Baddest Bad Boys(43)

Hell, he’d been twelve—a triple-breasted gargoyle would have done the same thing, as long as the breasts were naked.

When they were kids in Phoenix, she’d played his brother for a fool—along with every other guy she hooked up with—and judging from Hugh’s phone call this morning, she still was.

Tommi Smith, Arizona beauty. Take a number, boys, the line forms on the right.

Not a line he planned to join. Ever.

When a sudden blast of wind damn near took him off his feet, he lowered his head and made for his truck, parked a few feet from the bottom of the lodge stairs. He had his hand on the door handle when he heard a car motor. Through sheets of rain, he saw headlights emerge from behind the tall cedars and dense rain forest undergrowth that ringed the camp clearing. The car’s windshield wipers were working overtime and a blond head tilted from side to side as if struggling to see through the heavy rain and swirling mist.

He stepped away from his truck and lifted a hand.

When she saw him, she also raised a hand, driving slowly toward where he stood beside his truck.

She was here. Tommi was on his own damn doorstep.

Mac’s stomach did a feint and drop. He ignored it and strode toward her mud-spattered car. When she turned off the motor, he heard the drumbeat of rain on its hood.

When he stepped up beside the car, the woman behind the glass looked up at him, those blue-violet eyes wide as plates, her sex-kitten blond hair curling and streaming over her shoulders. The rain, a waterfall on the car window, distorted her features, made her quick smile crazy and lopsided, her skin a pale, shimmering white.

Mac’s breathing shallowed, and a familiar tension lodged in his groin. When he was a dumb kid, just looking at her made him hard as a rail spike. Always embarrassed the hell out of him. The Tommi Effect, he’d named it later, a magnetism every male within sniffing distance recognized and responded to. Including his brother.

Always his brother.

He’d seen her twice since then. Once when he’d spotted her in an airport, maybe five years ago, then as recently as last year, when one of his companies hired Del Design to do a renovation. He’d been in one of the glassed-in meeting rooms and looked up to see her stroll by with one of his managers. When she’d smiled up at the guy, he looked as if she’d handed him sex on a stick. Mac made no attempt to reintroduce himself. She was Hugh’s business, never his.

But even here, in the middle of nowhere, in a raging November storm, the Tommi Effect hit him full force. And made him mad as hell.

She was the most beautiful, most sensual, most erotic woman he’d ever seen, and on a deeply primitive level, he understood his brother’s obsession with her.

And she went through men as if they were sold by the dozen on the shopping channel and her credit card had no limit.

He reminded himself how much he disliked her and yanked open the car door. “Better make a run for it.” He gestured with his head toward the front door of the lodge. “Pop the trunk, and I’ll bring in your bags.”

She nodded, did as he asked, and grabbed the large tote from the passenger seat. Instead of putting her raincoat on, she held it over her head and dashed for the porch.

She packed light, he’d give her that—two small bags and a tote. He took the last of the three stairs to the porch and didn’t waste any time opening the door. She quickly stepped in.

“Let me have that.” He took the coat she’d started to drape over her arm and hung it on one of the pegs beside the door.

“Thanks.” She shifted her gaze, turned slowly to take in the large room with its assortment of pine tables, overstuffed furniture—cabin plaid—and sky-high fireplace. Everything big, solid, simple. The way he liked it. Still looking her fill, she said, “This is nice. Impressive. Not at all what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” He took off his wet slicker, hung it beside her coat.

“I’m not sure, but when Hugh said fishing camp, I guess…something more rustic?” She turned to look at him, the polite smile fading when her eyes met his.

He ran his hands through his wet hair to get it off his forehead. “It’s comfortable,” he muttered, and tried to ignore the way her gaze—slightly stunned—traveled his body from stem to stern. He told himself he didn’t give a damn whether she liked his place or not. What irritated him was the big lodge had begun to feel like the incredible shrinking house from the moment she set foot in it. “You’re later than I expected. Trouble?”

She was still staring at him, but he wasn’t sure she saw him. “Pardon?”

What the hell was wrong with her? “I said, did you run into a problem getting here?”

“Exhaustion. I’ve been up since yesterday morning. I stopped for lunch and fell asleep in the parking lot.” Her smile was quick, embarrassed. “I’d probably still be there if the restaurant owner hadn’t come to check on me.”

She did look tired and pale. “We’ll get you settled as soon as you warm up. The bedrooms are upstairs.” He gestured toward the mezzanine above them.

“Would you like me to stay there?” She wandered to the blazing fire and toasted her hands over it before turning back to look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“In the bedroom. Out of your way.” Her expression was dead serious. “Hugh told me you’d be working.”