Big Bad John (Bigger in Texas Series) (22 page)

The one who’d spoken, the one currently licking his lips as he eyed her curves in what she’d thought this morning was a professional pantsuit, looked sinful. He was tall and lean with shaggy blond hair and blue eyes, eyes that were undressing her without apology.

The other looked like a line backer. His broad shoulders nearly burst through his chef whites as he crossed his arms. His smile was shy, but brilliant, and his eyes, so startlingly green against his dark, ebony skin, studied her with curiosity.

“I’m dreaming. I knew it.”

She hadn’t thought she’d said it out loud until Robert guffawed, tears streaming from his eyes as the three men looked on. “And
I
knew I was that good. TS, meet Nate’s fellow owners and chefs. Louis Dumont and Clay Lawrence. Clay was responsible for the mini orgasm you had during dessert.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her ear. “But I saw him first.”

Three chefs. Three gorgeous, mouth-watering men, two of them looking at her with interest. Not only were her PR senses tingling, but her body was as well. Her skin grew heated, and the cloth of her pants suddenly felt rough against her thighs. Constricting.

Nate brought her back to reality with a roll of his eyes. “Down, boys. Ignore them, Ms. Larkin. The fumes from the kitchen have long since gone to their heads.” He turned to Robert, sounding impatient. “What brings you here, Bob?”

“Destiny.” Robert beamed. “You three have a PR problem, and don’t deny it. You are some of the best chefs in your field, with the most interesting story, and let’s face it—the most sex appeal.” Truly silently agreed with that last part, but Robert wasn’t done. “This place should be packed to the rafters, people should be coming from all over the state to sample your culinary masterpieces.” He looked around. “Instead it’s the lunch hour, and we’re still the only customers in here.”

Nate bristled. “It’s a slow day.”

“Not
that
slow.” The blond Louis grimaced ruefully. “He’s right, Nate, and you know it. And not only about our massive sex appeal.” He gave a wink to Truly. “You’re the one who’s always grumbling about the overhead. The Lord only knows we could use a paycheck every once in a while. I’d like to be able to afford to eat what I’m cooking, if ya know what I mean.”

Clay nodded in agreement, and Truly began to get that feeling. That burst of adrenaline that shot up her spine. An aha moment of mammoth proportions. She suddenly understood why Robert had hidden this place away. Why he’d brought her here.

They were her second chance. She could make these men famous. Make The Iron Horse a household name. They’d be bigger than
Brunch with Laura
. It would turn Clive into a big pile of pervy jealousy.

She loved it.

Robert saw her expression and slid an arm around her shoulders, squeezing affectionately. “I’ve brought the solution to all your problems. I’m not too shabby, but TS is the best. She’ll know just what to do to get you the exposure you need. She has all the contacts. All you have to do is put yourself in her capable hands, do exactly what she tells you to, and in two months time you’ll have more business than you know what to do with.”

Louis stepped closer to Truly, tilting his head coyly. “You don’t have to twist my arm. I’d be glad to put myself in her hands.”

Truly’s eyes widened. Why did that sound so tempting? She’d thought Clive’s continuous lewdness had turned her off the male species for life. She supposed her damp panties had something to do with it. Clive made her sick. Louis made her hot.

Business, Truly. This is business
. Although she had to remind herself to give Robert a serious tongue lashing for limiting them to a two month deadline. “I appreciate that, Mr. Dumont. And I agree with Robert. Artists shouldn’t have to suffer for their art. And when they have the whole package? Well, the last thing they should do is hide it. I can help you. We can help you. If you’ll give us the chance.”

Nate crossed his arms, drawing her attention. “I’m not saying we need any help. In fact, if you’re thinking of turning The Iron Horse into some fancy black tie establishment, then we definitely aren’t interested. But even if we were, don’t you have a job? How would the television station feel about you doing freelance?”

The suspicion in his dark gaze made her shift uncomfortably. Rule number one: when interviewing for a new job, don’t let your potential employer know that your last employer fired you. No matter what the reason.

Obviously Robert hadn’t gotten the memo. “Her boss, Clive Garret, tried to put the moves on—”

Truly interrupted him with a glare. “Robert and I are currently free agents. You would be our first clients, but that means you’d get all our time, attention and not insignificant experience.” She pulled out a business card. “Most restaurants fail within the first three years because of bad marketing, bad food, bad location, etc. Your food is fantastic. Your faces alone would sell the place—but your marketing stinks. Talk it over, and get back to me if you’re interested.”

She handed Louis her card and turned to go. “Pay the men for a lovely meal, Robert. We have a lot to do.”

She’d reached the door when she felt a warm, rough hand grip her elbow. Nate. At his touch, electric desire crackled through her body like a living thing. Who knew her elbow was an erogenous zone? And what the hell was going on with her libido?

His expression was impossible to read, but she could have sworn she saw an answering spark in his eyes. Did he feel it too? The conflicting desire to hit or kiss? How could she be so attracted to such a grumpy, sullen man?

“Lunch is on us, Ms. Larkin.” He opened the door. “So you don’t feel your time was entirely wasted.”

Hitting. She definitely felt like hitting him. His tone told her in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t be hearing from them anytime soon. Damn Robert. Usually he read people better.

She forced a smile. “I never waste my time, Mr. Grange. And I never let anyone else waste it either.”

A thrill of elation followed her out the door, latching on to the small victory of having the last word. Her one success of the day. At least she’d had a good meal. A great one. She could really do wonders with those three. With the restaurant.

If only Nathaniel Grange wasn’t such an ass.

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By R. G. Alexander

Chapter 1

“And do you, Lee Ronald Barrow, Connie Lynn MacIntosh
and
Lori Annette Shelton, take each other to be husband and wives? Will you honor and keep one another, forsaking all others, for as long as the three of you shall live?”

“I do.”

“I do.”

“Me three.”

Charli snorted at Lori Ann’s response, and the small, quiet gathering began to chuckle. Including the notary public who was performing the intimate beach wedding. Lee quelled her with a look over his silver-framed glasses and she lowered her head apologetically while the ceremony continued.

This was a little surreal. It was weird enough that Lee was marrying
both
his long-time girlfriends. Well, technically only Connie, though they’d both signed a pre-nup that included Lori Ann. But to make matters worse, he’d asked Charli to be the best man. Her. Not Eric or Rafael, not even Simon. No. Out of all his childhood friends, Lee chose his only female buddy for the job.

She glanced at her fellow groomsmen through her lashes. Even in Hawaiian-print shorts, sleeveless tuxedo jackets and bow ties, the height of fashion for the Key West wedding elite, they were a stunning group of men.

Her men.

They’d been best friends for as long as she could remember—since the sixth grade. Protecting one another from school bullies and distant parents, celebrating successes and commiserating over heartbreaks. Always together.

Lee had been the last one to join their motley crew…and the first one to leave it. She sighed. Oh they would still hang out, and it wasn’t as if Connie and Lori Ann weren’t wonderful, but it wouldn’t be the same.

This was the beginning of the end. Pretty soon the others would catch the settling-down bug. They were all sexy, successful men in their prime. They wouldn’t be single long. And then Charli would be alone. No more camping trips, no more Thursday night couch-potato parties. Not for her.

Was she a horrible person to think that? To selfishly worry about herself instead of wishing them well? Probably. But damn it, she hated change.

“Wake up, Chuck.” Simon nudged her, and she looked up, blushing at the expectant stares aimed her way.

“Oh!” She slipped her fingers into the too small shorts she’d stupidly allowed the boys to purchase for her, pulling out the three engraved rings. “Sorry.”

Connie giggled, and Lee just rolled his eyes, smiling as he took the rings from Charli’s clammy hands. She saw the awkward, gangly youth from her childhood in that smile, and her eye’s misted as he spoke his vows. Simple, honest and with just enough humor to be perfectly Lee.

“Let the love that these three have found with one another be nurtured and supported by all who stand witness here today. Love is a rare gift. It comes in many packages and forms, each one unique…each one a blessing.”

First Connie, then Lori Ann, were given a thorough and passionate kiss by their new husband. Charli’s eyebrows touched her hairline when the two women wrapped their arms around each other and, without any hesitation, pressed their lips together softly, tenderly.

Rafael, always the one with the fewest inhibitions, let out a loud wolf whistle. “I think I speak for every man here when I say, amen to
that
.”

Charli leaned around Simon to whack Raf in the stomach. “Way to ruin a moment, Mr. Romance.”

“Hey, I’m romantic. Ask anyone.”

“Don’t you mean ask
everyone
?” Charli heard Eric’s low mutter, and her brow crinkled with worry.

He’d had such a hard time when Rafael admitted his bisexuality to the group. Eric and Raf had been inseparable before then. Now, even though it was five years since his drunken announcement, things still weren’t the same between them. And that pot had been stirred by Connie and Lori Ann’s obvious affection for one another.

Did she mention she hated change?

“Thank you all for coming. Now let’s get to the boat before they leave without us. Next stop, Cozumel!” Connie did a little dance in the sand, both the brides turning to throw their bouquets at the small crowd of family and friends.

Lori Ann’s was caught by Lee’s Aunt Kelly, the only member of his family to RSVP. She’d told them that black sheep had to stick together, but Charli was grateful that Lee had her to lean on. They all leaned on her. Including Charli, who’d lived under her roof from the time she was fifteen until she graduated from high school. Everyone needed an Aunt Kelly.

She was grinning at the fifty-three-year-old beauty, who was holding up her prize and whooping as though she’d won the lottery, when she saw a missile of orchids and lavender flying her way.

Charli’s hands came up with the instincts of a seasoned catcher, saving her face from certain flowery doom. She looked down at the dainty design. Hell.

“Nice catch.”

“That’s why she’s the best man.”

“Guess you’re next, Chuck.”

Charli glared at them all in turn, saving her meanest look for Simon, who just raised his eyebrow and smirked. He drove her crazy, for too many reasons to count. Not the least of which was his persistence in taking her already-masculine name, and butching it up.

Connie squealed and Charli glanced up to see Lee heft her and Lori Ann over each shoulder, carrying them easily up the sandy incline to the Conch Train, the tourist tram that would take them back to the cruise ship.

“Wait, you guys, I promised Lee I’d get a picture of the four of you in those great outfits. Scrunch in together.”

Three pairs of strong male hands pulled her close at Kelly’s command, right in the middle. She closed her eyes at their heat. God, they smelled good. All of them. She was sick from breakfast. That must be what it was. Why she had this sudden desire to rub up against them. Heck, maybe weddings screwed with her hormones. Reminded her that she was a girl.

“Wait, Aunt Kelly. We need one more. Take it off guys.” Rafael waggled his eyebrows at Charli, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and shirt with all the flair of a table dancer.

“Oh. I’m so hot. You’re turning me on.” Her monotone delivery set all of them guffawing, and she smiled. This was how it should be. All light and fun and none of them having any idea what she was really thinking. Sad, but being friends with a group of horny hunks made you keep some things to yourself.

They all turned toward her with their arms spread and Charli nearly fell over laughing. “Oh my God. When did you get those?”

Simon, Eric and Raf grinned at her delight. They were all sporting red T-shirts covered in gold and orange flames. The black lettering was bold and unmistakable. Her eyes blurred again, this time with tears of mirth.