Drive Me Wild. P.J. Mellor
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shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll pretend to be you. Just one more time.” At Braedon’s triumphant smile, he gripped his younger brother’s shirt and drew him closer until their noses touched. Eye to eye, he said, “But I swear to God, this is the last time I’m bailing your sorry ass out. And there have to be some ground rules.”
Braedon’s blue eyes took on the cool turquoise Ryan had come to recognize as cocky arrogance. He tugged his wifebeater T-shirt from his brother’s fists and stepped back with a satisfied smile. “Thanks. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” His gaze scanned Ryan head to toe. “You’ll need to lose the pretty-boy haircut. No one will believe my hair grew overnight.”
“What about your job? I don’t even know where you work these days.”
“No problemo. I’m currently on permanent hiatus. I plan to find a better job, anyway.” He dug in the pockets of his jeans. “Here’s my license, and the keys to my car and my apartment. And my cell. Now give me yours. Then we’ll switch clothes and shoes.”
“Wait. You haven’t heard my stipulations.”
Braedon heaved a sigh and shifted his booted feet on the deck. “Go on.”
“You will not contact anyone in my address book, either on the cell or my computer. I have some vacation time coming, so you don’t have to worry about going into the office. You are not to touch or even look at my stock portfolio. I mean it. No selling or trading, no matter how great of a deal you think it is. And I expect you to treat my home and my belongings, including my clothes, with respect. Is that clear?”
“Man, I told you the fire was an accident.”
“Is that clear? Because if it’s not, I’m not doing this.”
“Yeah, okay, it’s clear.”
“And one last thing.”
Braedon arched his brow.
“Don’t sleep with anyone I know this time.”
“That wasn’t my fault—”
“I don’t care. Swear to me you won’t sleep with anyone I know. Swear, or I call the whole thing off.”
“I don’t care if you sleep with anyone I know.” Braedon held up his hands. “Okay, I swear. I swear.” He looked across the parking lot at the highway. “Not that I’d be attracted to the skanks you date anyway.”
Ryan took a deep breath in an effort to relieve the tension radiating into his shoulders. This was such a bad idea on all levels. But he’d do it. Just one more time.
2
R yan watched his brother leave the parking lot with a squeal of the brand new tires he’d had installed on his Lexus SC430 the previous day, then glanced down at the keys in his hand.
A long time ago, he’d been an only child for a little over five blissful minutes. Then Braedon had put in his appearance, complaining all the way out of the womb, and had not stopped whining since.
Whenever he’d bailed Braedon out as kids, their grandmother always reminded him no good deed went unpunished. He thought of that as he walked to the back of the parking lot, not at all sure what he’d find, absently scratching along the neck of his brother’s T-shirt.
What he saw made him blink.
A bright red Aston Martin Vantage convertible sat alone under the streetlight.
Just to be sure, he thumbed the keypad. The car elicited a blip, and the taillights blinked at him.
“No wonder he’s drowning in debt,” he murmured, sliding into the glove-soft leather driver’s seat. He’d just read about the car in Car and Driver magazine. It ran an easy hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars. He ran his hand along the shift box, and caressed the leather covered steering wheel.
The motor purred so smoothly it almost gave him a hard-on.
Anxious to try out the Sportshift he’d read about, he lowered the top and took off after pushing the navigation system for home, and did his best to relax and enjoy the ride.
He grinned when the sexy computerized voice told him to take the next exit. Oh, yeah, he could definitely get used to driving a car like this.
Penny Harding sniffed and wiped her drippy nose. Braedon would be back. He always came back. She twisted the engagement ring on her finger, thinking about the fight they’d had, and wondered if his return would be a good or a bad thing.
Braedon Wright was gorgeous. She’d been thrilled when he’d sought her out at their company party. Breathless when he’d first kissed her. And positively orgasmic when he’d taken her, that first time, standing up against his sexy red car, along the side of the road by the beach.
In hindsight, she couldn’t help but wonder if part of the earth-shattering orgasm wasn’t due to the thrill of being with a bad boy, the possibility of being caught, literally, with their pants down beside a public road. The sex afterwards sure hadn’t come close to that first mind-blowing time.
Her stomach hurt, just thinking about the hateful, awful things he’d said to her earlier. She walked to the fridge and pulled out a Coke, popping the top and chugging down half the can. Her burp practically rattled the glasses in the cherrywood cupboards. She looked guiltily around the abandoned apartment, then slowly walked to stare out the sidelight by the door. Where was he?
What had Braedon seen in her that no one else had ever seen? Had their last argument chased him away for good? Why was she so hesitant about setting a wedding date? Anyone in their right mind would beat feet to the altar. She knew he could certainly do better. Her blah brown hair and pale green eyes were nothing to write home about. Allergies prevented her from wearing much makeup. Not that she’d ever been any good at applying it, anyway. She glanced at her less than impressive chest. Maybe she should ask her father to pay for augmentations for her birthday.
Braedon had his flaws, but he was handsome and would make pretty babies. And in all probability, he was her last shot at marriage. Heck, to be honest, he was her only shot in her whole twenty-nine years. She would not blow it. When he came home—and he would come home eventually, he always did—she was going to be waiting for him. She would prove she wasn’t pathetic and needy, prove her sexuality. The thought of Braedon having sex with anyone else tore at her, and she made a vow to be sexier, to be the aggressor, like he was always telling her to be. Who knew? Maybe she’d discover she liked being sexier, and it would push her into making that final step in her commitment to Braedon.
Ryan turned the car into the covered space with the apartment number above it and sat for a moment. He closed his eyes, listening to the distant sound of waves in the Gulf of Mexico breaking on the shore, and took a deep breath.
Braedon’s apartment was just across a short expanse of grass. Ryan snorted. His brother had no respect for money. He’d left all the lights on.
It took a second to fit the key into the lock, but the tumblers eventually fell into place and the door swung open.
The first thing he noticed was a trail of yellow rose petals leading from the tiled foyer down a hardwood hallway. Tossing his keys on the small table by the door, he followed the petals.
Light flickered on the walls of the hall, causing him to wonder if there was a fire.
The door to the right stood open. He nudged it with his toe, his breath catching.
A goddess stood by the door on the other side of the room. Totally naked, her smooth skin glistened in the candlelight, burnishing her chin-length hair. She walked to him, a small smile on her glossed lips.
“Braedon,” she purred, stopping just short of rubbing the tips of her tits against his skimpy shirt. “I was getting worried. It’s not like you to be gone so long. Where have you been?” Her pale eyes widened. “I-I’m not quizzing you, honey. I was just worried.”