The Closer You Come

Her sister twisted left and right, trying to dodge the blows.

Warm breath fanned the crown of Brook Lynn’s head as strong arms banded around her, and a masculine scent saturated her awareness. Jase.

“Let me go,” she demanded. “Let me go right now.”

His hold only tightened. He hefted her over his shoulder fireman-style and strode out of the room.

CHAPTER TWO

JASON—JASE—HOLLISTER carted the petite bundle of fury into the backyard. She fought him every step of the way, the little wildcat, but he held on as if she were a well-deserved war prize. The party guests watched with wide grins, enjoying the show. A few even followed him, no doubt curious to see how the scene would play out.

He resented their presence, actually hated that they were here. Truth be told, he liked to keep his two friends close and everyone else at a distance. His head wasn’t screwed on right on the best of days, and today wasn’t the best of days. He hadn’t had a best day in a long time.

Behind him, the firecracker he’d just slept with shouted, “Put my sister down this instant, you overgrown Neanderthal!”

If he hadn’t already regretted sleeping with Jessie Kay before Wildcat had stormed into his bedroom—she was also known as Brook Lynn, apparently—he would have regretted it now. Before moving to Strawberry Valley a few weeks ago, he’d decided to end his sexual bender. A five-month carnal odyssey, Beck had called it, not quite realizing how right he was. It was an odyssey. Straight into hell. Jase had expected pleasure, maybe a little fun, but he’d had trouble relaxing around the women, and it had made for bad sex, great guilt and even worse memories.

Tonight had been more of the same, another regret to add to his ever-growing list. He’d had trouble focusing, constantly on alert for a sneak attack.

The nine-year habit would be hard to shake.

Besides, the move here was supposed to be his fresh start in a place that represented everything he’d never had but had always craved. Roots, permanence. Peace. Wide-open spaces and community support. A clean canvas he’d hoped to keep clean, not mar by creating a perfect storm of drama, pitting two sisters against each other.

Too late.

Though he’d had no desire to shit where he ate, so to speak, and mess everything up with a scorned lover, he’d had a few beers too many tonight, and Jessie Kay had crawled into his lap, asked if she could welcome him to town properly, and that had been that.

At least he’d had the presence of mind to make it clear there would be no repeat performances, no blooming relationship. He’d earned his freedom the hard way—and he would do anything to keep it.

Women never stuck around for the long haul anyway. His mother sure hadn’t. Countless foster moms hadn’t. Hell, even the love of his life hadn’t. Daphne had taken off without ever looking back.

Light from the porch lamps cast a golden glow over the swimming pool, illuminating the couple who’d decided to skinny-dip. They, like everyone else within a ten-mile radius, heard the commotion; they scrambled into a shadowed corner.

“Pay attention, honey,” Jase said to Brook Lynn. “This isn’t a lesson you’ll want to learn twice. You throw a tantrum in my room, you get wet.” Jase tossed the little wildcat into the deep end, hoping to calm her down.

Jessie Kay beat at his arm, screeching, “Idiot! Her implants aren’t supposed to be waterlogged. She’s supposed to cover them with a special adhesive.”

Please. “Implants are always better wet.” He should know. He’d handled his fair share.

“They aren’t in her boobs, you moron. They’re in her ears!”

Well, hell. I’m on silent, she’d said, the words suddenly making sense. “Way to bury the lead,” he muttered.

Brook Lynn came up sputtering. She swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out with her sister’s help, then arranged her hair over her ears before glaring up at him, reminding him of an avenging angel.

He’d hoped the impromptu dunk would lessen her appeal.

He’d hoped in vain.

Water droplets trickled down flawless skin the color of melted honey. The plain white button-up and black slacks she wore clung to her body, revealing a breathtakingly erotic frame, legs that were somehow a mile long, breasts that were a perfect handful...and nipples that were hard.

Those traits, in themselves, would have been dangerous for any man’s peace of mind. But when you paired that miracle body with that angel face—huge baby blues and heart-shaped lips no emissary from heaven should ever be allowed to have—it was almost overkill.

Damn, I picked the wrong sister.

Well, what was done was done. Another piece of broken glass in his conscience. Another memory to leave a sticky film on his soul, like a spider determined to catch flies.

“I’m sorry about your hearing aids, or whatever they are,” he said, “but catfights aren’t allowed in my room. You should save all disputes for the next JELL-O Fight Night.”

She watched his lips. Her eyes narrowed, an indication she’d understood him.

Without looking away from him, she said, “Jessie Kay, get in the car. If I have to start counting again, you’ll regret it.”

For the first time that evening, her sister heeded her command and took off as though her feet were on fire.

West and Beck arrived a second later and scoped out the scene: a gorgeous woman who was soaking wet, probably chilled, stood as still as a statue, her hands fisted at her sides, while Jase couldn’t seem to look away from her.