmostlikelynevergetifBranthadanythingtosayaboutit.
FortenminutesBrantstood,expressionindifferent,untilNadinecoughedagainandanewpaddle

flewintotheair.

“Twenty-fivethousanddollars.”Asmallvoiceechoedthroughtheroom.

Charles gaped and then glanced around the room. “Going once, twice, three times, sold, to

number…”Hesquinted,“Ma’am,Ineedtoseeyourpaddle.what’syournumberplease?”

“Zero,Zero,Five.”AgorgeousHispanicwomanwithbrightredlipstickandjetblackhairstood.
AndBrantflinched.
Once,twice.
Untilfinally,hisfaçadeshatteredandanexpressionofpuresadnesscrossedhisfeatures,onlyto

switchtoredhotangerashisjawclenched.

“Whoisthat?”JaneaskedNadine,“She’sabsolutelygorgeous.”
“Ohher?That’sBrant’sex-wife.”
“What?” Stunned, Jane watched the gorgeous woman smile toward the stage, but not directly at

Brant,andthenamantohersidegrabbedherhandandledherbacktothetable.“Wait,isshe—”

“Shewentblind,fromtheaccident.”
“Theaccident?”
Nadinedidn’tsayanythingelse,butBrantmovedfromthestagepastthebaranddirectlyoutthe

doorsoftheballroom.

“Isenseastory.”
Nadinesnorted.“Youhavenoidea.Thatlittlejackasshashaditcomingforawhile.”
Youcouldfeelthetensionswirlintheroomasthenexttwobachelorswereauctionedoffinthe

exactsamemannerasBrantandBentley.

Nadinecoughed.
Paddleswereraised.
Thenexttwobachelors,Nadine’scousins,couldn’thavelookedmoreangryiftheytried.
“Ohgood,Brock’snext.”Nadinesighedhappily.“Youknow,ifyouwantmetodotheinspection

beforehejumpsintothesackwithyouI’dbemorethanhappytovolunteer.”

“I,uh…”Janelaughed.“I’veseenunderthehood.”
“Ahussyaftermyownheart.”Nadinegrinned.“Oh,thehoodsIsawbeneathinmydaywere—”
“Andourlastitemoftheevening!”Charlesbeamed.“Myeldestgrandson,BrockWellington.”
Janewasjustgettingreadytoliftherpaddlewhenshelockedeyesonhersistersacrosstheroom.

Hadtheyjustarrived?She’dbeenthereatleastanhourandhadn’tseenthemanywhere.

Theywerealmostsittingoutside,theirtablewassofaraway;andtheylookedpissed,soangrythat

Janewantedtocrawlunderthetableandhide.Afterall,they’dbraggedaboutbeingabletobuytickets
totheballandstillhadn’ttalkedtohersincetheirfallingout.

Servedthemright.
ShesmiledpolitelythenlookedbacktoBrock.
“We’llstartthebiddingatfivehundredthousand.”
Janefroze.
Therewasnowayshehadthatmuchmoneyinherbiddingaccount,right?
“Honey,you’regoingtohavetoliftyourpaddle.”Nadinekickedherintheleg.
“Butthat’ssomuchmoney!”
“Funding cancer research and securing the love of your life, priceless. Plus I deposited three

million into that account this morning. I highly doubt you’re going to have any issues. Just toss up
thatpaddleandhavefun.”

“But—”
“Tobefair,it’sallWellingtonmoney.Remember,they’repayingitback.ButI’mcharginginterest

formyservices.”Shewinked.

Janedidn’twanttoaskwhatthatmeant.Notbyalongshot.
ShegulpedjustasNadinereachedforJane’shandandthrustitintotheair.
Insteadoflookingupset,Charlesbeamedintheirdirection.What?Thatcouldn’tberight,couldit?

“DoIhearfivehundredandfiftythousand?”

“Youdo,”cameavoicefromthebackoftheroom.

ChapterForty-Six

tworked.

Oritwasworking.
EverysingletimeJaneliftedherpaddle,hisheartjumpedinhischest.
God, he wanted nothing more than to run into her arms, kiss her senseless, bend her backwards

overthattableinfrontoffriends,family,Nadine.

Itdidn’tmatter.
Hewastiredofpretending.
Damnsickofsayingyesallthetime.
Thebiddinghadjusthitonemillion.Hetriednottopanicwhenseveralwomencontinuedtobidup

Jane.

Hewasfull-onsweatingwhenithittwomillion.
Thankfullytwoofthegirlsdroppedout,leavingJaneandoneofthesupermodelshe’djustseenon

TV.

“DoIhavetwo-point-fivemillion?”
Janedidn’tliftherpaddle,neitherdidanyoneelse.
“Goingtopaddlezero,zero,one…once,doIhavetwopointfive?Twice?”
ThankfullyJanethrustherpaddleintotheair.“Twopointfivemillion.”
“Sold!”Charlesbeamed.
BrockletoutabreathandmouthedthankyoutoJane,whobeamedlikeshe’djustwonthelottery

whenitwashewhowasthewinner—theluckyone.

“STOP!”avoiceshriekedfromthecorner.“Stoptheauction!”
Oh,hell.
BothofJane’ssisterscamebarrelingtowardthestage,theblondoneinsuchaskintightdressshe

couldbarelywalk,whilethedark-hairedonehadaslinkyblacknumberthatwasnearlyidenticalto
Nadine’sincutandstyle.

“She’sanimposter!”Theblondeshrieked.
“Andwho,mydear,areyou?”Grandfatheraskedloudly.
Shestraightened.“We’rehersistersandIcantellyourightnow,unlesssherobbedabank,shehas

no money. You’ve all seen the news! This is a setup, a complete setup! Brock obviously gave her
moneytobidonhim!Andthat’sillegal.”

“No, it isn’t,” Charles said simply. “And even if it were, every person had to prove where their

money came from at the beginning of the auction when they received their paddles and registered.
ThisisJane’smoney.It’snotuptoustoaskwhereshegotit.”

Janelookedreadytocrawlunderneaththetableandhide.Everyonewasstaringatherlikeshe’d

grown two heads. Some women had kind expressions while others were venomous, just like her
sisters.

Butagain.
Itwasallpartoftheplan.
Andheneededhertotrusthim.
She’dhelpedhimmakepeacewithhisdemons.
Nowitwastimetomakepeacewithhers—intheflesh.Thoughhehadn’tthoughtitwouldbethis

public.Heshouldhavesuspectedasmuchwhenhe’ddonatedtheticketsforhersisterstoattend.

HisonlygoalhadbeentomakesurethattheywereoutoftheirmindswithjealousywhenJanewon

thebidding—andwhentheylookedreadytoattack,hewasgoingtobeatherside,holdingherhand.

Essence’snostrilsflared.“She’saliar!Andafake.”
Esmeraldastartedtofakecry.“She’ssuchahorribleperson.Shemakesuscookandcleanforher

andwedon’tevenhavemoneyforfoodmostofthetimebecause—”

“That’senough,”Janesnappedandmarchedovertothem.“Getout.”Shepointedtothedoor.
Brockwasjustgettingreadytoopenhismouthorpossiblyslapawomanortwoforthefirsttime

inhislifewhenEssencebackedup.“See?Shedoesn’thaveadecentboneinherbody!”

Janesighedandshookherhead.“Giveusaminute?”
BrocknoddedasJanewalkedawaywithhersisters.Hisgrandfathertriedtogaintheattentionof

the crowd again, but everyone was fixated on the corner where Jane was currently talking to both
sisters,herhandsanimatedandintheair.

Sighing,hestartedtomakehiswayovertoherwhenEssenceslappedJaneacrosstheface.
Esmeraldacuppedherhandsoverhermouthinshock.
Essencelookedshockedaswell.
Janecuppedherfacewiththepalmofherhand.
Brockwasathersideinseconds.“Areyouokay,sweetheart?”
“I-Ithinkso.”ShefrownedatEssence.“Youslappedme!”
“I’msorry,I…”TearsfilledEssence’seyes.
Jealousywasanuglything.
HersistersstoodfrozeninplacewhileJanestareddownattheground,herhandstillcoveringher

cheek.“Idon’twanttoseeyouguysagain.”

Essenceshookherhead.“Ididn’tmeanit,Ididn’tmeantoIjust—”
“Leave.” Jane’s hand fell from her face. “Or I’ll have security escort you out. And the last thing

youwantistobeevenmoreembarrassedthanyoualreadyare.”

“But,”Esmeraldagaped.“We’refamily!Familystickstogether,you’vealwayssaidthat!”
“And I’ve always been the glue that kept us together. Do you realize how exhausting it is taking

careofyouguys?IloveyoubutI’mnotyourmaid.”

Brockwantedtoapplaud.
“Couldhavefooledme,”Essencesaidunderherbreath.
Brock had had enough. He motioned for security. Within minutes they were at the girls’ sides,

escortingthemoutamidstscreamingandname-calling.

Ifanyonewonderedwhothecrazyonewastheydidn’tneedtolookanyfurtherthanJane’ssisters.
Janestoodthere,calmlytakingitallin.
“WouldthewinnerofBrockWellingtonpleasecometothestageimmediately.”Grandfathersaid

intothemicrophone.

“Ichooseyou.”BrockwhisperedinJane’sear.“Iwillalwayschooseyou.”
He didn’t want to release her, but he knew his grandfather was most likely trying to do damage

control;hejustwasn’tsurehowhewasgoingtoaccomplishit.

Slowly,Janewalkedupthestairstothestage,headheldhigh.Brockfollowedclosebehind.
TheminuteJanewasonthestage,Grandfathergrabbedherhandandkissedit.
Whatthehell?
“This woman, right here”—his grandfather shook his head—“turned down a million dollars to

stayawayfrommygrandson.”

Brockbeamedwithpride.
“She’salsoresponsiblefortheveryfirstrealsmileI’veseenonmygrandson’sfacesincehewas

twelve.”

EmotionwelledinBrock’sthroat.
Grandfather ’seyesstartedtotearup.“IfallIknewwerethosetwotruths,itwouldbeenough.”He

nodded to Nadine. “Titus Enterprises was always going to sponsor a woman of their choosing in
ordertopartnerwiththecharity—thefactthattheychoseJanejustproveshowsmartitwasforusto
partnerwiththeminthefirstplace.Awomanwhowouldturndownmoneyratherthanneverseemy
grandsonagainisagoodpick.I’mproudtosaythatthefirstBachelorAuctionhasbeenaresounding
success.”

Stunned,BrockwatchedasGrandfatherpulledJaneinforahugandthenwhisperedoutoftheside

ofhismouth,“CheckMate.”

Brockstaredathim,confused.“I’msorry;what?”
“DidyoureallythinkyoucouldinvolveNadineTitusandnotyourowngrandfather?”
Brock’smouthdroppedopeninshock.“Butshesaidshewouldn’tinvolveyou;shesaid—”
“Thatwoman.”Grandfathershookhishead.“Don’ttrustherasfarasyoucanthrowher.But,we’ll

talk later. What’s important is you finally understand that I never wanted you to marry someone I
chose.Hell,ifthatwerethecaseyou’dbestuckwithsomeonelikethat.”Nadinewaspouringmore
wineintoherglasswhiletryingtotalkonherphoneandpulllipstickoutofherpurse.

“Butallthoseconversations,thethreatoftheauction…”Brocknodded.“Istilldon’tunderstand.”
“Though,”hisgrandfatherseemedtosayasanafterthought,“InearlydidhaveastrokewhenIsaw

fourmorenamesonthecard—itdoesmeproudthatyou’dthrowyourownbrothersunderthebus
for charity—and that they’d agree to do it because they know how much you love her.” His lips
twitched.“YourgrandmotherwouldrollinhergraveifsheknewhowbadlyI’dhurtyou.Itseemswe
needtohaveaverylongtalk,son,butfornow…”Hemotionedbacktotheauctionandgrabbedthe
microphone.“Nowthatwehavethatsettled,shallwedance?”

“Takeoffyourclothes!”Ashoutcamefromoneofthetablesatthebackoftheroom.
“Pardon?”Grandfathersputtered.“Whatwasthat?”
“BrockWellington!”Nadineshouted.“Thisyoungladyjustpaidovertwomilliondollarsforyour

sorryass.Youstrip,andyoustriprightthisinstant!”

“She’sdrunk;ignoreher,”Grandfatherchuckledawkwardly.
Clearlyeveryonewasdrunk,becausesoonwomenwerechanting“strip,strip,strip.”
Janeburstoutlaughingandshrugged.“Givethemwhattheywant.”
Suddenlythemusiccameonandthelightsstartedstrobing,anditwasasifhe’dbeencaughtina

horribleversionofMagicMike.

Horrified,hewasabouttowalkoffstage,butJanelockedeyeswithhimandsuddenlytherestof

theworldfadedaway.

Besides.Itmadeherlaugh.
Andhehadsaidthatwasallhewanted.
Her.

Hersmile.
Everythingabouther.
Slowly, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it at Jane’s face; then, with a smirk, he started

unbuttoninghissilkshirt.

Afterthethirdbuttonwomenstartedscreaming.
Camerasflashed,andBrockstruttedtowardJaneasheundidthenextfewbuttons,stoppinginfront

ofherwhenthelastfellaway.

Hegrabbedherhandsandpressedthemagainsthischest.
Shehelpedhimoutoftheshirtandtosseditintotheair,amidstscreamsandwhistles.
“I’mgoingtokissyounow.”Hegrinned.
“I’mgoingtoletyou.”
Theirmouthsmetinasearingkiss.Toosoonshepulledaway,laughingasNadineappearedbeside

her,phonehoistedintheair,snappingpictureafterpicture.

“Humiliation’scomplete.”Henodded.“Fantastic.”
“Thatissomestallionyou’vegotthere.”NadineelbowedJane.“Comeon,stallion,giveusagood

neigh.”

“Grandfather,”Brockinterruptedbeforethingsgotevenmoreawkward.Ifthatwasevenpossible.

“Aboutthattalk.”

“Tomorrow.”Grandfather ’seyesseemedtotwinkle.“Fornow,enjoythatyou’vebestedme.”And

thenhewinked,butbeforehewalkedawayhepausedmid-step,lookingbackoverhisshoulder.“By
theway,youdidmeproudtonight.”

Andthenhewasgone.

ChapterForty-Seven

ere you worried?” Jane whispered in Brock’s ear once they were back at his penthouse

apartment.Shewasstilltryingtogetovertheluxuryandopulencethathelivedin.Shetrulywasina
fairytale,andhewasherprinceineverywayimaginable.

“Never.”Ahungrykissfollowedhisconfessionasheslowlyinchedhisfingersdownherbackand

beganundoingherdress.“EspeciallysinceIhadaTitusonmyside.”

Janegaspedashepressedanopen-mouthedkisstoherexposedback.Slowly,hepulledherdress

tothefloorinapooloffabric.“Oneday…”Herbodyfeltheavyassheleanedbackagainsthischest.
“You’regoingtohavetotellmemoreaboutthatwoman.”

“That’s part of her charm—nobody really knows the truth. Did she run for president? Did she

workfortheCIA?IssheaRussianspy?”Brock’shotchucklesearedherskinashishandsreached
aroundherbodyandcuppedherbreasts,weighingtheminhishandswhilesimultaneouslypullingher
closertohisarousedbody.

“Russianspy?Seriously?”Janewasridiculouslycuriousbutwashavingahardtimeconcentrating

onanythingexceptthewayBrock’serectionpressedagainstherbackside—andhowallshewantedto
dowaswigglecloser.

“Idon’twanttotalkaboutsomeonewho’smorethanlikelyseenmygrandfathernaked.”Hebither

earlobe then started kissing down the right side of her neck. He turned her around to face him. His
eyes were dark with need. “Shocking, I know. But I’d rather be worshipping your body with my
mouthrightaboutnow.”

“That’sagoodplan…”Shetouchedherfingertipsagainsthislips.“Thankyou…forbeingwilling

togiveupeverything.”

“Inaheartbeat.”Hiseyesflashed.“Allofthis.Iwouldgiveupeverythingforyou.Knowthatwhen

Isay I loveyou it’s becauseyou’re special, beautiful, caring,unique. You driveme crazy, and now
thatIhaveyou—Ican’timagineeverlettingyougo.”

Tearsfilledhereyes.“Good.BecauseIwon’tletyou.”
“Oh?”
She slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. He stared down at her with a half-lidded gaze as she

removedhisshirt.

Whenhewasbarechestedbutstillinhistuxpants,shetookastepback,crossedherarmsoverher

breasts.“Well,goodnight,”shesaid.

Heblinkedatherinconfusion.
Thenhenarrowedhiseyesandcrookedhisfinger.
Shetookastepback,bitingdownonherliptokeepfromsmiling.
“Come here.” He kicked off his shoes then unbuttoned his pants before tossing them into a heap

nearherdress.“Jane,don’tmakemechaseyouagain.”

“Again?”

“Theranch.”Hetookasteptowardher.“ItfeltlikeeverydayIwaschasingyou,evenwhenIwas

telling myself it was a bad idea… Hell, sometimes when I look at you, I wonder if I haven’t been
chasingafteryou—thewomanIwasalwaysmeanttobewith—myentirelife.”

“You’vereallygotthewholeromancethingdown.”Shecouldn’thelpbutsmile.“Thetwinstaught

youwell.”

“Finalstraw.”Hechargedherandtossedheroverhisshoulder,thentossedherontohisbed.She

laughedasshelandedwithasoftthud,thenlethimpinherarmsaboveherheadwithonehandand
cupthebackofherheadwiththeother.“Nomoretalkofgrandparents,brothers,sisters,goats—”

“—cocks,”shefinished.
“Oh,wecanmostdefinitelytalkaboutthat.”Herubbedhisbodyagainsthers.“Infact,somemight

sayit’sencouragedinthebedroom.”

“Isthatso?”
Henodded,thenslidoffthelastremainingpieceofclothingshehadon,ifonecouldcallsucha

tinystripoffabricclothing—andflickedittotheside.

Allthatremainedwereherpearls.
Andsomehow,thatfeltright.
“Iloveyou,”hemoaned,coveringhismouthwithhers.“Iknowthisshouldbemoreromantic,but

damnit,Jane,Ijustwanttobeinsideyou.”

“Iwantthat,too—”She’dbarelyfinishedtalkingbeforehewasburiedtothehiltinsideher.Her

bodypurredwithpleasure.

“Sogood.”Hepressedanotherhungrykisstoherneck.“Youalwaysfeelsoperfecttome.”
“Iloveyou,Brock.”Shegavehimabreathlesskissasshegrabbedontoafistfulofhishairand

pulledhimdeeperanddeeperuntilshethoughtshewasgoingtoexplode.

“You’re mine, Jane.” He gripped the pearls, tugging her mouth toward his for another drugging

kissasheswallowedherscream.

“You’re mine, too,” she sobbed out as he sent her into what felt like a never-ending wave of

pleasure.

AndBrockWellington—BoringBrock,themanwho’dalwayssaidyeswhenallhereallywanted

tosaywasno—screamedouthisyes.

Andtrulymeantit.

ChapterForty-Eight

ouwantedtoseeme?”Brocksaidinagruffvoice.He’dbeenupallnightwithJane,andthelast

thinghewantedwastobereportingtohisGrandfather ’sofficeatsevena.m.becausehisgrandfather
hadsaiditcouldn’twait.

Andthat’sallhisgrandfatherhadsaid.
Itcan’twait.
But when Brock asked if it was an emergency, Grandfather had hung up on him. Figures. His

grandfatherhadactuallyseemedhappylastnight,happytoseeJanewin.Wasitpossiblehe’dchanged
hismindovernight?ItwasGrandfather.Ofcourseitwaspossible.

Itseemedlikeeverynewspaperinthenationhadcoveredtheauction,callingitatrueCinderella

story. Because of Nadine’s connections, inside information had been given to a few key magazines
thatmadeJanelookinnocentinthewholething.

AndoncethemedialearnedNadine’sfairygodmotherdonationtoJanehadallowedtrueloveto

win,well,themediahadgonewild.Howcouldhisgrandfathernotbepleasedwithalltheattention?

Heknockedtwiceonhisgrandfather ’sofficedoor,thenfinallyjustlethimselfin.
Andasperusual,hisgrandfatherwasseatedbehindhismassivedesk,hishairperfectlycombed,

hissuitstarchedwithinaninchofhislife.

“Brock.”Grandfathergrinned.“Sitdown.”
Brock narrowed his eyes at his grandfather then slowly lowered himself into the facing leather

chairandwaited.

“Ididn’tknowwhattodowithyou,”Grandfatherbeganinahoarsevoice.“Apartofyoudiedwith

yourparents.Don’tdenyit.”

Brockcouldn’t.Becauseitwastrue.ApartofhimdiddieandthenJanewentandfoundit.
“Ididapoorjobwithyouthree.”Grandfathershookhishead.“Youweresomucholderthanthe

twins,moremature,thatitfeltnaturalyouwouldfollowinmyfootsteps.AtthetimeIdidn’trealizeI
wasforcinganythingonyouthatyoudidn’twant.BythetimeIdidnotice,itwastoolate.Yourfear
guidedeverydecisionyoumade—untilJane.”

Brocksmiled.“UntilJane.”
Grandfathernoddedhisheadthoughtfully,thenstoodandcamearoundthedesktositdirectlynext

toBrock.

Hisgrandfatherhadneversatanywherebutbehindhisdesk.
Itwastoofamiliar.
Notasthreatening.
Stunned,BrockwatchedashisgrandfatherwipedatearfromhiseyeandshookhisheadatBrock.

“Nadineaskedformyhelp.”

“Wait,what?”
“AfteryoucameupwithyourharebrainedschemetohaveNadinesponsorJane,Nadineknewthat

theonlywaytorigthewholedamnthingwastocalloutfavorswitheachofthewealthiestfamilies
bidding.Ifyouhaven’tnoticed,Nadineisacompletemastermindofmanipulation.Shedidn’twantto
stop with Jane, though—no, that woman’s bloodthirsty—the minute she forced me to confess the
problemsI’dbeenhavingwithyouboysandtheshareholders,theentireplanexplodedintowhatI’d
liketothinkofasworlddomination.”Hechuckled.“ThoughBentleyandBrantwereneversupposed
tobeapartoftheauction—IseenowwhyIwasn’ttold.I’msurprisedtheydidn’tfleethecountry.”He
sighed.“IshuddertothinkoftheplansthatNadinehasforthosetwo.Idohopeyouknowwhatyou’re
doing, because they didn’t seem happy when they left—though God knows they need someone to
straightenthemout.They’rebeyondmyreach.”

“Why?”Brockblinkedinconfusion.“WhyhelpJane?Whyhelpme,forthatmatter?Whyallow

NadinetosponsorJaneinthefirstplace?”

“Oh, son.” Grandfather ’s smile was sad as he reached over and patted Brock’s hand, “Did you

really think I was such a horrible person for trying to make things easy on you? For taking the
choicesawayfromyou,thestress?WhatIthoughtwasablessingendedupbeingyourcurse,andfor
thatIwillneverforgivemyself.”Hestood.“AskingNadinetohelpwassmart—theshareholdersare
pleased,butmostofall,I’veneverbeenmoreproudofyouinmyentirelife.Youstoodupforwhat
youloved—Iknowthatifyourparentswerehere,they’dsaythesame.”Heinclinedhishead.“Last
night,Iwasproudtobeyourgrandfather.Youriskedeverything.Forlove.”

“Yeah.”Brocksmiled,justthinkingaboutJane.“Allforlove.”
Grandfather ’slipsformedanamusedsmile.“Exactlyasitshouldbe.”Hechuckledandshookhis

head. “All right, now leave an old man in peace. And don’t think I’m not still watching you!”
Grandfathergot up andmoved to hischair, pointing a strongfinger at Brock.“You better make an
honestwomanoutofthatJane.Marryher,givemegreat-grandkidstospoil.Nowyou’redismissed.”

Someoneknockedloudlyonthedoorthenitflewopen,andNadinecamestompingin.
SheignoredBrockcompletely,steppeduptohisgrandfatherandkissedhischeek.“Readytoget

thosetwinssettleddown?”

“Takenotes,Brock,”Grandfather ’seyesneverleftNadine’s.“Thisiswhatitlooksliketosellyour

soultothedevil.”

NadineandBrocklaughedwhileGrandfatherwrappedanarmaroundherwaist,andkissedheron

themouth.

“Everyoneneedsalittlesinintheirlives,”shewhispered.ThenshelookedatBrock.“Shoo!Go

findthatwomanyouwon,you!”

Atthat,Brockhelduphishandsandwalkedout.
Feelingthelightesthe’dfeltinyears.

ChapterForty-Nine

Threemonthslater

t’s beautiful!” Jane’s eyes filled with tears as the sign in front of her old home was finally

revealed. She and Brock had decided it would be best to sell her family home, especially once she
found out that her sisters were in such heavy debt that there was no other way out. She knew her
parents would understand, and even though the house had memories there was no better charity
organizationtosellitto.

Her home now belonged to the cancer charity that Wellington, Inc. and Titus Enterprises were

workingontogether.

Hersistersneversaidthankyou.
Infact,theyhadn’tsaidmuchsincetheball.
For a while she’d been sad, but then she looked at her new family, the one surrounding her, and

realizedwhatatruefamilywasabout:Support.Love.Kindness.

ThebestpartwasthatthecharitywasusingheroldhouseasRosieHouse,aplaceforfamiliesto

staywhilegoingthroughcancertreatmentsinPhoenix.

And all because of a grandfather with a cold and a keen sense of wisdom when it came to his

grandsonsandwhattheyneededoutoflife.

ShestillhadCinderellaCleaning,butaftersomeencouragementfromBrockshehiredmorestaff

and took a step back so that she could focus on Rosie House—something she realized she enjoyed
becauseitwasabouthelpingpeople

Justlikehercleaningbusiness,sometimesyouneededtopullbackthedirtandmuck,togettowhat

wasunderneathandmakeitshine.Shewasn’tacancerexpertbyanymeans,butsheknewpeople,and
therewassomethingsosatisfyingaboutmeetingallofthefamiliesandhelpingthemonsuchabasic
level.

“You’re beautiful,” Brock whispered in her ear. His hot kiss had her knees shaking as her body

trembledwithdesire—andhe’donlykissedherneck.Themanhadamouthonhim.Shewouldnever
gettiredofthewayhekissedher.

Honestly, he was her family now—well, him, the twins, and Charles. Her sisters had all but

disownedheroncethehousewassold—she’dtriedreachingoutbuttheyrefusedtoanswerhercalls.
Brockwasconvinceditwasbecausetheycouldn’thandleherfameandsuccess.

But she didn’t think of herself that way—even if the world did. The headlines after the ball had

beeninsane:

REALLIFECINDERELLAFINDSHERPRINCE

Iftheyonlyknewwhatithadtakentogettothatplace.
Shesmiled,thinkingabouttheranch,andalltheanimals.Theyweregoingtospendthenexttwo

weeksthere.

Charlesandthetwinswerecomingbyfordinnerandthenreturningtothecity.Itwouldbeniceto

havethefamilyalltogether.

“Youready?”Brockasked,hiseyesdancingwithexcitement.
“Yup.”Shenoddedandtookhishandasheledhertothewaitinglimo.
Oncetheywereinsideandthecarhadstartedtowardtheranch,Brockturnedtoher.Hehandedher

aglassofchampagne.

“Youleftyourshoe.”
“Huh?”
Brockgrinned.“ThefirsttimeIsawyou,youleftashoe;oractually,youbrokeashoe.”
“LikeCinderella.”Shegrinned.
“Yes.”Hehelduphishandthenreachedbehindhimandpulledsomethingoutofabag.
Janegasped.“That’smyblackshoe!”
“Sizeeightandahalfblackpump.Yes,itsureis.”
“Youkeptit?”Hereyesfilledwithtears.“Why?”
Hesmirked.“I’dliketosayit’sbecauseIknewthismomentwashappeningandIwantedtogetlaid

inthebackofalimo.”

Shesmackedhiminthechest.
“But I was cleaning out the closet, and found it. I’d stashed it there after I’d slept with it like a

completeassanddreamedaboutyourhair.”

Janesighedhappily.“That’sromantic.”
“Thereisnothingromanticaboutsleepingwithastiletto.”Hegrinned.“Butmaybethiswillmake

upforit.”Hehandedhertheshoe.

Insidewasasmallpalebluebox.
Tearsfilledhereyesasshegrabbedtheboxandslowlyopenedit.
Agiant,princess-cutdiamondshimmeredbackather.
Itwashuge.
Biggerthanherfist.
Okay,maybenotthatbig,butatleastafewkarats.SheswallowedalumpinherthroatasBrock

pulled the ring from the box and whispered. “You left your shoe, and took my heart with you that
night,andyou’vehaditeversince…Willyoumarryme?”

“Yes!”Tearsstreameddownherfaceasshethrewherarmsaroundhisneckandsobbed.
Thelimocametoastopandthenthedoorswereopeningonallsides.
“Thank God!” Bentley shouted, shoving his way into the limo. He looked like he was already

drunk.Anexpressionofpureirritationmarredhisfeaturesbeforehestraightenedandsaid,“Ifyou
didn’t hurry I was going to propose.” He licked his lips and winked at Jane. “Someone’s looking
good.” His smile looked forced—it didn’t help that his normally perfect features were marred by
darkcirclesunderhiseyes.

Brockgroaned.
Brantpiledinnext,followedbyCharles.
“Champagneforeveryone!”BrantshoutedwhileCharleschuckledandkissedheronthecheek.
“Youguysallknew?”shesaidaccusingly.
“Iwrotehisspeech,”Bentleyclaimed,stealingthechampagnefromBrant.
“Helies,”Brantyawned.“Also,thecockdied.”
Alltalkingceasedinthelimo.
“Becauseitcrossedtheroad.”Brantburstoutlaughing.“Yeah,Imaybedrunkalready.”
Well,thatexplainedthings.Somewhat.

Nomatterwhatthetwinsdid,theywerealwaysstillgettingintotrouble,thoughBentleyhadbeen

worselately,andconstantlyinthepapersforsleepingwithmarriedwomen.

Hislastconquesthadbeenasenator ’swife.
SomethingwasgoingonwithBentley,buteverytimesheaskedBrockaboutit,itjustseemedto

makehimsad,likehisbrotherhadfinallylostit.AndBrockandBentleyweredoinganythingthey
couldtogetBrantoutofthehouseandsmilingagain.

Whichwasanotherproblem.
Branthadstoppedsmiling.
Sowhileonetwinwastryingtocheertheotherupandwasmostlikelyintheprocessofgaininga

freefirstclasstickettothefiresofhell—theothershuteveryoneout.

Janefocusedonbothofthetwinsandsaidsoftly,“Youtwoshouldreallystopdaydrinking.”
“Fuckthat,”Bentleyslurred.HiseyeswerecoldwhenheglancedatJane,anditsentachilldown

her spine. This wasn’t the Bentley she knew. The Bentley she knew didn’t have a dark or menacing
boneinhisbody.“Sometimesamanjustneedstoforget,right,Brant?”

BrantclenchedhisjawandclinkedglasseswithhistwinwhileCharlessentBrockaworriedlook.
“Boys,” Charles said in serious voice. “Don’t be jackasses. Why, look what happened to Brock.

Youdon’twanttoforcemyhand—orNadine’s.”

“Brock’sthehappiesthe’severbeen,”Bentleypointedout.“IfIthoughtthatmydatewouldendup

halfasgoodI’dgetmyassoutofbedandactuallydosomethingworthwhile.”

“Here,here.”Brantlaughedandleanedagainstthedoorlikeheneededittohelpholdhimup.
“Besides,nothingwrongwithalittleass!”Bentleyshouted.“Damn,Imissthatdonkey.”
Janecouldn’tholdbackherlaugh.“Youknowyourfamily’sinsane,right?”
“Youlovethem.”
“Ido.”
“AndIloveyou.”Hekissedhercheek.“Somuch.”

***

Brockwalkedaroundthegroundsattheranch,histhoughtsscatteredashewelcomedthememories
ofhisparents.Forsolonghe’drefusedtodealwiththem.Theghoststerrifiedhim,hauntedhim,and
ratherthandealwithhismemories,he’dallowedthefearofthemtodefinehislife.

Butpaindemandedtobediscussed,memoriesdemandedtoberemembered.
Jane,afewfeetaheadofhim,wassmilingupattheskyasshelookedoverhershoulderandgave

himawink.

God,shewasperfect.
Soperfect.
Hisfatherwouldhavelovedher.
Hismotheraswell.
He’d grown up with so much laughter, so much emotion that, until now, he had no idea he’d

forsaken.

“Brock!”Janejoggedtowardhim.“What’swrong?Areyouokay?”
Hestaredintoherchocolatebrowneyesasthewindaroundthempickedup.Chillsrandownhis

armsashecontinuedtostare,andonthatwind,awhispercalled.“WelcomeHome.”

“Yeah.”Henodded.“I’mthebestI’veeverbeen.”
“Evenwiththetwinsattheranch?AndyourgrandfatherhavinganaffairwithNadine?”
“Shh, don’t ruin the moment,” he scolded, molding his mouth around hers. “Let’s just kiss and

forgetaboutthechaosofmyfamily.”

“Right.”Shekissedhimback.“Becausethat’saneasytask.”
Justthenaloudvoiceshouted,“Nosexinthepasture!”
“Bentley,”Brocksaidhisnamelikeacurse.“Wereallyneedtogethimmarriedoff.”
Shesighedandwrappedherarmsaroundhisneck.“HaveItoldyouIadoreyou?”
“Ihaveabetteridea,”hesmiledwickedly.“Showme.”

Pleasekeepreadingforapreviewofthenextbookintheseries

ThePlayboyBachelor!

ChapterOne

PresentDay

entleygroanedasthewoman,whosenamehe’dalreadyforgottenafewhoursago,spreadher

tonedthighsoverhisbodyandrodehim.Thescentofhervanillalotionclungtotheairasheslidhis
handsupanddownherhips.

Shewasjustanothernamelessface.
Another willing female in a long list of women who wanted to have a piece of the notorious

playboyBentleyWellington.

Becausethat’sallhewastoher—allhewastoanyone.Andmostofthetime?Hewascompletely

okay with it—he had to be. A familiar tightening threatened to choke him and completely ruin his
morning.Hefeignedboredom.

Andcoveredhisyawnwithhishandasshestartedtoincreaseherspeed,herbreathcomingoutin

smallfakepantsthathadhimsportingaboredgrin,asiftosayisthatthebestyoucando?Shewoke
himup?Forthis?

Herseethingglaresaiditall.
Hewasajackass.
Then again, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been painfully aware how much of a player he was. With a

smug-as-hellsmirk,hewinked.“Thatthebestyoucando,Sarah?”

“It’s Christine!” She smacked his chest and panted as she rode him harder, her skin slapping

against his in a way that should have felt good but instead irritated the hell out of him. “You’re a
completeasshole!”

Hegrippedherhipsandquickenedhermovementswithdeepthrusts.“But…”Anotherpunishing

thrust.“I’mahandsomeasshole.”Herlipspartedonamoanasheleanedupandfinishedwhatshe’d
started.“Right?”

“Thelastthingyouneed,”shesaidinabreathywhisper,“isformetostrokeyourego.”
“Aw.” He made a face and pulled free from her body. Bored. Angry that she was speaking. And

maybe a little bit sick of himself, if he was being completely honest. “Play fair. I’m always in the
moodforagoodstroking.”

Her bright blue eyes flashed before she rolled off his sweaty body and out of the bed. “I’m

leaving.”

“Thatwasfun,Sarah,”hecalledafterher.“Weshoulddoitagainsometime.”
Shescreamedinfury,andtwominuteslaterthedoorslammed.
Frowning, he sat up on his elbows. Now, that was a bit of an overreaction. Whatever. Whenever

one left, there were at least a hundred waiting in line, willing for a glimpse or even just one small
tasteofwhathehadtooffer.

His sexual appetitive was huge—and legendary. But basically Bentley had a problem with

boredom.Hehatedmarriage,commitment,dating…really,anythingthatsoundedlikelong-term.

Becauselong-termmeantexactlylikeitsounded.
Long.
Term.
Like a contract he couldn’t get out of. And the last thing he needed was to allow someone in—

someonewhowouldwanttoshareallofhisdemons,orworse—freehimfromthem.

Thedooropenedagainandclickedshut.
“Back for more?” He chuckled and pulled the covers over his naked body, waiting for whatever

hernamewastocomebackinandfinishthejobshe’dstarted.Damnit,hecouldhaveswornhername
reallywasSarah.

Hesnappedhisfingers.No,no,Sarahhadbeenthenightbefore.Amazingmouth.Jetblackhair.
Hehardenedagainjustthinkingabouthowshe’dusedherlongsilkyhairto—
Ashadowyfigurestompedtowardhisbedsidewithclenchedteethandafuriouslookinhiseyes.

“Shouldn’tyoubeonyourway?”

“Onmyway?”Bentleyrepeated,fistingthesheetswithhishands.Hisgrandfatherwasagiantpain

intheass.“Tohell?”Anothernonchalantshrug,becausethatwaswhathisgrandfatherwasusedto.He
wastheyoungertwinbyafewseconds,theonewhowouldneveramounttoanything—thoughnotfor
lackoftrying.

Adullpainflaredinhischest,asifhisgrandfatherwasstandingonhisribsratherthantowering

overhimfromthesideofthebed.

“Don’tbeajackass.”Hisgrandfather ’smouthtwistedintoadisappointedfrown.
“Prudence McCleery spent ten thousand dollars for your services. You’re due to arrive at their

countryestatetodayandmakegoodonyourpromise.”

“Right.”Bentleyhadn’tforgotten.Howcouldhe,whenhe’dbeennearlyscarredforlifetwoweeks

ago as every rich woman in the greater Phoenix area had tried to win him at auction? The charity
event had been his grandfather ’s grand plan to get his brother Brock married off, but Bentley and
BranthadsteppedintohelpsaveBrockforthewomanhewastrulymeanttomarry.

He’dassumedsomebored,rich,trophywifewouldtakehimhome,haveherwaywithhim,then

slaphimontheassandsendhimonhisway.

Instead,awomanwithbrightgreeneyesandequallybrightwhitehairhadliftedherpaddle—and

basicallypurchasedhimforaweekendgetaway.

Bentleylikedolderwomen,justnotthatold.
Thankfullyhe’dfoundoutlaterthathewasn’tbeingbidonforthesilver-hairedwomanatall—but

for her granddaughter. And suddenly the past, his past, became the present as images of a girl with
brightredhairburnedhisvision.

“Itried.”Grandfather ’sshouldersslumped.“Itriedtodorightbyyouboys.MaybeIwasjusttoo

focused on grooming Brock to lead Wellington, Inc. to realize how horrible you and your brother
haveturnedout.”

“Thanks?”Bentleyofferedwithagrimace.Itwasn’tlikeBentleydidn’tworkforwhathehad,he

justdidn’tworkveryhard—afifty-million-dollartrustfundhadawayofdoingthattoaman.

Afterall,peopleworkedtomakemoney.
Theyworkedforsuccess.
Andhealreadyhadthosethings.
Anaggingvoiceshatteredhisconfidence,thesamevoicethatremindedhimhowheusedtobea

manwho’dhaddreams—anactualpurpose—direction.

Andthatsamevoiceremindedhimthathislifehadbecomeaboringuselesscycleofusingwomen

andhidingwhohereallywasfromtheworld.

Becausethelasttimehehadtriedtobehimself,he’dbeenshattered.
Hisworldhadbeenshattered.
Itwasn’tworthit.Itwaseasiertobetherich,good-looking,boredplayboywholistedfuckingas

anactualhobbyonhisrésumé.

He’dbeencalledblack-hearted.
Amanwhore.
Awoman-shaming,prostitute-lovinggambler.
Hell,he’dbeencalleditall.
And he always shrugged it off. Nothing touched him, at least not typically, but today his

grandfather ’scommentsnakeditswayaroundhisthroatandtookhold.

“The VP of marketing stepped down this morning,” his grandfather said thoughtfully. “I want to

hirewithin.”

Bentley froze; his heart hammered against his chest. On the outside, he was calm, rational,

thoughtful,butontheinside,hewasfreakingthehellout.“Oh?”

“Yes.”Grandfatherleveledhimwithaperceptivestare.“Idon’tsupposethatwouldbesomething

you’dbeinterestedin…Youdorealizeyou’llhavetotake‘fucking’offyourlistofhobbiesinorder
formetoactuallyprocessyourrésumé.”

Bentleysmirked.“Itwasajoke.”
Grandfather ’seyesweregraniteashenarrowedthem.“Itwasn’tfunny,norwasitprofessional.”
“Brantthoughtitwasfunny.”
“Your brother doesn’t count.” Grandfather ’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but thought

betterofit.“So…whatdoyousay?”

“Areyousayingthatyou’llgivemeanactualpositionwithinyourcompany?”
Withaheavysigh,Grandfathernoddedhisheadonce.“Theboard,ofcourse,won’tliketheidea.”
“Theycangotohell.”Bentleyclenchedhisteeth.
“Itmighthelpyourimage”—Grandfather ’sbodywasrigidashespoke—“tobeseendoingcharity

work.”

Hell.Itwoulddomorethanhelp.ButhehadalifeinPhoenix.Onethatonmostdaysheactually

enjoyed,oratleastliked.

Andhewasacreatureofhabit.
“Or don’t take the job and keep sleeping with every woman who will spread her legs in hopes

you’llgetherpregnantandbeforcedtopaychildsupport.”

Lowblow.
“I’llgo.”Bentleysighed.Itwasn’tlikehehadachoice,notifhewantedthejob,notifhewanted

more purpose outside of what he already did for the company, which was basically just smile for
picturesandwavewhentheyhadcharityeventsandexpensivedinners.Hewasaprettyface.Theonly
workhe’deverdoneforWellington,Inc.hadbeenaninternshiprightaftercollege,andhehadbeen
bored out of his mind—it had been too easy, but his grandfather had refused to promote him to a
positionthatcarriedanyrealweight.SoBentleyhadquit.Becausethatwaswhathedidwhenthings
didn’tgohisway.Hequit.

“Ofcourseyouwill.”Grandfatherstraightened.“You’regoingtobelate.”
“Doesitmatter?”Bentleysnorted.
“Punctuality always matters.” Grandfather stood. His thick gray hair was swirled into one

sweepingcurlthatfellacrosshisforehead.BentleyandBrantmightbeplayboys,butGrandfatherhad
anInstagrampagededicatedtothatverycurl.Andhewaspushingeighty-eight.

Grandfatherliftedabrow.“Well,boy?Aren’tyougoingtopack?”
Bentleyclenchedhisteethuntilhefeltliketheyweregoingtocrack.“I’mnaked.”
“Ain’tnothingIhaven’thadthegreatdispleasureofseeingbefore.”Heunclenchedhisfists.“Now

getyourshittogetherbeforeIcutyouoffandgiveyourtrustfundtoyourbrothers,andhireBrant
fortheVPposition.”

“Youwouldn’t.”Thewordsrushedoutbeforehecouldstopthem.
“Iwould.”
“Youhateme.”
“Iloveyou.”Grandfathersobered.“You’retwenty-seven,Bentley,timetostopplayingaroundand

actuallytakeresponsibilityforyouractions,startingwithPrudenceMcCleery’sgranddaughter.”

“Margot,”Bentleywhisperedwithoutthinking.
“Whatwasthat?”Grandfathercuppedhisear.
“Nothing.”Avisionofredluscioushairthatwentonfordaysburnedbeforehiseyes,andbright

green eyes and freckles. At sixteen she’d been breathtaking but quiet, too shy for someone like
Bentley.

Hell,she’dbeentoogoodforhim.
Toonice.
Tooproper.
Tooperfect.
Andnow…toosad.

ChapterTwo

is eyes whispered a promise his words had failed to do,” Margot read the words out loud as the

sound of her fingernails tapping against the computer keys filled the room. “‘I love you,’” he
declared,tuckinghisbeaverhatunderhisarmashetookasteptowardherwaitingarms.”

Shehesitatedandcontemplatedthecomputerscreen.Iloveyou?Wasthatit?
Shehadexactlyforty-sevenchaptersofhistoricalcrap.
Crapshehadtoturninwithinthirtydaysifshehadanyhopeofmeetingherdeadline.
Sheglaredathercomputerandtriedagain.Thescenewaspivotal;ithadtobeperfect,itneededto

bebelievable.

Then again, what was believable about a rich rakish duke falling for one of his scullery maids,

onlytodiscovershewasreallypartofthegentry?Evenifshecamefromagoodfamily,itwouldstill
befrownedupon.Itwasn’taccurate,anditbotheredher,butitwasromantic,andthatwaswhyshe’d
decidedtowriteit.

Itwasahorribleidea.
Butthatwaswhatsold.
RakesandRogues.
Andpoorsadwallflowerswhosomehowmagicallybecametheobjectoftheiraffection.
ItwascompleteBS.
She’dbeenthatwallflower.
Shewasthatwallflower.
And nothing, not one thing, had set her apart from the other girls. Men might say they wanted

character, they wanted something different. They claimed they wanted the girl next door, child-
bearinghips,whatever.Theiractions,however,andthewomentheyactuallydated,saiditall.

Skinny.
Botoxed.
Implanted.
Airheads.
Margotslammedherhandsagainstthekeyboardandstoodinahuff.
Itwashisfault.
Becausehewaslate.
Notthatshewantedtoseehim,anyway.
Butstill,itgratedonhernerves.
Inamomentofcompleteinsanity,hergrandmother,Godblessher,hadbidononeofthecountry’s

mostnotoriousplayboysinanauctionsetupforcancerresearch.

Unfortunately,hergrandmotherhadwon.
Margotstillrememberedthephonecallfromthatnight.
“I’velandedyouaman!”Hergrandmotheryelledloudenoughforhalfthecountrytohear.“Paida

prettypennyforhimtoo!Oh,muffin,you’lllovehim,he’sstrong,and—”

“Youbought”—Margotpressedherfingertipsagainsthertemple—“aman?”
“He was spendy, too.” Grandmother slurred her words a bit. “Cost at least half of what I was

willingtospend,though.”

“Half?”
“Tenthousanddollarsisn’ttoosteep!”
Margotchoked.
Grandmotherlaughed.
“Areyoudrunk?”
“Ihadthewhiskeys,yes.”Hergrandmothersighedhappily.“Suchadeliciousburn.Didyouknow

TitusEnterprisesjustclosedadealonHoneyWhiskey,Incorporated?Nadine’ssuchadear,sheeven
brought me a few bottles. Has her sights set on McCleery Whiskey too, but we’ll cross that bridge
whenwegetthere.”

Margotgroanedandsatdownonthebed.“Afewbottles?”
“Ten,”Grandmotherslurred.“Orwasittwelve?DidIhavetwo?Ha-ha.”
“Grand—“
“Youknowhim!Thisman.”
“Themanyoupaidtengrandfor?Thatman?”
“Yournewfriend.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need you to buy me a man. I can find my own man,” Margot said through

clenchedteeth.

“How’sthatworkingoutforyou,love?”
“I’mbusy!”shesnapped.
“You’resad.”
“I’m—”Margotclenchedherlefthandintoafistandrefusedtostaredownatheronegoodleg.

Sheflexedthetoesofherleftlegandtriednottostareattheright.“I’mnotsad.I’mfine.Ihavemy
books.Ihavemyhouse.Ihavemywork—”

“Youhavewildtomcats,tooandcatsareabadomen.”
“Howmuchwhiskeydidyousayyouhadagain?”
“Whiskeys.Plural,”Grandmothercorrected.“Now,he’sgoingtoreporttotheestateintwoweeks.

He’llarriveatnineinthemorning.Itoldhimtobepunctual.Andyou’retogivehimthedownstairs
blueroomduringhisstay.”

“Hisstay!”Margotyelled.“He’snotstayinganywhere!”
“Ofcourseheis.”Grandmasaidinsoothing,albeitslurredtones.“It’spartofthepackage.Hah,

nothispackage,butthepackage.Iboughthim,andonceoldWellingtondiscoveredwhatImeantto
usehimfor,hegavememorethantheweekendthatwasupforbid.Yougethimafullmonth.”

Margotsuckedinabreath.
“Iknow!Thirtydays!”
“DidyousayWellington?”
Pleasedon’tsayBentley.LetitbeBrant,healwayshadateasingsmile,orBrock,theseriousone.

Noitwouldn’tbeBrock;didn’thejustgetmarried?

“Bentley Wellington!” Her grandmother shouted with glee, confirming Margot’s worst fears and

causing her eyes to search the room for her bottle of Xanax. “Lovely man. When he keeps it in his
pants,which,let’shopeforthesakeofmygreatgrandchildrenhedoesn’t—”

TearsburnedthebackofMargot’seyesassheblinkedawaytheblurryvisionofaboyshe’dalways

wanted.

Andneverhad.
Hewasamannow.
FeaturedinForbes,amongothermagazines.
Hedatedsupermodels,celebrities,prettywomen.
Nother.
Sheglanceddownatherrightprostheticleg.Theamputationhadbeenmaderightbelowherknee,

sowhileherthighlookednormal,therewasnofoot,noankle,notoes.

Definitelynotwomenlikeher.
“Oh,mustgo,I’llfillyouinlateronthemorepertinentdetails.”Hergrandmotherhungupbefore

Margotcouldprotest.

Whywould Bentley evenagree to beauctioned off? It madeno logical sense.He was either that

bored,stupid,ordoingitforgoodPR.Godknewheneededit,sincehe’dallegedlybeenhavingan
affairwithasenator ’swife;notthattherumorswereeverconfirmed.

Andnowshewasgoingtobestuckwithhim.
Margotshookherheadatthememoryofhissmileandwanderedovertothewindow.Asenseof

dreadfilledherasaredsportscarspedupherdriveway,scaringthecrapoutofeverysmallcreature
initswayandkickingupenoughdusttomaketheroadnearlyimpossibletosee.

BentleyWellingtonhadarrived.

Acknowledgments

Icouldlistallthehundredsofpeoplewhomadethisbookpossible.AndIoftendo.Ithankeveryone
in my life and I still always forget someone. It’s ridiculous. It takes the whole world (or at least it
seems)togetabookofftheground.

First, I’m so thankful that God has given me this incredible opportunity—all honor and glory

alwaysgoestohimfirst.Second,myfamilyisamazingforputtingupwithmewhenI’mondeadline!
Myhusbandtookoursononalotofwalkswhenmamawas“typing”furiouslyathercomputertrying
tofinishthisbook!

My amazing PA, Jill—more of a sister to me than anything: Thank you for your tireless hours

workingwithmeandthanksforbeingjustamazingingeneral.

My beta readers, sister Kristin Van Dyken (Vayden, her books rock!) Liza Tice, Jill, and Jessica

Prince(moreawesomebooks):Thankyouforalwaysbeinghonestwithme!

To Bae (you know you who are) and Wife (aka Lauren Layne): Thanks for keeping me sane on

mostdaysandnotthinkingI’mcrazywhenIsendyouwinetextsatnoonthatgo,“It’salmostfivein
NewYork,right?RIGHT?”

Erica:thebestagentintheworld.No,seriously,guys.Ifullythinkshewouldtakeabulletforme

(let’snotaskherthough,justincase)LOL.Sheisoneofthehardestworkingagentsoutthere,Istill
pinchmyselfwhenIthinkabouthowluckyIamtohaveherinmycorner.Ifsheeverbreaksupwith
me,I’mstalkingher(YouknowIwouldtoo,Erica).

Amy:Hehe,thisisourfirst“real”projecttogether.Iwasterrified.Iknowhowhonestyouare.But

I also know you know what you’re talking about. Thanks for taking an “OK” book and making it
spectacular,becauseItrulyfeellikeyoumademagic.Youcompletelyshovedmeoffacliffandoutof
mycomfortzone,andforthatIwillalwaysbethankful.Youareabsolutelyfearlesswhenitcomesto
editing,andI’msoblessedtoalsobeabletocallyoumyfriend.

I’msohappytobebackwithForeverRomance.
DaniandInkslingerPR:Thanksforallyourhardworkwithgettingthisbookready,andbloggers,

GAH!Youareincredible;thankyouforallthatyoudo!IknowIdon’tsayitenough!

Readers:There’sareasonyoudistractedmefromdeadlines;Iliterallyjustwanttohangoutwith

youguysallthetimeandtalkaboutallthebooks.Thankyouforbeingsoloyal,sodedicated,andjust
beinglikefamilytome.Iloveyouallsomuch!!

IhopeyouenjoyedBrock’sstory!LookformoreoftheBachelorsofArizonainthenextbook,

whereweseeBentleygethisasshandedtohim;)

Hugs,
RVD

AbouttheAuthor

RachelVanDykenistheNewYorkTimes,WallStreetJournal,andUSA Today bestselling author of
Regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at
StarbucksandplottinghernextbookwhilewatchingTheBachelor.

ShekeepsherhomeinIdahowithherhusband,adorableson,andtwosnoringboxers!Shelovesto

hearfromreaders!

Wanttobekeptup-to-dateonnewreleases?TextMAFIAto66866!

AlsobyRachelVanDyken

TheBetseries

TheBet

TheWager

EagleEliteseries

Elite

Elect

Thankyouforbuyingthisebook,publishedbyHachette

Digital.

Toreceivespecialoffers,bonuscontent,andnewsaboutourlatestebooksandapps,signupforour

newsletters.

SignUp

Orvisitusat

hachettebookgroup.com/newsletters

ChapterThirty-Nine
ChapterForty
ChapterForty-One
ChapterForty-Two
ChapterForty-Three
ChapterForty-Four
ChapterForty-Five
ChapterForty-Six
ChapterForty-Seven
ChapterForty-Eight
ChapterForty-Nine
APreviewofThePlayboyBachelor
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
AlsobyRachelVanDyken
Newsletters
Copyright

Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsaretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareused
fictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,locales,orpersons,livingordead,iscoincidental.

Copyright©2016byRachelVanDyken
ExcerptfromThePlayboyBachelorcopyright©2016byRachelVanDyken
CoverdesignbyElizabethTurner
CoverphotographybyClaudioMarinesco
Coverphotograph©TrinetteReed/GettyImages
Covercopyright©2016byHachetteBookGroup,Inc.

HachetteBookGroupsupportstherighttofreeexpressionandthevalueofcopyright.Thepurposeofcopyrightistoencourage
writersandartiststoproducethecreativeworksthatenrichourculture.

Thescanning,uploading,anddistributionofthisbookwithoutpermissionisatheftoftheauthor’sintellectualproperty.Ifyou
wouldlikepermissiontousematerialfromthebook(otherthanforreviewpurposes),pleasecontactpermissions@hbgusa.com.
Thankyouforyoursupportoftheauthor’srights.

Forever
HachetteBookGroup
1290AvenueoftheAmericas
NewYork,NY10104

forever-romance.com
twitter.com/foreverromance

FirstEdition:October2016

ForeverisanimprintofGrandCentralPublishing.
TheForevernameandlogoaretrademarksofHachetteBookGroup,Inc.

Thepublisherisnotresponsibleforwebsites(ortheircontent)thatarenotownedbythepublisher.
TheHachetteSpeakersBureauprovidesawiderangeofauthorsforspeakingevents.Tofindoutmore,goto
www.hachettespeakersbureau.comorcall
(866)376-6591.

ISBN978-1-4555-9871-7(massmarketedition)
ISBN978-1-4555-9870-0(ebookedition)

E3-20160830-DA-PC

Document Outline

Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
A Preview of The Playboy Bachelor
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Rachel Van Dyken
Newsletters
Copyright

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:

więcej podobnych podstron

The Bachelor Auction (The Bachelors of Arizona #1) Rachel Van Dyken

Document Outline