The Brat (The Playgirls #3) (2 page)

Chapter Three

Brooke

It took her three days before she started; the years of separation had made her feel rather hesitant, perhaps a little bit shy, too. Then, she’d pulled her head out of her ass and went back to being herself. 

Step one was the usual – she couldn’t believe they still fell for it.

Both her brother and his best friend retched when they brought their coffee to their lips, then, after exchanging a glance, they dropped their cup in unison, and ran after her, shouting insults.

Yep. She’d replaced their sugar with salt. Amateurish, but she was giving them some time to get used to her return.

The next day, her order from a practical joke shop arrived; she immediately put one of the props to good use.

Jack had an appointment with a potential client at three; just before, she sneaked into his office and popped a surprise on his chair.

She laughed so hard, when she heard him try to explain he babysat a six year old who loved playing pranks, her sides were hurting.

That one earned her a good twenty minutes of tickling, but it had been worth it.

She was attempting to wiggle out of her brother’s torture when Shane made it home.

He sighed out loud.

“What has she done now?”

“Whoopee cushion. In front of Thompson.”

He tried to hide it, but she could definitely see the shadow of a smile.

“What did he say?”

“He got it. It kinda broke the ice, actually – he’s happy to discuss the renovation of his summer home.”

Shane shook his head, feigning exasperation.

“That girl’s never gonna learn if you say that kinda shit in front of her.” Then he turned towards Brooke, pointing an accusatory finger. “Next time you mess with us during business hour, I’m spanking your ass, Chubs.”

Yeah, because
that
was a deterrent.

Brooke had read an awful lot of things about spanking. She wanted it. She wanted it now.

The next day, she made it to their place by nine, with a tray of Starbucks. Their coffee was just as they liked it, yet she watched them look at the cups with suspicion, as if expecting snakes to burst out of them.

Finally, Shane broke down and tried it. It must have been cold by then.

“Shall I grab lunch?” she offered generously.

“No,” Jack grunted. “I’ll go.” 

Hiding a smile, she let him do as he pleased. They’d forgotten her rule: she didn’t like to stack up pranks on a roll. Waiting a few days for their guard to drop was
so
much more devious.

Brooke stayed with them from early morning until dinnertime everyday; then, she reluctantly left the perfect alternative reality their penthouse had become, and her smile disappeared as soon as she was out of the building, back in the real world.

The world were she was unemployed, with no life, no friends, and a reputation tarnished by a sexist pig who couldn’t take no for an answer.

The job she got six months ago had been brilliant, until it really, really wasn’t.

It had all started when her thirty-nine-year-old supervisor had asked her out. Thirty-nine wasn’t exactly ancient, even to her twenty-three, and he was attractive; but she really wasn’t into him.

She never realized he’d tempered with her work until it all exploded in her face; every single app and website she’d created over the course of the last two months had disappeared from her portfolio and ended up on his.

She’d been made aware of that fact during a disciplinary hearing when she’d been told that if she didn’t hit her target, she’d be out by the end of the month.

Brooke could have tried to defend herself, but accusing Thomas might have made things even worse for her, without proof.

So she just packed and left. Call it the coward way out, but she wasn’t regretting that choice.

Amongst the endless see of hundred pound quick jobs she took on, she managed to land two decent contracts over the last week and as she wasn’t paying many bills at her parents, they would be enough to see her to the end of the month without touching her savings.

She’d offered to design the websites of the dating agency and the travel agent she was working for at a discounted price, as long as the owners let her use them for her portfolio; they’d agreed.

She’d spend a bit on advertising, so hopefully, she’d get a decent list of clients.

If that didn’t work, she’d look for a job. Sure, she didn’t have a stellar recommendation, but who did, less than a year out of college?

Brooke was waiting for her lasagna in a quirky little Italian when she heard someone she hadn’t come across for a
long
time.

“Fucking hell, B Barnes!” Dana yelped, running towards her.

Her old school friend had definitely changed in five years; gone were the bottle blonde hair, the full-on make-up and the attitude. She seemed more mature, more wholesome.

Well, at least one of us has grown up.

“Dana. I thought you’d left for LA?”

“I did
,
but well, who
ever
makes it in LA? Move, make room for us.”

Us
was Dana, her husband and brother-in-law. Shit, the girl was married
.
Way to make her feel like a spinster.

They caught up over a lovely glass of wine; she introduced the guys, but they seemed to realize they were intruding on a girl-powered chat; they retreated towards the bar to give them some space.

“We got hitched in Vegas,” Dana laughed. “And yes, I was drunk. Can’t even remember it. I was all for annulling it, but Ryan had other ideas.”

“Shit. That sounds like something they should do a movie about.”

“There
is
a movie or two about it,” she laughed good humouredly. “Doesn’t matter how cliché it is, though. At the end of the day, I got myself a husband who loves me. Fate is a funny bitch, sometimes.”

To be frank, that was typical Dana: that girl had always been too lucky by a half.

Brooke saw them exchange a wink and felt a pang of jealousy. She was happy for her friend, but watching them from the sideline sucked. Maybe she should go to Vegas, too.

“Anyway. What’s with you? I didn’t expect you anywhere near this city.”

She shrugged, ready to serve her an excuse, before she thought better of it.

She needed to speak to
someone,
before her life drove her crazy; so she told her the truth, instead.

“Fuck. You should press for harassment, honey. Ryan’s a lawyer, you know…”

“He didn’t make sexual advances; he just asked me out. I don’t think it will stand in court. I guess I could say he was bullying me, but without proof, it will be a headache, a heartache, as well as a waste of time and money.”

She’d already considered it and had come to that conclusion; Dana sighed, reluctantly agreeing to her point.

“It’s disgusting he’s getting away with it.”

On that score, Brooke definitely agreed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get payback.”

She was many things, but certainly not a pushover. First, she needed to concentrate on making something of the mess her life had become… but then? She’d get revenge.

“That, I can believe,” Dana smirked, probably recalling the
many
stunts she’d done back in school.

Their food arrived together – she’d asked the server to hold hers until her friends’ was ready – and Brooke got to know the guys during dinner.

They were fun; Ryan, a lawyer, as Dana had told her, definitely left work behind when he hanged the suit. His brother, Mathew, to her bewilderment, was completely and utterly gay.

It came as a surprised because he looked, sounded and acted like a man’s man.

“Seriously?” she mused. “You’re not even a little bit into pussy?”

“Do me a favor; don’t put me off my food.”

His grimace said it all. Damn.

“Do you take it in the ass, or do you…”

“There’s a line, Brooke darling,” Ryan retorted in his suave, panty-melting voice; it was his turn to look as though he was ready to regurgitate his dinner. “You’ve just crossed it.”

By the end of the evening, they’d exchanged numbers, and planned a get-together soon.

Fuck. She had
friends.

Shane

Moving from the pavement took him a good five minutes. Once his gaze had caught the sight of Brooke, laughing so hard she spilled out her drink, in her lovely-doovey double date, he couldn’t stop looking.

It had been a while he’d felt like that; on edge, infuriated, questioning his own sanity.

The last time he recalled those unsettled feelings, she’d been seventeen, he’d been hard as hell, and wondering why a child was making him feel like that.

She was almost twenty-four, now, and he, close to thirty. Those lines had crashed and burnt sometime over the last five years.

There had been nothing to be ashamed of about wanting to throw her on the nearest flat surface and having his way with her until now.

But she was taken.

Shane had been on the other side; he knew what it felt like to have another man take a woman who was yours. He wasn’t doing it to that guy, as much as he’d loved to punch him until he bled.

He forced himself to walk away, towards a club, any club.

He’d find a girl to take the edge of tonight; anyone would do. Tomorrow, he would be back to his normal routine; work, then more work.

There was a foreclosure coming up in Miami; Jack had offered to go see it, but he’d take it.

A little time away would do him an awful lot of good.

Chapter Four

Brooke’s intense love affaire with cookies – and any kinda cake in general – never stopped, contrarily to what those who’d witnessed her change from stodgy to sexy thought. She didn’t believe in abstinence.

Her problem had been that she was fond of treats, fond of coding, hacking, designing – and an awful lot of stuff she could do while sitting on her ass – but she hadn’t had any interest in exercising. It had seemed like a chore, as well as a waste of her precious free time.

Gyms weren’t her thing, team sports hadn’t been an option – the kids just made fun of her – and she wouldn’t have been caught dead in a swimming suit.

A bit hopeless, right?

Well, then she discovered a game changer: hula-hooping.

The day after meeting Mr. Perfect, she tiptoed inside the home gym where every other Barnes spent at least an hour a day. Staying in there and letting them see her make a full of herself hadn’t held much appeal, so instead, she’d grabbed a few of her mother’s colorful props and tried some stuff in her room, where her shame would bear no witness.

Weighs made her want to cry. The big bouncing ball just wouldn’t stay under her ass. She had no idea what to do with half of the other stuff… but the hoops, she understood, although they were larger and heavier than the stuff she recalled from elementary school.

Turned out, hula-hooping was pretty damn fun, especially at the sound of a catchy girl-powaa tune. She wasn’t great at it, first, but her body got the gist pretty quickly. Before she knew it, her non-existent waist thinned, her legs got definition.

That was a start of a longstanding relationship between cake, hula-hooping and her, and she saw no reason of fixing something that wasn’t broken.

“Fuck. How do you
do
that?”

She smiled smugly at Jack, without breaking her rhythm, effortlessly keeping the two hoops around her as she made coffee.

“Practice.”

“You better avoid doing that shit in public.”

He was gesturing towards the general direction of her hips; Brooke grinned, thinking back to the
many
times when she’d given a demonstration at college.

Yeah, no wonder her brother looked like he might pop an artery: the guys definitely dug that. 

“I was thinking about giving a show next time you have a business meeting,” she smirked at his horrified expression, amused that he thought she’d actually do it.

Well, she probably
would,
to be fair, but only in front of contractors, not potential clients. She had her limits.

“Anyway, what the
hell
are you doing here?”

Here
was the place where she lived, unfortunately. Their parent’s house.

So far, she’d managed to evade them – mostly. Helena Barnes did
not
wake up before ten in the morning, and Patrick was long gone by eight thirty, so she was normally out of there around nine. The evenings were trickier, but eating out helped.

“I thought I might take you for breakfast?” Jack hazarded. “We haven’t had a chance to talk since you came back. It’s not easy at home, with Shane…”

His stare and his grin held an awful lot of mischief, making his meaning clear, but he had to spell it out, too:

“You know, since you still have a huge crush on the guy.”

Brooke expertly flicked a tea-towel at his bum.

“I do not,” she lied, eyes narrowed into slit.

“
Sure
,” he replied indulgently.

She might have been more annoyed at his perception if she didn’t know he’d never betrayed her confidence. He hadn’t for ten years, in any case.

They went out for coffee and pancake, catching up on the stuff she wouldn’t have mentioned anywhere near Shane, such as Jack’s dating life. Asking questions would have invited retaliation, and well, considering her above mentioned crush, she didn’t want Shane to know what a loser she was.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. The wicked witch is gone,” he swore, referring to his horrible on and off girlfriend.

The girl was hot, but also manipulative, bitchy and temperamental.

“And you, still proud holder of a V-Card?”

As he was apparently not aware of that fact, she sternly informed him:

“Brothers are supposed to be overprotective and allergic to sex talk with their baby sisters.”

“I love you, Brooksy. That means I want you to have mind-blowing orgasms everyday.
Preferably
with Shane, but anyone who can find his way around a clit would do by this point.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, maybe I should hire a pro. Know any male escort I can call?”

Shane flashed all his teeth in the next smile, but soon bit it back. Oh oh. She knew that look.

He
definitely
was up to something.

•

Shane

“You’re sure you can do Miami?”

What was it with Jack and that damn Miami trip? He’d asked about it every couple of hours since Shane offered to do it.

He nodded, wondering where his friend’s mind was today. He’d seemed… off, somehow.

“I guess that’s a good thing,” he sighed audibly.

He hadn’t seen him like that for months.

Back around November, Jack had stepped in to help a girl out; her childhood home had gone to foreclosure after her parent’s death – a messy situation Jack was very tight lipped about.

They could have used that house; perfect location, reasonable shape. Instead, Jack helped her keep it; he’d even got Shane to have a look around, design a few adjustments, and get their team to work on it.
Pro bono.

Shane had shrugged it off on a business level; Jack had paid the manual labor from his own pocket, so there was no loss as far as the VandB firm was concerned.

There was always another house somewhere, and while they weren’t against bargains, they generally avoided anything that could make them feel guilty. He
got
it.

But he knew there was another layer there. Around that time, Jack got rid of his terrible girlfriend; permanently, if you took his word for it.

Shane had respected his old friend’s privacy, but he knew there was a story.

Jack had put it behind him by January, though – and he hadn’t looked that agitated since.

Was the girl back in the picture?

“Out with it, what’s up with you?”

Another long sigh.

“It’s BB. I’m worried about her, she… man, I shouldn’t talk to you about that.”

What. The. Hell.

Shane’s gaze lifted from his laptop, he stopped typing and glared until he was calm enough to talk.

“What’s the matter with her?”

Silence. Fucking
silence
.

“Jack, you know I love that girl.”

He should have added something about loving her “like a sister,” but he wasn’t fond of lying, so he left it at that.

“If there’s anything I can help with, I need to know.”

“Nothing like that. She’s just... fuck. I don’t know how to say it.”

With your mouth. Open it and
talk.
Now.

“Ok, here’s the deal. You know she doesn’t date all that much, right?”

He opened his mouth to dispute that, but thought better of it; instead, he nodded slowly.

“Well, I guess I underestimated how
little
she dates. We were talking this morning, and… Turns out she’s a fucking virgin. And pretty tired of it, too. She said she was tempted to go to a gigolo and get it over with.”

Sucker punched. He was sucker punched, straight to the stomach.

As if the
virgin
bombshell hadn’t been enough. The girl was twenty-three. She’d gone to college. These kinda things did not happen in real life; those who looked like her were the first to lose it, dammit!

But the gigolo bit didn’t make a blink of sense; he’d seen her pretty chummy with an attractive guy just last night.

“Why?” was all he managed to say.

“I suppose she figured once it’s out of the way, it would be easier to date; she’s got a point, in a way… But I’ll just talk to her and see if she’s interested in seeing Blake. He’s an ass, but still – better him than a fucking prostitute.”

He meant Blake Carter, an old acquaintance. In any other conversation, Shane would have called him a friend; right now, he wanted to punch the guy in the throat.

Blake was pretty decent company, as long as you didn’t have a pair of boobs; he was a player to the bones.

Sure, Shane had become one, too, but he didn’t lead girls on – while Blake liked to pick the fussy ones, and he wined and dined them, pretending he was in for the long haul. 

Would Jack really subject his only sister to him?

“Anyway, as you see, there’s nothing you can do,” Jack carried on. “Unless you fancy doing my sister.”

He said it as a joke of course, but Shane was startled all the same.

“You wouldn’t mind if I saw your sister?”

That completely blew his mind.

Blake, he understood; Jack trusted him – more than an escort, anyway. At the same time, they weren’t that close, so if things went south, there wouldn’t be any conflict of interest: he could just bust his balls.

If Brooke and Shane stopped getting along, it would be a completely different story. They weren’t friends: they were practically brothers. Not to mention, they had equal shares in their business…  

“Sure,” Jack shrugged. “You’d be better than most. I mean, you said it yourself. You love her, right?”

Fuck.

“I don’t do relationships, Jack.”

The words hurt as he forced them out, like sandpaper grinding on his throat.

He didn’t do relationships because of Fiona Vaughan. Associating Brooke to her in any way, shape or form made him want to kick his own ass.

On the other hand, now he was divorced, Shane liked his life as it was. He could work a lot, concentrate on his business, without adding up another person’s needs in the equation; his commitment to VandB was the reason why they’d moved on from being two fish in the sea to becoming the sharks they now were in the industry.

Jack and Shane were multi-millionaires, a year – maybe two – away from the billionaire club.

“Good thing, too,” his friend replied. “She just wants to punch the V-Card, man. Afterwards, I bet she’ll party like a rock-star for a while; the kid doesn’t have nearly enough fun.”

Shane should have held out both hands and given up when he felt like breaking something at the idea of Brooke playing the field. He should have left her to Blake’s care, or even the gigolo’s, for that matter.

Instead, he said:

“This conversation didn’t take place, ok? You go to Miami. I’ll… talk to her.”

•

Shane was struck afresh by her beauty when he made it back to the apartment that afternoon.

Brooke wasn’t only stunning: she was real. Real soft curves and dips, real tits, real perky ass, real smile. Real fucking boobs. He knew for a fact they were a size 32E. No, seriously. He’d gone shopping with her a while back, and she’d purchased a sport bra that size. The store had to order it especially for her.

She also didn’t hide behind a ton of paintwork: she wore chapstick, and that was it. Fiona hadn’t ever left the bedroom without primer, foundation, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, and whatever other shit he didn’t understand.

That meant he could see Brooke’s bags under her eyes, her light dust of freckles, and every other imperfection that made her perfect.

The out of control light brown curls fell to her waist, swallowing her whole; she generally pushed it off her face on the left side and it bounced everytime she moved.

How come no one had tossed her on a shoulder and kidnapped her? He was certainly tempted to.

She bent over to put her glass in the dishwasher and Shane bit his lip. What an ass. He didn’t know how she managed to pack those lush curves on her slight frame, but it should be illegal. 

“Oh, hi! I thought you were going to Florida?”

She jumped on the kitchen counter, her lean legs dangling down on the sides, and popped a red lollipop in her mouth; her usual trademark.

Was she doing that shit on purpose?

“Jack went. I can assess the property from the reports; besides, he’s better at negotiating prices.”

An egg timer he didn’t know he had sprung to life and Brooke jumped to her feet, making that ass move in her shorts. Why the hell was she wearing shorts? It was just cruel, and point blank unnecessary in February. Perhaps he should drop the temperature of the heating around the flat to ensure she bothered wearing suitable clothes instead of her fuck-me suits.