Janelle Denison - Tempted

“That’s odd.” He absently rubbed his thumb along his jaw. “I asked him just this morning if the cabin was free, and he said since he hadn’t heard from you, that it must be.”

Unease slithered through Brooke, settling in her stomach like a rock. “I left a specific message with his secretary three days ago that I was taking the cabin for the week.”

Marc’s broad shoulders lifted in an apologetic shrug. “He obviously didn’t get it, Brooke. His secretary is new and, well, she’s more beauty than brains, if you get my drift. You know Eric wouldn’t deliberately sabotage your plans if he knew you’d be here.”

Brooke knew Marc spoke the truth. For all her exhusband’s faults, he wasn’t one to do something so underhanded.

Marc’s two friends climbed the porch stairs, duffel bags in hand and congenial smiles in place. They flanked Marc and waited for her to invite them into the warmth of the cabin.

She stood guard at the door, certain once the trio invaded the cozy, two-bedroom time-share her chance at a relaxing vacation would vanish. “You can’t stay here.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” Marc replied easily. “I called all the resorts in the area, and because of the recent snowfall, everything is completely booked up this weekend. That’s why I asked Eric if I could borrow the cabin.”

His argument was solid, and believable. Still, Brooke didn’t budge.

“Who’s here, Brooke?”

The sound of Jessica’s curious voice loosened some of the tension building within Brooke. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as her sister exited the kitchen, followed by Stacey.

“Men,” Brooke said, the word escaping like the curse it was.

Marc’s deep, familiar chuckle strummed down her spine like caressing fingers. Shaking off her reaction, Brooke turned back to the trio, her gaze locking on Marc’s. “I don’t know what you find so amusing, Jamison, considering you and your friends might be camping in your Suburban for the weekend.”

That earned her a sexy grin that made her stomach dip and her toes curl. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

He sounded too sure of himself. And her.

Before she could issue a retort, Stacey moved to her side, too much enthusiasm glimmering in her eyes. “Aw, come on, Brooke. These guys have obviously been on the road for a few hours, the least we can do is let them rest before sending them on their way.” Her friend extended her hand and introduced herself, beating out any argument Brooke could have issued. “By the way, I’m Stacey Sumner. I work with Brooke at Blythe Paints.”

Marc slipped his hand into Stacey’s. “Marc Jamison,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment.

Stacey flashed a grin. “Ahh, the ex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ex-brother-in-law,” Stacey clarified.

A smile quirked his too-sensual mouth as his gaze slid back to Brooke. “I’d like to think I’m still a friend.”

Friends don’t kiss friends the way you kissed me. Squashing the frisson of heat spiraling toward her belly, despite the chill filling the room from outside, Brooke gave him a tight smile in return. “You’re currently a pain in the ass,” she muttered.

One of the men standing beside Marc grinned in amusement, and the other coughed to cover up a laugh.

Marc blinked, not the least bit offended. “But a darn loveable one.”

“That’s debatable,” she countered swiftly, refusing to let his compelling charm soften her.

“That’s exactly what Brooke needs these days. A good debate.” Stacey grabbed Marc’s arm and tugged him across the threshold. “Come on in, so we can continue this conversation without the threat of frostbite.”

Before Brooke could protest, the cabin was filled with three overwhelmingly masculine bodies, and the small living room seemed to shrink in size.

Marc shrugged out of his jacket and went about introducing his friends, mostly for Stacey’s and Jessica’s benefit. “This is Shane Hendricks, who works for my company as an electrical engineer,” he said of the blond-haired guy who’d seemingly captured Stacey’s attention, then nodded toward the other dark-haired man. “And this is Ryan Matthews, a divorce attorney for Haywood and Irwin.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Stacey said gregariously.

Jessica greeted Shane politely, then turned to Ryan. “An attorney, huh?” A sly smile curved her mouth as Ryan confirmed her question with a nod. “What’s black and brown and looks good on a lawyer?” Before he could respond to her odd, unexpected question, she offered the punch line. “A Doberman pinscher.”

Brooke groaned, Marc chuckled, and Ryan stared at Jessica in bafflement, taken aback.

Then he shook his head and laughed, too. “Nice greeting. I have to admit I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Oh, I have one for just about every occasion.” With a jaunty spring to her step, Jessica went to the coffee table, picked up her laptop computer and glanced at Brooke. “I’ll be up in the loft working on my transcripts until you get everything settled with Marc and his friends.”

Interest gleamed in Ryan’s gaze as he watched Jessica climb the stairs to the cabin’s only second-story bedroom. Once she was out of his line of vision, he looked back at Brooke, a grin quirking his mouth. “Was it something I said?”

Brooke rubbed the slow throb beginning in her temple, and offered the man a reassuring smile. “It’s not you, personally. Lawyer jokes are Jessica’s specialty. She finds them…amusing.” But Brooke knew where Jessica’s comments came from. Ryan’s profession made him an easy target for the pent-up emotions Jessica had kept deeply buried since their childhood.

As for her own emotions, they were currently under siege, as well. She thought about her forbidden attraction to Marc, her sister’s arsenal of lawyer jokes, and Stacey’s preoccupation with Shane as he helped her rekindle the fire in the hearth. Combining all that volatile sexual energy and masculine appeal and cramming it into one tiny cabin was not conducive to the rest and leisure she’d envisioned. No, it was more suited to insanity.

Desperate to see the trio on their way, she turned back to the leader of the pack. “Can I talk to you, Marc, alone?” Before he could refuse her, she headed purposefully toward the kitchen, the only room that would provide them a modicum of privacy.

She was determined that, within the next hour, Marc and his friends would be gone and her relaxing, week-long ski retreat would resume as planned.

MARC RELEASED a low, deep breath and watched Brooke head toward the kitchen. His gaze was unerringly drawn to the subtle sway of her slim hips, and the way her soft, faded jeans contoured to her curved bottom…which, admittedly, was his favorite part of the female anatomy—long, slender legs taking a close second. But her deeper, less superficial qualities were what tied him up in knots and had his conscience warning him to put her, and the spontaneous kiss they’d shared, out of his mind.

Intensely loyal and infinitely giving, Brooke was exactly the kind of woman he steadfastly avoided. She was so completely opposite from the enjoy-the-moment-while-it-lasts kind of woman he usually dated. Granted, he was very particular about whom he pursued, but his motto was always the same—no strings attached. The women knew up front what to expect, and he always bailed before the relationship turned demanding. One fateful night had proved he wasn’t cut out for commitment and forever promises, and he wasn’t willing to risk a woman’s emotional stability to give any kind of long-term relationship a try.

Nope, if his own brother hadn’t been able to find contentment with the one woman who embodied the perfect wife, then Marc had little hope for himself.