Love Under Two Private Dicks [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2

  Both men had seemed larger than life to her the first day she’d seen them, that day they’d walked into Lusty Appetites to meet with Chloe and Carrie Rhodes. They were the two private investigators who’d been hired by the Lusty Town Trust to try and locate the man who’d stolen the Rhodes sisters’ inheritance just after they’d been orphaned.

  In the time she’d gotten to know them, she’d come to realize they were men like no others she’d ever known. If she had to characterize them, she would say that Mel was the lover, and Connor the fighter. Mel seemed more at ease, more laid back. Connor, she had no doubt, would be a very dominant man—and maybe a very dominant lover.

  Emily Anne looked from one to the other of them. She’d been holding them both at arm’s length, doing her best to keep them dangling, as the old women used to say. And they’d proven themselves because they had not been easily discouraged, or chased away.

  “I do indeed.” Connor Talbot stepped forward, and gently stroked her chin with one finger. “Angel eyes, you look as if you’re getting ready to do battle. Lead the way. We’ve got your back.”

  We’ve got your back. It occurred to Emily Anne right then and there that she’d been making these two men pay for the transgressions of another.

  Maybe it was time to take an entirely different approach.

  * * * *

  She’s the most glorious woman I’ve ever seen.

  Connor Talbot felt his heart begin to race and his arousal begin to stir. It happened to him every time he stood this close to Emily Anne Bancroft. The scent that rose from her skin—a scent his body recognized immediately as his mate’s—had affected him the very first time he’d set eyes on her, a couple of months back at Lusty Appetites. She’d leaned close to put that plate of food on the table, and it hadn’t been the food he’d hungered for, it had been the angel serving it.

  Her lush womanly curves promised an eternity of delight. Here was a woman he could hold, a woman who’d fit between him and Mel, and who would cushion him in sweet, feminine softness. She’d recently cut her hair in what he knew they called a bob, with the hair framing her face longer than the rest and looking sleek as silk. She’d added a few streaks, too, so that tiny strands of a lighter shade sparkled all over her pretty head. The result was that it seemed a halo cupped her face. She made a delectable package. The combination of her beauty, coupled with that fierce expression in her brown eyes, simply did it for him.

  He was this close to throwing himself at her feet, begging her to make him her love slave—or commanding her to be his.

  She looked from him to Mel. “You’ve got my back? You mean you don’t want to beat your chests and push the little lady aside while you slay her dragons for her?”

  Connor never would have characterized himself, particularly, as being the insightful sort. He’d dated some, but not much in the years since his hasty marriage and even hastier divorce. He’d never once claimed to understand women, and actually never gave the matter a great deal of consideration. But he knew, with every instinct he possessed, that he was suddenly and quite seriously standing on the proverbial sheet of very thin ice.

  He flicked a quick glance in Mel’s direction, and then turned his attention back to Emily Anne. He waited until she met his gaze again. “You’re a very capable woman, Emily Anne. You can do anything you decide to do—anything at all. You deserve men who will stand with you, men who will respect your right to make your own decisions. You also have the right to have a go at slaying your own dragons, if that’s what you want to do. Maybe there’ll come a day when you’ll want us to do just that—to ‘take care’ of you in that way. Nobody is supposed to be strong all of the time, honey. And maybe there’ll come a day when one or both of us would like you to ‘take care’ of us, too.”

  “You’d trust me to do that?”

  “Trust you?” Mel moved so that he stood just a little bit closer to her. With the two steps he took, they had Emily Anne in between them. “Of course we would trust you. And we’d consider ourselves damned lucky if you had our backs.”

  Connor saw the slight twinkle in her eyes and wondered what she’d just thought. He guessed it must have been something slightly salacious because a pretty pink color kissed her cheeks, in exactly the way that he wanted to do.

  “I think I’m tickled by the fact that you think I could have your backs.”

  “Precious, you can have any part of us your little heart desires.”

  Mel’s words echoed his own sentiment. They’d flirted with Emily Anne before, of course they had. In fact, he was pretty certain that each time they saw her, they’d turned the heat up in their teasing by a degree or two.

  This is about the spot in our exchanges where she says something light, something that gently puts an end to the conversation—and the flirting. Connor braced for it, told himself not to be disappointed by it.

  “What if I’m not really sure what I want? What if I think that maybe, I want it all?”

  Connor’s gaze flicked to Mel’s and then landed back on Emily Anne. “Then I’d say, why don’t we see about that? Why don’t we take things one day at a time and find out?”

  Mel reached down and took her right hand in his. He carried that delicate part of her to his lips and kissed it. “Will you spend the rest of the day with us, sweetheart?”

  “We can have an early dinner, and then do anything you want. We could go into Waco, see a movie if you want to.” Connor took her left hand in his. Rather than kiss it, he rubbed his thumb over the back of it.

  “Do you like to dance? I know of a pretty good night spot, over in Divine,” Mel said.

  Emily Anne’s eyes lit up. “I do like to dance, though I don’t like to drink very much.”

  Something in her expression alerted him that maybe—just maybe—this was a very important point for her.

  Connor nodded. He’d already promised himself that he would always be as honest as he could be with her. “I’ve seen alcohol ruin too many men—and consequently too many families. A couple of beers here and there, maybe a glass of wine with dinner sometimes is about all I indulge in, myself.”

  “I’m not much of a drinker, either. I know the folks that own The Dancing Pony. Ethan Grant and Ben Lawrence hire good bouncers, and they don’t tolerate any inappropriate behavior toward ladies whatsoever. Plus, you have to know you’ll be safe with us. So, what do you say, precious? Spend the rest of the day with us?”

  “Are you asking for the day…or the day and the night?”

  His friend met his gaze and Connor knew they were on the exact same page. “We’re not looking for a one-night stand, Emily Anne. We’re looking to see if we can build a relationship between the three of us. What we do on a physical level, and when we do it—that’s up to you. No pressure. Swear to God.”

  Connor thought his heart would stop in his chest as he waited for her answer. She looked from him to Mel, and he could see the hesitation there in her beautiful brown eyes.

  But he could see the yearning, too, and the yearning gave him hope.

  “Okay. I say yes to the day and the dinner, and the dancing. Anything else will just depend.”

  “Thank you.” Connor bent forward and gave her the briefest, lightest, most non-threatening kiss he could. When he eased back, Mel did the same.

  He felt as much as heard her exhale in relief. Knowing that she’d just gotten a pedicure, he looked down at her feet. Her dainty little toes were crowned with a red both vibrant and shimmery.

  He met her gaze again and grinned. “Pretty toes. I’m looking forward to seeing them under the club’s lights.”

  “I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

  He decided not to make too much of that comment. But knowing this beautiful woman believed that was even a possibility made him wonder about her last boyfriend. It made him want to smash that bastard’s face in for him.

  It took all his skill to not let that anger show. “That,” Connor said, “is supposed to be our line.”

&
nbsp; Chapter 2

  He kept the blinds closed on all the windows that had them, and the curtains drawn on the others. The only exception he made to that rule was his bedroom window. Sometimes, when the cooler breezes of late fall began to blow across the state, he’d wait until all the lights in the house were off, and then he’d part his curtain just a few inches and lift the window an inch, maybe two. He’d lay in his bed, naked, and let the fresh Texas air caress his skin.

  Sometimes he would fall asleep and dream of the days before he came to this part of the state. He’d been a different man, then, living a different life.

  It was harder now to really remember all the details of his past. Sometimes, when he would look at himself in the mirror, he’d cringe with disgust. He used to wear the best suits, and go to the trendiest hair stylist. He used to go once a month for a manicure. He’d taken pride in his appearance, and now…now he couldn’t even recall why that was, exactly.

  He’d been an up-and-coming businessman, with a future as bright as any star hanging in the Texas night sky. And now, it all just seemed like it had been a life that belonged to someone else, in another time and another place.

  It was like it all had belonged to someone who never really even existed. Or maybe it was the man he had become, the man he was now who was the fantasy. If he thought on it too hard or for too long, he just got confused, and then his head would ache.

  A pinging sound brought his attention back to his computer screen. The game site had loaded, finally. There seemed to always be issues with his Internet service when he wanted to use it the most. He hoped for once there would be no glitches while he was online.

  He signed in and then headed to the “deposit” page. He’d deposited more than enough money into his bank account over the last several days so that there would be plenty of cash available for this tournament.

  This one was special. This was the one he’d been waiting for. He could feel it.

  He quickly went through the motions, using his “MoneyBuddy” account instead of a credit card. The credit card he used only twice a month, and paid it off religiously. That was his emergency stop-gap plan, that card. He’d had it for nearly sixteen years, first activating it before he’d been forced, by atrocious bad luck, to relocate.

  The biggest purchase he’d put on it was that trip to the Cayman Islands. He’d been taking a hell of a chance, but knew he’d had to go as soon as possible, and take care of business. Instinct had told him to go and get back before any alert could possibly be issued on him.

  The credit card company renewed his card faithfully every five years.

  With the most recent renewal, just last year, they had increased his limit to twenty-five thousand dollars. He supposed that with the recession and all, anyone invested in the business of loaning money wanted those clients still above water to spend more.

  He appreciated the gesture. He’d only use it if he had to, but it was nice to know that it was there if he needed it. It would get him where he needed to be, should he have to run.

  More and more the idea of moving again, of becoming, again, held no appeal for him.

  He shook his head and brought his attention back to the matter at hand. It took him only another few minutes to complete his transaction. He sighed with relief when the game screen came up and he saw that his deposit to the site had been recorded.

  “Yes, that’s good. Now, let’s enter the tournament.” He rubbed his hands together, eagerness vying with adrenaline in his system.

  Of all the card games he liked to play, the one he liked the most, and the one that really seemed to like him the most, was Texas Hold ’Em. Tonight this site was holding preliminary rounds for the Grand Texan tournament. He didn’t always keep track, but he knew he really was about even in this game. He’d just loaded his account, true. But it had been nearly two months since he’d done so and he played religiously, four times every week.

  The Internet was a godsend to him, coming at just the time when he’d been compelled to mostly stay in his small house just outside of Divine, Texas. Of course, he’d go into town on occasion. In the beginning it had been only about once a month, but then, as time had passed and he’d begun to feel safer, he’d gone into Divine about twice a week and had been doing so for almost a dozen years. He’d take his clothes to the cleaners, picking up the previous weeks’ load, and then he would treat himself to a steak dinner at O’Reilley’s. Sometimes, he’d have lunch at Rudy’s and then he’d get a few groceries and head home again.

  He was known in Divine, in that the people he saw—both at the restaurants, and, just recently, at The Dancing Pony—recognized him as a local. They knew his name, and knew that he belonged.

  He’d made himself a bit of a reputation, he knew, as a recluse. But he’d hired local business folks when he needed to. Jack Warner had built him a few outbuildings, that first, very important one, and then the others, when he thought just the one looked suspicious. He’d had Adam Davis fix his A/C when the damn thing had gone down. He regularly took his computers in for servicing at Marvin Kramer’s place.

  He’d been careful, but he felt as if the folks in Divine had gotten used to him. It was a small town, not just miles, but worlds away from Austin, and the past.

  The game room screens came up and he looked at the different ones listed, and who was “seated,” ready to play in each one. He had a talent for recalling players, knowing if they were any good, whether or not they liked to bluff.

  There were always new players, of course, but there were also always the veterans. The lure for the new player was to try and knock off the vets. It was, he knew, what kept the site afloat.

  He hadn’t won a tournament yet, but he’d made the quarter finals twice. He knew with everything that was in him that this was the one. It was his turn. He could practically taste victory.

  By the time he was done, he would own this fucking game.

  He brought his focus back to the room list, and then nodded. Decision made, he clicked on a room icon. Rocco was here, as was Zelda. They were both pretty good—but he was better. The other two names he didn’t recognize and took them for newbies.

  He reached into the beer fridge that was situated just beside his desk. He pulled out a Bud Light, twisted off the top and settled into his chair. He set the bottle on a coaster, moving the large ring of keys he always kept close at hand further back onto the desk so that they wouldn’t get in the way of his operating the mouse.

  He made sure the sound was up. This site, as with most of the gaming sites he’d visited over the last couple of years, employed the kind of technology whereby the “hostess” and the “dealer” actually “spoke” to him.

  It was almost like being in a real casino, but without running the risk of anyone finding him, or finding out who he really was.

  It had freaked him out, that first time he’d heard his name over his computer speaker. But then he figured it was just one more way the online gamers were trying to make the site seem even more realistic.

  Now he’d gotten used to it, and actually looked forward to that moment when those dulcet tones came over the speaker. Part of his new ritual, it meant he was ready to get started.

  On cue, the computer hostess said, “Welcome, Mr. Smith. Thank you for joining us this evening. Enjoy the game, and good luck.”

  He nodded to himself and quickly keyed in brief greetings to his fellow players. The “dealer” called for the ante. He rubbed his hands together, flexed his shoulders, and then put his hand on the mouse, all of his good luck rituals now complete.

  Bruce Smith settled down, and settled in to win.

  * * * *

  One thing Emily Anne could say with certainty was that The Dancing Pony was in a whole different league from The Waterin’ Hole, the bar she’d frequented with Billy J back home.

  Thank goodness for that! She’d begun to have second thoughts about agreeing to a date at what she’d assumed was just a bar, but the moment she stepped inside The Danci
ng Pony, she felt relief wash over her. While the scent of beer laced the air of the night club, missing from the mix was the underlying smell of stale sweat, cigarette smoke, and grease that had marked The Waterin’ Hole. A quick scan of the interior told her what her other senses had already asserted. The Dancing Pony was several notches up from her former haunt.

  “Hi, Mel, Connor. Welcome back.”

  “Hey, Mike.” Mel shook the hand of one of the men on door duty, and then nodded to the other one. “Rogelio. How’re you guys doing?”

  “Good thanks. Who’s the lovely lady?” Mike asked.

  “This is Emily Anne Bancroft. Honey, this is Mike and Rogelio. They’ve worked security here for a long time.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, ma’am. May I see your ID?”

  Before her dates could even think about protesting, she handed over her drivers’ license, which she’d already palmed. Then she said, “I’m used to it. I know I look about sixteen. I just hope it stays that way as I get older.” She smiled to let everyone know she certainly didn’t mind being carded.

  That she’d been asked told her the people in charge of this establishment were serious about running a decent operation.

  No one at The Waterin’ Hole had ever asked.

  “Thank you, Ms. Bancroft. Have a good night. Gentlemen.” Mike nodded to her dates as he handed her back her ID.

  Mel took her hand and led her into the club, away from the door so others wanting entry could come in. He grinned and shook his head. “I can assure you, you don’t look sixteen to either of us,” he said.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She returned his smile. “So the two of you are regulars here, huh? The bouncers knew your names.”