Don't Tempt Me. Lori Foster
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be dramatic.” With a frown, Honor added, “I wanted you to be happy for me.”
“I know, and I am. I just don’t see why you always want to do things the hard way.” Going quiet, Lexie drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll help. With everything. No, don’t argue. I can’t claim I’m strong and I’ll admit I’ve never remodeled anything. Honestly I’ve never held a hammer. But I’m here for you.”
“Between dating and working and shopping, you mean?” Honor loved Lexie like a sister, but their social calendars, as well as their motivations, were as different as night and day.
As they neared the house, three men stepped out from the garage next door. They’d obviously been working. One held a motor of some sort while the other gestured toward it. The tallest nodded as he cleaned his hands on a towel.
“Oh, hey.” Lexie perked up. “What’s this? Man candy? Very sexy man candy.” She rounded on Honor. “You’ve been holding out!”
Repeatedly glancing at them, Honor shook her head. Nope, no holding out. This was the first time she’d laid eyes on the men. Fact—because if she’d seen them, she sure as heck would have remembered.
“Oh, please, please, please,” Lexie whispered. “Let them be single.”
The guys looked up as the truck drew nearer.
Wiggling her fingers in a wave and grinning hugely, Lexie said, “Okay, so maybe Clearbrook has some appeal after all.”
Flustered with all three men staring at her, Honor accidentally ran over the curb as she maneuvered the truck to the front of her house. Worse, she hit a garbage can and it clattered to the street with nerve-wracking noise.
“Oh, crap.” The truck stopped with bone-jarring impact, and she sat there, stock-still, embarrassed and hoping beyond hope that the men went about their business and ignored her.
“Good going on killing the trash can,” Lexie said with enthusiasm. “That got their attention.”
“I don’t want their attention,” Honor groaned.
Laughing at her, Lexie said, “Relax. They were already looking.”
What a way to make a first impression. Casting a glare at her friend, Honor said, “Shush it. And for heaven’s sake, stop staring!”
“Too late.” Lexie quickly fluffed her short pale blond hair and adjusted the V-neck of her shirt, tugging it a tad lower. “They’re coming this way.”
“Oh God.” After a deep breath, Honor put the truck in Park, turned it off, and—okay, she needed one more breath. “Roll up your window. Pretend you don’t see them. Maybe if we rush into the house real fast, they’ll leave us alo—”
“Hello.”
Cringing, Honor glanced toward Lexie—and found all three men peering into the truck at them. They were each so tall they had to duck down to see in. One guy wore a T-shirt, one a polo, and the other wore no shirt at all.
Combined they gave the impression of masculine curiosity, dark hair and beard shadow. Two of them grinned, and those grins had definite impact.
But the intense expression on the shirtless one about stole Honor’s breath.
She blinked and stared, blinked and stared. Repeat.
The youngest of the three, the one in a T-shirt, laughed. “Busted. No sneaking off now.”
“Colt,” the unsmiling man said in a low, deep voice that teased over her nerve endings and made her heart race. “Pick up the can and spilled garbage, will you?”
Colt grinned. “Yes, sir.” And off he went—with Lexie craning her neck to track him.
The smiling guy propped a shoulder against the side of the window frame and crossed his arms over his chest. With a warning in his tone, said, “He’s seventeen.”
“Who?” Lexie asked.
“My son.” He nodded toward Colt. “Just so you know.”
Jaw dropping, Lexie took another look. “No way. Does Clearbrook have testosterone in the water or something? He looks at least twenty-one.”
Shrugging a thick shoulder, the guy said, “True enough.”
Heat shot into Honor’s cheeks. This situation just kept getting worse and worse. Not only had she taken out their can and been overheard conspiring to avoid them, but now Lexie gawked at an underage kid, never mind that the “kid” did look a whole lot older.
“As his dad,” the man continued, “it keeps me on my toes.”
“You sure you’re his dad?” Lexie looked back and forth between both men. “Because he looks more like—”
“My brother,” he interrupted. “I know. Jason got Dad’s eyes, and so did Colt.”
Brothers? Honor took another look—and caught Shirtless looking back. She swallowed.
“Bet your dad’s a stud, too, huh?”
“Lexie!”
After winking at Honor, Colt’s father met Lexie’s gaze. “We all inherited his features.”
True, Honor thought. Though the one talking appeared just under six feet, and Colt had to be at least six-three, they shared similar features and overall coloring. Only the eye color was different, with the father’s eyes pale blue instead of the rich dark brown of his son and brother. The shape was the same though, and they each had ridiculously long, dreamy black lashes.
Without really thinking about it, Honor said, “You don’t look old enough to be his dad.”
He shrugged. “I was just out of high school. Call it a youthful indiscretion that I’ve never regretted.”
Honor smiled, enjoying his pride in Colt—until she realized that his brother’s eyes had narrowed, not with menace, but with new awareness as he stared at her mouth.
She couldn’t recall the last time a man had looked at her like that. Might’ve been, oh...never.
It unnerved her and she started to squirm in her seat. These days she appeared more haggard than usual. Because of the move, she hadn’t bothered with any makeup, not that she ever wore that much anyway. But she’d also stuck her hair in a sloppy ponytail, pulled on one of her oldest T-shirts and stepped into the jeans with holes in the knees. Lack of sleep and an overly busy schedule kept dark circles under her eyes.
She tried to concentrate on Colt’s father, but couldn’t. She glanced at his brother again, and her gaze got caught in his. Something, challenge or maybe interest, kicked up the corner of his mouth in a nearly indiscernible way. But she saw it.
Shoot, she felt it.
Breathless, Honor forced herself to look at Colt’s dad. “So, um, you have a beautiful home. I noticed it when I was here before with my Realtor.”
Snorting as if that was somehow ridiculous, he said, “It’s not mine. Jason owns it.”
“Do tell,” Lexie said.
“I’m Hogan Guthrie. Jason is my overly serious brother.”
Hogan the blue-eyed dad, Colt the mature-looking son and Jason...the far-too-hot shirtless hunk. As she committed the names to memory, Honor glanced at each of them, but repeatedly got drawn back to Jason.
The sun highlighted the cut of his cheekbones, the straight line of his nose and across those sleek, hard shoulders. Why didn’t he put on a shirt? She couldn’t quite keep her gaze from his chest, noting he had just the right amount of dark chest hair going from one well-defined pec to the other, then bisecting his body downward...
It wouldn’t kill the man to pull up his well-worn jeans, either. Being healthy and female and, okay, more