Eternal Brand (6 page)

When she moved lower and reached for the snap of his jeans, Brand blocked her progress by wrapping his hand around her wrist. He pulled out of the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Wait, Em. Let me make love to you properly.”

“Properly?” Arousal sharpened to annoyance. “You mean slowly, in a bed.”

Brand stroked her cheek, like she was a horse he could calm. “What's wrong with slowly in a bed?”

“It's not what you wanted with
him
,” Emily snapped and swiped Brand's hand from her face.

“Jesus, Em.”

“It's true, isn't it?” Emily shoved at his chest until he let her go. He didn't hesitate to step back and give her space.
Such a God damn gentleman.
His gentility ticked Emily off further. “What would have happened if I hadn't been here the other day? If you and Jet had been alone in the house, would you have taken him to bed? Or would you have bent him over the kitchen counter and fucked him
improperly
, the way you won't fuck me?”

Brand's voice grew quiet. “That's enough, Em.”

Emily ignored the warning in his tone, too far gone to pull her punches now. “Do you want him more than you want me? Or is it just men in general you feel more passionate about? Hell, a few days ago, I didn't even know you were…” She trailed off as she realized she didn't even know which assignation applied. She assumed Brand was bisexual, but for all she knew she was the first woman he'd ever been with. Was he gay? Had their whole relationship been an experiment on his part?

A lie?

Emily stared across the kitchen at the man she loved—or thought she loved. How could you love a person you didn't even know? “I can't do this anymore.”

The color leeched out of Brand's cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“I can't pretend it's okay that I don't know anything about you. We can't work like this.”

“So tell me what you want to know.”

The words were issued blandly, but behind his impassive expression Emily sensed the turmoil inside him. She saw it in the way his pulse pounded at the base of his throat. He was offering to answer her questions, but he was terrified of what she might ask. That fear would keep his emotional walls sturdy. Whatever he told her would be a half-truth, something he cleaned up before he gave it to her.

Like his lovemaking. Always slow and sweet and wonderful, but always restrained. Not raw or jagged or real, like that kiss he'd shared with Jet.
That
was the real Brand, and he'd been hiding it from her.

He'd been hiding from her, but not Jet. Jet knew the truth about Brand. And after the way he'd fleeced her, Jet owed her.

If you ever need to talk.
That's what he'd said. At the time Emily hadn't thought she'd want that.

Now she was glad she'd kept the paper she'd screwed up and thrown at him.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

Emily didn't respond. She marched to the door and plucked her corduroy jacket off the hook beside it. She grabbed her keys and handbag, a battered old thing that looked more like a miniature backpack.

She opened the door, but Brand called her name, halting her hasty exit.

Pausing on the threshold, she glanced back at him. His shirt was open from when she'd yanked at the buttons. His chest gleamed in the afternoon light, and his steady gray eyes held hers. In spite of their argument, Emily's knees went weak.

At length, he said, “I'll make something for dinner.”

It was his way of asking her to come back, of saying he'd be here when she did. The last thing Emily could think about was sitting down to a normal meal with Brand, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him not to bother cooking. He'd hurt her, yet she was reluctant to hurt him in return.

That pissed her off enough that she said nothing at all before stalking out and pulling the door shut behind her.

Chapter Eight

Jet was huddled inside his thick black rain jacket, his camera beneath the portable tarp he used in wet weather, his attention keenly focused on the craggy outcrop of Leyton's Headland as he saw it through the viewfinder, when his mobile phone rang.

He didn't usually have it on while he was working but in this instance there'd been no potential of scaring off wildlife with his “Born to Be Wild” ringtone, so he hadn't bothered to switch the phone off. He let it ring a few times while he took the shot he'd lined up, then he pulled the device out of his inside jacket pocket.

He didn't recognize the number, but some instinct made him answer, anyway. “Durante, here.”

“Hi. It's Emily.” There was a pause while Jet waited for his pulse to recover. Then she added uncertainly, “Brand's Emily.”

“I knew which Emily.” He'd recognized her voice from the first word. And he could never forget who she belonged to. “I was just…I was taking a photo.”

“Oh. What of?”

“The headland with the storm clouds closing in on it. There's lightning out on the horizon. It's spectacular.”

“Sounds like it.”

There was another awkward pause where neither seemed to know how to continue the conversation. Then Jet remembered what he'd told her before he'd left last Sunday.
If you ever need to talk.
Evidently, she'd rethought her initial rebuff of his offer. “Where are you?”

“In a place called the Beach Break Café.”

Which was in the main street of Leyton's Headland. It's where Jet had taken to having breakfast because the coffee was amazing. “I'll meet you there, buy you a coffee.”

“I'm sort of coffee'd out, actually. I'm in the mood for something stronger.”

“I have wine at my place,” Jet said, thinking that whatever Emily wanted to talk about it, a noisy pub was probably not the best place for it. “Do you know where Azure is?”

“The big blue apartment complex, right?”

“Right. I'm in room twenty-one. I can meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“I'll be there.”

She hung up without saying goodbye, a not-so-subtle reminder that this was not a simple social visit. Jet remembered Emily being bubbly and liberal with her sense of humor. Her distant tone made him hyperaware of how the cold weather had infiltrated his flesh.

No less than what you deserve.
He'd kissed her boyfriend. Jet figured he was lucky she was speaking to him at all.

He repacked his equipment in the waterproof backpack-style camera bag he used, strapping it securely to the back of the bike. More than once he'd considered trading in the Electra Glide and investing in a more suitable vehicle for himself, but he decided against it every time. There was nothing like the thrill of speeding down country highways or hilly coastal roads on the Harley. He couldn't give it up even if it made no sense.

Which was a great metaphor for how he felt about Brandon Walker.

He's Emily's now. You told her you'd walk away, and you're going to keep your word. And when you see her you're going to beg forgiveness for all the shit you brought down on her relationship.

When he got back to his rented apartment, she was already there. She wore fitted jeans with faded patches at the knees, a red and white checkered shirt and a chocolate-brown corduroy jacket, the collar turned up to ward off the afternoon chill. Her hair was in the same braid it had been in when he'd met her. Jet wondered what her hair would look like unleashed from that sensible style, the locks curving around her face, falling through his fingers.

He must have a death wish or something. He was attracted to her again—or was it still? Either way, it was undeniable. He could hardly make out her feminine shape beneath the bulky jacket, but it didn't stop his hands itching to trace her curves.

If Emily guessed the turn of his thoughts, there was no reciprocation in the malignant look she cast him as he approached. “Are you going to take him from me? Is that why you're here?”

Jet arched a brow, trying to cover the way he flinched inside. “What, no hello?”

“Hello, Jet. Did you come here to take Brand away from me?”

“I'm in Leyton's Headland to photograph the coastline.”

Emily simply continued to stare at him, letting him know how full of shit she thought he was. Which made her a damn smart woman. Jet stifled a sigh and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. “I think you'd better come in.”

Inside the apartment was almost as cool as it was outside, so Jet picked up the remote for the reverse-cycle air-conditioning unit and switched it to heat. The warm air blew into the room, giving instant relief from the chill. Jet took off his damp jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. Then he turned and watched Emily tour around the living room.

She came to the balcony doors, which revealed the stormy sea beyond the complex. “Nice view,” she remarked. “Was it worth the trip?”

Jet admitted, “I am here to photograph the coastline. But I found out where Brand was living first, then I pitched this assignment to
Geographic
so I'd have an excuse to be in the area.”

“So you did come here to reconnect with him, even though he was with me.”

“No. I didn't know about you.” Emily turned to look at him askance, and Jet moved farther into the room, until he stood only a few feet away from her. “He writes my mother letters, not me. He told her he was working at Mulholland Homestead, that's all. I didn't know he was in a relationship until I met you on Saturday.”

Instead of reassuring her, his words made her shoulders droop. “In a relationship, huh? Is that what you call it?”

“You're in love.”

“I am. Have been since ten minutes after we met. The second I saw him with Daisy, I fell for Brand.” She turned around and leaned her back against the glass door, keeping her hands buried deep in her pockets. “But he didn't tell me about you. He didn't tell your mother about me. What does that say about our ‘relationship'?”

“Don't do that. Don't second-guess everything he's ever said to you or made you feel. Brand's never been overly demonstrative. Although I thought…” Jet shrugged. “Maybe that was just with me.”

“Because you're a man,” Emily concluded.

“Yeah, there's that.”

Her gaze tracked over his face, then down over his chest. She examined his red sweater, his black jeans, as though looking for intel in the clothes he wore. When she looked into his eyes once more, her brow was furrowed. “Jet, are you gay?”

It wasn't the first time he'd been asked that particular question, but for some reason hearing it come out of Emily's mouth was a shock. He smiled lopsidedly and held out his hand. “This is going to be too long a conversation to be had standing by the window. Come sit on the sofa and I'll get you that drink.”

She accepted his hand immediately, then withdrew it the instant their fingers met. “No. Don't you dare be nice to me. I don't want to like you.”

“Okay, take a seat wherever you want. I'll be right back.”

He found the bottle of red he'd purchased last night but hadn't opened and unscrewed the cap. He pulled the bucket-sized wine glasses down from the cupboard and poured them both one.

The heater had warmed the apartment, so when he carted the glasses back to the living area, Jet saw that Emily had taken off her jacket. The checkered shirt she wore was open to the middle of her chest, a white singlet with a tiny bow on it visible beneath it. The whole ensemble molded to her breasts and teased a man with the notion of opening the last remaining buttons on her shirt to reveal that tiny white singlet, then to lift it and…

And his thoughts were causing his groin to fill with heat, so Jet tamped them down. Emily had asked him something before he'd gone to get the wine, and he tried to focus on what it was.

Oh right. She'd asked if he was gay.

If he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not being turned on, Jet would have laughed.

He took a seat on the sofa beside her—with a whole cushion between them—and took a gulp of his wine. Emily followed suit, then gripped the glass with both hands and rested it on her knees, which were clasped close together in a pose that conveyed all the tension she felt.

At last she spoke. “So…I asked if you were…”

“Gay,” Jet supplied, trying not to stare at her chest as he took another mouthful of wine. “I'm not. I'm attracted to men but I love women too. I figured you would have guessed that.”

A little color stole into her cheeks. “You mean because you flirted with me at the house?”

“I mean because I thought it was pretty obvious I find you sexy as hell.”

Way to yank the cloak off the elephant in the room, Durante.

“Oh.” Emily took another swallow of her wine, then another, gulping down the moderately pricey Merlot as though it were water. “I thought maybe you were humoring me, or distracting me so I wouldn't realize you were actually there to seduce my boyfriend.”

“Jesus, Emily. Is that what you think?”

Emily lifted one shoulder, staring down into her wine glass. “It's possible.”

Jet set his glass on the coffee table and shifted on the couch so he was closer to her. He put a hand on Emily's shoulder. “That's not how it was. I'm not perfect but I'm not that much of a bastard. I told you, I came to see Brand, but the minute I realized he wasn't free I knew nothing was going to happen between us.”

Emily looked at him then, her green eyes sharp with knowledge. “But something did.”

“I know. That was totally my fault. I didn't mean to do that to you, Emily. I like you. I respect you, I honestly do. But when I get near Brand I tend to lose control.”

Much as you're doing now,
Jet chastised himself, realizing that his thumb was tracing lazy circles over Emily's shoulder, his fingers inching ever closer to the collar of her shirt. He shifted his hand away, resting it instead on her back. His fingertips brushed her braid, and the silky softness of her hair sent an electric tingle through his arm.

“You're not the only one who lost control. I saw the way Brand kissed you.”

The mention of Brand's name had Jet pulling his hand back from Emily altogether. Best not to touch her at all. “It was just a kiss, Emily.”

“No it wasn't.” She shot him a fierce look. “He kissed you like he wanted to devour you. Like he couldn't wait to get inside you.”

Her words brought back a memory, flash-fast and vivid, of the last time he and Brand had spent the night together. The first time that night had been wild, primal. They hadn't even made it to the bed in Jet's hotel room. Brand had kissed Jet like he wanted to swallow him whole, then he'd pushed him up against the door and penetrated Jet's ass with his fingers, preparing him for the bigger, more brutal push of his cock that would follow moments later.

No chance of controlling his arousal anymore, not with that mental image filling him with remembered heat and Emily's scent teasing him with the delights of the unknown, the feminine wonders that had gone untasted for too long.

Jet was horny as all hell, but thankfully, Emily was too mired in her own concerns to notice the mayhem going on inside him. She took another gulp of the wine, finishing off the glass. Then she rose to her feet and went to the kitchenette to fetch more.

She returned with her glass restocked and the almost empty bottle in her hand. Jet had used the few minutes of space to get himself more or less under control—or at least to pull his sweater down so Emily wouldn't see how close to out of control he was—so he felt ready to look her in the eye again.

He shouldn't have, because the injured expression on her face nearly flayed him open. “He's never kissed me like that.”

Instinctively, Jet reached for her hand and held it in his. “Oh, hon. I'm sure that's not true.”

“It is. He hasn't. He holds back, he's…careful with me. Maybe that's because he's not sure I'm what he wants. Isn't that possible, Jet?” Her eyes pleaded with him to help her make sense of things. “Will you please tell me if Brand is gay?”

Jet squeezed her fingers. “He's not.”

“How do you know?”

“He's been with you two years. You tell me.”

“What if he's been experimenting with me?” Emily took a swig of her wine, then waved her glass around as she spoke. “What if he's been using me to try sex with a woman, to see if he can be heterosexual, when he's just gay and doesn't want to accept it?”

“No, hon. You're working yourself into a state over nothing. Come here and sit down.”

Jet tugged on her hand until she complied, plonking on the couch beside him once more. The wine nearly sloshed over the edge of her glass, so he took it from her and set it on the coffee table next to his. He kept a hold of her hand because she needed reassurance, and he schooled himself to ignore how much he liked the contact.

“Brand is not gay. I know because he had quite the reputation with girls in our small town, long before he ever touched me.” Jet smirked. “He was as much of a player as a seventeen-year-old punk could be.”

“I can't imagine that,” Emily said. “Sweet talk is not his forte.”

“He didn't have to say a thing. He was taller than all the other guys in town, and he was built like a man in his twenties. Believe me, the girls came to him.”

“Reputations can be exaggerated.”

“Not Brand's. I know because I caught him in the hayloft with a girl more than once. I never told my parents because my dad probably would have tanned his hide, no matter what had happened to Brand in the past.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, what happened to him in the past?”

Jet bit his lip, regretting the slip-up. “That's the kind of thing Brand should tell you.”