Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(70)

In the seat next to him, looking fresh in skinny jeans, a long sleeve V-neck ribbed shirt that hugged her body and rubber calf boots, Sahara fretted—but not about her latest misadventures. “I don’t see why we can’t stop at the store. It’s bad manners to go to a party empty-handed.”

“It’s not a party,” Brand explained for the third time. “I’ll be helping to build a gazebo. Maxi wants to feed us while we’re there, she said so, and Miles stocked the cooler, too. It’s their way of thanking us.”

“I’m also going to help.”

“Sure.” He wondered if Sahara had ever swung a hammer. He imagined her driving a nail, and had to smile. Did she think the jeans and boots fit the part? He had to admit, she looked great in her version of weekend work-wear. He especially liked her hair in the thick braid.

He liked it even better loose.

He liked it most of all spread out on a pillow with him over her, each of them straining for release.

Switching gears, she said, “I keep thinking about Chelsea Tuttle. You’re sure you weren’t flirting with her?”

Over coffee that morning, she’d asked questions about the woman who’d come on to him at the party. Brand wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the name, not after the way Sahara had reacted.

“I’m not a liar, honey.” He glanced at her. “You didn’t recognize her at first?”

“She’s had a lot of work done.” Half under her breath, she added, “Not all of it complimentary.”

Brand held in his laugh. “She looked too young for plastic surgery.”

“She is, but she’s practically addicted to it. She’s also obnoxious and full of herself, and very self-centered. Awful rumors have swirled around her for years now.”

“What rumors?”

Sahara lifted one shoulder. “Perversions, money problems, indiscretions.” She frowned. “Maybe that’s what Ross was talking about when he approached us outside.”

Brand was still pissed over her using the kidnapper’s first name. “Perversions, huh?”

“It’s said that she likes to watch.”

“So, a voyeur?” He shook his head. “Not my thing, but it doesn’t sound all that bad. My rule is to each his or her own, long as no one is being hurt.”

She leaned toward him and said in a false, ominous whisper, “But people do get hurt—that’s what she likes to watch.”

“No way.” He’d disliked Chelsea from the start, but she hadn’t struck him as sadistic. Just obnoxious and too grabby.

Sahara nodded. “That’s one of the rumors. She gets off on seeing other people humiliated, degraded and hurt. Normally I pay no attention to rumors, but if you’d talked to her instead of letting her lick your ear, you might have picked up on her cruel bent. She is not a nice woman.”

“I didn’t let her do anything, her tongue was never in my ear and we did talk, smart-ass. Just not very long.” Brand gave her a look. “I wanted to check on you, and good thing, since you had a kidnapper breathing down your cleavage.”

Sahara scoffed. “You talked, huh? About what?”

“Mostly you.” Briefly, he wondered if he should tell her the whole truth, but then decided, why not? He liked her show of jealousy, especially since he’d been jealous, too. It wasn’t like she and Chelsea would ever be friends. From what he’d heard so far, they were more like enemies. “She’s not a fan of yours.”

“Well, I would hope not. After all, I have morals, and she does not.”

Brand smiled over that. “How do you know her anyway?”

“Her father contacted Body Armor to hire personal security for her during a big bash. Not uncommon for the wealthy, especially for Chelsea since her father considers her his precious little jewel.” Sahara twisted her mouth in distaste. “Unfortunately, the agents came back saying they were the ones who’d needed protection—from her. She treated them as bought-and-paid-for slaves, which she figured included sexual favors.”

Brand whistled low. “We’re talking about the same men now retired to less high-profile details?” Far as he could tell, they were sticks-in-the-mud, suit-wearing uptight middle-aged snobs who might have been top-paid bodyguards at one point, but were probably more for show than results.

“Yes. Nothing about the men said sexy and available, but Chelsea didn’t care. When they refused her, she carried on in front of them, enacting sexual games that they had to watch in order to stay close enough to protect her. Before you suggest it, no, they didn’t enjoy it. In fact, the overall consensus was revulsion.”

And he’d been alone with the woman? He should count himself lucky that she’d only tried to cop a few feels. “She was pushy,” Brand admitted. “And she made it clear she didn’t like you. But I never guessed she’d go that far.”

“She’s been entitled since the day she was born.”

“So were you, but you’re not pervy.”

She sent him a brazen smile. “I can be pervy when the mood strikes me—and when the right man is available.”

Brand scowled.

Laughing, she said, “I meant you.”

“Oh.” Yeah, when it came to sex with Sahara, he was game 100 percent. “Anything you want, honey, anytime you want it, you let me know.”