Bedding the Wrong Brother(2)
A movement behind his shoulder made her eyes widen. “Max?” She looked at Rhys, whose expression stiffened. “It's Max!”
Running past Rhys, she threw herself at Max. He laughed and lifted her, twirling her around before setting her on her feet. Even to an outsider, the differences between him and his brother would be obvious now. He was tanner, and his hair had grown longer, almost touching his shoulders. She reached out and flipped it. “What's with the girly hair?”
He narrowed his eyes and flicked a finger over her nose. “Still playing in the dirt, are you?”
She slapped his hand away. “You're home early. Rhys said you were having fun at camp.”
“I was. But I wanted to see what Mom and Dad were up to with the act. They're really pushing for something unique for the European tour. Your parents are here helping them?”
“Every day for the past week. Some kind of mechanical thingy.”
Max grinned and flung an arm around her shoulder. “Cool. Let's go check it out.”
“Okay. But first look at what Rhys made me.” She lifted up the paper lizard even as she turned to Rhys. “It's so cool. Rhys, let's—”
Rhys walked past her, nodding at his brother and slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, dude. You're gonna love it. It's huge. I mean—”
As they walked in front of her, the two of them laughing and shoving, Melina frowned. She watched them, the easy way they had with each other, and hesitated. They'd be back on the road in another few weeks, and then it would be just her and her parents in their quiet little house, all of their noses immersed in books. No one to call her Ladybug or practice tricks on.
No one to dream about.
Which was silly, anyway. Her parents said things came to fruition through research and application, not dreaming. And they were right about everything.
Except polka dot dresses, she amended.
With a sigh, she carefully pocketed the paper lizard and scrambled to catch up with them. “Hey, guys! Wait up!”
Chapter One
Dalton's Magic Rule #2: Continually challenge yourself.
“Listen to this,” Lucy Conrad said, waving Melina's magazine like a red flag. “98.9 percent of all women sometimes wish their lovers would just grab them, throw them down and f*ck the holy hell out of them.” Tossing the magazine on the sofa, she pointed a finger in Melina's direction, her short and spiky red hair fairly vibrating. “You know what that means, don't you?”
“That women like to feel wanted?” Melina guessed, handing Lucy a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream before dropping into the chair across from her. Sitting cross-legged, Melina adjusted her glasses, then scooped out a bite of Chunky Monkey from her own carton. It had been exactly seven days since she'd allowed herself this taste of heaven. When the cold confection touched her tongue, she closed her eyes in appreciation. “Hmm,” she purred. “Gotta love Girls’ Night In.”
“You can say that again.” The soft but impassioned reply came from Grace Sinclair, who sat in a chair next to Melina. Melina held out her spoon and Grace delicately tapped it with her own. Grace, a career counselor in the university's humanities department, was class and calmness personified. While Lucy was Cherry Garcia—cherry ice cream with cherries and fudge flakes—Grace was Ben & Jerry's Crème Brǔlée—sweet custard ice cream with a caramelized sugar swirl. Blond and willowy with cool porcelain skin, Grace spoke with just a hint of a Southern drawl. “All we need is a Viggo Mortensen movie and I'd be halfway to heaven.”
“You already tried that, remember? Even with Viggo's voice playing in the background, you couldn't get off.”
Grace squinted at Lucy while waving her spoon. “Now don't you go blaming that on Viggo. I could hardly hear him with all the grunting noises Phillip was making.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “I swear, the man had the nicest table manners, but in bed…” She gave a mock shudder.
Melina giggled as Lucy thumped on the magazine she'd been reading from.
“Seriously,” Lucy insisted. “This does not mean women like to feel wanted. It means they settle for fantasies instead of focusing on what they really want at the beginning of a relationship. Which is exactly what you're doing, Melina.”
Sighing, Melina forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was to have another argument with Lucy about Professor Jamie Whitcomb. Unfortunately, despite the dusting of freckles that made Lucy look more like one of her students than a tenured professor, Lucy was a bulldog when it came to protecting her friends—even from themselves. “And exactly what should I be focusing on?” she asked.