Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(28)

Jaimie seemed oblivious, laughing into the phone, reassuring Joe she was just fine, that her family joked around a lot. Kane watched Mack, wishing he could read that implacable mask. Mack never once took his eyes from Jaimie’s face, obviously assessing her tone, her expression and body language. There was no mistaking that Jaimie had affection for Joe. There was even a flirty note in her voice.

Kane sighed. He had known Mack was in love with Jaimie long before Mack had even realized where his feelings for the girl were heading. They had both loved her for years, but Mack with a fierce, unswerving possessiveness he didn’t seem to realize was unnatural. In those days, when they were kids, Mack thought he just wanted to protect her. As she’d gotten older, Mack refused to acknowledge what he felt for her, calling it “need,” not “love.” Kane suspected Whitney had made that need for her much stronger. Mack didn’t look at other women, yet he was stubborn when it came to Jaimie. He was used to her unswerving devotion and when she’d left, he’d been blindsided. Kane had tried to warn him, but even Kane hadn’t expected her to really leave.

Mack had always made their decisions, dictated their moves. Falling in love with her hadn’t helped matters, especially when he couldn’t acknowledge the emotion to himself, let alone to Jaimie. His feelings for her were too intense, too uncontrollable. He didn’t handle her very well. Right now his face was as dark as thunder and his eyes had become a turbulent storm.

Kane let out his breath. Hang up the phone, Jaimie, Kane entreated silently, giving her a little push. Whitney had made the men more aggressive and certainly more dangerous when it came to their women. He had wanted to ensure there was a strong pairing, but as Kane had found out, he didn’t always give the woman a choice in the matter.

Jaimie had always loved Mack, but Kane didn’t know if she still did, or if the chemistry between them was genuine or manipulated. And how long could something like that last?

Jaimie’s gaze met his and she hung up the phone and flashed a heart-stopping grin. “He thought maybe you two were desperate criminals holding me hostage. See, I told you he was sweet.”

Mack dumped the coffee into the filter, a controlled violence in his movements. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Yeah. Real sweet,” he muttered.

His black gaze leapt to Kane’s, a clear order in that look. Joe Spagnola was going to be so thoroughly checked out, they would know when he sneezed last. Kane’s nod of agreement was nearly imperceptible, but there was satisfaction in the set of Mack’s mouth when he poured the water into the pot.

“So, did you say there was only one bathroom in this place?” Kane took matters into his own hands to defuse the situation. He snatched up clean clothes and began edging toward the only walled-in room on the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Mack took the bait, hurrying to cut him off. “The shower’s mine. You always fall asleep.”

“Halt.” Jaimie’s clear command stopped both of them in their tracks. Looking very haughty, she took a stack of fluffy towels from the linen closet and marched purposefully across the room. “I can’t believe your manners. This is my house.”

“Hey,” Kane protested. “We’re honored guests.”

“Who told you that lie?” Jaimie asked sweetly. “I’m a lady, in case you hadn’t noticed, and ladies go first.”

“I’ll bet some woman made up that law,” Kane groused.

“Haven’t you ever heard of women’s lib?” Mack asked.

Jaimie stuck her head around the door with a butter-melting-in-her-mouth kind of smile. “Of course I have. You two can cook.”

The two men stared at each other. Mack flexed his muscles. Kane cracked his knuckles. They grinned at each other. “So, what does she have in the refrigerator?” Mack asked.

“Well,” Kane drawled, “we know she has beer.”

Jaimie shook her head as she listened to their combined male laughter. She was smiling again for no apparent reason. Her men were crazy and having them back was so familiar and comforting when she could hear them from a distance. She relaxed, letting the tension drain from her. All the rest of it would come with time, but for now, these few moments, she was going to savor being with them.

She stepped into the shower with its intricately tiled encased space. Both men looked good, both of them physically fit as always. Better than always. Kane had startling coloring with his blond hair, green eyes, and black lashes, brows, and bluish jaw. Even from a sisterly standpoint, Kane was good-looking. There were signs of strain on his face—lines that hadn’t been there before. And shadows in his eyes. He smiled, but it wasn’t all the way, never quite reaching his eyes.

Jaimie allowed the hot water to run down her face, over her full breasts, soaking the aches from her muscles. Mack. Just looking at him could make her weak. She’d loved him for as long as she could remember. It had taken a great deal of strength to pull away from him, to realize he wasn’t compatible with her. She didn’t have his adventurous spirit. For a long time she felt inferior because of it, but somewhere along the way, she’d come to learn that people were different. She wasn’t wrong or inferior because she had a different makeup.

It hurt more than she’d expected to see him, but on the other hand, she had to face him someday. She’d set up a partnership so when he and Kane retired, they’d have a place to come. She had hoped to be married with five children by that time so she wouldn’t crave him, but she could handle this. She had to handle it.