Bedding the Wrong Brother(12)

And lo and behold, she was even on top this time, normally not one of her favorite positions.

Closing her eyes, she valiantly ignored the sudden wetness between her legs.

Yep. How twisted was that? They looked identical, but only one of them got her hot. And it was the one who didn't even care enough about her to call.

Max cared, she reminded herself. And they were good enough friends that they could do this. She'd just look upon it as an experiment. Two days of trial runs and data analysis. Then Max would get back on a plane to Vegas or wherever his next show was, and the next time they saw each other, she'd be happy and in love with Jamie. Maybe she'd even be pregnant if the next Dalton Twins’ Magic Show tour went on for a while.

The image of her holding a baby cinched it. She stuck the card in the slot, waited for the green light, and pushed the door open.



* * *



In the lobby bar, Rhys watched Max check his watch for about the tenth time. His brother was acting weird, no two ways about it. Leaning back in his chair, he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Spill it.”

“Huh?”

“What's going on? You've been acting like a nervous Nellie since I got here. What did Melina say that you couldn't tell me on the phone?”

Max's brow quirked. “Nervous Nellie?”

“You know what I mean, butthead. Now what the hell's going on?”

“Butthead? Your skill with words is mind-boggling.” At Rhys's low growl, Max held up his hands. “All right already. Will you just ease up? I already told you it wasn't an emergency.”

Rhys barely refrained from grabbing his brother by the throat. “Your exact message was: 'Something weird is going on with Melina. Get your ass on a plane right now.' You refused to answer any of my calls, so that's exactly what I did.”

“Would you have gotten on the plane if I'd said I needed your advice about something?”

Rhys slammed his palms on the table. “Damn it, Max, I don't have time for this. You have ten seconds to start talking or I'm driving back to the airport.”

“It's her birthday.”

Stunned, Rhys stared at him for several seconds before answering. “Yeah, I know. That's why I told you to tell her happy birthday.” It was also why he'd thrown her present in his suitcase during his frantic rush to get a flight. Just in case.

Max lifted his drink—water instead of his usual beer—and took a healthy swallow. Rhys narrowed his eyes. What was going on here?

“All that stuff you said about her wanting the white picket fence and two-point-two kids? That stuff doesn't matter,” Max said softly. “You're hurting her.”

The accusation caught him off guard, but he couldn't deny it either. He looked away.

“She's not an idiot, Rhys. She recognizes that you've pulled away. That you don't call. You don't visit. Hell, she's certain you forgot about her birthday. And why wouldn't she? You two barely say anything to each other anymore.”

Rhys gritted his teeth. “She works with her bugs. Visits her parents once a month. Dates safe, nice guys. What else is there to know?”

“How about what that so-called ex-boyfriend of hers did to her?”

Rhys sat straight up. Was that what Max's call had been about? What had been the loser's name? Bradley? Brian? Yeah, Brian. Had he hurt her? Hit her? A slow but intense wash of anger began to pump in his veins. “What?”

Max shook his head in disgust. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Rhys stood, braced his hands on the table, and got nose to nose with his brother. “I'm not forgetting anything. Tell me. Did he hurt her?”

Max leaned back and spread out his hands in a welcoming gesture. “And what if he did? What are you going to do about it? Scare him to death so he pisses his pants like Scott Thompson did?”

“I'll kill him,” Rhys spit out from between his teeth.


Max stared at him, then grinned. “I believe you would.”

“What are you grinning at? I'd think you'd be right in line with me.”

“I know I would. I'm just surprised you said it out loud. Where Melina is concerned, you're prone to changing the subject.”

Straightening, Rhys raked his hands through his hair. “Since when has there been any question that I care about Melina? She's one of the sweetest…” Sexiest. Hottest. Most intriguing. “…women I know, and we've known her for years. Hell, Mom and Dad would get in line to beat the guy up, too.”