Gena Showalter Bundle. Gena Showalter
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the room and slapped Nick upside the head with a flanged plunger.
Men!
Her brother, who seemed more amused by Jorlan’s words than concerned, gazed over the giant’s left shoulder. “Katie, Katie, Katie,” he clicked under his tongue. “I walked through the pleasure garden before coming inside the house—you’re missing a statue, by the way—and thought to give my hormones a break. But what do I find? Live porn.”
Inwardly cringing, Katie placed her hands atop Jorlan’s shoulders and peeked over him. She actually had to stand on her tiptoes! “Nick,” she said again, this time more calmly. “First of all, I sold that statue,” she lied. “And second of all, just what the hell are you doing here?”
Nick chuckled. “I’ll collect my quarter later. ‘Hell’ is still a naughty word, isn’t it?”
Jorlan’s muscles relaxed, going slack beneath her palms. “The two of you are familiar with each other,” he said.
“Yes.” Her tone managed to convey every ounce of her disgust. “The man standing just out of strangling distance is my voyeuristic brother.”
“As he is part of your family,” Jorlan announced, “I shall allow him to live.”
“Please reconsider,” Katie said sweetly.
Nick’s chuckle grew to body-shaking laughter. “No reason to be so sensitive, little lovebird. I did you both a favor. The bathroom floor is a killer on the back. Anyway—” he waved one hand through the air, his eyes going from tawny-colored amusement to dark brown steel in less than a snap “—I’d like an introduction.”
“The introduction can wait,” she grumbled. “I’m too upset with you right now. A loving brother would have left without saying a word.”
This loving brother arched a sandy brow, managing to retain his intense air, yet somehow appearing amused, as well. “And miss all the fun?”
She loved this man, but geez! Nick, just two years her senior, had always been the comic, the teaser and tormentor. Her tormentor, more specifically. As children, most people had mistaken them for twins. Not only for his constant ribbing of her, but also because they looked so similar. They were both tall, possessed the same straight, silvery-blond locks, and the same light brown eyes that tilted up at the corners. That, to Katie, was where the similarities ended.
Where she was curvy, he was all planes and angles. Where she was soft, he was hard. His expression was permanently etched with a mischievous quality usually reserved for small children and cartoon characters. She possessed more of a serious edge, all work and no play. Or so she’d been told.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded for the third time. “I gave you the grand tour last week.”
“Can’t a guy visit his one and only sister out of love?”
“No.”
“You know me too well.” Grinning, he switched his attention to Jorlan and held out a hand. “Since Katie refuses to be polite, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Nick James. Katie’s favorite brother.”
She snorted at that.
“Jorlan en Sarr.” Jorlan regarded Nick’s proffered hand.
“Shake it,” Katie whispered in his ear.
“Ah, ’tis a form of greeting.” He took Nick’s hand and pumped up and down with the force of a level eight earthquake. “While in the garden, I watched many perform just such a task.”
Nick regarded him strangely, studied his facial features for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “You look familiar.”
Katie inwardly moaned. Then she paused. Relaxed. What were the chances of her brother linking Jorlan to the missing statue? Her guess: slim to none. Nick, the co-creator of Slip Through Time, a virtual reality game, might have a very high-concept imagination, but aliens, curses and magic spells went beyond the realm of perceived truth.
Still, she wasn’t going to take any chances. The redhead at the café had thought Jorlan looked like a self-help guru, but Katie knew her brother would never buy that. So, she opened her mouth to weave an elaborate lie involving an automobile accident, amnesia and psychotropic medication, but Nick’s next words stopped her.
“Hey.” He pointed to Jorlan’s chest. “You’re that guy on the cover of those romance novels.”
Ahh, even better! “That’s right,” she assured her brother with a nod. “Jorlan poses naked on book covers.”
Suddenly very intent on the conversation, Nick leaned against the door frame. “Do the women pose naked with you?”
Like Nick, Jorlan perked up at the mention of naked women. “Aye,” he said. “My women pose naked.” As he spoke, there was a hint of longing in his tone. He reached around and circled his hand over Katie’s waist. That strong hand slid lower and gently squeezed her butt.
The action sent another round of heat through her. Fighting a moan, she slapped his hand and moved to stand beside him. She slanted him a halfhearted glare that said, Behave—but only a little.
Nick barely spared her a glance. “How does a guy go about getting a job like that?”
“You love computers too much to switch jobs,” she reminded him.
“Who says I can’t do both?” her brother shot back. “Naked modeling and creating VR games.”
She frowned. “I do and that’s final.”
“I would do what the woman says,” Jorlan interjected. His gaze traveled from brother to sister. “She has a temper that nigh flays her opponent alive.”
“Very true, very true.” Nick shoved his hands in his slack pockets and jingled change. “Where you from, Jordie? I can’t place your accent.”
“Anguilla,” Katie rushed out before Jorlan could answer. “He’s from Anguilla.” Surely her brother knew nothing about the place.
“That’s an island in the British West Indies, right?” Nick asked.
“That’s right.” Katie decided then to nip all questions concerning geography. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” she said. “You can explain whatever it is you want from me over a bottled water.” With that, she stepped around Jorlan and pushed past her brother.
Behind her, Nick erupted into laughter. “Katie,” he called, “you’ve got a piece of linoleum glued to your ass.”
Of course, the two men were best friends after that. They entered the kitchen chuckling over something Jorlan had said. She was fairly certain that something involved breasts and thighs—and not the chicken variety. Nick had one of his arms around Jorlan’s shoulders. When their laughter subsided, her brother fired off a round of questions about Jorlan’s job.
“Do you get to hold them against you or are you put together digitally?”
“Do you undress in the same room?”
“Of all the models you’ve worked with, who has the biggest rack?”
Scowling, Katie hurled a bottled water at each man. Jorlan moved with lightning-quick reflexes and managed to catch the thing midair; Nick wasn’t so lucky. The plastic thumped against his stomach, hard, and he sucked in a breath. She sent him a smug smile.
He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. All the while, he gave her a brotherly, time-for-payback glare. Lowering the bottle, he said, “I thought you were dating Steve Harris, the detective from Gray’s unit.”
Katie had just taken a mouthful of the clear liquid; she spewed every last drop onto the floor. “What?”
“Steve Harris. Your boyfriend.” Nick practically sang the words to the melody of Katie and Steven sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
She slammed