Scandalous Heroes Box Set (34 page)

“Herzegovina? When were you there?”

She took a drink. “I’ve been a few times. For this, I went during the Bosnian War. The group merely wanted peace. Hence the name,
Mir
. It’s Croatian for peace.”

The group was a mixture of heavy metal and techno. She really enjoyed it.

Reeve stared at her for a bit before getting up and walking away with nothing else said. She watched him leave before going back to the calendar up on her screen. India was bolded, and she smiled as she put her earpiece back in. She loved going to India.

One of her favorite shots came from there. One she’d given to Landi Melonakos. A picture, a black and white, of a tiger.

She looked at the rest of her schedule for a while. Central America, South America, and Scotland before she would finally be home in Ireland for a while.

Keeps me busy.

A smile ghosted her lips as she got back to choosing the images she wanted on the calendar for her parents. When she grew sleepy, she put it all away, checked on Mrs. Marshall to find her resting, and stretched out for a nap of her own.

She could feel eyes upon her. Stirring, she opening hers to find Reeve watching her, the magazine on his lap ignored. She maneuvered into a sitting position and ran a hand down her face.

“How much longer?”

“We’re about to land.”

With a nod, she dug into her pocket and withdrew a hair scrunchie. Moments later, her hair was in a ponytail, and she felt marginally more awake.

Reeve stared at the magazine he held and she sighed. She’d hurt his feelings. Or was it his ego? Men could be so confusing at times. Leaning forward, she ran her hands down her pant legs.

“Are ya still wanting to talk, Reeve Leighton?”

His gaze slashed to hers. Angry. “Why? You made your position crystal clear. Nothing but relief.”

“I’m sorry if you thought—”

He laughed but there was zero humor in it. His expression was totally closed off. Ignoring the pain in her heart, she leaned back against the seat. Mrs. Marshall showed up and sat beside her as the pilot made mention of landing.

A town car waited at the airport for them, and Reeve said, “We’ll wait for you here.”

“Please. This isn’t necessary. Let me take a taxi home,” Mrs. Marshall stated.

“I want to make sure you get home safe,” Affrica injected.

Irene took her hand and squeezed it. “You still have five hours at least to go. Don’t waste time here,” she said in Gaelige. Switching back to English, she addressed Reeve. “Thank you, young man. Make sure you get her there safe. I’m fine on my own.”

Reeve bowed over her hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Southern charmer. The worst kind.”

“Of course.” He winked and led her to the car. “Nate here will ensure you make it safely home.”

Affrica watched as they spoke too low for her to overhear. With a nod, Irene glanced at her and called out as she climbed in the car. “Thank you, Affrica, for all you’ve done.”

The car drove off and effectively left her alone with Reeve. He brushed by her and went back inside the plane. Taking one last breath of Oregon’s air, she followed, her steps almost a bit hesitant for she was unsure about the final leg of the flight. Reeve stood engrossed with one of the pilots and barely spared her a glance.

She fastened herself in as he shut the door. One final look and she reached for a magazine tucked beside her. A business market one and something she had little care for.

They began taxiing, and she put the magazine away and found herself staring at one of his legs from where he sat farther up.

Spoiled. This is why I told myself not to get involved with him.
Her life was busy enough without dealing with a spoiled, rich boy who was mad because he didn’t get his way.

* * * *

Reeve stood beside his brother, Godric, and watched their parents dance beneath the star-studded sky and white gauze tent. The party had been a hit. Sure, Scott hadn’t been able to attend, but all in all, it was going very well.

He spied his sister, Corliss, who had flown in from college to attend. She wore a very simple black dress with a string of pearls. His only sister. Which made him and his brothers fiercely protective of her.

His gaze continued to sweep the crowd, taking in all the people in attendance. He was fine until he found Affrica. She remained off to the side, camera in hand.

Tonight, she wore black slacks and a white shirt. Her hair—he had dreams, wet dreams, about that hair—hung from a high ponytail. He bit back a snarl. Scratching an itch. Nothing permanent. Mutual relief.

Words which shouldn’t be a problem. No strings. Never been an issue before.
Never had Affrica say it before.

He wanted her. Exclusively. So for her to be good with no strings rubbed him wrong. So wrong.

“Stop scowling, Charleston, this is a party.”

Immediately, he smoothed out his expression. His mother stood before him, dressed to the nines, as usual.

“Dance with your mother, Charleston.”

“Yes,
Charleston
,” Godric teased, well aware he hated that name. “Dance with your mother.”

“Boys,” their mother said.

Taking his mom’s arm, he led her back out to dance with a parting punch to Godric’s arm. Then, he flashed a wicked grin and smirk at his brother who scowled and rubbed his arm.

“Thank you for this, Charleston.”

Charleston. He hated that name.
Wonder how it would sound if Affrica called me by it?
He grinned, well aware he’d have very little problem with it.

“Charleston!”

“Yes, Mother?”

“I dislike being ignored.”

He knew that, yet he’d done precisely that very thing.

“What were you smiling about?”

Oh right, like he’d actually tell his mother what fantasy had been sailing through his head regarding himself and one Affrica O’Shea.

“Pleased the night is going so well and thinking about something Godric said.”

“I was surprised to see Miss O’Shea here.”

“She’s very good at her job, Mother.”

“I wasn’t saying otherwise, Charleston. Merely surprised to see her here especially since Prescott isn’t here.” A pause. “Or my grandchildren.”

Only she calls Scott by his full first name—Prescott. Mother is always with the formalities.
“He’s out of town. Left yesterday. Lex called me.”

“She’s not here, either.”

Because you have never made her feel welcome.
“She’s working tonight as well.”

“Who is watching the children?”

He shrugged. “Babysitter? Someone, I’m sure. I don’t think Lex is the kind of woman to leave her children unattended.”

“She should be home with them.”

Lord save him. “Lex is a doctor, Mother. She works long hours.” A sniff. He ended their dance by Godric and said, “He insisted on the next dance.”

Godric glared but Reeve didn’t care. He was free. He loved his mother but never quite understood her. He scanned the crowd, going over dancers, talkers, and drinkers. Until he found her.

Off to the side, talking to another guest. His eyes narrowed as the man turned, giving him a side profile view. Marcus Lattimore. Playboy. Went through women, well, much like Reeve used to. Not a man Reeve wanted around Affrica.

Heading for them, he slowed when Affrica reached into her pocket and withdrew a card.

“Wonderful, thank you, Ms. O’Shea,” Marcus said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“What’s going on here?” he asked, stopping closer to Affrica.

“Mr. Leighton.”

“Hey, Reeve. She gave me her card. She sells images into calendars or large pictures. I’m looking for my parents.” Marcus nodded at her. “Thanks again.” Then, he was gone.

Reeve focused on Affrica. What was it about her? Her eyes met his, and he couldn’t ignore the tug on his heart. Neither could he forget her words, though, and he stiffened.

“It’s a beautiful party,” she commented.

Shoving back what he wanted to say, he merely nodded, not trusting his voice.

She yawned and shook her head. “Excuse me.”

“You okay?”

“Aye. Just getting tired.” The air between them sparked, and she cleared her throat. “I should get back to work.” She walked away without another word.

Reeve just stood there and watched her go. He felt someone approach but never looked from Affrica’s retreating body.

“She’s sure something else, isn’t she?”

He bristled at the amount of affection in Godric’s voice. Licking his lips, he forced himself to remain relaxed.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Think about what?”

“Affrica.”

Godric remained silent for a moment before he sighed. “Grow up, Reeve.” His brother walked off, leaving him alone.

His mind continued to stay soured as the night wound down. He spoke to one of the caterers and saw Affrica by an SUV with Godric. His hands clenched into fists when his brother hugged and kissed her on the cheek. Then, she drove away, and he realized he’d barely been able to spend time with her.

Saying goodnight to his parents, he, too, went home. Hard and aching for Affrica O’Shea. Jacking off in the shower didn’t seem to help him in the least.

He had it bad and knew it. Sleep didn’t come easily, and he woke in a foul mood. After he dressed, he made his way to his new Jaguar and slid behind the wheel. He drove to Godric’s condo and parked in a visitor spot. At the door, he rang the bell. Nothing, so he rang it again. This time, it opened. All the air in his lungs escaped in a rush. Affrica stood there, looking all together at home in tank top, shorts, and barefooted.

The green-eyed monster surfaced swift and deadly.
I’m going to kill him.

“Where is he?”

“Shower.” She stepped back. “Come on in.”

He ground his jaw and entered his brother’s home. Godric’s place was quite the opposite of his. This place had character. She closed the door behind him, and he latched onto her arm when she moved by him.

“Did you spend the night here?”

Affrica blinked thrice before answering. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Did. You. Sleep. Here?”

“No.” She jerked free and walked away. His gaze was transfixed on her ass, cupped by the white fabric of her shorts. Her long, toned brown legs made his cock rock hard. He knew how they felt wrapped tight around him as he pumped into her. The thought of his brother feeling it as well had the effect of being doused in icy cold water.

“So what then, you came over early this morning for a romp?”

Affrica paused and tensed slightly before sitting on one end of the brown leather couch. Her eyes blazed with suppressed fury. “You seem to be under the impression I’ve the same lack o’ morals as you do, Reeve Leighton.”

A spear of embarrassment jerked through him but he ignored it. His haze of jealous idiocy making him stupid.

“Just stopped by for a quickie? I would have welcomed you in my bed.”

Her look would have sent hell into a deep freeze. She pushed to her feet and walked by him. He spun and watched her grab a bag by the door.

“Leaving already?” His question was more of a sneer.

“Aye. I’ve no desire ta listen ta this.” She pivoted toward him. “I made a mistake with you. It’s a pity, too, for I liked you. I really did.”

Affrica shouldered her bag and vanished beyond the door. The click sounded so final. He frowned, severely disliking the feeling which swarmed him.

“Sorry, Affrica, I didn’t… Oh, Reeve. When did you arrive? And where’s Affrica?”

He turned to see his brother standing there in a pair of khaki shorts and a dark green shirt. His hair tousled and still damp but it was the smile which rubbed him wrong.

“What was she doing here?”

All welcome drained from Godric’s face. “Was? Jesus, Reeve, again? You opened your big mouth again?”

“Answer my goddamn question!”

Godric threw up his hands, disgust all over his face. He headed for the kitchen, and Reeve followed.

“You, Reeve, make me want to drink something a hell of a lot stronger than water.” He grabbed a bottle of water and slammed some before placing the bottle back down with a jarring action. “What the fuck, man? You come into
my
house and say something so rude to
my
guest leaves?”

He hated his brother claiming her like that and he wasn’t even remotely a fan of the fury in his tone. Godric was normally such an easygoing person.

“I’m surprised she even answered the door. Didn’t want her in the shower?”

Godric narrowed his gaze. “Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out. Get the
fuck
out of my house. I’m done, Reeve. You can’t come in here, or my business, and insult my friends. I don’t know what’s going on with you but I don’t have to listen to this.”

“I told you to stay away from her,” Reeve growled.

“And I told you to grow the fuck up,” Godric snapped. “Apparently, neither of us listened to the other.”

Reeve looked at his brother and saw the raw fury in his expression.
Apologize.
He held his hands up. “I’m sorry. I saw her here and I just, guess I kind of—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Reeve. I don’t care. Your apology means shit to me. It’s past time for you grow up. Think before you speak and, for God’s sake, learn you aren’t the center of the universe.”

Eerily similar to words uttered by his older brother, Scott. Reeve opened his mouth only to be waved off by Godric.

“Go.”

“Are you sleeping with her?” he asked.

“Some days, it’s hard to believe you’re my older brother. She’s not my type. Get out. I’m going to go through the pics she took last night—which was why she was here, if you cared—then I’ll email them to you.”

Godric turned his back on him, and Reeve knew he’d been dismissed. So he left. Back at his place, Reeve sat on his sofa and stared out the windows. What
was
wrong with him? He’d been cranky and picking fights for nothing.
Fuck it.
He dropped his head back and groaned.

He had a lot of excuses but he ignored them. Bottom line, there was no excuse. And his spoiled attitude may have just cost him not only the woman he wanted but also his brother.