Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(30)

It’s when the two bright red spots appear on her cheeks and her mouth drops open that I realize what her beauty caused me to miss initially. That fiery little spark in her eyes and that hot little flush to her cheeks aren’t the result of lust. She’s mad. Mad as hell. And I know exactly why.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I begin, releasing Cher who is desperately trying to cover herself.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I thought we were alone.”

Weatherly turns her blazing eyes on Cher. “You thought you were alone? Does that really make a difference? Do you have any clue how inappropriate this is? Are you trying to lose your job?”

Cher blanches visibly. “No, ma’am! The guy, Rogan . . . his friend . . .” she tries to explain, hiking her thumb over her shoulder at me. She inches her way toward the clothes thrown over the back of an armchair in the corner as she continues in a stammer. “He . . . he assured me that this was okay. It’s . . . it’s . . . I’m a birthday present.”

Weatherly watches her with thinned, furious lips before she turns that withering look on me. “Well, I sure hope you enjoy your present.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and calmly exits the room. I have to grin when she closes the door rather than slamming it off its hinges, which is what I’d want to do. What I imagine that she wants to do, too. But a woman of her breeding would never make such a scene. It almost makes me want her more. I’ve seen firsthand the kind of fire she’s capable of, fire that seems to leap to life at the touch of my fingers or the lick of my tongue. But she can obviously control herself when she wants to. The fact that she doesn’t use that control when it comes to me . . . that she doesn’t want to . . . or that she can’t . . . Damn, that’s hot!

I glance at Cher on my way after Weatherly. “You won’t lose your job. I’ll make sure of it. Just get dressed and get back to work.”

I don’t catch up to Weatherly until she’s walking proudly out the front door. I don’t know where the hell she’s going, but I love that she’s going without thought of the two men who are watching curiously from just inside the dining room.

“Weatherly, wait!” I call as I barrel down the stairs. That only makes her speed up. I catch her before she can descend the steps out front, taking her gently by the arm to stop her. “At least give me a chance to explain.”

She whirls around, eyes spitting purple sparks. “Don’t bother,” she hisses through firmly gritted teeth. “I saw all the explanation I needed.”

She yanks her arm free and marches down the steps. With an exasperated shake of my head, I follow. “Damn it, Weatherly, do you really think I’m that stupid? That shallow?”

“Obviously you are,” she answers without turning around.

I lunge for her before she can get to the garage, to her car. “We can talk about your opinions of me later, then, but you can at least give me five minutes now.”

“You don’t deserve five minutes,” she bites off, making me smile again.

I don’t respond to that, but launch right into my explanation. It seems that the fair and beautiful Weatherly has a bit of a temper. “I asked you when I saw you in the tub that first day if you were a birthday gift.”

That gives her pause. I feel it in the way the supple muscle of her arm relaxes a little.

“Remember? And that’s all this was—a stupid birthday gift from my numb-nuts friend. Cher was just playing along. I didn’t touch her, I swear.”

“I saw you touching her.”

“Oh good God, you know what I mean. I didn’t touch her that way, nor did I have any intention of touching her. You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. I was right in the middle of trying to let her down without embarrassing her when you walked in.”

That gets another rise. Weatherly spins toward me. “Without embarrassing her? Without embarrassing her? I think she had more than embarrassed herself . . . quite sufficiently, in fact, by that point.”

“It was just a misunderstanding. No reason for anyone to get fired or beheaded or any dicks to be cut off. Because that’s what it looks like you’re thinking right now.”

I cover my junk with one hand.

Still no smile.

I see the indecision in her eyes, though. I see the rational, reasonable woman returning, although I love this hot-blooded one, too. I’m not normally a fan of jealous women, but for some reason, I find that I very much like this one.

“What the hell is going on out here?” William O’Neal bellows from the front steps.

My shoulders sag. Shit. I don’t even turn to look at him. I’m not worried about him right now. I’m worried about Weatherly.

“Don’t let this mess things up between us,” I tell her softly. “I had nothing to do with that. I swear it. I have no interest in her. Which will probably worry me later,” I add.

Weatherly’s brow furrows. “Worry you? Why?”

“Because I’m not in the habit of turning down hot women who throw their naked bodies into my arms.”

“Then why did you?” she asks, an edge returning to her voice.

“Because she’s not the hot woman I want. You’re the only woman I can even think about. I have no interest in touching anyone else. Touching or kissing or spending time with. I told you that you’ve bewitched me, and hell, woman! I meant it.”