Bungalow Nights(38)

Hot goose bumps skittered across her skin as she stepped farther onto the deck. “Good morning.”

He glanced toward the surf, then back at her. “Looks that way. Sleep well?”

“Mmm.” Without being able to help herself, she continued toward him, drawn by this new mood of his. Maybe they’d have more scary-wondrous sex, maybe not. For now it was enough to see that look of contentment on his face.

His fingers caught hers, pulling her nearer. He shifted around to face the beach, leaving a spot for her on the step. As she sat down, he purloined her mug and brought it to his own mouth, his blue eyes warm over the rim.

More hot chills burst over her skin and her nipples budded, remembering the heat of his mouth. Okay, for sure she wanted more scary-wondrous sexy times with him. And also moments like this, when they shared a morning and a cup of coffee.

Maybe she was beginning to believe in the Beach House No. 9 magic, after all.

“V.T.,” a voice said, and a figure came around the corner of the deck, approaching from the beach.

Vance stiffened, and his fingers untangled from hers. “Fitz,” he said, and the name sounded more like a snarl. “One dance with Layla and you can’t keep away? Are you trying to steal another of my girls?”

The other man flicked a glance at her. She gave him a small nod. He hadn’t said much during their dance the night before—a dance he’d clearly orchestrated to give Vance and Blythe a chance to clear the air, not that it had seemed to do much good—but she had more sympathy for him than maybe she ought. He had hurt his brother.

Fitz returned his attention to Vance. “We have unfinished business, V.T. Me and you.”

Layla made to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Stay,” the two men said together.

Great, she thought, but settled back on the step.

Fitz wore a pair of khakis and a white polo shirt. He hesitated a moment, then dug into his pocket for something he then tossed to his brother.

Vance’s reflexes were good, but his cast got in the way of the catch. The small item bounced off the hard surface crossing his palm and arced toward Layla to land in her lap. A jeweler’s box. Slowly, she picked it up and passed it to the man seated beside her.

He looked at it for a long moment, then flipped open the lid. A diamond solitaire winked in the sunlight. Elegant and classy, it suited a woman like Blythe. The lack of expression on Vance’s face confirmed it had been hers.

“She’s been wanting to return it to you,” Fitz said. “Last night she had it with her, but you didn’t stick around long enough for her to give it back.”

The ring box shut with a snap and Vance looked at his brother. “She can keep it,” he said, holding it out.

The other man shook his head. “No, she can’t.” There was another long hesitation. “Because as of early this morning, she’s wearing my ring.”

Oh, no. Layla froze, remembering the last confrontation between the two on this deck. There’d been bloodshed and bruises in the offing, she’d smelled it like brimstone on the breeze as she’d stood on the sand eavesdropping. And now that Blythe wasn’t just Fitz’s girlfriend, but his full-fledged fiancée...? She slid a cautious look at Vance.

He didn’t move a muscle. “Congratulations,” he finally said, his voice carefully neutral.

Fitz frowned. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting felicitations. “Uh...” His gaze darted to Layla.

“I hope you’ll be very happy,” she said, suppressing her sigh. No matter what Vance’s attitude appeared to be, this couldn’t be happy news to him.

Fitz cleared his throat, shoved his hands in his pockets, withdrew them. At his obvious discomfort she felt another spurt of sympathy. This wouldn’t bring the brothers any closer to the reconciliation that the older of the two so clearly desired.

His hands ran through his hair. “Look, Vance...”

An awkward silence welled up. Layla tried breathing through it, tried appearing as impassive as the man seated beside her, but one of her legs started moving, the knee bouncing up and down. She stole another glance at Vance, thinking of his earlier sunny mood. He wasn’t tearing his brother limb from limb, so maybe it was still there, just waiting behind his stony expression. Just waiting for Fitz to be on his way.

“Well,” she finally said, unable to bear the tension—and eager for the confrontation to end without bloodshed. “You’ve made your delivery. We don’t want to keep you any longer.” Her knee was pumping now, like a telegraph key under the fingers of an experienced operator.

Vance reached over and pressed the twitchy joint, stilling the movement. “I don’t think Fitz is finished.”

“V.T....” His brother started, stopped again.

“Just spit it out,” Vance said. “Layla’s right. We have things we want to get to.” He turned his head to nuzzle her cheek.

The touch of his lips on her skin, his breath on the shell of her ear made her blood run hot again. But Fitz was standing there, watching, so she managed not to melt into the floorboards. Instead, she covered the fingers Vance had on her knee with hers.

His brother cleared his throat once more. “I know...of course, I know about that letter she wrote you. Blythe’s letter.”

“The one breaking our engagement?”

“I’m talking about the second letter,” Fitz said. “After you two were over. In it she said we had begun dating, though it was nothing serious.”

“What?” Vance still sounded calm. “You thought I didn’t guess it was more than that?”

“I...” Shrugging, his brother let the word drift off.

“Fitz, I know you. You’re always serious. It didn’t fool me for a second.” Then he turned his head to press another kiss on Layla’s cheek. “So, if you’ve finally gotten everything off your chest...”

Implying—and she wasn’t sure if it was solely for his brother’s benefit or not—that there were some scary-wondrous sexy times in the offing. Layla squirmed a little on her wooden seat, having mixed feelings about that now. Was she still just a prop to disguise his wounded feelings? Now that something real had happened between them, that didn’t sit so well any longer.

Vance caught her chin and turned her face toward him, his gaze searching hers as if he sensed her new disquiet. “Go away, Fitz.”

“Just one more thing.”

Vance’s sigh was warm against her face. “What?” he said, glancing toward his brother.

“Mom wants you at the engagement party. A brunch deal.”

Vance stilled. “I don’t think—”

“Please. We have to do this right for the family. You need to be there.”

“I told you—”

“You told me you’re with Layla now.” Fitz lifted his arms. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m returning to Afghanistan,” Vance said. “Soon.”

“That’s why we’ll have it soon. You’re here at Crescent Cove until the end of the month, you told Mom. So the party’s scheduled for the last Sunday in July.”

“Fitz—”

“We picked that date just for you, Vance.”

“For me,” Vance repeated. “You’re doing this for me.”

“Hell,” his brother said, spinning around. “Never mind. But you’ll tell Mom you refuse, not me.” He began to stalk off.

“Fitz!” Layla called out.

With a sigh, he halted. When he turned back, the misery on his face made her feel sorry for him all over again. “I forgot my manners,” he said. “Goodbye, Layla.”

Without looking at Vance, she twined her fingers with his and addressed his brother. “You tell us where and what time—we’ll be there.” She didn’t dare look at the man sitting beside her, but she could feel his temper in his rigid posture and the way his hand tightened on hers. Still, it seemed like the right action to take, and if Vance couldn’t commit to it, she’d do it for him.

Anything else was retreat, and her father had taught her to never tolerate such a thing.

Fitz glanced from her face to Vance’s. “V.T.?”

“What the lady wants,” he said, shrugging, then lifted their joined fingers in order to kiss the back of her hand. “Whatever she desires.”

When Fitz was gone, Vance dropped her like a hot potato and rose to his feet. Layla looked up at him, uncertain about what mood he might reveal next. Happiness again, she hoped. But it was a vain hope; she knew it when he ran down the steps, racing toward the surf. Two chubby pigeons twittered in alarm and fluttered out of his way. One of the seagulls he’d befriended sailed close on the wind as Vance drew back his arm.

The gull tried snatching at the ring box on its long arc toward the water. But it missed, and the splash was small and silent as Blythe’s ring sank into the depths.