Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(90)

Ken sniffed the air appreciatively. “I’m falling madly in love here, Briony.”

She forced a smile as she placed the pot of stew in the middle of the table. “I sure hope the woman you end up with knows how to cook.”

For a moment his smile slipped, but he recovered fast. “Since we’d all be living here together, you could teach her.”

“Lucky me.” She heard the door open behind her and knew immediately that Jack had stepped into the room. He’d been working on the heavy bag. She smelled sweat and blood and the tangy masculine scent that sent her hormones into overdrive. She swung around, her gaze jumping to his, her heart pounding in her throat.

“Smells good,” Jack commented, his gray eyes watching her closely. He crossed directly to her side, never once looking away.

Jack held her gaze captive. Briony felt mesmerized by him—was mesmerized. Her heart beat so hard she was afraid she might have a heart attack, but she didn’t dare lift her hand to press against her chest; she was trembling too hard to hide. He bent his head to hers and brushed her upturned lips. Once—twice. “I’m sorry, baby. I was angrier with myself than with you. I should have given you specific instructions on where you should or shouldn’t go. I’m sorry I frightened you.” He kissed her again, so gently her heart did a funny little somersault and soft wings brushed the inside of her stomach.

“What did you do to your hands?” She caught his wrists and turned his hands over to inspect his knuckles.

“I’m fine. Let me get cleaned up for dinner.”

“I’ll do it,” Briony said decisively, leading him back to his wing of the house. “Next time you decide to wig out on me, wrap your hands.”

“Wig out?” His eyebrow shot up. He wasn’t going to admit that there was a certain satisfaction in pounding flesh until it bled. She already had enough to condemn him.

He let her wash and apply antibiotic cream to his wounds, enjoying the way she touched him, her hands gentle and her eyes shy. In the close confines of the bathroom, with her clean scent enfolding him, his body zinged out of control, tightening and pulsing, blood engorging his groin. “I’m going to take a quick shower before dinner, and tonight, Ken does the dishes. You need to rest.” He’d opt for a cold shower, but he doubted it would do much good.

Briony noticed the baby book was on the bed and bookmarked as she went through the bedroom on her way to the kitchen. Sometime during the day he must have retrieved it from the dresser and had been avidly reading again. She smiled to herself, secretly pleased. She hoped he found all her additional comments enlightening.

The entire time she’d been attending Jack’s knuckles, all she could think about was running her hands over his chest, his belly, dipping lower to feel the hard strength of his very evident erection. She loved that she could do that to him, and most of the time she could block out the thought that Dr. Whitney had orchestrated the intensity of the chemistry between them.

She avoided Ken’s eyes as she sat down. “Quit smirking.”

“I’ve never heard him apologize. I wanted to record it, just to play back later so I’d know I hadn’t lost my mind. He just might really get on his knees and propose,” Ken said. “And the biscuits are great by the way. If Jack doesn’t get out here soon, I’m eating them all. Every last one.” To prove his point he dipped one in gravy.

Briony shook her head. “How did you survive before I was here?”

“I don’t know. You’re not just an angel, you’re a goddess. A woman ought to know how to cook just to qualify to be a woman.”

Briony choked on her milk. “And you think your brother is a chauvinist! Really, Ken, I ought to dump all the food in the garbage for that statement. Why haven’t you learned to cook?”

“I can cook. I get by; I just don’t cook like this,” Ken said. “And of course I’m a chauvinist, but it isn’t my fault.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, Jack was born first and I share his genes. I can’t help it if he infected me inside the womb.”

Briony burst out laughing. “I should have known that would be your excuse.”

Jack stood in the doorway, leaning one hip against the jamb, toweling his hair dry while he listened to Briony and Ken bantering back and forth. She sounded happy, easy in her relationship with Ken already. Ken could do that. He genuinely liked people and they liked him. Briony looked past his scars and seemed to see the man Jack saw, the one to be respected and loved. Jack could see that Ken was relaxed and even happy in Briony’s company.

Jack examined his feelings closely. Maybe there was a twinge of jealousy, but not because of the shared laughter and the way the two seemed to be growing closer, but because Ken was the better man and she deserved better.

Briony was reaching for the coffeepot when he stepped all the way into the room. “It clearly states no caffeine,” Jack said.

Her gaze jumped to his face. “No it doesn’t. I read the entire book and it’s not in there anywhere. You’ll have to read it again.”

“You will.” He pulled a red marker from his pocket and held it up. “The book is the latest edition, with new and important text.”

She flashed a small, shy smile at him at their shared intimacy.

Ken reached for another biscuit, and a knife sliced through the air to bury itself in the table half an inch from his hand.