Their Lusty Little Valentine [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  “Thank you for sharing your history with me. You’ve certainly answered all of the awkward questions I had.”

  When Chelsea and Miranda continued to look at her, she had a sense that the story telling wasn’t over.

  “There is just one thing more you should know,” Chelsea said. “In the case of both my fathers, and my fathers-in-law, as well as my sons, and my brothers, there is one particular trait they all have shared.”

  “And that is?”

  “Falling in love at first sight. Kendall, Jessop, and Benedict men alike tend to fall in love only once, and very quickly.”

  Samantha thought of the way Preston, Charles, and Taylor had smiled and flirted with her. She recalled how holding Preston’s hand had felt, and she recalled feeling more than a little off-balance herself. At the time she’d been perplexed that she’d gotten the same physical thrill from the casual touches of all three men.

  Miranda nodded and patted her hand. “I know my sons, sweetheart. I think they’ve already fallen for you. The women of Lusty stick together—because there have been, historically, so few of us. Mother and I thought it was only right that you were forewarned what you just might be in for.”

  Chapter 3

  Daddy always warned me that someday my impulsive streak would land me in a heap of trouble.

  Samantha looked from Miranda to Chelsea as the quivery, wispy sensations she’d felt just hours before when surrounded by the brothers Kendall returned to bedevil her.

  She could very nearly smell their intriguing, mouthwatering aroma, even though they’d been gone for nearly an hour.

  “Um…” She really didn’t know what to say to Miranda’s outrageous statement. Except maybe it wasn’t so outrageous after all.

  She’d be lying to herself if she said there was no way those three men were interested in her. She knew without a doubt that they were. She wasn’t convinced that they’d fallen in love with her. Her parents’ generation tended to think in terms of love, then marriage, then baby carriages. Samantha’s generation wasn’t as enamored of the concept of wedded bliss—or that a woman’s true happiness lay only in finding a man to provide for her. Today’s woman was quite capable of providing for herself, thank you very much.

  Likely, what those three very handsome men had experienced was just good old-fashioned sexual attraction. There was nothing wrong with sexual attraction. Hell, there was nothing wrong with sex. She’d felt her nipples turn rock hard and knew the moisture she’d felt between her legs as she’d walked with them to their home hadn’t all been perspiration.

  Her life plan was mapped out. She’d left everything familiar, everything she loved, and moved across the country to put that plan into action. Samantha had never been a woman to be swayed once her mind had been made up about something, and her mind had been decided on this plan for more than seven years.

  On the other hand…

  On the other hand I have more than a week before I have to be in Austin to report for that job and move into that apartment.

  She’d figured that she would get there today and plead for an early move into her leased space. She could be pretty persuasive when she wanted to be.

  Some of the most interesting things happened when you take an unexpected turn.

  She’d thought that just hours ago, before she even knew that a place called Lusty, Texas, even existed, and she believed that little nugget with all her heart. She doubted very much that wedded bliss was in her future. She had a job waiting and a new life to begin. She had a goal she’d set when she’d been little more than a new teenager, and she could not foresee that anything would ever interfere with that.

  A wrong turn taken, and perhaps, a new treasure to be claimed? Oh, not a marriage to one, let alone three men. But perhaps that treasure could be some very good—some very Lusty—memories made.

  Didn’t every woman have secret fantasies about being with more than one man at a time? She certainly had, and she’d never been what anyone could have called promiscuous.

  When are you ever going to have another chance to make those secret, dark fantasies of yours become reality?

  Her inner voice whispered, and she wondered if the sound could be likened to the siren song that had lured those ancient mariners to their doom all those centuries before.

  Well that’s not a very good metaphor. Samantha figured it was the newly acquired and very formidable sexual tension blooming inside her that had short-circuited her usually razor-sharp mind.

  “You’re made of sturdy stuff, all right,” Miranda said. “I can almost see the wheels turning.” The woman’s smile was wide and full of fun.

  It had never occurred to Samantha that some of what she thought was visible to the very astute mother of the men she was considering trying on for size. In the next instant, that woman waved her hand. “That was not an insult, Samantha, it was a compliment. I think you’re more than a match for those three sons of mine.”

  “But are they a match for me?”

  “Well, that will be their test, now won’t it?”

  Chelsea laughed at Miranda’s rhetorical question.

  Her hostess set her cup down. “We have guests—beyond present company—coming for dinner. Our friends, the Benedicts. There are five of them, as Kate and her husbands are bringing the older Benedicts with them—the family refers to her as Grandma Mattie and him as Grandpa Charlie. Sam, Mattie’s other husband, has been gone, oh, two years now. So that will be fifteen of us. I think we’ll use the dining room, tonight.” Miranda got to her feet.

  Samantha intended to do as much as she could to pitch in and help. She gathered up the empty tea cups and set them by the sink. Her conscience kicked her, and she turned to face her hostess. “Miranda? I’m not looking to get married. That’s not in my plans. I have a goal—a purpose. I plan to enter law school in Austin, and become the best damn lawyer—woman or man—this state has ever seen. And I have a dream, too. I want to be the first female associate justice of the United States Supreme Court.”

  “Those are very worthy ambitions,” Chelsea said. “I knew you were smart. My money’s on you to achieve your heart’s desire.”

  “I agree,” Miranda said. Then she gave Samantha a soft smile. “Are you worried that I’ll be miffed if you break my sons’ hearts?”

  Samantha hadn’t thought about it in quite those terms. She didn’t think breaking anyone’s heart was in her power. And the thought that she could, that she might…she didn’t much care for the sick feeling rolling around in the pit of her stomach that imagining such a thing caused.

  She didn’t want to think about the reality of what Miranda had just said, but honesty compelled her answer. “I guess maybe I am, a little.”

  Miranda grinned, and Samantha couldn’t help but smile—and then felt that smile sliding off her face at her hostess’ next words.

  “No one can predict the future, Samantha. And sometimes, when we think we know what we want, fate steps in and makes us question ourselves and all that we’d believed to be true. I truly believe that what will be, will be.” Then she gave Samantha a one-armed hug. “So don’t worry about how we’ll feel if you don’t fall in with whatever plans those boys have up their sleeves, darling. After all, they don’t call it the battle of the sexes for nothing.”

  * * * *

  Preston hated that they’d been away from Samantha for so long, but there’d really been no help for it. Howard’s assistant had gone off to Houston for the day, so they’d had to help their cousin tow Samantha’s car to the garage. Howard had some catalogues on hand, so they’d perused through them, looking for the engine they were all nearly one hundred percent certain her car needed. They wouldn’t know absolutely, of course, until Howard got to working on the vehicle tomorrow, but Howard had told them that from what they’d described, Samantha’s pretty little red Mustang was most likely going to need a new motor.

  Well, new to it, anyway. Howard said a used one would be less expensive, but there wouldn’t
be any warranty on it. She could spend over five hundred dollars, and then have to do it all over again only weeks, or months later.

  He and his brothers were pretty certain that the delectable Miss Kincaid didn’t have a lot of cash to spare.

  “We could pay for it ourselves,” Charles said as they headed home. They’d taken the time to get Samantha’s things out of her car. Their Buick was nearly packed to the roof. Who knew a Mustang could hold so much?

  “Yes, we could,” Taylor said. “But I don’t think the lady is one who would gracefully accept a gift from men she doesn’t know that well. She likely wouldn’t accept a loan from us, either.”

  “And if we did offer to do that, it would be counterproductive for us, don’t you think?” Preston sat in the front passenger seat and spared a look at each of his brothers. Charlie was driving, and Taylor sat in the back.

  “Preston has a point,” Taylor said. “We need time with Samantha. We won’t get that time if she manages to have her car fixed in a couple of days, and then leaves town. So the fact that she may need a couple of extra days to arrange financing—while grating—might be the best option for us, for now.”

  “You’re right.” Charlie sighed. “I never believed we would ever find her. Even though I hoped there was a chance that one day we’d look up and see her and know, I don’t think I actually believed it would ever happen. “

  Preston knew exactly what his brother meant. His grandfathers had told him that they’d fallen in love with Chelsea when they’d been children—and it was a love still as vibrant, he’d bet, as it had been that first moment when they knew.

  The story was the same for his fathers—though they hadn’t been children at the time. They’d been Naval Officers stationed in Virginia when they’d first laid eyes on Miranda Barnes.

  Both men had told their sons it had been a case of love at first sight.

  “We’ll have to be certain to let our sons know falling in love fast and forever is how Kendalls do things.” Preston nodded. Then he sighed. “I guess we should take a moment and agree on our next step before we get home.”

  Charlie shot him a look he had no trouble reading. “Did we fully consider when we left right after lunch to see to Samantha’s car, that we would be leaving our woman alone with our mother and grandmother?”

  Silence filled every inch of the Buick. Preston prided himself on being able to think a couple of moves ahead, but he hadn’t once given that reality any thought at all.

  “Well, damn it all, anyway,” Taylor said.

  Preston nearly swore, too, and it would have been a hell of a lot stronger than Taylor’s epithet. But he wondered. His mother and grandmother were both sharp as tacks. Would they have understood that he and his brothers had already decided that Samantha Kincaid was theirs? He only needed to think for a moment about how well both of the women in his immediate family knew him and his brothers. Their ability to intuit their plans, motives, and thoughts was damn near spooky.

  So did they know how he and his brothers already decided upon Samantha? Very likely.

  “That’s not a bad thing, now that I’m thinking about it,” Taylor said.

  They were only a minute or two from home. Charlie pulled the car over, into almost the exact spot that Samantha’s car had been in. He shifted the vehicle into park, then turned to face his brothers. “We learned when we went to college just how narrow-minded and judgmental most people can be.”

  “It was a hell of a shock,” Taylor agreed. “I’d never realized how insulated we are, living here in Lusty.” His expression summed it up. Preston understood where his brothers’ thoughts had gone. That had been a steep and long learning curve they’d had to negotiate.

  “And even though we’ve always known that’s how it was going to be,” Preston said. “The folks were nothing if not honest in their words to us before we left home. And yet we were all three nearly speechless when we understood the degree to which other people’s minds were restricted.”

  “Being kids, we didn’t fully credit those words of our family until our freshman year in college.” Taylor said.

  “Yeah.”

  “My point,” Charlie said, “is that Mom and Grandmother have likely told Samantha about the history of our families—and our town. That is one big information dump we don’t have to worry about delivering.”

  “And as soon as we see her, in a few minutes, we’ll know if we have a chance with her, or not.”

  “Get us home, Charlie. The suspense is killing me.”

  “Damn backseat driver.” Charlie laughed as he said that to Taylor. Then he nodded. “But yeah, me, too. Let’s get home and see what the weather forecast might be.” He faced front and put the car in gear.

  They pulled up close to the front steps. Normally, if they had things to unload, they’d park closer to the kitchen. But they wanted a chance to get Samantha’s things into Northrop’s room first—just in case the lady was on the verge of leaving.

  As soon as they stopped the car and got out, they were greeted not only by their fathers, but by their uncles Gerry and Pat Benedict, too.

  “What did Howard say about Miss Kincaid’s car?” Their father Martin stood, his hands on his hips, and pinned them with one of what they’d dubbed his “courtroom” stares. When their father looked at them like that, not a one of them could tell a lie.

  Preston, being the oldest by two minutes over Taylor and four minutes over Charles, was usually their spokesman. “Well, sir, Howard thinks the engine will have to be replaced, but he won’t know for certain until tomorrow, when he gets the chance to look at it. We asked him to let us know as soon as he had an estimate—both for a new engine, and a used one.”

  “And you didn’t ask him to take his time, or tell him there was no hurry?” His father Nick looked just as stern as Martin.

  “No, sir.” Then Preston grinned, because he’d seen the way all of the older men’s eyes were gleaming with amusement. “We were tempted, but we didn’t. If the time he needs stretches beyond a week, then we’ll have to see what we can do to get Saman—Miss Kincaid—to Austin on schedule.”

  “Quite right,” Gerry Benedict said. “A week should be more than enough time.”

  “If the three of you can’t woo and then win her in seven days, you don’t deserve her.” Patrick Benedict laughed.

  “Now, let’s get these things up the stairs as quickly and as quietly as possible,” Nick said. “The women are all in the kitchen, preparing dinner.”

  “If you gentlemen have any questions to ask with regard to—things—now would be the time to ask,” Martin Kendall said.

  Preston raised one eyebrow and then quickly looked at his brothers. “We’re pretty sure we know how everything is supposed to work, Dad.”

  The older men exchanged a look. Patrick Benedict chuckled. “I told you the boys weren’t only studying when they went away to college.”

  Nick slapped him on the back. “So you did.”

  It was somewhat humbling to know his fathers and uncles had sat around speculating about their sex lives—or lack thereof—while they’d been away from home.

  He reached for the larger of the two suitcases they’d stowed in the trunk.

  “She’s smart,” his father Martin said. “And she’s beautiful. But more, she’s got a kind heart.” This particular father was able to sum a person up within only a few minutes of knowing them. “However, she won’t be easy for the three of you to charm and likely won’t ever be able to steamroll over her. If you’re successful, I think she’ll make a good wife—but not a malleable one.”

  Preston bit the inside of his cheek. It really was too good an opportunity to pass up. This father certainly didn’t give them many.

  “We don’t want a woman who’s malleable or a doormat—we want one who can hold her own and even best us—just like you have.”

  “Smart-ass,” Martin said.

  “He is,” Nick said. Then he grinned. “It’s a very proud moment for me, hav
ing this confirmation that all of my efforts over the years haven’t been in vain.”

  Chuckling, all seven men carted Samantha Kincaid’s belongings into the house.

  Chapter 4

  Mortimer Robbins raised a glass of good Irish whiskey and made a toast into the air. Alone, the silence of his very recently acquired New York City apartment comfortable around him, he smiled and tossed back the liquor.

  It burned going down, but it was a lovely burn, igniting a nice full-bodied fire in his belly.

  He let his gaze wander the space that was now his, and his alone. He and Judith had been separated for several years, but she’d failed to get a divorce, which meant he had been within his legal rights, moving back into their matrimonial home.

  He’d half expected his three bastard stepsons to kick up a fuss about the move. He’d informed them right after the funeral three weeks ago that he was going to move back in to this apartment. He knew his key still worked, because he’d let himself in about an hour after he’d received that phone call from the hospital, telling him that Judith’s passing was imminent. He knew her sons would have been there, keeping vigil. So he had come here and inspected his future abode.

  A few minutes after he got back to his own place, the hospital had called again to tell him his wife was dead.

  When he’d informed his stepsons of his decision to take over Judith’s apartment, he didn’t get the reaction he’d expected. Instead of the anger or the pleading—he hadn’t, at the time, been certain exactly how the three might react—they’d looked through him as if he wasn’t even there.

  Fucking little bastards.

  It didn’t take him long to find out why, either. Hell, they hadn’t even been man enough to tell him themselves.

  “Three little pussies, that’s what they are.” They had been from the beginning, and that sure as hell had never changed. Judith’s fault, of course. The way she’d hovered over them and protected them while they were growing up—she wanted him to be their father, but when he lit into them verbally or gave them a good sound thrashing with his belt in order to teach ’em respect, she’d gotten all bitchy about it.